Character(s) Lupe's OCs

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Character(s) Lupe's OCs

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Name: Mordecai Lucien Salvatore
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Gay

Physical Characteristics
Age: 30s
Height: 6'6"
Build: Swimmer
Race: Human or Vampire
Skin Tone: Olive
Hair: Black

Facial Features
Beard: No
Eye Colour: Carnelian
Markings and tattoos: Thin scar around his neck, bullet hole scars on his left clavicle, right abdomen, right hip
Nervous Tics and Habits: Oral fixation

Art

Character Kinks:
Anything and everything

Additional notes:
Pinterest
Playlist

Personality:
A big idiot, constantly trips over his own clown shoes. Looks big and scary but cries because swans can be gay. Somewhat sarcastic. Big romantic. Service top/bratty bottom. The pinterest will give a better idea of this akjsffbkf I'm terrible

Background:
Can be adapted to any setting/role!

Ties to the mafia. Godfather is the don of one of the Five Families of New York. Grew up poor and desperate, is now rich and successful.

Writing sample:

“It’s good to see you at service again, Lucien.” Joshua’s voice is calm as always, serene beyond his years in appearance.

Mordecai was less pleased, not even bothering with his typical stock smile. He was examining Joshua skeptically, if not cautiously. Joshua understood his hesitation, but accepted his presence patiently. He had been inviting Mordecai to join him for years now, ever since he had discovered they shared a similar past. Despite the warnings of their peers, Joshua felt no fear toward Mordecai. He had never done anything to personally cause Joshua any worry, and inside here, at least, he was the safest he could possibly be.

Mordecai was still hesitating, but he got over it eventually to come closer, stepping away from the rows and rows of pews to join Joshua near the altar. He was cleaning up after the service, an activity that probably could have been left to a deacon or some other lower member, but Joshua was here doing it himself. Most would have found that humble, even admirable.

“Is there anything you wanted to discuss, Lucien?” Joshua asked politely, when Mordecai made no attempt at conversation himself, but continued to stare down at him. Joshua had no idea what the expression on Mordecai’s face was meant to convey. He seemed both confused and apprehensive at once. Like there was a question he needed to ask, but wanted to avoid.

“I enjoyed the service,” Mordecai said, but Joshua wasn’t so sure he meant that. “But I did want to know,” he paused again, and Joshua didn’t interrupt, “Do you really believe in Salvation? Even now? For our kind.”

“I believe every soul can be saved,” Joshua answered, his eyes softening at the question. “Especially ours. What is our purpose if not to shepherd God’s children toward the light?” Mordecai said nothing, still making that hard, thoughtful face. Joshua thought he understood. “You consort with demons,” he said quietly, but not out of fear or shame. “But you used to be Catholic, correct?”

“Do we ever stop being Catholic?” Mordecai asked back, and finally gave Joshua a smile. Teasing, knowing. Joshua chuckled, but didn’t disagree. “It’s been a while, but yes.”

“May I ask,” since they were on good enough terms to ask questions now, “Why?”

Mordecai looked at him, searching.

“What led you away from the church?” Joshua elaborated. “And what led you to trusting demons?”

It was Mordecai’s turn to laugh softly. “Trust is a strong word for it,” he admitted. “But it was… a moment of weakness, mostly.” Joshua could tell there was more, but didn’t press. Most of the time, all a person needed was a willing ear, and they would say what they needed to. “And I thought… if I’m already damned, by this… curse, whatever,” he knew Joshua disagreed, but wasn’t here to argue that tonight, “Why not? If I still have a soul, it’s been tainted enough. Might as well use what resources I have.”

Joshua frowned, sympathetic, but clearly not because he agreed. “We can always work toward forgiveness,” he said calmly. “Time is something we are blessed with. Time enough to right more wrongs than any human lifespan could achieve. To save more people than any mortal ever could.”

“To make more bastard children?” Mordecai asked suddenly, his smile fading. Joshua stared at him. “To spread our plague to more people? To rob them of the natural cycle of life and death?”

Joshua stiffened, but wasn’t intimidated. “You do not have any childer,” he began, but Mordecai cut him off.

“And you have dozens,” he said, the smile completely gone, that strange hardness back in his eyes, which were almost black in the lighting inside the church. “And hundreds or more ghouls ready to answer your beck and call.”

