It’s Days Like These That Make Me Safely Say That I Don’t Miss You

Sorry for the inactivity here's some filth to make up for it ❤️

Warning: Sexy sex stuff, just a drabble, Nsfw so no minors

Pairing: Sugar Daddy! Diavolo x Sugar Baby! Mammon

Mammon didn't normally stay back after a meeting, he was usually the first one out the door, but ever since his arrangement was the Demon Lord himself...

It's safe to say his attentiveness rivaled even Lucifers. Just for one sole purpose in mind:

“W-Will you really let me use your card tonight if I- Ah~!”

“Of course baby! Has daddy ever lied to you?” Dia purred into the white-haired demon's ear, rubbing his thick leaking cock between Mam’s ass cheeks. Of course he hasn't, but Mammon can sometimes be doubtful. What if Dia no longer wants his services? This is the best money flow he had in a while! Not to mention that Diavolo is just so sweet with him, constantly showering him with gifts, putting him through all kinds of pleasure, and the aftercare? He really was amazing. Too amazing for a scumbag like him... It's only a matter of time before Dia realizes that-

SMACK!

Mammon is brought back to reality with a brutally placed strike on his backside, the prince starting down at him menacingly. Awaiting a response that Mammon must have not noticed.

“Baby doll, you're in your head again,”

“I-I'm sorry daddy! I promise I'll be more...oh...” His sentence is cut short as Dia rubs the lubed head of his length over the smaller demons hole.

“There we go...just focus on the pleasure okay?” with a curt nod from Mammon, the prince slowly begins to enter him. Both closed their eyes, letting out gasps and growls as he slowly fills him up. Once Dia his balls deep, he begins that pace his baby loves so, so much:

Rough, and messy.

Hunching over like a dog in heat, thrusting deep and pulling out slowly, savoring the small whimpers and curses that came from the demon under him. Meanwhile, Mammon could barely form a single thought with how full he was, not a single other thought going through his poor head. Just what Diavolo knew he needed.

It wasn't soon until the two were practically feral as Mammon fucked himself against Dia’s cock, while Dia messily humped into Mammons tight ass, his drool making a mess on the second born’s shoulder as he worked hard to push them both right over the edge.

“Oh daddy plus-please-uhn...”

“Please what my golden boy~?”

“Please fill m’ass with cum! I want it..want ya so bad daddy...”

What a sweet thing, asking so nicely! How could his daddy say no?

He spits into his palm a couple times before he reaches down, pumping Mammons twitching cock fervently.

“If I'm cumming then so are you baby..ah shit...after all you make the most adorable noises when you cum a-and the faces you make are just...nnnmm FUCK! Just thinking about it is gonna make me bust~”

He goes faster and faster, thrusting and pumping until finally, both men cum intensely. Dia wrapping his strong arms around Mammons frame as his hips press flush against his ass, painting his insides white until cum began to leak from around his cock. Mammon has came straight into Diavolo’s hand and was ready to apologize when he realized that he was just to tired to say a thing. Well that and when he did turn to speak he caught the prince himself licking at his fingers with a hunger he'd never seen. It made him flush so hard he had to turn away to hide it. Like Diavolo didn't already know his effect on his baby. However he doesn't acknowledge it, he just smiles as he begins cleaning him up.

“Lets get you cleaned up baby, then we can go out for a nice dinner!”

“Nah..lets just stay in, my ass hurts...”

“You wanna stay in the palace with me...?”

Oh no.

Mammon you scumbag! You don't just invite yourself to THE Demon Prince’s-

“I thought you'd never ask!” Diavolo, overjoyed picks up mammon in his arms, minding the mess as he made his way back to his palace, where he could finally spoil his golden boy properly~

he’s a sweetie. my happy little good time boy

Krobus is enjoying the new waterfalls...

OKAY, UMMMM???

