King of all Demons. Archangel of those with the same face. Father of all Incubi and Succubi. Ruler of the Second Circle of Hell. Brothel Owner.
Current Status: Active/Semi-Hiatus
[Unattached RP blog, Multiverse. Biblican Canon/AU. NSFW a lot]
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Shame is on TV. An yes, I’m watching it for the millionth time.
He was trembling, not daring to lift his head, letting long hair that was patched with white fall across his face. He’d had black hair once, he remembered that, but now it was different.
He had never been a warrior. In fact, that was one reason he might have been spared. Michael did not consider him a threat-and who would? He didn’t know what he would do if the owner of the room attacked him. In his weakened state, he couldn’t even tell if the new occupant was demon or otherwise. How would he defend himself? He could barely access any of his old powers now. All he had were a few ragged items of clothing that he’d been able to find in order to clothe himself, not even a knife. His feet were bare, he wouldn’t be able to run far.
When fingers clasped his chin, he looked up, large brown eyes wide, staring at the other’s face in fear. He thought the other looked familiar, but he could not place him.
"He did what was needed," he said quietly.
"I-I do not. I am not sure I deserve a name any longer. Not the name I had. A man called me "Kevin" for a while. You can call me that name."
In all truth, he had forgotten his old name, or more likely, its memory had vanished with his wings. His eyes stayed on the other’s face, gaze unsteady. He wasn’t a demon, he knew that much, but he would easily be able to kill him if he wanted to.
Asmodeus could understand why he was frightened. If most saw him, whether they thought him human, or fallen angel, they would simply destroy them on the spot. It’s just the way things were. Once an angel always an angel. And that made him the enemy. But those higher up, the older fallen, and Asmodeus, they couldn’t ignore fallen angels. They were brothers, cruelly cast out as they once were. They deserved sympathy.
He lets go of his chin to cup his cheek, his touch more gentle as fingers stroke over the beings cheekbone, letting out a sigh. “The things Michael has done, they are not forgiveable, it is not, what was needed,” He tells him firmly. Nobody ever deserved to be cast out from their family, nobody deserves to be forced to live broken, and alone.
He nods, standing up, and pulling Kevin up to stand with him. “That’s a nice name, I think it suits you,” He says, brushing down the fallen angels shoulders. “You are my brother, you are Lucifers brother, you are Leviathans brother. You are our family, and if you wish it, we welcome you with open arms.”
Breath catching ever so faintly at the hand cupping his cheek, Chuck’s eyes fell shut for a moment as he tried to convince himself that it was indeed truly happening. “Because I’m just a scrawny kid.” All the adults pointed it out, made him face the fact he hadn’t bulked out yet like his dad. That he was still gangly and an obvious teen. Even knowing he was only sixteen, he hated it.
Licking his lips and forcing his eyes to open, he looked up into Asmo’s gazewith a bit of a cocky smile. “My Old Man ain’t had a say in what I do since he started piloting Jaegers. He can be as angry as he wants to be, he doesn’t get to say no. I want this, Asmo, I want this so badly.” He had for so long now that it ached in his chest to finally have it offered. Pressing closer, he brushed his lips hesitantly against the older man’s, needing to know what it felt like.
"Your old man will know," He points out. There would be hell to pay. He knew there were no secrets in the drift, and he knew that Herc would be furious when he found out in the midst of a training session that Asmodeus was fucking his son, that he had taken away the last ounce of innocence that Chuck had.
But…he couldn’t really bring himself to care. He knew that he could be good for Chuck. He could reign him in, calm him down possibly. He was positive he could have that kind of influence on him. So maybe…just maybe Herc could be okay with this. Because he adored Chuck. He had no wishes for this to just be a one time this. He’s surprised at the kiss, but he leans in, kissing Chuck harder, a hand on the back of his head so he can control it, finally giving in to his urges.
Hey so a bit of a longshot but. I am really short on cash at the moment. I owe my bank about £300, and I have debts of £4000 that need paying off, on top of medication that I need to buy, which costs me nearly £200.
