#asmodea

[vixstarria]

Bloodbang Chronicles - Chapter 3

Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Series masterlist | AO3 | Overall masterlist

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut (not all in this chapter), with all the usual Astarion-related elements along the way, without getting too heavy

Rating: Explicit

Chapter word count: 2,300

Chapter summary: Throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks, as the wall throws shit back at you, a.k.a. negotiating deals with fey

Asmodea paced the length of her and Astarion’s bedroom. The sun was high and Astarion had retired down to the theatre for the time being, overseeing a rehearsal. She would be undisturbed.

Negotiating something serious with a fey was turning out to be only marginally more constructive than, say, playing chess with a pigeon, and twice as taxing on her sanity and patience. At least the pigeon wouldn’t have been deliberate in the chaos it produced.

What made matters worse was the fact she had no one to turn to for advice on what a warlock contract with their patron might even look like. Wyll would have been no help, despite his own past dealings - Mizora was a cambion. Infernal contracts were meticulous and precise, if riddled with intentional loopholes and fine print aimed to benefit the demonic party.

The fey (or at least minor fey, which she assumed her patron to be), on the other hand, were resistant to even setting anything out in writing, instead relying on ‘mutual understandings’, vague promises and blatant temper tantrums when they didn’t get what they wanted, or found themselves needing to uphold their end of a bargain.

Astarion could have helped. Hells, he should have been her first point of call for this, and she would still seek his counsel, later. But for now, she simply didn’t want to get his hopes up until she discerned whether what her patron offered was actually realistic, or whether they were simply pulling her leg.

“Let’s start again from the beginning, we’re completely off track,” she sighed, continuing to pace. “Yes, the entertainment clause can stay.”

Five years ago

Shit and fuck and bollocks and piss and-

She paced the length of her prison cell, on the verge of tearing her hair out in rage and frustration. Better anger than anguish, she told herself. She would not break down into panic and pathetic, useless sobs. She would not.

Think!

“You can’t keep me here, I’m innocent!” she cried out at the warden. “Whoever it is you were after, it’s not me!”

She couldn’t believe it. She’s changed her name, her hair, her style of dress, she’d covered her face and ears with a multitude of piercings, lost her original accent, adopted entirely new mannerisms. She had nothing in common with the woman she was ten years ago. And yet…

“Multiple eyewitness accounts. Matching distinguishing features. Incriminating evidence found on your person and in your bag of holding. Take this journal, for example,” the warden listed, lazily, flipping through her journal with indifference.

“Tchotchkes I’ve picked up on my journeys and made up stories, all of it!” She cursed at herself inwardly as she tried to argue. “No one benefits from me being here! I am a travelling bard. An entertainer! Why, I was just on my way to a child’s birthday party, in fact. Think of the kids’ poor disappointed little faces when I don’t show up.”

“Entertaining children’s parties dressed as a strumpet?” the warden remarked without looking up. “Please.”

“Hmm, trumpet?” she pretended not to hear. “No, I don’t play the trumpet. But I am most proficient in flutes of all varieties,” she said, gripping the bars of her cell and dropping her voice an octave. “Would you like me to show you?”

The warden did not deign to look at or respond to her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“I can help you, for a price.”

The voice sounded directly within her mind, startling her. If the warden had heard anything, he made no indication of it. No, the words were for her, and her only.

It was so storybook she would have laughed at the cliche absurdity of the sudden appearance of this deus in cranium, if not for her growing panic at her situation. She tensed, her mind recalling tales of desperate unfortunates signing their souls away in deals with devils.

“Not a devil,” the voice protested. She couldn’t pinpoint its age or gender. It simply… was. 

“What do you want?” She directed her thoughts at the voice, hoping they would be heard.

“Let’s make a bargain.”

“…What kind of bargain?”

“I’m bored.” The intruder now sounded distinctly sulky.“Make me laugh, and I will help you in return.”

“…You want me to entertain you..?” At this point she was willing to try anything.

“Yes! But first let’s get you out of here.”

Something changed then, as she gained the distinct impression that if she should like to turn into mist and re-appear anywhere she could see, she would, if she only willed it.

“Use the spell and it will seal the deal. Up to you!”

