🦷

The first time it happens, you’re both terrified. You’d deepened the kiss more than usual, pressing closer until he pulled you onto his lap. In the rare privacy of his room, things hot heated quickly, more so than usual. Mammon’s hands caressed your waist and hips at first, but when you started grinding down on him and his grip tightened…something in you screamed to get away.

You lurched back, eyes wide and frightened while your hands gripped his wrists tight to pull them off. Mammon stopped immediately, of course, and you both stayed frozen for a moment as your actions sunk in. Once they had, he immediately let go and spoke up all confused, scared he’d somehow hurt you without realizing it. It took a second to calm him down, to explain that you hadn’t meant to pull back, it just…happened.

Well, the mood was ruined after that. Mammon got all serious about it, looking in every book on humans in the library for some type of explanation. You spent more time thinking about it before finally landing on an explanation. The feeling was exactly like the one you first got whenever you got here- icky and cold- but so much stronger. This time, it was heavy, an uncontrollable urge to fight and push and run away from the inherent danger that is your very docile demon boyfriend.

Once you both come to the conclusion that intimacy with him caused some type of survival instinct to trigger, Mammon is painfully careful with you. Every touch is slow, every kiss is controlled, and he never pushes for more. Like, ever.

Only when you get impatient do you demand him to give you more. You have to sit him down and explain very clearly that you are not scared of him. You trust him more than anyone. It’s just an uncontrollable little tick, an involuntary instinct that you try your best to push down. It takes a lot of convincing, but eventually Mammon is open to just…’ignoring’ it if you try to jerk away, but he focuses intently on differentiating between instinctive movements and intentional ones.

It’s hard for him at first, because he never wants you to be scared of him. It almost hurts when you flinch or jerk or squirm or tear up…but, well…Mammon has instincts too.

God, he’s ashamed of how hard it makes him. He feels his mouth water when you grab his wrists. His pupils dilate when you flinch. He bites down a growl when you gasp or whimper in fear. His eyes glow a greedy gold when you squirm away. His grip tightens when you try to push back against him. And his cock throbs when you tear up and cry. Yeah, you have to fight down your instincts, but so does Mammon. I mean, you wouldn’t feel the need to run if he didn’t feel the need to possess.

He swears up and down that it doesn’t happen, that he has more control than that…but you both know he’s lying. Mammon gets off on your instinctive fear, because his own instincts crave it. It feels almost gross at first, almost a bit…morally concerning. But then you both realize that even if there’s some primal little predator-and-prey kinda thing going on, you both trust and love each other enough that it’s completely consensual. And it can be kinda…hot.

Once again, he goes painfully slow. You both hash out all the details together- boundaries, safe-words, pain thresholds. It’s extremely important to Mammon that you both know exactly how far you can go with this before it gets potentially dangerous…Dangerous for you, that is, because once you both get comfortable it can get intense.

Mammon is never overly rough, of course, but he uses your instincts to his advantage. He’ll corner you on purpose, snickering at the way you shrink back but blush and beg so prettily for him. One of his hands will pin both your wrists down, not budging an inch as you desperately try to tug out of his grip, meanwhile you’re moaning his name. His sharp teeth will graze over your neck, over that soft part that would bleed out if he bit it hard enough. You know he’d never do it, but it makes you tear up and sob quietly even as you squeeze around his cock.

And of course…his actual demon form. The most drastic change isn’t his physical appearance…it’s the aura he exudes. It gets so much stronger when he’s like this- really the Avatar of Greed. The dread crawls up your spine, covering your body in goosebumps and making you feel all clammy. Your brain goes fuzzy with fear even when he’s across the room, eyes wide and feet instinctively stumbling back. Mammon watches you, approaching carefully to assess your feelings but grinning lightly at the sight of you. He can’t help the way he just loves seeing a human cower before him, especially in his true form.

You’re in tears before he even touches you, your brain screaming ‘run, run, RUN’ despite the way you reach for him. Mammon coos and wipes your tears, making sure you still want him before pulling you closer and locking his arms around you so you can’t run. You grab at him with shaking hands, knees nearly giving out from how powerful the fear is, and yet you’ve never been more turned on.

I feel like Mammon would get more and more cocky about it as he gets more turned on and more into it, soft coos turning to teases. “Ya okay? Promise?” “Not gonna hurt ya, sugar.” “Shh, shh…ya keep shakin’ like that and I’m gonna lose it…” “So damn pretty when you cry…keep goin’ f’me.” “That’s it…don’t fight it, babe, jus’ feel me.” “Ya like this?…Yeah, ya do…” “Heh…’ts cute when you try an’ push me away, treasure.”

He might even let you get away sometimes, just so he can catch you again. Mammon loves watching you stumble when he lets go, your eyes widening in surprise as you look back at him, so startled but fully comprehending what he wants. In those moments, you allow your instincts to take over, your legs carrying you frantically away from him.

Mammon watches fondly, a low growl building in his throat that he quickly pushes down. He’s not really hunting you, no no no. Never. He’s just…playing with you. And when it’s his turn, he’s behind you in an instant. It almost feels like he teleported there, but he’s just that fast. An embarrassing shriek leaves your lips as he hugs you snugly back against him mid-stride. It doesn’t even hurt because he’s always so gentle, his hands caressing your waist as he murmurs reassurances in your ear and presses his bulge against your ass.

But, of course, he’s still Mammon. Once you’re both all fucked-out and exhausted, he’s immediately helping you calm down and relax. He’d clean you up all gently, whispering now and rubbing gently at your flinching legs and hands. You keep your eyes shut, focusing on steadying yourself and feeling the weight in your chest slowly dissipate. Once you’re clean, he’d get in bed and comfort you until the trembling stops completely, massaging your hips and kissing your head.