I dont work because of health reasons, so i have very little ways of making money. But I am skilled in photoshop retouching! I charge $5 per photo (Which is very cheap, but I’m desperate for money). I am happy to edit anything for you, whether it’s professional photos, recolouring, profile pictures, anything! If you would like a photo please message me here or on my personal tumblr with your job. Please consider reblogging and signal boosting if you can!
Examples of my work are below the cut!
"Who are you to wander so freely in my forest?"
"My name is Asmodeus. I felt…drawn to this area," He admits, looking around, before his eyes settle back on the creature in front of him. "Who are you?"
so guess how old the lady in the picture is?
My muse’s reaction to finding your muse beaten and bruisedIf he were to describe one of his worst nightmares, it might look something like this. Coming home from work to Balthazar slumped on his steps, his face bloody and bruised, his eyes almost closed. “Balth…baby,” He croaks, rushing to him, tenderly taking his face in his hand. “What happened? Who did this? Are you alright?”
"Big," he rasps, "fists like fucking hammers, stench of decay all over him, small one knew Enochian— bound me up, then the bigger one worked me over." He winces as he’s settled gently on the couch, coughing and yelping. "Cracked a few ribs," the younger angel whispers breathlessly. "Carved something into my back— bound m’grace up so it couldn’t kick in and heal me up."
Asmodeus keeps a dark look on his face as he listens to Balthazar, his rage building. Whoever they were, Asmodeus would not let them get away with hurting his beloved younger brother. “We can heal you up fine, just bear with me,” He tells him, gingerly taking Balthazars shirt off him, so he can get a better look at his back.
Oriel had tried his hardest to blend in. To look as normal as possible. If he could do that, every day of his life… Then he’d be safe. He’d be okay. He wore a hat, kept his head down, and slouched. He wore baggy clothes. He kept to himself. If he could hide, if he could convince every single being out there with greedy eyes that he was undesirable, then he’d be free.
And for a while, this approach to life worked. In all honesty, it was like Oriel was already a slave with the way he was living. Constantly hiding. He wasn’t happy. He was lonely. But… this was freedom. This was as free as someone who was incredibly desirable could be. Oriel had freckles that covered his body, fluttered over his face and highlighted his perfect cheekbones. His hair… his hair was as bright as wildfire and rightfully so. His eyes were bluer than the sky, flecked with green in the right light. But in the dark, they glowed black. In the dark, he glowed with the faintest of lights. In the dark, he practiced the minimal power he knew he had. In the dark, the fire was his friend. And in the dark was when they looked for him.
And eventually… Oriel was found.
The freedom he had tried so hard to uphold… In a horrible way, it was a relief to stop running. It was an awful thought, an awful thought that twisted Oriel’s stomach into knots. Shackles were placed around his wrists and ankles, his clothes were removed, and Oriel was shoved into the spotlight. The bidding for new slaves was… quiet. It was quiet and terrifying. Paddles were raised into the air, one after the other, as a silent auction went on. But just because that was quiet didn’t mean the way he was treated was gentle or that Oriel went on without a fight.
He was a spitfire, a half demon, and he was not going without a fight.
At least, those were his intentions.
Oriel lost. He lost his freedom. He lost everything he had worked for. He lost his home,he lost his free will, and he lost the feeling of his wrists. Oriel didn’t know who had bought him. He didn’t know who his new master was. He didn’t… he wasn’t told a single thing.
Not until he was shoved out of a car and roughly led into… into a palace. Oriel’s eyes widened as he approached a throne, or more specifically, the man seated upon the throne. He looked behind him, as if judging the distance to run, if he could run at all. But given the two boys already seated by… by his new master… Oriel thought it a bad idea. Regardless, Oriel was nervous. This wasn’t the life he wanted. He wasn’t some rare jewel to be owned. He… he just wanted to be free. But, the man in front of him clearly had different ideas in mind. Oriel bowed his head in a sign of defeat, revealing two, small antlers hidden in the locks of thick, orange hair. For now, he would give up. For now.