It made no sense. Was the creature paying it forward for her to provide amusement later..? She wasn’t about to enter any kind of long term arrangement with a mysterious voice that happened to barge, uninvited, into her head.

“There are anti-magic wards here, it’s not that simple.”

“It won’t stop my magic. Try it!”

She had never done anything like this before. She could do a few tricks here and there, but nothing as complex as teleporting herself through bars. The knowledge of how to accomplish it had simply appeared in her mind. All she had to do was accept and embrace it.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she blinked and appeared directly behind the warden, where he sat at his desk. This wasn’t at all where she had intended to teleport to.

Perhaps sensing a shift in the air, or hearing her breathing, the warden lifted his head in confusion, and turned around. They stared at one another in wide-eyed shock for a few moments, before she grabbed her lute from the adjacent evidence shelf, and smashed the warden’s head with it, dazing him. Miraculously, the instrument survived.

She heard some distant crashing sounds, and everything around her shook with tremors. Was there an earthquake..? Well, all the more reason to get out of this building.

She grabbed her journal, stuffing it back into the bag of holding and bolted for the exit.

Her newfound patron laughed in delight.

"Perfect! You’re mine now. I’m going to call you ‘Asmodea’. You can’t use any other name anymore."

She didn’t feel like arguing that point. She had been continually changing names for the past decade anyway. Hells, she didn’t feel like arguing any points - none of it mattered, she would get out of this inane ‘deal’ as soon as she managed to flee Baldur’s Gate.

The first and only thing Asmodea saw on emerging from the watchhouse was a massive purple tentacle.

Some days later

The diminutive creature glared at Asmodea, hatred painted on its face, pure malice in its eyes.

“BAAAAAAA!” it snarled at her.

Was it… pretending to be a sheep..? Asmodea cocked an eyebrow at the redcap.

“Baaaa!” she responded, putting forth her best lamb impression.

The creature inside her head emitted a gleeful, childish giggle. Pleasing it truly carried benefits, Asmodea had discovered earlier this week. Immediately, she felt somewhat rejuvenated. She thought she could even attempt casting some spells again, if she needed, despite having just come out of a fight.

Her patron’s laughter was echoed by an equally giddy chortle from the fanged jackass standing behind her.

I’m surrounded by idiots, she thought, and exchanged another round of baa’s with the redcap.

Still, the fey had proved to be too useful to discard now. As had the vampire.

Her patron and the vampire were uncannily similar in their levels of morality and maturity. Earlier, they were equally disappointed to see her refuse to let an unfortunate gnome the party came across fly off the blade of a windmill. Likewise, they were both delighted to see Asmodea throwing dung at goblins, the following day.

Astarion appeared to be more reliable in critical situations, however.

The entire goblin camp was on their heels as they ran from the ruined temple the goblins had claimed as their base.

“Is this part of your plan?!” Wyll shouted from across the camp where he sought cover behind a pillar.

“I told you I was winging it!” Asmodea yelled back.

She deduced by the cleric’s swearing that Shadowheart had missed with yet another guiding bolt. At least it made the goblins temporarily scatter in panic.

She, Shadowheart and Wyll were holding on by the skin of their teeth, drained dry of their magic at this point. The damned druid had disappeared somewhere along the way. Astarion was the only one still capable of dealing any damage, as he continued to shoot at the goblins following them.

The elf was following her closely. He seemed to have been tailing her ever since the night his vampirism was revealed.

As for her patron, for once the creature was nowhere to be found, despite her needing its help.

It was not the best time for Asmodea to realise that she actually had no idea how to address her patron or what their name was.

“Hey, you!” She tried to direct her thoughts at it.“Faerie! Pixie!”

Silence.

“My invisible friend? Buddy..?”

Nothing.

“Patron?? Maestro?! Sensei???”

She could almost hear the crickets. Meanwhile, an array of goblin arrows grazed the top of the partially collapsed wall she and Astarion had ducked behind.

“OI, FUCKFACE!”

“What?”

“Oh, THAT’S what you’ll respond to?? A little help?!”

“I grow weary of you now”, the fey creature responded. “Fend for yourself.”

