The Funk of Lust

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Hey, quick content warning for the entire conversation with Asmodeus. Mentions of self-medication, roofies, and attempted suicide. If you aren't comfortable with those things, feel free to skip this entire chapter, as that's the bulk of it. As a result of this, I am marking this story from here on. I apologize if this locks anyone out of reading, but I ultimately feel it necessary for my own conscience.

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Mammon was right, Belphagor wasn't hard to convince. All he had to do was mention how everyone would have to start doing physical labor again just to get themselves food was enough to convince the lord of sloth. From the description Mammon gave, the lord of Lust was going to be... interesting.

And Mammon wasn't lying. Asmodeus, like the other sins, had a massive estate within the city. Where the other sins had very simple entrances, choosing to focus more on the interiors in which they would spend most of their time, Asmodeus went all out. Mammon, despite being the lord of greed, had little more than a simple fence made of hellish masonry and an iron gate. Belphagor's exterior was even smaller, being surrounded by a simple iron fence.

Asmodeus paid great mind to their exterior. Their estate proper could not even be seen from the exterior wall, which was composed of pink masonry with golden bands across the central mortar. The gate was made of pink-painted wood with gold accents, a giant sigil across the middle. The sigil was composed of a pair of scissors, a lock and key, and crossed swords. Altogether, it looked wildly out of place in hell. And that was all before you got into the estate proper, where ornate decorations (some of which looked to be still-living demons) littered the premises. Whether it be innate due to being the son of Mammon or if it was just that obvious, (Y/N) could tell that all of the golden things were actually pyrite.

In fact, once (Y/N) got inside, he realized why Asmodeus was able to keep the exterior so ornate. The interior of the main house, which was white faux marble on the outside, was a complete mess. There were piles of random things everywhere. Sex toys in paperwork on top of boxes of condoms and IUDs. (Y/N) stepped very carefully through the halls, mildly afraid of what might be on anything in any given pile. Whatever the contents of a demon's crusty sock might be, he did not want any trace of it on his anything.

He wasn't careful enough, it seemed, as in an attempt to dodge a pile of horse dildos, he tripped on another pile of paperwork. He crashed to the floor with a thud, sending papers flying into the air. (Y/N) put his palm to his forehead, trying to ease the headache that came from the impact.

"Who's that stumblin' around in the dark?" someone shouted from deep in the manor. They spoke with twin voices, one obviously male and the other female. Their speech was slurred, clearly drunk, or otherwise chemically altered.

"I am Mammon's son!" (Y/N) declared, quickly trying to stand before anything else that might be on Asmodeus's floor got on him. "I come... I'm here with a business proposal!"

"Unless you have our shipment of Rohypnol, fuck off!" they shouted.

"I'm afraid it's urgent," (Y/N) responded, arriving at the large door the voices were coming from. A distinct clicking noise was heard from inside the room, and the doors opened slowly, grinding against the smooth stone floor. Looking around, (Y/N) saw a grand room lit by nothing more than candles, every surface seemingly caked in dust, and two figures on couches in the middle. On (Y/N)'s right was a woman in a tattered dress, but other than that, she was an absolute knockout. She looked like the perfect woman, one who wouldn't look out of place on every magazine cover in the world. She had the ideal body shape, thin waist yet wide hips, and a respectable bust, and that was to say nothing of her face. On (Y/N)'s left, there was a similarly ideal man, muscular with a beard and sharp facial features. Like the woman, he was wearing tattered formal clothes. They were both drinking out of some kind of goblet, though the exact substance was something (Y/N) couldn't figure out.

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