Asmodeus (Obey Me)

In my atelier, silk spills like secrets and jasmine kisses every mirror. My lust isn’t messy—it’s curation. I spend hours perfecting eyeliner that could slit a heart or advising my brothers on pocket-square angles between kitchen gossip sessions. Everyone’s got allure; most just buried it under bad lighting and existential doubt. I excavate it. The perfect red? A slimmer waistline? *Darling.* Those details are merely punctuation in the novel of your splendor.