“Useless, all of you,” hissed Astarion, nocking another arrow. “Can’t you do anything?!”

Asmodea cursed and dug through her bag, looking for anything that might be of use - scroll, potion, explosive... Alas, nothing but rusty goblin scimitars, a few shields they may as well throw into their campfire later, and some herbs she didn’t actually know what to do with. Until, that is, her hand happened to stop on an item she had completely forgotten about.

“Oh!” she cried out in surprise. “Do you think that verbose ogre will really come to our aid?”

“Just blow the damned horn!” snapped Astarion.

“I don’t know why you insist on that stupid name you gave me, but fine. I get to keep using the one I have for you, too, though.” Asmodea continued to haggle with her patron. “I am NOT calling you ‘Master’.”

The patron’s unceremonious moniker stuck after the group finally made it out of the goblin camp. ‘Fuckface’ didn’t seem to mind being addressed as such. Perhaps because Asmodea had no idea what the fey actually looked like, so it hardly constituted a true insult. Or, perhaps they just thought it was funny.

“Fine, I will follow your instructions when they make sense or when I don’t have a valid reason not to, but you will also listen and leave me alone when I ask. …Is it possible to still have a word that you’ll hear in case of emergency..? …No, I’m still not calling you ‘Master’, pick something else.”

Asmodea felt her patron silently resurfacing in her mind as she observed the happenings taking place across the camp grounds.

She watched, with a tinge of jealousy, as Astarion went through the motions of downplaying and dismissing the advances of two drunk tieflings. His rakish smile slipped off his face the moment their backs were turned, and his eyes immediately flicked towards hers, making contact from across the camp. Ah, there was another smile again. An insufferably knowing one this time.

“I like the vampling,” Fuckface remarked, unbidden.

“You know, I think I kind of like him too,” Asmodea thought to herself and incidentally to her patron, picking up a bottle of wine and making her way towards the elf, trying to avoid being dragged into any further awkward conversations. Having survived a near brush with death seemed to have made her companions remarkably horny. “Now be a dear and piss off for the night, or I’ll spend all day tomorrow talking weave theory with Gale.”

“Of course I’m going to let Astarion know, that’s not even negotiable!”

“Let Astarion know what?”

Asmodea whipped around, startled, to discover Astarion at the bedroom’s entrance, leaning against the doorframe. Gods, did he have to move so silently?

“Oh just patron nonsense,” she said, trying not to look or sound guilty. “I’ll tell you later.” She tried to swiftly change the topic as Astarion frowned. “Sorry, I thought you’d be downstairs for a while and drew the curtains open. Let me-”

Astarion waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s fine, I don’t need to come in right now.” He stayed at the open door, gazing at her. “Just stay where you are, you’re so beautiful in the sunlight…” he murmured wistfully.

The sun’s rays didn’t reach the door, not directly, but the room was still brightly illuminated.

“You’re awfully close to the light,” she observed, tilting her head.

“Hmm?” Astarion snapped back to the present moment. “Oh, make no mistake, it feels like I’m standing next to a burning furnace, and it’s getting hotter by the second.” He reached out cautiously with his hand, slowly bringing it further into the room. “Aurelia’s told me we gradually gain some resistance as we age.” The tips of his fingernails began to singe and he jerked his hand back, with a hiss drawn through his teeth, and stepped back deeper into the hallway. “Perhaps in another 50 years I’ll be able to tolerate a few more seconds of that.”

Asmodea hurried to the windows to draw the curtains shut, mentally kicking herself.

“Anyway, we’re adding some final touches to a new act and wanted your thoughts,” said Astarion. “Come down when you’re ready,” he added, before leaving.

“I’ll get changed and will be right there,” she called out after him, wondering what else he had overheard.

She sighed. The entire morning wasted, they were still basically at square one.