THIS WAS SO AMAZING. i love these boys, i love smau’s, and i fiND THIS MASTERPIECE 🥰🤩😩

i genuinely smiled throughout binge reading the whole story and i just- 🥺 they’re so cute

TELEGRAPH AVE [smau] || masterlist

>> from the moment she’d met him, matsukawa issei had done nothing but make her life a living hell. years of annoying her on a daily basis for the sake of his own entertainment. it’s like there’s no escaping him, even in college. her only saving grace is his best friend – her best friend – who’s stuck in the middle. so after years of watching them fight, makki’s got a plan. a really bad plan. but what happens when they realize they’ve all been hiding something – something that could change the dynamic of the entire group? << 

pairing : matsukawa issei x f!reader x hanamaki takahiro [poly au]

genres : college!au, crack!au, humor, fluff, will def end up being nsfw at some point, enemies to lovers, friends to lovers

warnings : nsfw language and eventually content, marijuana and alchohol, an unprecedented amount of swearing on this blog, the inside of my mind is a chaotic place so i apologize in advance

a/n : this au idea came to me in a fever dream and refuses to back off so here we go 

status : ongoing

start date : [11/23/2020]

end date : [02/03/2021]

update schedule : MWF [twice per day]

taglist : [closed]

masterlist

>> playlist <<

intros pt. 1 || intros pt. 2

[1] shut up bitch basket

[2] i hate it here

[3] no fighting

[4] coexisting peacefully??

[5] please tell me it’s taco tuesday

[6] this mf

[7] matsukawa issei to the rescue???

[8] keep lying to yourself

[9] im trapped

[10] that’s clingy makki for you

[11] was it that bitch kindaichi

[12] right,,, haha anyways

[13] mind your business, rat

[14] kick his ass babe

[15] i think we need to talk

[16] like how horses get???

[17] MAKKI WANTS A THREESOME

[18] damn they broke her

[19] everyone say ‘thank you suna’

[20] POWER RANGERS ASSEMBLE

[21] i said he had smol peepee energy

[22] EMERGENCY LEVEL 10

[23/final] awwww he does love us

[epilogue] all i wanted was one fish date

guys… i think my vagina is gonna collapse and fall out if i’m not sitting on his dick 24/7

weeping happily. so much affection 😵‍💫

Gaz loves his Alpha.

He didn’t think it could be like that - a thief in the night after his heart. A silent creeping fog of devotion and affection, filling his lungs and clogging up his head.

From the stories his parents told - a beautiful Alpha/Omega pair, perfectly mid-spectrum that bore two pups - love is wildfire. It sparks, catches, spreads. Heat and light, it burns sometimes. Unmistakable, though, as it consumes.

It wasn’t like that with Saint. Like the Alpha themself, the love trickled in unobtrusive but steady, a dawning of new emotion, forging bonds like bands of sunlight cresting the horizon. Not a crackling blaze but a warming light. Until all at once it was day; it was love.

Saint, patron of devotion.

They’re sleeping under Gaz right now. Long, deep breaths that raise him with each inhale, a slight purr on each exhale. Content with his company even when unconscious.

Their eyes are closed, head lolling to reveal the strong column of their throat. The edge of their scent gland peaks past their compression shirt, a fresh smear of neutralizer over the bruised skin.

Post-Rut Saint is delicious. Lazy and slow as they recover energy and spent calories, napping in long shifts. Languid, relaxed, effortlessly Alpha.

They shift as the scent of Gaz’s arousal tickles their nose, tongue peaking out to swipe over the sharp curve of their fangs. Muzzle on again, of course, but one with bars instead of grid, easier to see their pretty mouth. Gaz is in no condition for another round, not after the thorough three days of fucking he and the other Omegas received, but the thought still makes his gut flip pleasantly.

He churrs, just to see what Saint will do, still mostly asleep.

The Alpha churrs sleepily back, the big hand curled around his thigh flexing.

Always so responsive, his Alpha, now that he knows what to look for. Saint never ignores them, never dismisses them. They’re always attuned to the Omegas, listening, ready to provide. Indulgent, even. Gaz and the others are spoiled - not that anyone would get away with saying so.

“Alpha…” he coos, nuzzling under Saint’s chin.

He does it because he can, and it’s still a novelty. An Alpha so extreme on the spectrum, yet so tolerant of vulnerability and all the liberties he and Soap take. Licking and nipping at their throat, scenting them on a whim, leaning and tugging and pressing close all the time. Not even a grumble for their trouble, just slow blinks and chuffs of amusement.

