#(techincally)

“You’re quiet,” he comments after a few minutes, and you hum as he looks down at you. “You’re happy?”

“Happiest girl in the Devildom.” He grins at your confirmation, placing the sweetest of kisses to your forehead. “Excited to have you to myself for a couple days.”

“Watching you get passed around for dances was hard for me,” he confesses, opening the front gate with a gentle foot but not bothering to close it as his steps towards the front door grow faster. “I just wanted you to myself, but it's not fair to keep you from all the people celebrating us.”

“But now we’re alone finally, and I’m all yours until our honeymoon ends.”

He only nodded, easily adjusting you to rest over his shoulder so he had a hand free to unlock and open the front door. This wasn’t exactly how you’d imagined being carried across the threshold after telling Beel about this tradition from the human world but it was fitting nonetheless as he kicked the door closed behind him and immediately went for the stairs, taking them two at a time to get to the bedroom faster. 

He’s gentle as he drops you on the bed, pulling himself away from you just long enough to get out of his jacket and rip his shirt open. The sound of buttons hitting against the floors feels so far away when he’s carefully making his way onto the bed. His hands are gentle as they slide under your dress, fingertips dancing along your skin as they move up your legs with gentle squeezes to your calves before crossing over your knees to your thighs, pushing the fabric up as he went. 

“Can you keep it on?” he asks, looking up at you over the layers of fabric that had punched around your hips. “Is that—“

“Yeah, we can keep it on. There are a couple matching ones just in case something were to happen...” you trail off into a contented sigh when his thumb dips under the edge of your pantries to trace along your wet slit. 

You’re cooperative despite the impatience you must’ve also been feeling, your body pliant to the demands of his hands as he rips the lacy material apart to reveal your center. You stay relaxed as his thumb trails along your glistening slit and dips between your folds with a quiet squelch, tracing your hole and carefully pressing in to feel you clench around him. It had been two weeks, he knew he had to spend more time preparing you for his size than he would had it only been a day or so. 

You were his beautiful wife, the powerful sorceress who chose him – who loved him even when he’d eaten your favorite snacks. It was his honor to be your husband, and to be blessed with quite the feat between your legs just waiting for him to devour. All his, not to be shared with his brothers or anyone else, and you encouraged him to be greedy when it came to you. 

But despite his need, he wanted to take things slowly tonight. It was your first night as a married couple, and he wanted to take his time in savoring every centimeter of his wife and every ounce of your essence that leaked from your folds. 

…at least until his tongue dragged up your slit to your waiting hole and he got his prize. After weeks of actively being kept away from you in preparation for your wedding, he was craving your taste – moreso after that last slice of cake during the reception. To have something taste so remarkably like you seemed impossible, and yet that cake had managed it just perfectly. But it wasn’t purely you, there was something else added to the taste that he couldn’t quite place his finger on. 

Your fingers tangle in his hair while he searches for the solution, his tongue probing your walls as his fingers tease your swollen clit. You sound so cute up there with your soft moans and whimpers tumbling from your lips as he feasts, he’s only moderately disappointed that your wedding dress was kept on only because he wanted to see you. It was easy to picture your eyes half-open, trying so hard to stay focused on him against the sensations that would have you wanting to close your eyes as you basked in the pleasure he was giving you. Your pretty lips stained with your favorite color were likely parted, meeting those soft pants and sweet moans escape into the air that traveled to his ears. 

“B-Beel, please,” you whisper, tugging on his hair with an urgency that had him pulling away from your pussy to get your eye contact. 

“Are you—“

“Not hurt,” you cut him off, your hand moving to cup his warm cheek. “Don’t wanna cum on your fingers.”

“No?”

“I want my first orgasm as a married woman to be on your cock.” He can see how dark your cheeks have gotten, your face burning at the admission. “Please Beel.”

How could he say no to a pout like that?

He couldn’t and, as much as he wanted to stay between your legs and properly stretch you out, he pulled himself away from your pretty pussy and sat himself up. His pants and underwear are gone with a snap of your fingers then you’re moving to straddle his lap, trapping his clock between your two bodies as you pull him into a kiss. 

“You looked so handsome today,” you mumble against his lips, and he feels your smile with every kiss you give him. “Missed you.”

“Missed you too,” he murmurs, turning to pepper kisses around your cheek as his hands grip your hips to position you above his weeping tip. “We gotta go slow, it’s been a while.”

