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Mammon was bored. More importantly, you were out and about with Asmo, leaving him to his own devices. It hadn’t been an issue until you showed up and until you made a pact with him... now, when you weren’t by his side, he felt surprisingly antsy.

He’d blame it on the pact, it had to make his feelings stir. He wouldn’t argue that he had been dumb enough to fall into one with you, but he had yet to regret it. The longer you stayed there, the more it became apparent to him his brother’s attachments to you, and he took pride in being your first when it came to your pacts.

He couldn’t help himself.

He’d found himself in your room, his eyes looking over the somewhat made bed and the cracked open closet door at its side. He’d come there telling himself he was looking for money to go gamble with, to do something with, anything at that point was better than waiting around like a moping puppy, which he surely wasn’t.

“What’s Y/N’s is mine, and what’s mine is... mine.” Mammon was reassuring himself that this, his snooping, was fine. He knew that you hadn’t brought much at all to Devildom, so it wasn’t shocking to find that you had little to hide. Mammon knelt first by your bed, sighing to himself upon finding nothing but dust beneath. He moved onto the drawers in the nightstand, finding once again, nothing. “Ya know... Y/N doesn’t really have anything good here, but eh, I guess it shouldn’t be surprising. After showing up here with nothin’ at all.” He’d muttered to himself, finding a twinge of embarrassment at the realization that he was talking to himself in Y/N’s room. What if you found him, talking to himself and rummaging through your belongings? You’d know just how much of a desperate demon he was, and he wasn’t sure he could deny that.

He moved to your closest after finding nothing interesting elsewhere. It was already cracked open a bit, and he had convinced himself that it was less terrible that way. Tugging the door open he found what you’d expect in a closet: Clothes. “Let’s see... We’ve got some uniforms, some regular clothes... and not much else.” He found himself lingering a bit too long on that, his fingers curling against the familiar fabric. He wondered briefly if it still smelled like you, and the temptation was there, the all too familiar greed to have you all to himself, but... His attention was torn quickly elsewhere.

“Wait... what’s this! I spy a promising looking box!” Mammon spotted a small, otherwise ordinary box tucked into the bottom corner of the closet. The clothing had once covered it, but since he had brushed it aside, the box twinkled like a jewel to him. The first thought, of course, was money. How much were you hiding in there? If not money, what else? Lottery tickets? A deed to a house? Wishful thinking on his part.

Being the avatar of greed, naturally, he didn’t hesitate to reach for it. Kneeling down once more he pulled the small box into his lap, manicured fingers eagerly pulling up on the lid. It didn’t smell like money, he knew the smell of that well, but he held out hope for something worthwhile.

Upon opening the box, his brows furrowed in confusion, then quickly darted up in shock.
This was... not what he expected.

It was pink, nearly as pink as his face at that point. Even though the shape was clearly recognizable, it took him a moment to process just what it was. At that point he knew he had crossed a line, he knew he should put it down, leave, and pretend he had never seen it, but... Where did you even get this?

It was a sex toy, he knew that much. The realization that this was yours seemed to strike a match in him, greed of a different kind, one only you could satisfy. It was wrong, very wrong for him to be going through your things, and now finding such a toy tucked inside of your closet... He couldn’t help but wonder.

It even reminded him of you. From the vibrancy in color to the bunny ears clearly sprouted up at the smaller tip, it was almost cute, just like you. His fingers twitched again, tempted, and this time he allowed himself the greed. He reached within and balanced the toy in his hand, smooth silicone that tapered off into a more phallic shape, and near the handle, another small bud. That was where the ears were, along with a small indentation of what looked to be a rabbit’s nose. Mammon wasn’t a prude, and with his age, he knew where such a toy would go, and the thought of you writhing beneath it was... God, it was almost painful to imagine.

He felt himself already straining against his jeans. The image was burned into his brain already, and even when he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to will the image away, you appeared to him. It wasn’t the first time he thought of you, and it wouldn’t be the last. He imagined how smooth your skin would be under his hands, how you sounded when the toy angled just right inside of you, or when he would turn up the vibrations to coax you closer to your peak. He wanted that more than anything at that moment, even more than money. To hell with it — He’d found something even better.

He felt ridiculously dirty popping a boner in your room, especially going through your things and clothing. He could have gotten off there, too, your toy in hand and in the other, maybe your sweater. Fuck, he was disgusting — Perhaps even more-so than Asmo.

Asmo. Something else emerged with the lust, jealousy maybe, though he’d play it off as simply being concerned for his human. Did Asmo know about this? Is that why she was out with him and not here? What were they doing?

“Shit,” Mammon cursed, his eyes narrowing and lips curling into a frown at the thought. His grip tightened around the toy in his hand. He knew his brother’s surely shared similar feelings for you, and you were kind enough to split the attention for them all. Mammon clung to you the most, though, and all too often he would appear when you had plans with another. Whether that be a study session with Satan or a movie marathon with Levi. He always found a way to weasel himself to your side again.

He hadn’t this time.

His arousal hadn’t left, and if anything the surge of possessive thoughts and jealousy had fanned the fire. It would become painful if he remained there with his cock pressing against his jeans, and the longer he leered down at the toy, the more he found himself tempted to get off right then and there, surrounded by you. You’d been gone for nearly an hour, and you hadn’t announced when you’d be back. What if you found him, desperately fucking into his own hand on his knees, your toy gripped in his other. He almost wanted that, almost, but knowing that you surely didn’t know of his feelings and that he was unsure of yours, he couldn’t. He reasoned with himself or at least tried to, and he managed to decide that his arousal could be let free in his own room. He already had your image engraved in his brain, and now knowing what you kept, he doubted he would last long at all. He pushed himself up to stand, your toy still in hand as his other reached down to adjust his straining hard-on. He’d put it back where it was and sneak out of your room to relieve himself before you returned, and he could only hope that one of his brothers wasn’t getting the same idea and lingering outside...


Oh fuck, oh fuck, fuck — He didn’t have to turn to know whose voice it was calling him, but he did so anyways in shock, finding you standing in the now open doorway. You were clutching bags in your hands, the label on the side the familiar Akuzon label showing that you had, in fact, just been shopping. You looked confused as he stood with his back to you, only his head tilted in your direction. His tanned skin was now a growing bright pink, similar to the toy still in his hand. At the lack of verbal response and the clear embarrassment on his face, you came closer, tilting your head. He was frozen, unable to pull his hand away as you caught sight of it and what he held. He was caught red-handed, and all breath had left him. Your gasp was what brought him out of shock.

“Shit, it’s not — I didn’t — You're back,” he sputtered, his voice rising in volume along with the size of his eyes. They were wide, humiliated, and perhaps even a bit scared. He sounded like a fool, a demon like himself stumbling over his words, but that was the least of his worries. Your expression was unreadable to him, though it could be taken as just as shocked as his.

“Mammon,” you tried again, finding your own face heating up as your gaze shot down and lingered on the familiar toy in his hand. Mammon cut you off before you could continue, blurting, “Where’s Asmo?”