Alphas usually don’t let anyone but mates or pups near their throats, the submissive subtext and dangerous position grating on their instincts. But Saint has always let Gaz shove his nose against their jugular, or that tender spot beneath their ear, or the hollow where their purr sounds best. Even now, only just stirring, they tilt their chin back to grant him access.

“Omega,” they rumble, and a shiver wracks Gaz from head to toe.

Saint is rare with their voice. Saves it for the field or private moments; the subharmonics are intense, dominating. He barked at an Alpha recruit the other day, a touch less patient in pre-Rut, and the kid practically threw himself to the ground, belly up and whimpering submission. The other recruits dropped their knees and eyes, shying away from the Alpha’s correction.

The response that voice garners in their Omegas is different. Yielding rather than submitting. A happy, gooey melt rather than a brutal breakdown. For Gaz, it sounds like safety, protection, care, leadership. He still gets goosebumps remembering the first time he heard it, during a long-awaited Heat.

“Kyle.”

He jerks a bit, realizing that the voice isn’t just in his memory. Saint is waking, roused by Gaz’s incessant poking and prodding. As always, they don’t seem bothered. Their thumb caresses the back of his neck, sweeps along his hairline, soothing him.

He sits up a bit, anyway. Saint blinks at him through heavy-lidded eyes, obviously not quite with the program yet. That subsonic hum of an Alpha entreating their Pack member to stay, settle, sleep is still vibrating in their chest. Kyle chirps in return, a greeting and assurance in one.

“Time to eat, Alpha.”

Saint blinks twice more, takes a more deliberate breath in. Coming alive again. The subtle shifts in muscle beneath Gaz are enough to obsess over. He’d love to know what they do in that Alpha gym every day, they’re a work of art. Type of body that could go on the cover of porn magazines and Heat partner sites.

Saint yawns, big and wide, teeth on display. Shakes their head a bit to dispel the last of the cobwebs.

“Mm.”

That’s his cue.

He clambers off the Alpha, stretches out long and lithe, maybe showing off just a little. His effort is rewarded with Saint following, nuzzling his hip with an appreciative purr, before standing. They pop their neck with a quick jerk of their chin, before turning to Gaz. Always waiting, always ready.

“The others said they’ll meet us there,” he explains, heading for the door.

Like Alphas of old, Saint always stays at Gaz’s elbow. Easy to speak to, but clearly following the Omega without inciting the sense of being hunted. (Not that Gaz would mind Saint hunting him… not at all.)

“In the usual spot?” Gaz asks, pointing at the 141’s table. At Saint’s nod, he adds, “I’ll get you a tray if you want to go change into the bite guard.”

They hesitate for a moment, considering. Then nod, brushing their wrist against Gaz’s shoulder. He beams, swipes his jaw against Saint’s shoulder, before sauntering to the line.

It’s rare that Saint will wear any less than a muzzle, especially somewhere public like the caf. But post-Rut has them ravenous and slightly less reactive, lowering the bite risk in conjunction with their already iron-clad control. Enough so that they for once feel comfortable settling for a bite guard.

Gaz happily loads up their plate with their favorites, glancing around every once in a while for his other Pack members. Ghost and Price had paperwork to catch up on and Soap switched recruit duty with Gaz so that he could rest a little longer after that final round. They must not be done just yet - no surprise there, they’ve timed it to avoid the worst of the meal crowd.

As Gaz steps out of the line, a tray in each hand, he’s surprised to find the table absent of his Alpha. Saint’s adept with their muzzle and their bite guard, it hardly takes them any time at all to place or remove either.

Then he spots them by the water fountain. They’ve clearly gone to grab an extra cup, dehydrated from Rut. But they’ve been held up by someone.

Gaz recognizes them as a recent transfer, an Omega operator with a decent record. He has no opinion about them one way or another, hasn’t had much chance (or reason) to work with them.

Or at least he didn’t have an opinion until right this moment.

Because they’re not just talking to his Alpha. They’re leaning into Saint, tilting their head just so to show off their pristine mating gland. They’re peering at Saint through their lashes, swishing their hair to release their scent.

