Same Ol Mistakes (Obey Me Asmodeus X reader)

Same Ol Mistakes

Throughout Asmodeus’ week, he couldn’t pay attention, not in class and certainly not to anyone else. Each class he held his head in his hands, fidgeting with his pen as he struggled to write down notes. Craving nothing more than to be by himself, in his bed with his own thoughts.

That night, Asmo was in the kitchen, searching through the fridge and cabinets as Beel walked in. 

“Asmo!!” Beel’s eyes widened at the sight of his older brother. 

Asmo whipped his head around at the sound of his brother’s voice, and they made awkward eye contact for a couple seconds, Asmo feeling strangely exposed. 

“You're alone? For once? That’s surprising” Beel said as he moved next to Asmo to search for food. 

Asmo sighed, suddenly acutely aware of his situation. 

“Yeah” was the only response he supplied, looking down at the floor. Asmo waited a few more seconds before leaving the kitchen, suddenly not feeling hungry anymore. As he walked to his bedroom, his throat had gone dry and eyes watery. Locking his door behind him, he was faced with a very empty, very quiet bedroom. Asmo sat on his bed, smoothing out the top sheet, feeling awkward by the sheer lack of activity. 

When was the last time he slept in his bed by himself? He struggled to recall ever just getting in bed and falling asleep without some kind of sexual activity. Tears begin falling, fogging up his eyesight and clogging up his nostrils as he sniffs. 

Asmo began to strip his school uniform, unbuttoning his shirt and pulling off his tie, letting the garments fall and hit the carpet in a crumpled mess. He continued removing his pants and socks, adding them to the pile. He sniffed, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, but the tears wouldn’t stop. Grabbing the waistband of his underwear and peeling it off, he faced away from his crotch, letting tears cloud his vision as the offending garment was removed. 

With a sharp sniff, Asmo reached over to his night stand and took multiple tissues to blow his nose with. Shivering with goosebumps, his nakedness felt wrong. Despite all the years and the comfortable habit of sleeping in the nude, he was feeling all too exposed. Asmo throws the soiled tissues into the corner of his room, the stark white a contrast against the champagne walls and floors. Sighing deeply for the second time that night, he walks to search through his closet. Pulling open one draw, he picks through all the different lingerie sets, the silk and lace calming him.

One particular set catches his eye, one he knows is your favorite colour. He grabs it and puts it on, the set consisting of a simple silk thong and matching thigh garters. Asmo walks to his vanity, briefly making eye contact with himself in the mirror before turning the lamp off and going into bed. As his head hits the pillow, the tears start welling up again. And for the first time that day, he lets his mind wander to where it wants to go. 

You. You, you, you, you. A mere human. Nothing more than a simple human girl. Asmo abruptly pinches his arm, clenching his teeth, wishing for the thoughts to go away. But he can’t understand how much he hates it when you hug his brothers, hold their hands or just simply touch them in any way. He knows, he knows how you forego those platonic touches with him. Asmo knows it’s because he’s the Avatar of Lust. And it’s not just you, but it’s everyone. No one hugs him like a friend. No one pats him on the back because they’re proud of him.  

He runs his hand through his hair in frustration as the tears stream down his cheeks. He keeps thinking about you, how happy and comfortable you are in the presence of his brothers, how you laugh along at their jokes, how you let them touch you. But he’s just different, because he’s the Avatar of Lust. All his actions and words have sexual intent, even if he doesn’t mean it. He can’t pretend he doesn’t notice how you always leave the room if you’re alone together. That you're scared, even if you try to hide it. You're scared he will take advantage of you. Asmodeus cries even harder at this, telling himself over and over again that he would never do that. 

Asmo wraps his arms around himself in a weak mimic of a hug, a pathetic attempt at comfort. He can’t keep thinking about you, your voice, your laugh, your body. What you would look like under your uniform, what you would look like under him. Asmo feels himself getting hard, feelings of arousal burning in his core. And he cries, embarrassed, as he grabs himself through the thong. He reminds himself how much happier you are with his brothers than him and suddenly everything feels worse. You would never want him, because of his pathetic sin. In that moment he is struck with jealousy, wishing his sin was anything, anything other than lust. 

Maybe then people would pay attention to him, and start seeing him as a possible love prospect rather than a one night stand. Maybe then people would stop taking advantage of him, stop taking advantage of how easy he is to bed. Maybe then less people would hate him, breathing down his neck because of the trouble Asmo got them into. All because of his dirty, sinful lust. 

Pulling the thong to the side so he can properly jerk himself off, he scrunches his eyes hard, envisioning you. He imagines how good it would feel to pin you down and bury himself deep inside you. With a final thought about cumming deep inside of you and permanently making you belong to him, he cums hard into his own hand under the sheets. Quickly grabbing tissues and cleaning himself off, the sin was over as quick as it started.

Asmo flips the pillow over to the side not wet with tears, and he pulls his thong back over his cock. And for the first time in a very long time, he sleeps all alone, in a peaceful, dreamless sleep, tomorrow on the horizon.