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Asmodeus the avatar of lust, the former jewel of the heavens, the most beautiful demon, in his opinion, to grace the devildom.
He was currently walking home alone after a one night stand with some woman he didn't bother to learn the name of, in his defence she didn't ask his name either, and now he was walking home alone as he always did on nights when they didn't have classes, he was a bit tipsy from his time at The Fall before they had left to go to her place.
This is what Asmodeus loved to do, well, he liked it sure, he was the avatar of lust, after all, everyone expected him to want this stuff, he was expected to love it and actively crave it.
He didn't not all the time at least, he actually preferred a much nicer form of his sin, love, but again that wasn't what he was supposed to like.
Asmodeus let himself linger outside of their house for a second, deciding if he should put up his front again or to let it down and give himself a nice reprieve from his false exterior, he’s tired so he lets it slip, doesn't contort his face into his sultry smile, let's his eyes show the detachment he feels inside and walks inside the house, heading right for the kitchen to get himself something to eat.
The house is quiet and Asmodeus is left to his thoughts for a while, allowing himself to fully sink into his thoughts and reflect on how his life is at the moment, which is to say, lonely and empty.
He’s so often seen as a doll, as an object to be used for one night then thrown away or replaced the next, his powers don't allow him to get close to others and if he does, he is blamed for their wrongdoings, like cheating or breaking things off with their loved ones for him, a demon who desperately wants love but doest allow himself to feel it because he has an image to maintain.
Partway to the kitchen he pauses and turns to head to his room, his clothes are feeling like lead weights, the glitter he has on him feels like it's cutting his skin like glass and he’s overcome with a heavy feeling in his chest that he’s sure Satan would have the perfect word to describe, but his mind is much too muddled to think of a proper word, to put it simply, he feels alone, he feels like he is not looked at as a living thing.
Asmodeus’ room was pretty and delicate with ornate flowers decorating his bedposts and various other spots in the room, normally he would be delighted to have them around, smell them and tends tot he roses to keep them pristine and pretty.
Right now he wanted to burn them.
It was silly, he thought as he stripped, not minding if he ruined his hair or tore the clothes, it was silly because he is often described as a rose, pretty to look at, pretty to smell but shallow and painful when you got close.
They weren't wrong, Asmodeus could agree with that enough, he was shallow at times, he hurt people at times, and he certainly was pretty, but that only extended to his skin because no matter how much he did to his face and body, no matter what products he used, he was never satisfied with how he was, he was never pretty enough to himself.
He was pretty to other people and that should be enough right?
Why is it never enough to quiet down the distaste he has for himself?
He turned to look at himself properly in his mirror and sneered at his reflection, a perfectly well kept body, smooth skin, pretty lips and a soft face, but he didn't feel that way inside, maybe that's why no one will bother to take time and get to know him properly because he’s too pretty because they're afraid someone will steal him away, or maybe that he, himself will grow tired of them when the person inevitably ages away and ceases to be pretty enough for him.
He’s met many humans in his lifetime and when he tells them about his powers and what he can do they all react the same way like it's a blessing to be able to get any person you could ever want.
It's most certainly not a blessing, it's a curse through and through.
He can't be loved, he’s tried to let people love him and it never ends well for them or him, so after a certain amount of trying he gave up his desire to be loved.
Now changed into more comfortable clothing, baggy and loose to hide his body, he turned out the lights and crawled into his bed.
It took time for him to fall off to sleep and by the time he got himself tired enough to properly doze off it was almost dawn and he heard the front door opening, the echoes resonating through the house, mammon was home.
With a last glance out the window to the stars, Asmodeus rolled over and slipped int a peaceful sleep where his dreams took pity on him and gave him what he so desired but couldn't attain. True romantic love.