A Bit Too Rough - Beelzebub and Diavolo

Request: hey gorgeous ! <3 i was wondering if i could request some writing about beelezbub or diavolo and a gn or fem mc and rough oral? or like deepthroating? the scenario is yours from there, whether it’s mc getting stuck under a desk, punished, etc? :)

A/N: I’ll do both!! I like these so i hope you do too!! I always feel like its been so long when I write and that makes my mood plummet but then i read the comments and reblogs over my other works and im like !!!

Beelzebub:

• Beelzebub is insatiable in every sense of the way. He can never have enough; he can never be full and that feels like a curse on its own. Many think that it’s just hunger that affects him, but it’s everything. It’s how he wants to do it all. How he feels as if he needs to do it all. It’s you being by him and kissing him, and never being satisfied when you pull away. It’s him never wanting to let go of you when you grind above him smiling into the kiss. When you do pull away, he’s left hungry, starving as if he has never had the pleasure to ever consume what he wanted. He’s chasing after your lips, bringing you back into a kiss, feeling your shortened breaths, how you mumble his name through meshed lips. Feeling the way that you nip at him in an attempt to breathe and he’s apologizing, kissing at your neck and playing with the hem of your clothes. You’re pulling him close with his shirt that’s moist with sweat. He’s leaned against his bedroom wall, a hand searching blindly for the lock on the door and clicking it shut. His breath fans over your neck, pressing long, heavy kisses against you, suckling osftly on your senstive skin watching as your body squirms and arches towards him.
• Your hands search for his waistband, dipping towards his crotch where you grab at his concealed erection. A hand holds you by the waist, nails scratching at the little skin that is visible between your shirt and your shorts. He breathes your name out like sin, hungry and wet as he tries to satisfy himself by just hearing the noises that you make every time he kisses your neck. You pull away and he lets out a scoff, trying to get you back to him, only to let you fall when you stand on your knees with your hands running up and down his thighs. The confines of his shorts grow tighter, unbearable even and he fears that he’ll have to buy a new pair if you don’t stop teasing him. His clothes pool around his ankles and he’s quick to kick them off to some far part of the room. Your hands touch his skin, curving around his thigh, and grabbing at his erection from the base. Pre-arousal drips out of him in gossamer strands, connecting thinly to his slit until they stain the floor beneath him.
• His cockhead is thick enough on its own, the detailed tip lined with rides that you lick so eagerly, swirling your tongue over the slit and drinking in his semen. Your lips purse around his slit in a kiss and you suckle sweetly, cheeks hollowing just around his tip and it has him bucking into your mouth. Past his cockhed enters you without much warning, and you choke around him, coughing and pulling away as you look up at him with a smile that tells him he has nothing to worry about. Spit dribbles out the corner of your lips and your eyes shine with fresh tears. He has to calm himself. You’re already down on your knees on your violation, holding his shaft in your hand and pleasuring him. Your hand can hardly wrap around him, his girth bulging out and thickening around his curve. Your mouth wraps around his backing, cheeks bulging out as you peek up at him, pulling them deeper into your mouth. Suction noises fill the room and covering his mouth with his hand, begging under muffled breath that it feels too good, and to just suck on him. You pop him out of your mouth and your hand holds onto his thigh, and you give him a wide grin, your chin wet with spit.
• Taking all of him is hard work. He curves and bulges out, the bumps that line down his cock, the swelling so near the tip stretching your mouth in a way that you voiced your concerns that your lips would split or jaw would break. He kissed away your concerns, but he always wondered if he’d even stop if you were in pain. Would he contain past your cry and slapping of his bare thigh? He’s certain that he would. Not out of malice, but just too stuck on searching for his own high. He’s lived a long time, and in the amount of years and partners that he has had, they can never hope to compare to you. He’s already so close when your mouth takes him, going down section by section. He can feel the graze of your teeth tickle at his cock, meeting every bump and vein with a sharp kiss. He holds the back of your head, taking short and labored breaths with every inch of cock that disappears down your throat. Your mouth is full, already bulging and he’s barely past halfway when you’ve stopped, choking and bobbing your head, tongue swirling on the underside of his cock.
• With the sounds that you’re already making, he knows he has to calm himself. He knows that he should be kind to you; treat you like you are porcelain, but he can’t help himself. It won’t be long, he’s already reaching his high, but you’re much too slow. His hand holds the crown of your head, hair knitted between his fingers and can feel the short, shuddering stop of your breath, and your eyes that peer past your lashes. With eyes glazed over, he smiles down at you, and bucks his hips forward. You gag, a wet sound that fills his ears and echoes in his head. Your mouth is still small, something of you that can’t be stretched like your sex, and it feels so good to feel that resistance, to feel your throat close around him. He thrusts quickly, meeting you at a fast pace that you aren’t quite ready for. This is mean of him, but he can’t stop, he’s insatiable, he just has to reach his high once and then he’ll pull away. He just needs to commit how you wrap so tight around him, how you choke and gag because of him, how you cry and look up at him with tears and a flushed face. Your hand meets his and he quickly intertwines with you, holding and feeling every squeeze of your hand while you cry beneath him, drool falling onto your chest, and making it that much easier to slip further down your throat. He holds himself still, buried to the hilt, seeing how your eyes close tightly and finally he pulls out, spit and semen connecting to your tongue. You cough harshly, rattling your ribs and spraying spit and seed onto the floor. He lifts you with ease and you run your nose along his collarbone, your hand curving around his neck and hiding your reddened face. He lays you on the bed, already making work of removing your shorts, and tongue already entering your entrance at a fast pace.