Asmodeus had collected slaves since the beginning of time. Most he kept until they turned thirty, then he awarded them freedom. He was generous mostly, gave them work, apartments with free rent for the first six months. A few he sold on because he knew the profit would be great, or because he thought that they belonged in a life of slavery, either because they enjoyed it, or he thought it was what they were best of. If his slaves didn’t enjoy slavery, he didn’t keep them around. He kept a motto that he wanted a happy household, full of people who wanted to be there to serve him. If things didn’t work out within three months, they were sent back, or sold to an auction house.
And without a doubt, Asmodeus knew he was the best Master they were ever going to get. If they refused to behave for him, they were losing out, not him.
His favourite slaves were the rare ones. He absolutely adored humans, pure humans…but halflings were interested. He had recently gave freedom to Leo, a satyr boy he had owned since he was twenty-four. He was going to miss him, but after six loyal years of service, Asmodeus had asked him if he would like his freedom, and he had said yes. It had left a hole in his life, one he was hoping that the new gift would fill.
He sat on his throne, only kept interested by feeding the two boys, until he sees the door open, a suited man dropping off the slave. He says nothing as Oriel is shoved roughly into the room, staring with a look of indifference, until, he spots the tip of the antlers. So not human, Interesting. “Thank you, you can leave us now,” Asmodeus says, watching the man bow and leave Oriel alone.
He lets go of the chains, the two dog boys immediately crawling over to Oriel, snuffling at his legs, which brought a smile to Asmo’s face. The twins had been with him for ten years now, they were loyal, and beautiful. It would be another sad day when they left him. But he had a good few years with them yet. Oriel looked young, frightened, submissive. He didn’t know if that was an act, or if that was truly what the boy was like.
"Kneel," He orders, letting his boys paw at Oriel, lick and sniff at him. They could do as they liked, his prized pets. "Tell me about you."
Reblog if you're willing to roleplay the following subjects:
Violence in General
Siri sits, then moves to pace around the room. First thing’s first. He’s not getting killed, and this gives him a little leverage. There’s one thing on his mind. Somewhere in this bar must be someone who can give him something nice— cocaine, heroin, meth, ketamine, he’ll take anything at this point, really. Wars aren’t great for a steady flow of chemical confidence.
He can’t smell anything in the office, and the quick circuit around the room perimeter reveals nothing new. He circles back to Asmodeus and sits. The petting is fine- he’ll suffer through it if there’s something in it for him.
"You sure made a mess of the damn planet."
He’s been learning to talk. Spending most your time as a really smart dog makes it annoying not to be able to say a few choice phrases. The words are still a bit stilted, with odd emphasis, but understandable.
"Always figured it would be the damn president of the United States doing the mess makin’, not some bar owner. Go figure, eh?"
Siri rolls onto his back, encouraging a belly rub.
"You’re king of the whole fucking planet now."
His tail starts wagging.
"You gonna legalize drugs yet?"
Asmodeus was soft on Siri, even after everything. He had been too kind to him even before the war. The man had been a nuisance in his life, in his business, his his house. But he still forgave him for everything, even when his patience was tested to the limits. Still though, it came of no surprise when Siri suddenly took off and left for god knows what. Drug addicts weren’t exactly reliable.
"I did not make the mess," He says defensively. Michael was to blame. "And this war was fated. It was going to happen no matter what."
He crouches down, scratching at Siri’s belly affectionately. He’s impressed the man- or rather dog, has mastered speech in this form. He had a lot of questions for him, but if he knew Siri, he wasn’t going to get answers for free.
"Drugs aren’t illegal, since technically there are no laws," He points out. It’s not as if a police officer was going to appear and arrest someone.
"I’ll tell you what," He starts, sitting back to lean against his desk, patting his leg and urging Siri to come to him.
"You give me a few answers about questions I have, and I’ll give you whatever narcotics you want. Deal?"
i meant to google ‘mens names’ but googled ‘double dildos’
Rather pleased with my costume updates, and the effect #hooping is having on my bod! #burlesque #costume #peach #pinup #showgirl #burlesquedancer #dancer #vintage #vintagestyle
But no artist could capture the vulgarly delicate red on his cheeks, or the saliva that glistened on his lips wanting for the other man’s fingers between them. He does not move as Asmodeus removed his own clothes, and then he does not move, aside from to help, when the other man turns attentions onto him.
