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iwillmarrybeel · 3 days ago

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Scenting - Beelzebub

Pairing: Beelzebub x reader (no pronouns are used, but reader has a pussy)

Genre: smut/NSFW

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: when you come to school smelling like another man, Beel strives to change that

CW: scent kink, scenting, marking, possessive Beel, size difference, Beel carries you, oral, fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, some dirty talk

omg! this was supposed to be posted on the 30th but schoolwork got the best of me. this fic was in collaboration with @ficsforgaza's kinktober event! thank you for being so patient ^^

The scent of pumpkin and vanilla nearly knocks Beel out of his chair when you sit down next to him. He scrunches the nose, sniffing the air around you. The aroma is unmistakably yours—but there’s something else beneath it, too. Something warmer, something sweeter.

He frowns, sucking in a breath and leaning back in his chair.

“Good morning,” you hum.

“Morning.”

Beel can’t help but glance around the room, squinting at anyone that so much as looks your way. Surely he’s not the only one that smells it, surely he’s not the only one that’s turned on by it.

His frown only deepens when he sees the way you’re being looked at—when he sees the glazed over eyes of the demons around him. He shifts closer to you, clamping a protective hand over the back of your chair.

Not his human. Not today.

—

Beel barely manages to make it through the class. His pants have gotten uncomfortably tight and his nostrils burn with your delectable scent. He’s more than grateful when you wave goodbye to him and gather your books, shuffling out the door to your next class.

Even after you’ve retreated down the halls, the smell lingers. It’s like a taunt, beckoning him closer and closer to something he can’t have.

Beel lets himself take a few breaths, digging his calloused fingers into the meat of his thighs. He can do this. Only a few more classes—all of which you’re not even in.

But you still linger in the corner of his mind through all of his classes. The way you looked, the way you smelled, the way the others were looking at you. It’s all too much.

Beel’s leg shakes, a sour taste in his mouth as he watches the clock above the door. Just a few more minutes and he can go home. Just a few more minutes and he can see you again and reassure himself.

And then the bell rings and he’s springing to his feet, practically barrelling down the halls to where your locker is. He leans against it as casually as he can, broad shoulders resting against cold metal, and waits for you.

He smells you before he sees you, the dizzying aroma almost sending him to his knees. He watches as you skip towards him, a wide smile on your face and a hand raised in greeting.

You beam at him, “hey!”

Beel nods as nonchalantly as he can, sliding away from your locker to give you access. You’re so close to him that he can feel your warmth, savoring your scent and—he frowns.

He looks you up and down, examining every inch of your skin and RAD uniform. He sniffs again, brows furrowing. There, buried beneath your vanilla pumpkin heaven, is something new. Something unfamiliar. Something wrong.

He freezes when you rest a hand on his shoulder. “Everything okay?” You ask.

He clears his throat, subconsciously puffing out his chest. “Yeah. Fine, yeah. How were your classes?”

You close your locker, slinging your bag over your shoulder and starting the walk back to the House of Lamentation. You excitedly tell him about your day, going into detail about all of the things that happened while Beel nods along.

Guilt grasps him. Usually he loves listening to you talk about your day, chiming in with random little questions to keep you talking. But he can’t focus today—not when you look so pretty and you smell so good and some other demon’s scent is all over you.

Anger bubbles in his chest everytime he catches a hint of it. It’s him that you should smell like right now. His scent should be the one surrounding you, scaring away those scummy lesser demons. The thoughts burrow into his skull, spinning around until he’s trapped in a nauseating cycle.

He’s snapped out of his thoughts when you brush a hand down his arm. He flinches away from your touch, violet eyes baring down on you.

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

You’re standing in front of the door to the House of Lamentation looking at him with vulnerable eyes. You can tell something’s up—you’ve been able to tell since you sat down next to him this morning. You’re not stupid, after all.

He looks over his shoulder as if he expects someone to be listening in. “Whose scent is that?”

Your mouth falls open. “What?”

“That smell,” his tone gets stronger as he goes on, “whose is it? It’s all over you.”

You raise an arm, sniffing yourself. You cock your head at him in confusion. “Do you mean my deodorant? Or my body spray?”

He swallows hard and shakes his head. He finds himself wishing he hadn’t said anything, that he’d ignored it and gone to his room and jerked off until the thought of you melted away. Because now you’re looking at him expectantly as if this is something he can just explain.

“No, just—” He shakes his head, “nevermind.”

Beel moves past you, muttering something to himself and throwing open the door. You follow after him, brows still knit together in confusion. You’ve never seen him like this—all frustrated and high strung.

You grab him before you can even think about it. Your fingers wrap around his wrist, clutching and tugging him back towards you. His head whips around, eyes wide and confused as they focus on you.

“What are you doing?”

“You seem upset,” you murmur.

Beel’s eyes stay locked on yours and he doesn’t bother to move your hand off of his. The rise and fall of his chest grows faster with each passing second, each breath a torturous inhale of that unfamiliar scent.

Your voice shakes when you speak again, confusion and embarrassment coiling in your stomach. “I want to help you. Let me help you.”

You’re not sure who initiates it but suddenly you’re pressed tight against him, lips pressed against his. His arms are tight on your body, holding you to him like he’s afraid you’ll leave at any minute.

You reach around his shoulders, hands clawing at the fabric of his jacket while your lips move against his. Each shallow, gasping breath only leads to more kissing, more intensity.

He inhales you with every passing second, only driving his desperation further. He crouches down, hands sliding down your body as he does, and then he’s tossing you over his shoulder.