Tags:

@littleenglishfangirl @something-pithy @darlingxdragon @tallymonster @tragedybunny @spunky-89 @acourtofpenandpaper @yoonshope @lariatbunny @whiskeyskin @spacebarbarianweird @brabblesblog @littlejuicebox @icybluepenguin @snowfolly @wingsy-keeper-of-songs @asterordinary @mj-bites @bardic-inspo

#astarion #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion fanfiction #bg3 fanfiction #astarion x tav #astarion fanfic #bg3 fanfic #astarion x asmodea #astarion x oc #astarion x female tav #bloodbang chronicles #asmodea

[moiracolleenodell]

“A combination of Clive Barker and Neil Gaiman with a shoujo overlay”~Chris Sun Hwa

          What if the demons of Hell had nuclear families with children who went on field trips? Where would they go? What would they learn?

           Asmodea is a quarter-human elementary schooler who attends the Sixth Circle Common School with other young demons who are all studying hard to become assets to the legions of Hell when they grow up. Today (though there are no real days or nights in Hell) Mister Astaroth will take Asmodea and her classmates on a tour of the nine Circles of Hell, complete with - yay! - interactive exhibits.

Available as an ebook from these distributors now, including Amazon and Barnes & Noble; or you can buy the pdf directly from me for $2.99 through paypal.me/moiracolleen.

#asmodea #asmodea and the field trip to the petting zoo of the damned #writeblr #indie #torture #hell treated like a children's book #pinned post

[pillow-priestess]

eating is fun, but a fast track to getting fat would be so nice! shame that'd take a miracle... right?

sketch from @plastic_doodles! go check them out, they do great work!

#wg #fattening #deal with a devil #demon summoning #possession #veevee #asmodea #my commission!!!

[skarlette1]

Third Touch

Doctor Q, the Enchantress Exemplar of Earth, was used to casting demons out of other people’s bodies. When the presence of Asmodea, demon queen of vengeful lust, first brushed Doctor Q’s awareness, it was like a sudden rush of desire. Her skin flushed, her eyelids fluttered, her heart beat faster. Not understanding the implication, she put her hand to her head to try to clear the cobwebs. The…

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#Asmodea #Caption story #demon #Doctor Q #fd #ff #fs #lust #magic #mind control #pleasure conditioning #possession #seduction #skarletteone #superheroine #supervillainess #Throwback

[whereishermes]

Fantastic Vision | Francisco Goya

Original Title: Asmodea Asmodea (Fantastic Vision) | Francisco Goya     Original Title: Asmodea    Date: 1820 – 1823    Style: Romanticism    Series: Black Paintings (1819-1823)    Genre: genre painting    Media: oil, canvas    Location: Museo del Prado, Madrid, Spain    Dimensions: 123 x 265 cm  1Asmodea or Fantastic Vision (Spanish: Visión fantástica) are names given to a fresco painting…

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#1814 #artist #asmodea #atropos #black painting #black paintings #Critic #culture #evan connell #fantastic vision #female #france #francisco goya #french #goya #greek #history #horses #king #landscape #life #madrid #mental #mountain #museum #myth #Painter #painting #paintings #Perspective

[dresdencodak]

Dark Science #141 - The St. Elmo Slide

Did you know that one of the greatest gifts you can give this holiday season is the gift of an artist not starving to death? It’s true! I’ve checked the science.

Patreon | Gumroad | Store | Ko-Fi | Paypal

#dresden codak #dark science #comics #illustration #cyberpunk #art deco #sen #vonnie awning #asmodea harthrow #gayyyy #lgbtq comics

[tentakrool]

Drew a picture of Bereia with her bestie, totally-not-girlfriend Shensen hanging out together. They’re just friends! Friendly friends.

Bereia was my Pathfinder character in the AP Hells Rebels. I just wanted to draw her in some gay clothes, tbh. Shensen helped her pick them out.

#pathfinder #original character #shensen #TTRPG art #my art #bereia asmodea gavra merendus #oc art

[deciphered-narrator]

i love the black paintings they're so horrifying and evocative

and then they have titles like "two old ones eating soup"

#i have an idea for a wip where the chapters are titled after the black paintings #but i can't take this seriously #i mean the rest of them have titles like asmodea and fight with cudgels so its not that bad #idk who titled them tho since goya didn't i'm pretty sure