Diavolo:

• There’s far too much paperwork to be done, least of all finished today and as the clock ticks closer and closer to midnight, Diavolo is already exhausted, leaning back onto his chair, legs spread and hand covering his eyes. He wonders for a brief moment if having an assistant would be a good investment. The door to his office opens and by your footsteps, he can tell that it’s you. You talk without asking him what’s gotten him in such a sorrowful position, and perhaps it’s because you already know. It’s not as if he prefers to be locked up in his office. Your hands curve over his shoulders, and your nose brushes along his cheek. His hand drags down his face and you move back, and he can feel your breath against his knuckles as he turns to look at you. Your smile isn’t soft, it isn’t the usual giddiness that you have when you see him- it’s different, more perverse if he were to guess.
• Before he’s able to ask you a question, you’ve scampered beneath his desk, your hands on his clothed thighs and energy surges through him. His pants pool around his ankles and before his briefs can join, your hands slide up his bare thighs with your fingertips under the dark cloth. You kiss at his thighs, soft, and quick, peppering upwards, your nose brushing along his base as you kiss at his package. You’ve nestled at his cock, kissing it through the cloth as your hands cup over his pubic bone. He’s already hard, pre-arousal staining his briefs in a dark color that’s barely able to be differentiated. He’s calling your name and your hand cups around his shaft, messily jerking him off as he tips his head back. The pleasure is weak, but compared to his stress, he’s letting out heavy breaths, hoping that it’ll urge you to quicken your pace, to finally take him in your warm mouth.
• He knows that he’s bigger than average- bigger than the average human and demon. He’s an intimidating size and he isn’t shy about it, he’s proud in a humble way, smiling softly at you, watching as you press your lips against the cloth, looking up at him with such an amorous gaze. His hand tucks under your chin, and with a soft raise, you’re looking up at him. You’re teasing him and it’s so cruel of you. All of this light touches just to get him riled up, to buck into your touch and beg for you. You know his position, just how much power he truly has. He’s a demon born, feared and powerful, and yet, you’re the one who acts like you’re in control. He calls your name in a warning tone, tutting at you for playing with him, and when he leans back to his chair, your hands are making quick work to remove him of his clothes. He springs in front of you, his erection leaking with pearlescent beads that glint under the light of his office and you’re quick to kiss at his cock, worshiping it like he should be. You take it in your hands to kiss him, to have the flat of your tongue leave a wet strip from his package to his slit where the arousal slides down your throat in honeyed strands. You make a noise of approval, smiling and taking his tip into your mouth to taste him once more.
• Your lips wrap around his head in a kiss and you pull back, kissing down his shaft, tongue tracing over the ridges and bumps, and he’s looking down at you with a soft, waiting smile. The tip of your tongue traces over his veins, a hand wrapped around his base- or at least what you can fit into your palm. He calls your name and you squeeze your hand around him in acknowledgement, moving back to his cockhead, and when you look back up at him, your eyes widen when his palm meets the back of your head in a firm hold. You suck in a quick breath and quickly, he guides you down his cock, taking every section, every inch and ridge, pushing past the sweet, gagging noises that you make. It’s such an ugly, erotic sound that it only pushes you further down his cock.
• There was a time when you looked at him with awe, and his cock with fear, wondering how you could ever fit him inside of you, and he made sure with proper care, that he would fit inch by inch, feeling your entrance tighten around him as you squealed, pinching your nails into his skin, muttering about how it hurts, but he never wanted to pull out, he’d just rub your sex and kissed you until you were shaking under him. Now is no different. You gag and cry, tears and drool sticking to your skin and not once does he catch your eye. Diavolo guides your movements, making sure that you take a little bit more of him with every thrust. He’s sure that if you were on your back, he’d be able to see the outline of his cock in your throat, bulging and pushing past what should be normal. The pace isn’t quick, but he certainly is the one who is in control, pushing you further and further your limits, cursing under his breath as your nails scratch into his thighs and he keeps you buried, your nose pressed against his pubic mound, teeth bared and grounded as he releases his seed into your mouth, and it burns down your throat. When you pull away, your face is flushed and wet with tears, drool, and arousal. You cough and his seed spits onto the floor. You sound ragged. Under the desk, you sit in an awkward position with your legs spread and taking heavy breaths as drool drips onto your shirt. And he can smell your own arousal, can practically hear how your sex beats in anticipation for something more.