“I help my congregation find peace,” Joshua said, speaking slowly and deliberately, never taking his cool gray eyes away from Mordecai. He was larger and taller but Joshua was not weak, and far from a coward. “They are not an army awaiting my command.”

“Yet,” Mordecai finished for him quickly. Joshua said nothing, knowing to argue was pointless. He looked away, regardless, eyes sweeping around the church, from the rows of pews to the choir, the stained glass windows, the paintings on the ceiling above. He looked back down at Joshua, waiting for what he had truly come to say.

“You changed your name,” Mordecai pointed out. “Ma fleur? Who called you that, Joshua? The bishop? Did he call you that while you were sucking his cock, or while he was sucking yours?”

There, that pulled a look out of Joshua that was more the truth than those gentle glances and sympathetic smiles. There was some of the Beast that lived in both of them, the monster in sheep’s clothing.
 
Last edited:
Name: Bedel
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Pan

Physical Characteristics
Age: Appears 20s
Height: 5'4"
Build: Lean with a big ol booty
Race: Incubus
Skin Tone: Peach
Hair: Chestnut

Facial Features
Beard: No
Eye Colour: Pink with heart pupils
Markings and tattoos: Small horns, tail, sometimes wings
Nervous Tics and Habits: Picky eater

Character Kinks:
Whatever his victim enjoys

Additional notes:
Pinterest
Playlist

Personality:
A slave to his own desires that he constantly fights. Emotionally constipated. King shit of fuck mountain. Hates Mordecai's guts.

Background:
Can be adapted to any setting/role!

An ancient incubus,

Writing sample:
Bedel’s room was on the second floor of Mordecai’s modern mansion, close to the stairs and with its own en suite bathroom, even though the only thing he ever truly used was the shower and, when he felt indulgent, the tub. He had lived with Mordecai ever since the contract between them had been signed and made binding, and while their relationship could be said to swing from boiling hot to icy cold, neither of them had ever brought up the idea of separating farther than having their own bedrooms.

His room had enough to keep him entertained, though his needs were truly far and few between. His bed was large and comfortable, piled with soft blankets, sheets, and a multitude of pillows. Normally neatly made, most of the pillows had been strewn around the bed, a few carelessly fallen onto the floor, and the blankets were rumpled from his own grasping hands and curling toes.

Across from the bed was his armoire, a monolith of dark wood that currently had both doors swung wide open to reveal the contents within. The door held hangers of gear; leather harnesses, muzzles made to fit non-canine faces, whips, chains, and ropes; all meticulously organized with precision and care.

The middle had a high mirror with runes and sigils painted along the sides of the glass, below it a set of shelves that held various toys made in a variety of shapes and sizes. Bedel had made most of them himself. He had modeled them after the curious anatomies of his kind. Demons, devils, ogres, and fiends. His collection was an eclectic as it was colorful, and he knew how each and every one felt and compared to the real thing.

The drawers of the shelf were haphazardly opened, their contents here, there, and everywhere. Vibrators, plugs, dildos, and sleeves had all been tried but still Bedel was a panting, hopeless mess in the center of his bed.

None of his toys were working.

Nothing could still the heat rolling around in his stomach, making him absolutely sick with desire. Bedel hated this. His heats were rare, but when they came they were miserable. As an incubus he could look forward to his body betraying him for the purpose it was designed for; to be fucked and filled with cum and pumped full of eggs by any succubus that could manage to find him, and they always came in groups. Normally proximity to succubi triggered his heat, their bodies calling to each other to spawn more of their kind, but this one was spontaneous.

He was at home, in the middle of relieving the pressure of feeding without pouring himself into some sleeping human woman, but now nothing would satisfy him, and nothing helped. He could fill himself with toys of all shapes and sizes all day long, but it wouldn’t bring him any relief. He needed something hot, something real.

Mordecai was out, and should be gone for hours, and Bedel had never hated him more. He’d served the vampire for well over a hundred years and had gone through heats before with him--hazards of enslaving an incubus--but the bastard had still left him alone like this. Nevermind Mordecai hadn’t known any better than Bedel had that this would happen. These events were never predictable, but always seemed to come at the worst times.

He was in no state to leave the house. He could barely leave his bed, which he had piled with every pillow and blanket he could find until it was more nest than mattress. His toys lay discarded beside him. There was slick drying on his thighs, and more still dripping from his hole. He felt like it never stopped. Every minute was another cramp, another painful throb in his cock. He needed more.
 
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