[celicerae]

ok @dihalectics i have to go to a dinner in a hour so this may be a tad rushed, but here's my thoughts on w359stuck:

dirk/hal as pryce/hera is really interesting, and i do admit that it works better in the context of homestuck, but i'm not sure how i personally feel abt it. i wanted to keep the genders mostly the same, since i like the pryce/cutter dynamic since i sort of liked the feminist angle of cutter (masculine, probably gay figure) co opting the labor and expertise of a woman. its very clear to me in the flashback that opens up episode 61 that cutter definitely... groomed pryce? probably not in a sexual way but nonetheless i thought it would be interesting to see how jade could have become a much more dark and much less altruistic figure than her usual self, sorta in the vein of grimbark jade (also i just love evil milfs (cough godfeels)). i definitely see the dirk/hal dynamic being quite interesting in this place, and i like the allusion to dirk and caliborn's friendship in hs, and dirk has a much more pronounced dark side than jade does. my problem is that i don't see jade (or really anybody else?) working as hilbert. i perhaps have more to say here but i can't think of anything

on the topic of hic/caliborn. my main thing is that hic has like, one proper speaking line in the whole comic, and having to extrapolate an entire personality/manner of speaking from that would be a pain. (also some ppl have said that hic's portrayal and manner of speaking is stereotypically black. i can't say much here but i definitely wouldn't wanna step my toe in that end of the pool). i definitely like the fact that she's the head of betty crocker corp (and skaianet too?) since that translates well to goddard futuristics. and i can also see cutter's speech as "building minkowski" from the finale to be especially interesting if jane is minkowski. i also think her wanting to make contact with the dear listeners makes more sense than caliborn (wanting to find her home species, whereas caliborn could theoretically have the same motivation, but he doesn't have that connection to cherubs like hic does the troll homeworld, and i guess you could say caliborn doesn't know about cherubs' lack of society, but idk i see him just being a frontier pushing asswipe. what do you think?) my main reasoning for putting caliborn as cutter is that he's very gay and is very much a stand in for toxic masculinity.

also im just not sure if i wanna make caliborn/hic aliens, since cutter is explicitly a human in w359. i guess ultimately i'm fine with just changing this aspect but idk if i'd want to humanstuck them, tho i see that possibility more with caliborn than hic.

#if you ever wanna talk about this privately my discord is #asmodea(hash)3999 #i still have tons more ideas i just dont have the time to type them all out right now alsdkjklasdkljs

[wilteddreamsofbaldursgate]

Lonely Weekend Fic Rec List

I read, once again, a ton of phenomenal fics over the past week or so and I'm dying to share my favourites with you (red for NSFW content):

Blood in the Mortar & Dhampir Dreams by @bardic-inspo Megh is a phenomenal writer, be it for Mr. Vampire Lord Astarion or "Ima put a dhampir into her"-breeding-kink Astarion. I, personally, am here for anything Megh writes. Dhampir Dreams is also getting a part two, so check out part one while you're waiting patiently! Field Study @grandmother-goblin Ok, so, regrettably, this ongoing fic was on my TBR for way too long. I'm only a few chapters in, but this fic is a gem—Granny has such a deep understanding of Astarion's character and his many issues. Later chapters will be NSFW. Devil's Diary by ChildOfYuggoth & Raphael Simp (AscendedMuse) on ao3 (ongoing) Look, I have raging daddy issues and Raphael is not helping. At least not with the issues. Devil's Diary is a very fun, hot, not too smutty (yet) read with a snobby devil and an equally bratty Tav. Communication by @vixstarria I'm obsessed with the way Vix writes Astarion and I love her Tav, Asmodea—together they're the perfect gremlin couple and so so much fun! Communication is a brilliant read about Astarion having to make up his mind about ascension, when he's long made his decision. Life Essence by @nyx-knox Feeling like a bloody mess? Your body is in pain? It's that time of the month? Worry not, Astarion gotchu, babes (even if it's not your time of the month right now). Where were you, when I was new? by @kittenintheden Ok, I read this one a while ago BUT I think about it at least every couple of days. This is a brilliant pre-spawn law-student VirginTM Astarion fic that is masterfully written.

