Cringe and Slightly Free🔞

Just this week alone, you have smacked into six doors, three tables, and nearly tripped down the academy’s stairs all because you can’t tear your eyes away from Beel. Your habitually organized notes have been abandoned for doodles of the demon. Textbooks have been left at home to free up space in your bag for his favorite snacks. You now attend every Fangol practice, annoying the cheerleaders when you whoop and holler whenever Beel scores. 

The others have noticed your infatuated behavior, but if any of them knew about your little dairy mishap, you’re thankful for their silence on the matter. You’d quite simply die if they tried to bring it up. You were embarrassed by your lovesick schoolgirl behavior, finding it mortifying how hot your cheeks burn with every quick glance, any lingering touch. Hells, even just the sound of his stomach grumbling would send a thrill through your body. 

Yet the demon has consumed your mind in its entirety. Beelzebub graces your dreams, and dominates your waking thoughts; you’re restless, easily distracted, and oh so fucking horny. Damn near every night since, you can be found touching yourself to the memory of his promise; you swear you can still taste him on your tongue. You wanted—no needed—to devour him. 

The only solace you’ve found is knowing that Beel is just as infatuated as you are. You’ve always had a close bond since you made your pact, but now, both of you are damn near inseparable. Even Belphegor has had to intervene, either kicking you out or dragging Beel back to their shared room, grumbling through lazy yawns about it being unfair.  

That doesn’t stop you and the sixth-born from sending each other texts. Many nights have you forgone sleep just to talk to him, heart fluttering in your chest every time you see the three dots appear. That didn’t last long though, as Lucifer and Satan decided to put aside their differences to create a curse that wouldn’t allow you to use your D.D.D. after a certain hour. At least jealousy was one thing they could agree on. 

You turn to your side, taking your frustration out on your blankets as you kick them into place. The alarm clock on the bedside table reads 23:58. You’ve been locked in your room since 9 PM, with Lucifer saying that you can ‘get used to it’ until your grades are back to normal.  

Yet, in an act of stupid defiance, you spent that time staring blankly at the ceiling. You tried to go to bed early, but your late nights sexting trysts have ruined your sleep schedule. Normally, you’d watch a video or listen to some music to fall asleep, but the curse has already infected your phone, making it impossible to use.  

Perhaps this was for the best. You needed to focus. 

Quiet knocks interrupt your pity party. You ignore them, figuring it’s the creaky floorboards of the old, haunted house.  

Until they sound again, though faster this time, and followed by a hushed call of your name.  

Immediately, you fling your blankets off your body, hissing when your feet meet cold floor. But you push through the discomfort on your tiptoes as you hurry to the door. 

You’d always recognize that voice.  

Your favorite gluttonous demon is leaning against the frame when you open the door, his normally fluffy hair bogged down to his skin by a thin sheen of sweat, and cheeks deliciously flushed. He visibly tenses when he meets your gaze, and even though Beel is twice your height, he turns his attention to the floor, blush deepening as if the wrong reaction will cut the gentle giant down.  

“Beel, what are you--” 

“I think... it’s time.” 

Though a flush creeps from the tip of your ears and down your neck, you wordlessly open the door wider and gesture for him to come inside. The demon shuffles into the room with a relieved smile. 

The weight of what’s about to happen has you momentarily pause, a whirlwind of nerves yet eagerness churning in your gut. You lock the door once it’s closed, a futile effort against your supernatural housemates, but it grants you some peace of mind as you make sense of your dizzying thoughts. 

You’re disturbed from your mind a second time by a low groan coming from behind you. When you turn, you see that Beelzebub has already made himself comfortable on your bed, palming his hardening cock through his pajama pants.   

It’s like a switch flipped, all your anxiety disappears amongst the yearning you’ve been keeping at bay. It isn’t long before you’re at his side, whispering praise as you press two fingers to his lips and then into his mouth. The groans he releases as he sucks on your digits reverberates through your body, and you shiver as goosebumps cover your skin. 

Beel’s happily compliant when you push a third finger into his mouth, doesn’t shy away from gagging when you slip a little too deep. You remove your drenched fingers, a trail of saliva connecting back to his lips as you admire the wetness.  

He whines when you tug on his bottoms, hips unsteady when he raises them so you can pull the material down. Teasing the tip of his cock with your spit-soaked fingers has him throwing his head back against your pillows.  

You take the time to admire the demon below you as he pants and whimpers under your touch. He wears a black muscle tank with the academy’s mascot on it, the logo faded and cracking from age. It’s what lies underneath the shirt that sends another hum of need between your thighs.  

Straining against the fabric are Beel’s pecs, so swollen with milk that it pulls the cloth taut. You can’t stop yourself from licking your lips as you realize that you’re finally going to be able to taste him again. Reaching forward, you press your fingers into his flesh, though hesitant and careful in case the muscle is too sore. 

The demon gasps, chest arching into your touch before releasing a shaky and pitiful whimper. 

“P-Please... so full...” He groans. You know he isn’t lying; a dark circle has formed on his shirt, damp and growing from such little stimulation.  