You squeal at your world turning upside down, your legs hanging limply down his chest. He hoists you up with one arm, his warm hand on the small of your back as he carries you up the stairs to his room.

Anticipation sets your nerves on fire, an unbearable heat coursing through your body. Nerves bubble up like soda pop in your tummy when his door comes into view.

His grip on you only tightens as he kicks his door open and slams it behind you, dropping you on the bed in front of him. You land in his pile of blankets and pillows with a squeak, scurrying back towards his headboard.

He crawls up the bed towards you, crouching between your legs. “Still wanna help?” He rasps.

You bite your lip and nod, your knees lazily falling to either side to give him more access.

He rubs a hand up and down your thigh, getting closer and closer to the waistband of your pants with every stroke. You let your eyes flutter close, focused only on the feeling of his touch.

His fingers lock into the hem of your pants and then he’s tugging them down, your underwear coming down with them. As soon as your pussy hits the cold air, you gasp, trying to close your legs.

Beel catches your thighs, throwing them over his shoulders so he can stuff his face between them. He inhales, eyes flicking up to meet yours, “damn, you smell so fucking good.”

You look away shyly, your legs shaking in anticipation. Soft breaths roll over your sensitive core, each one sending shivers down your spine.

Beel stays poised between your legs, breathing in that hot, sweet scent of your dripping cunt laid out in front of him. You smell so sweet, so pure—so his. And yet, that other bitter demonic smell still lingers in the air. He’ll have to change that.

A moan escapes you when he spits on your pussy, rubbing it in with his index finger. He traces circles up and down your slit, collecting the slick that pools onto his sheets and bringing it up to his mouth to taste.

And then he’s diving into your pussy headfirst, lips locking around your clit. His hair tickles the sides of your thighs, orange strands bobbing with each moment. You reach out and tangle your fingers in his hair, using it to tug him further into you.

The pressure only drives him to keep going. His tongue circles around your entrance, a finger sliding inside of you with ease. The sudden fullness has your eyes rolling back, thighs clenching around his face. He continues to pump in and out of you, teeth gently grazing against your swollen clit.

You cry out for him, pulling on his hair so hard that it leaves his scalp tingling. He doesn’t care, though. All he cares about are your thighs shaking around his shoulders and the way your pussy is drooling on his tongue.

“So fucking good,” he moans. “So fucking mine.”

Tears build up in your lashes, a white hot knot forming in your stomach. Through your wet eyes, you can barely make out the sight of Beel’s face shoved between your legs, his hips grinding into the mattress in desperation. He lets out a soft whine into your pussy, and that’s all it takes to send you over the edge.

You cum so hard your vision goes blurry. Your thighs shake, clenching and unclenching around his face as you ride out your high. He keeps his tongue lined up at your entrance, greedily drinking up your juices.

You’re panting when you come to, your head spinning from the pleasure. Beel pulls his face away from your pussy, blinking at your disheveled form on his mattress.

He smirks at you, mouth glistening with your juices. “Think you can keep going, sweetheart?”

“Y-yeah,” you say weakly.

He smiles at you, quickly discarding his jeans on the floor. His boxers are stained dark from precum, his cock bulging through the fabric. You reach out, fingers gently brushing the outline of it.

He tugs down his boxers, letting his cock swing free. It’s almost painfully hard and drenched in pre, his whole length glistening in desperation.

You pull your knees up to your chest, letting him situate himself between your legs. His tip grazes your entrance, just barely brushing against you.

“Please.” You whine, “put it in.”

You hardly have any time to react before he’s pushing his cock inside of you, his thick tip stretching you in a way that has your eyes rolling back. You gather a fistful of his sheets, fingers curling around them to ground yourself. Each inch of his cock is a stretch, driving him deeper and deeper until you can feel him everywhere.

Beel’s teeth graze the side of your neck, his hips stilling inside of you to give you a minute to adjust. He leaves marks in his wake, making his way from your neck, to your jaw, and finally, your lips.

His kisses are wet and sloppy and desperate, leaving both of you panting and dizzy. And then he starts thrusting and you come undone beneath him. Whimpers and whines and the sounds of skin on skin fill the room, Beel’s hips snapping violently against yours with each thrust.

With each kiss, with each thrust, his scent washes over you—covering the scent that had marked you before. The sudden change only spurs him further, his motions getting more and more desperate.

“Smell so nice,” he groans, “gonna make you smell like me. Gonna make sure all these demons know who you belong to.”

You babble in acknowledgement, your head spinning from the delicious way his cock fills you up. Each thrust drives you closer and closer to the edge, his filthy words only adding onto the pleasure.

“Gonna fill this pussy up so everyone can smell my cum inside you.”

Your muscles spasm, your pussy clenches and suddenly you’re coming undone once more. You reach for his shoulders, tugging him down on top of you while you unravel.

Beel keeps going, getting closer and closer to his own high. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He pants, “if everyone knew how good you are for me. If everyone knew I claimed you like this.”

You manage a soft little ‘yes’ and that’s all it takes to have him cumming inside of you, hot ropes of cum filling you up. He drives his hips as deep as possible, bottoming out so he doesn’t waste a single drop.

He stays inside of you even after he finishes, his sweaty body caging yours beneath him.

“Are you gonna move?” You say.

He considers it for a moment, inhaling the scent of your skin. He frowns—you don’t smell enough like him. At least, not yet. But a few more rounds should change that.

(if you like content like this, likes, comments & rbs are greatly appreciated! ^^)

#this hits the spot #to be tagged

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