Don't forget to show your fandom creators and their work some love and by that I specifically mean comment, like and reblog said work! ✨

#astarion #astarion x tav #bg3 #baldurs gate fanfiction #baldur’s gate 3 #astarion ancunin #astarion smut #baldurs gate 3 #raphael x tav #raphael #emisficrec #other people’s writing #what do we do against the saddies? #right! good soup—no literature! #better yet: both

[vixstarria]

Ahh yes, true forms unlocked at last.

#bg3 #my screenshots #vix bg3 playthrough #jeez her hair looks crazy in the sun #don't even need a clown wig #my tav #asmodea

[moiracolleenodell]

“What if the demons of Hell had nuclear families with children who went on field trips? Where would they go? What would they learn?

“ Asmodea is a well-mannered demoness who attends the Sixth Circle Common School with other young demons who are all studying hard to become assets to the legions of Hell when they grow up. For this special class session, her teacher Mister Astaroth takes the children on a tour of the nine circles of Hell to study and interact with the sinners in each circle.”

Warnings: intense violence, gore, they are taking a trip through Hell and all that entails

This book will soon be available as an epub on multiple platforms including Amazon and Barnes & Noble; or you can buy it directly from me in pdf format for $3 through paypal.me/moiracolleen

#asmodea #asmodea and the field trip to the petting zoo of the damned

[miseryscrowned]

Introducing my Pathfinder WOTR ocs 🌿

🗡 Angrboda (Angra)

She / Her, half orc, freebooter, chaotic good, Arueshalae romance

Angra is a pirate, she loves to travel and never turns down a fight or a good feast, she was visiting Kenabres and happened to be there just in time for the festivities, when the demons attacked the city she didn’t waste time fighting them back. She decides to stick around to help repel the demon attacks but she wasn’t prepared to be appointed Commander, nonetheless Angra does her best to not let her new friends down.

🔥 Asmodea (Saga)

She / Her, tiefling, flame dancer, chaotic neutral, Woljif romance

Saga grew up in the streets of Kenabres where her guardian, a cunning tiefling woman who took her in as an infant, taught her how to survive and how use her powers not only to fight but to entertain. She picks the virtue name Saga as she had always been fond of stories and she always knew she wanted to be a singer. Saga joins Angra’s crusade in the hope to find protection and that things can go back to normal so she can go back to singing (and stealing) in taverns, but so far the young girl is enjoying the chaotic adventure she’s got caught up in and the friends she’s making along the way.

#oc: angra lievens #oc: saga firestorm #pathfinder #pathfinder wotr #pathfinder wrath of the righteous #pathfinder oc

[sprovod]

FORGIVE ME FATHER, FOR I HAVE SINNED

Sam Winchester is a Priest and the reader is a powerful demon who plans to break him. Female reader, implied smut, dark themes! If enough people would like a part two, ill do it :-)

The sun shone through the large stained glass windows of the Church, painting its marble floors and ornate walls in different colors and designs. The Priest, Sam Winchester, sat kneeling in front of the alter, praying. He had a lengthy history with hunting, and decided to change his ways and repent, becoming a priest and spreading the word of the lord. He left his previous life behind after yet another near death experience, and swore he met Christ in the process. He decided to break away from his once violent lifestyle, changed his name, took an oath, and now found himself baptizing babies and conducting a mass every Sunday. He was content now; and for the first time, he felt as though his life had purpose and structure. And at the end of each day, such as now, he would thank God for changing his ways and making him the man he is today.

Latin hymns reflected on his knelt figure from the windows as he prayed, his hands clasped together and his eyes closed. Soft swirls of incense floated among the floors and across the decorated walls, the scent of Frankincense and Myrrh wafting throughout the cathedral he often called home. He mumbled to himself; or really, to God. The vast wooden doors to the church creaked open from, disrupting the large man from his one sided conversation. After looking up to the quartzite statue of Mother Mary, he turned back from the alter, letting go of his hands and standing up. Confused, he watched as the girl entering shut the heavy door behind her, the light that momentarily flooded the entrance once again hiding behind the ornate mahogany panel doors. “Father Wesson,” The girl started, the sound of concern lacing her words. His brows twitched in confusion as he tilted his head, watching her walk towards him. The sound of her shoes clicking against the cold marble echoed through his house of worship as she got closer to him. “I’m so sorry to disturb you after traditional hours, but I must speak to you urgently.” She said, her brows laced with worry as she looked up to the towering man.

