"Dessert time- spoiler, it's not cake"
Pairing: Beelzebub x Fem!Reader
Tags: gentle giant energy, size difference, slow build, soft dom!Beel, praise, oral (F receiving), multiple orgasms, Beel being sweet and hungry (in more ways than one)
Setting: Beel’s bedroom, post-workout
A/n this was an request requested by @artisticbishoujorin enjoy!♡
This fic was rushed so I'm really sorry if it's not up to expectations🥲
He was still glistening from his workout, hair damp, shirt discarded somewhere across the room. You were perched on the edge of his bed, watching him towel off his neck with a focus that made your thighs squeeze together unconsciously.
Beel caught the look. He always did.
“Are you hungry?” he asked, voice low, sincere.
You swallowed hard. “Yeah. But not for food.”
His eyes darkened — just a little. He crossed the room in two strides, standing in front of you now, towering, warm, radiating the heat of a furnace.
You reached up, tracing the taut lines of his abs, marveling at the sheer size of him. “Can I have a taste?”
His throat bobbed. “Y-Yeah. You can have all of me.”
You were lying back now, naked beneath him, body trembling with anticipation. Beel had taken his time — kissing down your stomach, stroking your thighs with those huge hands, eyes full of reverence. He always treated you like you were precious. Like you were breakable.
Tonight, there was something in him that had snapped — not violently, but… inevitably. A hunger that wasn’t about food. One that had been growing for weeks.
His mouth hovered between your thighs now, breath hot.
“Can I… taste you first?” he asked, voice gravel-thick.
You nodded, breathless. “Yes. Please.”
He leaned in and groaned the moment his tongue touched you.
The noise vibrated through your entire body.
“Y-You taste so good…” he murmured, more to himself than you, before he started licking in long, slow strokes — deliberate, focused, like he was eating the finest meal of his life.
His tongue was big. Broad. Skilled in a way that made your back arch and your hips try to rock forward — but his hands kept you still. Firm, but gentle.
He licked you open like a starved man, making the most obscene wet noises between your legs as you whimpered his name again and again.
“You’re already shaking,” he said softly, lips brushing your clit. “Can I make you cum just like this?”
“Y-Yes—God, Beel—please—”
He sucked on your clit gently, and you screamed, thighs shaking as your orgasm crashed through you.
You were still moaning, still trying to come down from it, and he was still licking — slower, deeper now, lapping up your release like it was his favorite dessert.
“B-Beel—nghh—it’s too much—!”
“No it’s not,” he growled softly, voice dangerously low now. “You can take it.”
He looked up at you then, face slick, eyes wild with something close to obsession.
“I’ve waited so long to taste you. I’m not stopping until you’re full.”
By the time he finally pulled back, you were panting, twitching, and soaked.
“Beel—” you breathed, trying to reach for him.
He leaned over you and kissed you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue, slow and sensual.
“Can I be inside you now?” he whispered. “I’ll go slow. I promise.”
You looked down — and your breath caught.
You’d seen it before, sure, but… now that it was happening? It felt impossible.
He cupped your face gently, gaze unwavering. “I’ll make it fit. I’ll stop if you tell me to.”
You nodded, heart pounding, and spread your legs for him.
Beel groaned like it hurt to hold back as he lined up and started pushing in.
You gasped, grabbing at his arms — they were bulging with restraint, his biceps flexing as he tried to keep control.
So slow. So careful. Inch by inch, he sank in.
It burned. It stretched. It filled.
You cried out when he bottomed out — hips flush to yours, cock pulsing deep inside you.
He was shaking above you.
“You feel…” he panted, voice rough, “unreal. I can’t believe I’m inside you.”
He pulled out a little — and you moaned, your whole body arching toward him. “More. Please, Beel—move—”
He started thrusting, deep and slow at first — but the moment he saw the way your mouth fell open, the way you tightened around him, he lost rhythm. His hunger overtook him.
He fucked you like he was starving. Like your body was the only thing that could satisfy him now. You felt everything — every thick inch, every needy moan, every time he whispered how good you felt, how beautiful you looked, how he couldn’t hold back.
“G-Gonna cum again—can’t—!”
He pinned your wrists gently above your head, leaned down, and kissed your forehead.
“Cum for me. Please. I want to feel it.”
You shattered around him, and he let out the most guttural, needy sound as he spilled into you, grinding as deep as he could go, filling you with pulse after pulse of heat.
He held you after. Whispered your name. Kissed your shoulder.
“…You taste better than anything I’ve ever eaten,” he said softly, almost shy.
You smiled sleepily. “I could say the same.”
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