The door shut behind you with a quiet click, muffling the sounds of departing footsteps and lingering laughter. Your arms were heavy with the spoils of your birthday—shimmering bags stuffed with gifts, treats, and the laughter of friends echoing in your chest like a song you didn’t want to end. The warm buzz of the evening clung to your skin as you made your way upstairs, each step light with contentment.

But the second your bedroom door swung open, the universe shifted sideways.

Your bags nearly slipped from your hands.

There, sprawled out across your bed like a cat who had claimed its favorite sunlit spot, was Mammon—the Avatar of Greed himself. And he wore nothing but a devilish grin.

The soft golden hue of the setting sun bled through your curtains, bathing his bare figure in molten light. His skin seemed to glow with it, as if he’d been dipped in honey and kissed by sin. A cocky smirk curled on his lips, sharp and glinting like a coin flipped in the air—dangerous, unpredictable. His toned body stretched across your sheets like he had every right to be there, arms behind his head, legs lazily crossed, with not even the faintest hint of shame in his posture.

His eyes—those striking blue gems—roamed over you shamelessly, lingering like fingers. Hungry. Possessive. Greedy.

"Well ‘bout time ya got here, birthday star,” he purred, voice rough with mischief and laced with heat. “Took ya long enough. Was startin’ to think I’d have to unwrap myself."

Your breath hitched.

Heat crawled up your neck, and your heart beat out a rhythm you couldn’t dance to. The absurdity of it warred with the thrill in your chest, while Mammon just lay there, soaking up your flustered expression like it was his favorite treasure.

And judging by the glint in his eyes… It might’ve been.