The house was quiet—too quiet. You’d assumed all the brothers were out for the day, and with the rare gift of solitude, temptation quickly got the better of you. After locking your door, you let yourself relax, slipping beneath the covers with a wicked little smile. Finally, time for some much-needed release without Mammon barging in to whine about money or demand your attention.

You let your fingers wander, breaths growing shallow, eyes fluttering closed as you imagined something—or someone—touching you instead.

That cocky voice. That sharp grin. Those greedy hands always grabbing what he wanted.

Mammon.

Just as your body started to tremble with pleasure, the door suddenly burst open.

“Yo, MC! You’ll never guess what I—”

He stopped mid-sentence, eyes going wide as he took in the scene before him—your flushed face, the blanket barely covering your moving hand, and the unmistakable look of surprise and arousal in your gaze.

Your heart leapt in your chest. “M-Mammon?!”

He stood frozen for a moment, cheeks rapidly turning red as his mouth opened, then shut. Then opened again.

“I—You—I thought you were just takin’ a nap or somethin’!” he blurted, eyes locked onto you like he couldn’t look away even if he wanted to.

You scrambled for the blanket, but he held up a hand. “Wait, no! Don’t stop—! I mean, I didn’t mean to walk in on this, but like—damn…”

He laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck, but his eyes betrayed him—darkening, lingering on the spot where the sheets clung to your curves.

“I-I’m your first man, right? So why’re you imaginin’ someone else doin’ that when I could just… y’know…”

He stepped closer, a teasing smirk finally breaking through his embarrassment.

“If you wanted me that bad, all ya had to do was ask.”