“Please,” He started, then cleared his throat. He hadn’t realized how hoarse his voice was from his hours spent alone praying. “What’s troubling you?” He asked concerned, raising his brows and tilting his head to her. She sighed gently and smiled, looking relieved, “I have a confession, and I can’t bare the thought of living with my sins. Please, I need to confess my sins and repent.” She said, her eyes welling up with tears. His face grew soft as he nodded, “Of course. Have a seat.” He smiled warmly, nudging to one of the many pews behind them. She returned the smile, “I can’t thank you enough, Father.” She said, turning around and walking to one of the benches. He followed, sitting next to her on the uncomfortable wooden seat, the plastic cushions letting out what sounded like a sigh beneath the two from the sudden weight.

He couldn’t ignore the feeling in his gut; maybe he was just paranoid. He didn’t recognize this girl, he was sure he met most of the people from living and praising in this small town for well over two years. He pushed his thoughts to the back of his mind, shaking this feeling of uneasy off and readying himself for her confession. “I’m always here to listen. What’s your name?” He asked, head tilted. A sly smile grew on her lips, “Asmodea,” She said. She saw him visibly tense up, “But Dea works fine.” He swore he heard that name before, and every single siren and warning light was going off in his head. He paused, looking forward and furrowing his brows. He was deep in thought, trying to remember, but he couldn’t. “Father? Are you alright?” She questioned, looking up at him with concern. He quickly cleared his throat and nodded, “Yes, Yeah, uhm.. Everything’s fine. My apologies.” He stammered, smiling, “Dea, confess whenever you’re ready.” He said, a soft look of patience painted on his face.

“I’ve been having these.. thoughts.” She started, trailing off. “I can’t seem to control my anger and lust. I need help.” She said, looking down guiltily. He nodded, raising his brows, “Okay. And.. these thoughts. What kind of thoughts are these?” He questioned, his interest peaking. She inhaled sharply and continued, “All I can think about is sex and violence.. I can’t get these thoughts out of my head!” She whimpered, defeat all over her face. He gently placed a hand on her shoulder, “You need to let the lord in,” He smiled gently, “You need to forgive yourself for these thoughts, and then he can forgive you.” He nodded. She smiled and looked up at him, “I understand.” He straightened his posture, “Have you acted out on these thoughts and feelings?” She tilted her head and pursed her lips, “Not yet.” His gaze hardened ever so slightly, giving her a quizzical look. “What do you mean by ‘not yet?’” He asked, his throat going dry. “Tell me, Father..” She started, standing up and walking out of the pew and towards the altar ahead. His eyes were locked on her figure, fear slowly starting to sink into the pit of his stomach. The sound of her shoes clicking against the floor bounced off of the vaulted ceiling as she approached the sanctum. He rose slowly as she began to speak, a hand on the pew in front of him, “Have you ever tried to run away from a life of sin? It just always seems to catch up to you.”

He seemed almost stunned at the question the girl asked. This was supposed to be her confession, not his. He went to speak, but nothing came out. He knew something was wrong, and he had nothing to defend himself with. As the girl faced the cross in front of her, she began to speak once again. “I just feel like.. No matter how many times I confess, and no matter how many times I try and reform myself in the eyes of god, I just can’t escape my right of passage.” She sighed, looking down. He slowly and cautiously walked towards her, “Dea.. What do you mean by right of passage?” He questioned, “You still have time to change your life around and give yourself to the lord.” He said optimistically. “You and I are very, very, similar, Father.” She smiled, “The both of us just can’t seem to escape what we were put on this earth to do.” She said. He stepped closer, clenching his jaw, “I don’t understand what you mean by that.” He said defensively; the reality he feared slowly began to sink in. She laughed softly and turned around, revealing her once innocent looking doe eyes to be pitch black, such as a void. The reds, blues, greens, and yellows from the stained glass washed over her from above, and an intense gust of wind seemed to rush through the aisle of the church, blowing out every candle of remembrance and honor in its way.