You nod at the reminder, already feeling the stretch with just the head of his cock pushing into your heat. In many ways it was almost like the first time you’d given yourself to Beel, the first time he’d truly trusted his own self control to not hurt you by taking more than you could give. Most demons were significantly larger than you as a human, but Beel was larger than most demons – the Avatar of Gluttony, Sixth Ruler of the Devildom, Beelzebub was a massive figure and his cock was no exception. 

His hands on your hips serve both as a guide and as an obstruction, ensuring that you didn’t try to take too much of him with every roll of your hips, while he whispers in your ear how well you were taking him. Your arms are draped over his shoulders, perfectly manicured nails digging into the skin of his shoulders and dragging with every descent you make to take more of his length until you’re finally fully seated with your body flush against his. Large hands move up your sides to your breasts, groping at them through the expensive fabrics that keep you covered as his mouth trails kisses and nips down the column of your neck. The scent of your perfume still lingered, complimenting the scent that was naturally yours and prompting his stomach to growl with his own hunger for you. 

“Feel s’good, Beel,” you murmur with the first roll of your hips along his length, slow and careful as he hums into your skin. 

“Yeah,” he murmurs before pulling you in for another kiss. It’s more calculated than you’d expect for having his cock buried in your cunt as his hands help you ride him. The sound of fabric ripping feels so distant, the colder air of the room chilling your skin where his hands left you uncovered. His hands are gentle as they knead at your breasts, the multiple sensations near overwhelming as you feel your core tighten with every bounce of your hips along his length. “Gonna cum for me?”

You nod, holding him tighter to you as he tries to meet your strokes. It’s when you start to slow down that he tips you back, your back hitting the plush mattress with a soft thud as he changes the position so he was on top. Your hands settle on his chest as he kisses you, the coil in your stomach tightening with every deep thrust into your pussy. His kiss is sloppy, needy and more of what you expected of Beel after weeks being kept apart with your different duties ahead of the wedding and attending to your guests throughout the reception. His control up to this point was admirable, but you were relieved that he was letting himself take what he needed while giving you what you wanted. 

“Beel,” you whine as he pulls away, cheek pressed to his as he presses his face into your neck. 

“Keep saying it,” he requests, nipping and sucking at the skin he can get to as he fucks into you, one hand gripping your leg to bring it up to his hip for the deeper angle that has you seeing stars. Any concern for his size compared to yours was forgotten, now on the shared mission of getting off. 

“B-Beel,” you moan, his hand finding your clit bringing a choked gasp out of your lips that has him grinning into your skin. “I’m–”  

“I know,” he grunts, the sound coming from deep in his throat and sending a shiver down your spine. “I know, I know.”

Your core continues to tighten with every thrust, signaling the beginning of the end for you, and you hope he’s also close because you’re not sure you could handle any more. While a powerful sorcerer, you weren’t a demon with extreme stamina like he was. 

“Beel, I’m so close.” That gets his attention, leaving your neck with an open mouthed kiss before he’s looking down at you again. He’s smiling as his hand pushes your hair from your face, kissing your forehead as he feels your walls begin to constrict around him. 

“Come on, honey, you can cum for me,” he murmurs, hands cupping your cheeks as he forehead rests against yours. His eyes stare into yours, deep pools of purple full of the love and adoration you knew he held for you.

“Beel, please,” you whimper, gripping his forearms as he grinds his hips into yours. His pelvis rubs against your clit with every stroke of his hips, his own normally controlled gaze unfocused as he feels his own end approaching.

His moans are less intelligible as he tries to hold out through your orgasm, you barely make out your name among a string of curses until he finally stills as warmth floods your core. One small thrust followed by a second push his seed deeper into you, the press of his lips kissing away the tears that had rolled down your cheeks.  

“Not hurt?” he breathes, nudging your nose with his own and smiling when you shake your head. “You’re sure?”

“I promise. Can you get me some water, baby?”

He gives a nod before he gets out of bed, leaving you in the bedroom. Your dress is in shreds, Barbatos clearly seeing into the future or knowing the brothers well enough to know that delicate wedding dress could not survive a night around them and their antics. It had survived the wedding ceremony and reception, only to fall victim to your husband’s physical strength and stronger desire for you. A glance at the mirror as you shed the fabric shows your skin littered with Beel’s markings that would blossom into beautiful bruises that he’d lavish gentle attention on until they faded away and were replaced by new ones to repeat the cycle. But you wouldn’t change any of it for the world, because Beel’s love meant everything to you and these marks were just displays of his love for you. 