The words are true enough, an echo of what he has just expressed, but from the other’s lips, the deep bass of his voice, the sight of his naked body, the promise of what’s to come, they mean even more. They make his cock twitch visibly against his stomach, they make his hands clench at his sides. He’s unsure of what he can and can’t do.
’Yes please, Daddy.’
It’s all he says as he waits for the other’s movements, obedient and eager to please. So very eager to please, and to be please by him in return. He wants those hands, that tongue, the cock that draws his eye to it no matter how hard he tries not to stare.
Jehan was a particular part of boy that he loved, the kind who were so eager to please, desperate almost. It was the sort of behaviour that could be incredibly dangerous, destructive even, but oh it was beautiful. Asmodeus could easily get addicted to lust like that. It called to him in the most tempting way.
"Daddy huh?" He asks, raising his eyebrow, but descending on him quickly, his mouth latching onto his neck, eager to leave mottled bruises all over his skin, marking his territory. He wasn’t possessive, not usually, but the thought of this beautiful creature wearing his kisses like a collar excited him.
"You can’t stop looking can you," He teases him, rolling onto his back, his hand trailing over to Jehans stomach, then down to his cock, wrapping slender fingers around his shaft. "Do you have oil handy boy?"
We’ve been shopping! We’re having chicken burgers for tea god im so excited
He was so close, and Erik could only whine from their contact. Every time their bodies brushed, electricity raked up his spine and whited out his thoughts, replacing them with more and more need and desire. The alpha was a massive presence in his mind, taking over his thoughts, and he loved it. He wanted it — needed it — and it could only be Asmo that did it. For the first time in his life, he found himself craving an alpha entirely, not just because of heat.
A soft whimper fell from the omega’s throat, his lips parting before he blinked blearily at the words. Touch, touch, touch — there! Erik nearly melted into the mattress as he felt the lips on his throat again, causing him to moan softly as he he tilted his head back. Even when he felt them move, he could only lift his body in response, wanting every bit of contact he could get. Wherever the lips trailed, fire seemed to follow on his skin, making him nearly whine.
Erik’s hands reached, groping blindly before finding the alpha’s hair and gently tangling into it, his eyes fluttering open with a ragged breath before he whimpered. Muscles in his thighs twitched under the other man’s tongue, and he easily found himself spreading his legs a little more. “Pl—hnngh!!!” The word turned into a muted sound of pleasure, and Erik nearly rocked his hips as his eyes fluttered, feeling the finger slide inside with hardly any resistance. His back bowed, and his face morphed into pleasure as his fingers tightened, leaving him shivering with a whine of pleasure. “Haa—more? Please?” All he could do was beg for more, shifting his legs apart as he did.
For an Alpha and omega deep in heat, there both doing pretty well in self control. Most would be tangled together, already breeding, probably close to the end. Sex in heat never lasted very long, the feelings were too intense, and it was practically impossible to delay an orgasm. Not that it was ever wanted. With an Alpha orgasm came a knot, the things omegas so desperately wanted during heat. One of the only ways omega’s could reach climax in this state was a fat knot inside them. Sometimes with their own hand pushed inside them it was possible, but never as satisfying.
It was beautiful to watch how receptive Erik is, how his mouth opens beautifully, how his body arches up, desperate for Asmo’s touch. Asmodeus couldn’t possibly deny his pleas, they were calling for him, making his erection almost painful with want. He wanted desperately to be inside him, to breed him, to make the omega his, permanently.
"Erik how glad I am your parents introduced me to you," He murmurs, pushing a second finger inside him, then a third, hardly having to stretch him at all, Erik’s body designed to take a lot, to accomodate large knots. He pulls his fingers out of him, grabbing hold of Erik’s hips with slick-soaked fingers, lifting his ass up off the bed. "You’ll be mine," He promises him, before pushing his cock inside of him. There’s no gentleness, but also it’s not overly rough, it’s simply full of need and desire to be buried inside the omega.