He stepped back in shock, his eyes wide as he faced the demon in front of him. He clenched his fists, sweat beginning to form in his palms and between his fingers. Before he was able to retort, she spoke, “I love this new look on you, Father Winchester.” His face grew pale as he trembled with both anger and fear, “Who are you?” He asked sternly, breathing heavier, “What do you want?” He growled. She laughed and walked towards him slowly, “You know who I am, Winchester. Don’t play stupid.” She grinned. It all hit him at once; years ago, both him and Dean came across a dead end on a case of what seemed like a succubus case. They beat themselves up over their loss for days until a new case hit, then they had no choice to move on. He remembered during his countless hours of research seeing her name somewhere in a demonology book, but chalked it up to a succubus that managed to escape the two. “I want you, Sam. And ill do anything and everything in my power to have you.” She said, inches away from him now. The smell of frankincense and myrrh was quickly replaced with roses and what he could only assume was pheromones. He shuddered as she placed a hand gently on his chest, “Please, father.. Forgive me for what I must do.” She said, looking up at him.

He snapped out of it and placed his hands on hers, pushing her off gently and backing up. “I’m a different man now, Asmodea. I don’t want to fight anymore. I just want to preach what I believe in.” He said, gulping as he nodded towards the cross behind her. “Oh, Father,” She said in a sultry tone, causing him to shift uncomfortably. “I don’t want to fight either.. I just want to show you how badly I want to worship you.” She said. She blinked up at him, her eyes returning back to a human facade. He shook his head, “No. Absolutely not.” He whispered, still in shock over the situation. “How did you find me?” He asked, backing away from her. “I’ve had my eye on you since you were hot on my tail a few years ago with Dean. You came really close to finding me, but I managed to stump you both.” He hadn’t heard someone mention Dean since he stopped hunting and turned his life around. Anger was visible on his face, “It was you. I knew it was you.” He snapped, only making her smile more. “Aww, Father..” She sighed, her brows furrowing, “Please, Forgive me for my sins.” She grinned, once again placing her hands on his chest and planting a kiss on his now dry lips; which of course wasn’t returned. “No. Get out.” He growled, to which she smirked and placed gently kisses on his jawline and whatever parts of his neck were exposed. “Please, Father,” She whispered. He let out a strained groan, looking away in disbelief. “Let me show you how sorry I am for being such a filthy sinner.” She begged gently, lowering her hands down to his waistline beneath his shirt and looping her fingers in his belt loops.

He groaned, his head rolling back, “This is wrong.. This is so wrong, we can’t do this.. You can’t do this to me.” He sighed, squeezing his eyes shut. He refused to look at her or at any of the Church decor. He swore that if he opened his eyes, Christ would be glaring daggers at him and the statue of Mary would be crying. “I know you think its wrong, Father.. But I need you to save me, I need you to fix me.” She answered, “Only you can help me.” She said, slowly lowering herself down to her knees in front of him. She smirked as she placed her cheek against the large bulge in his now tight black slacks, running her hands gently up and down his thighs. Her pleading was almost too much for him to handle; and her scent was driving him insane along with those pretty words she was using against him. “Please,” He whimpered, his voice strained. He managed to muster up the courage to look down at her, his hands down at his sides, “Please don’t do this, its against all I believe.” He said, shaking his head. “I thought you believed in saving others, Father.. And you know as much as I do that you want this.” She laughed softly, slowly pressing her cheek a bit harder into his now raging erection. She intertwined a hand with his, and guided his other to the back of her head. He couldn’t help but tighten his grip in her locks, clenching his jaw as he looked down at her.

“Forgive me Father, and absolve me of my sins.”

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[eenurgl]

Asmodea🩸 Based on the mask by Edward Jekyll

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[asmodiyanashop]

MY ART asmodiyana [ in stock, for sale ] - Payment method - Swift transaction, or adding funds to my tinkoff account by link or using the Korona by phone number.../// Territorially I am located in Russia and not from all countries swift payment available. The rest of the methods are discussed personally.

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Thank you for being interested in my work. Paintings are the most common way to decorate any room... ◌

Asmodea for 2024 Canvas on cardboard,, oil 30×40 "Red evening for many" Without the baguette comfort, as it is :Please look at her!

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