And that would be fine and good. At a cafe, a bar, a club, the bloody grocery store - hell, even here. It would be, if they were acting that way with anyone else. Gaz would even cheer them on.

But that’s Saint. That’s the 141’s Alpha. Their Alpha that they’ve built a bond with, that takes care of them, that they love.

And Saint is treating them the way they do every Omega. Calm and stoic, head tilted in non-threat. Listening to what this Omega could need of an Alpha. Only the subtle clench of their jaw and stillness of their chest indicating that they’re even remotely uncomfortable. Speaking to a strange Omega with no muzzle on, post-Rut, in a crowded place.

“Look like you’re about to explode, what’s got you burning pheromones?” Ghost asks.

Gaz didn’t even hear him approach but he’s too busy wrestling down his less flattering instincts to be startled.

Omegas don’t usually have the territorial edge to their protectiveness that Alphas have. Usually. Not never.

“Look,” Gaz growls, jerking his head.

Ghost follows his piercing gaze. “Ah.”

There’s a beat of silence as the Omega sways closer, obviously purring even if they can’t hear it at this distance.

“Well?” Ghost prompts.

Gaz takes a couple steps forward before he even realizes it. Pauses when Ghost’s hand lands on his shoulder, staying. Right. Best not to cause a scene, even if obscene instinct is demanding he climb Saint right there.

Instead, he clears his throat.

“Alpha!” He barks. Not needy or wanting. Demanding.

Saint’s head whips around, silvery gaze locking on Gaz instantly. They don’t look away as they dip their head politely to the other Omega, a silent goodbye, and stride across the room in a handful of long strides.

The rolling chur they let out is questioning, surprise in the arch of their dark brows when Gaz shoves his face in theirs. Scenting them there too, where the skin is so rarely available for it.

“You're irresistible, Alpha,” Ghost chuckles.

Saint grunts in distracted greeting, still looking confused. A big hand circles the back of Gaz’s neck, not quite a scruff.

“Settle,” they murmur, ducking their head to kiss his temple. “Eat.”

And Gaz would be more ashamed of how loud he instantly starts purring - if not for the way Saint’s eyes soften and the corners of their mouth curl slightly up, fond.

“Same to you,” Gaz huffs, tugging their belt loop.

Most Alphas would take at least mild offense, would tell him to watch it, only half joking.

But Saint chuffs in acquiescence and sits, leaving their own Omegas to stand over them - even if momentarily.

Ghost and Gaz settle in, just in time for the Johns to step out of the chow line as well.

“What did that bird want?” Ghost asks as he digs in.

Saint doesn’t take their eyes off their last two pack members. They shrug.

“Looked like they were chattering up a storm,” Gaz notes, only a little tart.

Saint flicks him a devastatingly attractive smirk. “Couldn’t hear them over you.”

And Gaz doesn’t need to hear them say it, to know that Saint loves him just the same.

i-i just wanna snuggle…& maybe 🥺

maybe a little smooch?

just a small one? 🥺

Harveston 🍎

yes. YES. i love this so much- mammon and barbatos are two of my faves and i always wonder about their dynamic. a great addition

Every so often, Barbatos and Mammon converse. Usually this doesn’t happen, because Mammon is afraid of Barbatos, but sometimes, in a split second of gathering whats left of his braincells, he utters words to Barbatos that the time demon never thought he’d hear in his life.

It was a meeting, and Mammon was running late. Lucifer and the rest of his brothers had been there, along with Simeon and the other two purgatory hall members. Upon finally arriving, the others had been chatting quietly, and Barbatos had opened the door for him.

Mammon, being the utter dumbass he is, decided right now was the time to say something witty and clever, so he thought to play around with Barbatos’ name and thank him using the alias ”Barbie”. However, Mammon didn’t always get things right.

He casually thanked Barbatos, and a brilliant moment of word association, he casually utters the words; ”Thanks baby” and walks off to his seat.

Barbatos was taken aback. Diavolo stared, smiling but mouth agape. Simeon and Luke, shocker into horror. Solomon and Asmodeus chukling amongst each other, bewhildered. The others were just frozen in disbelief.

Barbatos, being equally smart and witty, decided to drop a name bomb of his own; ”You’re welcome, dear” he says.

Chaos ensues.