There’s something intoxicating about having the Avatar of Gluttony, a seemingly bottomless pit of a creature, mewling beneath you about being full. It sends a warm thrill through your body, and the excitement you feel comes to a head. Any remaining hesitancies are banished. It’s time to stop wasting time.  

You separate from Beel so that you can stand, and watch as he grits his teeth, a low growl rumbling from his chest. You can’t help the giggle that escapes you; he’s just so cute when he’s desperate.  

Beelzebub allows you to maneuver him without complaint, though his impatience grows every time you don’t touch him where he wants. Sitting behind him, you guide the demon to rest into your embrace, his head against your chest as you idly play with his hair. 

“Stroke yourself for me.” You command.  

He obeys, frantically taking hold of his cock. You watch with delight as he reduces himself to groans and whispered mutterings of ‘fuck’, hips bucking into his own fist.  

Hands slowly creep down his sides until they meet the edge of his tank, taking hold of the fabric and beginning an equally slow ascent. Inch by inch, you expose the warm skin of his torso, and again he whimpers when your hands brush against his nipples. 

“Open.” 

Beel’s lips part, tongue slightly sticking out; you believe he’s waiting for your fingers again. Instead, you push the bundled material of his shirt into his mouth, simply instructing, “Hold this for me.” 

None of the images your mind has conjured up could compare to the sight before you. A delectable blush spreads down the demon’s neck and chest, though the rosy hue is strongest around his pert and puffy nipples. Milk dribbles from the pec that you had pressed on earlier; the liquid rolls down his torso and you didn’t expect it settling in the lines of his abs to be so fucking hot.  

You need to see more. 

He is not shy with his moans, however muffled they may be, when you cup his pecs and eagerly squeeze them between your fingers. Milk springs forth in a steady stream before cascading down his torso, some joining the growing pool on his abdomen while the rest begins to drench the sheets below.  

The hand stroking his cock becomes erratic; he doesn’t even care that his hand is becoming soaked in his own lactate. It seems to spur him on, the liquid making it easier for his fingers to glide against the silken skin. You are a willing spectator in this moment, watching with awe as the demon before you loses himself completely.  

Tears stream down his face when he cums; you chastise yourself for imagining their salty flavor paired with the sweetness from his chest. Still, when he collapses against your chest, you see the pearly beads of his spend decorating his skin and mixing with his milk. And though your mind, or more likely your loins, tell you to reach out and taste the heady combination, you remind yourself to savor the moment. 

Beel’s cock has yet to soften, and it looks like you’ve barely made a dent in the swelling of his pecs. 

Your patience shall be rewarded greatly by the end of the night.

The pair of you had set a date to dig into some mangoes and nectarines when they were perfectly ripe. You had made a special trip to the Mortal Realm for the goods. It had been on the calendar even, which his brothers pointed at and laughed. But you could have sworn that there were eyes on your bare back. 

You had tuned out whatever noises you and Beel were making, assuming the two of you were making ridiculous moans and sighs of sweet bliss.

“So good,” sighed Beel after finishing his pile of fruits. It was the first two real words heard in the backyard since the eating competition began. You moaned in agreement after a few moments, starting to lick your lips and chin clean. Beel was already down to his forearms. 

Then you felt his eyes boring into your face. You glanced his way and waited for him to say something. He didn’t.

Instead, Beel grabbed your arm and pulled it to his waiting tongue. A sound of surprise came from your mouth, but his eyes were shut and his ears deaf to you. His tongue ran up the rivulets of mango and nectarine juice that had run down your arms, starting at where the beads had stopped moving. His mouth was hot and his saliva sticky. You had paid little attention to his similar state of undress, but now your eyes lingered on his toned chest and abdomen. 

Your face and ears grew warmer when he reached your wrists and palms, where more juice lingered, and he began sighing in pleasure.

“Beel,” you whispered, your voice crackling.

He stopped and met your gaze. He suddenly looked abashed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask you.” He offered your hands back to you. “Did you want the rest of it?”

A spark of heat in your belly. “Oh. No, that’s alright, Beel. You- you can have the rest. I don’t mind.”

He grinned and thanked you, his mouth and tongue already on the back of your hands and darting between your fingers. Your eyes were fixed on his blissful expression, his eyelids fluttering and breaths coming quick and heavy. When he placed your fingers in his mouth and began sucking, you almost lost your mind. He moaned around them and they tapped against the top of his mouth and back of his throat.

With one last groan, he pulled your fingers from his mouth and looked at you breathlessly. “Mangoes. Nectarines. You. All together. So delicious.”

You buried one of your hands in his hair and pulled his mouth to yours. He licked the inside of your cheeks, your tongue, and your lips, moaning into you. His arms wrapped tightly around you and tugged you till you were chest-to-chest. The backyard was still filled with quiet, slurred “so goods”.

Bonus: You and Beel fr

Thanks so much for reading and I hope you enjoyed! Here’s a link to my other works :-)