But it was cold in this room, and you needed something to cover up with that wasn’t the blanket, so you lean over the bed in search of the shirt he’d been wearing earlier. You’re hanging half-off the bed when he returns, your hands patting around for the shirt he’d discarded earlier in the night. He sets the glass down on the nightstand before picking the shirt up and handing it to you, kissing your forehead before he goes to the other side of the room where your suitcases were.

“Are you really not going to tell me what that last slice tasted like?” you ask, pulling his shirt on as you watch him dig through your suitcase. You don’t know what he’s looking for, but you know he’s not finding it if the way he continues to rifle through your clothes is any indicator. But you also didn’t pack your suitcase, so you wouldn’t be able to help even if he had asked. 

“Why are you so fixated on that?”

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you that flustered, Beel.” He lets out a grunt at your explanation, finally pulling out what he’d been looking for from your suitcase and taking it into the bathroom. “Starting our marriage with such a secret isn’t very nice.”

“What do you think it tasted like?”

That was a good question. He’d said it didn’t taste bad, but to get a reaction like that you wondered if it carried a more sentimental value than the other flavors of the cake. 

“Was it something from the Celestial Realm?”

“Close, but not quite.”

“Was it…” you trail off, watching as he reemerges from the bathroom while patting his face with a washcloth. “Something from the human realm?”

“Closer.”

Closer? Hm. 

“Was it…something I cooked for you?”

“Closer.” He’s kneeling in front of you now, between your spread legs with his hands keeping your thighs apart and exposing your messy cunt to his ravenous gaze. He starts to clean your left thigh, wiping away the mess he’d left behind.

“Was it something we cooked together?”

“Getting warmer.” He switches to your right thigh, seemingly unfazed by the way you rest your right leg on his shoulder. 

“Was it the banana bread?”

“Colder.”

“Can you just tell me?”

“I’ll show you,” he assures, bringing two fingers to your folds and collecting some of your combined release and bringing it to his lips. The hum he lets out is just as sinful of the sight of him sucking on his own fingers like that and clearly enjoying it. “That’s pretty close.” 

Oh. 

Oh.

That explained how flustered he was, and how he didn’t want to tell anyone what he was tasting. It was an extremely intimate flavor, and one only he would be able to recognize.

“Can I be a little greedy?”

“I’d be offended if you weren’t,” you respond, only to yelp when he drops between your legs and dives in. Large hands grip your hips, pulling you closer to his mouth as you’re draping your legs over his broad shoulders. Those eyes open again to meet yours as he licks a long stripe up your slit to your still sensitive clit. His hands keep your body pinned to the mattress, halting the jump that your hips did involuntarily at the contact. He grins up at you, nuzzling his nose against the sensitive nerve bundle and relishing in the whine that leaves you. So cute, but you weren’t going anywhere until you came on his tongue again.

Your hand is in his hair the moment his tongue dips between your folds to get a taste of the mess he’d helped you make, grip tightening when he groans at how fucking good you tasted. That’s all the encouragement he needs to bury his face into your core, making out with your dripping cunt while his thumb comes to circle your clit again. His name leaves you in a whine, heels digging into his back before he backs off with a smack of his lips, trading places with his fingers so he can suck on your clit while he pushes three fingers into you. By now you’re sopping wet, giving almost no resistance to his intrusion and making him smile against your skin as you stare down at him. 

“Feelin’ good?”

“Mhm,” is all you can muster, a weak hum that he wouldn’t normally accept but these were special circumstances. Your walls are fluttering around his fingers, feeling so sweet but he wants you to truly taste yourself, so he needs you to cum. “Fuck, Beel. Feel s’good.”

“I know, I know. Need you to cum for me again.”

And the way you cry when you do sounds wonderful, your hands gripping his hair so tight he’s sure you’d pulled some out so the pain only spurs him on as you ride it out against his face. You were so beautifull, it’s all he can think about as he looks up at your face to hold your eye contact.

“It’s not exactly the same,” Beel starts, moving to lay beside you and smoothing down your hair. You lean in for a kiss, your hand on his cheek to keep him close as he lets you explore his mouth with your tongue. He’s happy to let you lead the exchange, loves the feeling of your hands on his body – especially your left hand with the ring on your finger. 

“What’s the core memory with it?”

“I think it was the first time I spent the night in your room.”

“We did have a lot of sex that night. And the morning after.” 

“Lucifer had to personally make sure we showed up to school after the weekend.” The reminder has you giggling, the sound more than just melodic to him as he basks in the warmth of your love and laughter. “And then he walked you down the aisle to marry me today.”

“And I’m sure we’d all do it all over again to get back to this moment.”

og image btw: