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sil-writes-fiction-too · 5 hours ago

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Synopsis: Love brings its fair share of sweetness and desire. Headcanons for the companions, on the occasions that Tav charms them quite thoroughly.

Featuring: Headcanons for Tav/Reader x Halsin, Tav x Gale, Tav x Karlach and Tav x Astarion.

Contents: Romance, humour, suggestive language.

Dividers by: @saradika-graphics

(Here I am readers, with more companion romance headcanons. They just keep coming. I am cringey. I embrace it.)

Halsin

"There, more to your left. Yes, that. Careful now. The footing's slippery, this hour of morning."

Elated, you placed your prize in your small satchel. The medicinal moss Halsin had taught you to identify and harvest would work wonders in creating more potent healing draughts.

Yes, they were found in the rather treacherous upper branches of the trees in this particular forest, but the hazard was well worth the -

Your triumph morphed within seconds to a sickening lurch in the stomach region, your foot sliding precariously along the branch you were perched on. You let out a decidedly undignified yelp as you struggled to find purchase and failed.

Halsin was shouting something up at you from where he stood at the base of the tree. Fingers scrabbling for a crevice, you managed, somehow, to cast an almost bungled spell of feather fall before you tumbled down through the foliage.

The effects of the spell took hold, not quite as effective as you'd hoped, somewhat slowing your descent. You braced yourself for the inevitable hard stop, only to find your shoulders and knees caught by a pair of the sturdiest arms you'd ever had the delight of reclining in.

Halsin offered you a reprimanding look.

"Didnt you hear me? I said I'd catch you."

"Ah ... well. Panic had me for a moment there."

The breadth of his chest against your side was warm, heavenly, on the verge of overwhelming. He shifted slightly, his expression turning amused when you showed no signs of wanting to get down.

"Am I to carry you back to camp then? While your delicate nerves recover?"

Amusement now foremost, you pressed a spontaneous kiss to his cheek, inhaling the scent of sunlight on grass, the fresh earthiness of meadowsweet in his hair.

Pulling away, you saw how the light dappled his skin in motley splendor, the faint lines at the corners of his eyes when he smiled, the slightly rougher patches of skin from long exposure to sun and wind.

Tracing a finger over the line of his jaw, you wondered at how the weathering of time and the elements could carve, with such grace, the story of a life well-lived.

"Carry me? Why, yes, that would be most welcome. Of course, you could change to a ... larger form if you wanted to make things easier."

You could feel the quiver of laughter, and the suppression of it as he pretended to consider your proposal.

"Hmm. I take it you refer to the boar? I'm not so sure that you'd find a comfortable seat on my back."

"I clearly wasn't referring to the boar."

"Ah."

He nodded sagely.

"The bear, eh?"

"Nothing else but the bear."

"You're rather ... enamoured of the bear, I take it?"

"I could be persuaded to admit it."

"Well, today won't be the day I persuade you with any other form. Rather ... "

Before you had a chance to protest, he'd tossed you gently over his shoulder, one large hand coming to rest your behind. He patted you firmly.

"Now this is fairly easy."

"Halsin, please - "

"You don't want to be carried? You were quite eager a minute ago."

"Well, yes, in a position that leaves my dignity intact."

He turned slightly, allowing you to see his mischievous smile.

"Ah. Dignity. Quite like clothes. We can do without them at times, don't you think?"

Gale

"Is there something on my face?"

You glanced up teasingly, taking in his slightly flustered expression. Gale lowered the tome he had been 'absorbed' in, clearing his throat. Gods, you loved when he was visibly collecting himself. He didn't quite meet your gaze.

"No, not at all. But sometimes ... reading the countenance of someone dear to you is ... slightly more fascinating than academic pursuits."

Leaning back in your seat, you folded your arms.

"Gale. I never thought the day would come when you - "

"Please don't."

Mouth twitching in silent mirth, you take mercy on him.

"Fine. But you know, if you do want to perform a more ... thorough reading of my countenance, you're most welcome."

He set down his book with an audible thump.

"Ah. Hmm. That's very - "

"Oh, Gods below."

Standing abruptly, you leaned across the table and hoisted him toward you by the collar. The surprised huff that escaped him blew warm across your face, before you tugged him against you, lips moving firmly over his.

It doesn't take him long to find his confidence. It never does, once things have been initiated. Soon, you're the one being pulled forward across the wooden surface, sliding slightly awkwardly into his embrace.

Breaking away long enough to register that you are now practically on top of him, you glance down at the book, teetering precariously on the edge.

"Gale, it's going to fall off the - "

The breath is abruptly knocked from your lungs as he draws you even closer, disregarding your warning entirely. The scrape of his beard against your lips, your chin, your neck, is intoxicating.

"Gale, wait - "

He hums, voice suddenly pitched lower, and you're reminded immediately of rainy days, closeted in his tower, your body arched beneath the lowering curve of his.

In spite of this highly distracting thought, the fate of the book nags at your mind. If anything, Gale was certainly rubbing off on you.

"The book - "

"I've got it."

"Where?"

Pressing lightly on his shoulders you glance around. The book had indeed fallen ... into the grasp of a ghostly hand, its outline barely visible, shimmering faintly.

The corner of Gale's mouth curved.

"Right there. Just so you know, I've written a dissertation on all the potential uses of the mage hand. Would you like me to demonstrate the parts that didn't make it to publication?"

Karlach

For a woman who embodied all that was vibrant and good-natured in the world, Karlach was certainly skilled at playing you like the proverbial fiddle when she put her mind to it.

Sometimes, you wondered whether she'd been taking tips from Astarion, but the manner by which she applied her charm was far too spontaneous to have originated from any advice he could have provided.

After it had been established that you were together, she'd made a habit of turning your cheeks a decidedly duskier shade whenever the opportunity presented itself.

Just yesterday, you'd gone out to collect firewood and she'd insisted on accompanying you. She'd selected suitable trees, lopping off branches with practiced strokes, muscles bunching and coiling as she swung the huge weapon with breathtakingly effortless ease. It didn't help that you'd been caught staring and she'd shot you a cheery wink.

This woman would be the death of you.

Today, it was the wagon.

Halsin had roped in some of his contacts in the locality to trade with you on occasion. These were trusted allies of his, and could be given the location of your camp without much worry.

The road getting here was rough going, though, and by the time the wagon of goods had trundled in, the wheels were decidedly worse for wear. As a gesture of goodwill, your companions had volunteered to replace them, Karlach eagerly taking the lead.

At first, you'd put it down to her ever-present desire to be of as much use to others as she could. When, however, she'd shrugged off her tunic, limbered up as if about to jump into battle and shot you a tell-tale glance before she lifted the cart right off the ground so that Wyll could slip the wheel off and replace it, you knew you were done for.

Feet braced, the tendons of neck and arms standing out, Karlach lifted her lambent eyes to yours and shot you that easy, charming grin, the one that had all too often haunted your more ... impure thoughts.

Oh, she was in for it. Two could play at that game.

Approaching the cart, you casually made your rounds, before sauntering over to her. Karlach's grin had grown noticeably wider with your proximity.

Stopping right beside her, you kept your gaze on the wheel change while your fingers danced lightly up the inside of her elbow. The wagon lurched a little and Wyll cleared his throat in warning.

Appearing the very vision of innocence, you smiled up at her, your touch inching further in, curling around her bicep. Heat flared to life beneath your delicate exploration.

"You really are something, Karlach. No wonder lifting me is such a breeze for you."

The comment was fully loaded with intent. The last time Karlach had lifted you had been against the door of a room in an inn, and the circumstances had been ... less than chaste.

Glancing up, you saw that she was no longer smiling. She was now giving you that look, the soft, kindling, fire-bright sweetness that told you all too well that you'd better seek out some private nook, and soon.

Wyll cleared his throat.

"Karlach? The wagons tilting again."

"Eh? Oh, sorry."

Her head snapped forward and you took the opportunity to raise yourself slightly higher on your toes, pressing your lips, swift and intimate, to the corner of hers.

"See you later, soldier."

And by the Gods, did you feel her gaze scorch along your back as you strode away.

Astarion

You still had no idea why you'd agreed to this. You knew how it played out, every time, and yet, here you were, being positively demolished at game night with Astarion.

Since committing himself to you fully after Cazador's defeat, the proverbial floodgates of Astarion's long-suppressed nature had been dashed open.

He hid notes containing badly composed romantic poetry all over the camp for you to find, flung himself dramatically into your lap after a hard days grind, conspired with Scratch to hide your boots, sang loud, bawdy love songs with your name inserted when he helped with the washing up and forced you to wear matching colours when you went out into the city together.

He was lovely, your rogue who'd worn a thousand faces, but now he had regained so much more of himself. And as much as you appreciated every inch of him, he was a handful.

Especially on occasions like tonight.

You scrubbed a hand through your hair in frustration, shooting him an accusatory glance over the game board where your pieces told the sad, sad story of repeated defeat.

He examined his fingernails.

You growled.

"I told you that you weren't allowed to cheat."

"Cheating? Me?"

His artfully startled expression quickly morphed to one of mischievous glee.

"All right. Maybe I am. A little."

"Astarion."

"My dove, consider it training, of a kind."

"Training?"

"I'm exceptionally skilled at sleight of hand. If you can learn to keep up with me, then it'll take a fantastic rogue to pull one over you."

He spread his hands and leaned back in his chair, infuriatingly handsome (and smug) as ever.

"Besides, you're so pretty when you're ... frustrated. Reminds me of how you mewl when I - "

"I have never mewled. Or made any sound close to that."

"I beg to differ."

Your eyes dropped to the board, considering your next move, when something occurred to you.

Astarion had always been the one to fluster and flatter with his honeyed words in the past, none of which had been truly sincere.

Now though ...

If the kindling of his heart had showed you anything, it was that even he could be susceptible to the charms of someone he truly cared for.

You decided to put it to the test.

Drumming your fingers on the table top, you nodded slowly.

"I agree with you on one thing, at least. You are very skilled at sleight of hand."

He opened his mouth to reply, confidence in the set of his smirk, but you interrupted him.

"Similarly, I am skilled at certain things. Maybe even more so than you."

Oh, now you did have his attention. He paused and arched an eyebrow.

"Well, I won't argue with that. But ... what skills are you speaking of, exactly?"

You briefly lifted your eyes from the game board, fixing him with a penetrating stare.

"I'm a ranger by profession, a hunter through and through. Once I set my sights on a target, there's no getting away."

He was leaning forward now, intrigued.

"Hmm. I've seen that, yes."

"And even though I knew you were not all you appeared to be when we first met, I did set my sights on you."

Nonchalantly, you threw the thought out before returning to the game, offering no further elaboration. Astarion shifted in his seat slightly. You held in your smile.

Eventually, he cleared his throat.

"What do you mean by ... set your sights on me?"

You glanced up, earnestly taking him in.

"I knew you were special, I suppose. My instinct told me so. I learned your scent, as well as you knew mine. I learned your gait so that I always knew where you were, even in the dark. I noticed how you styled your hair, because it told me the kind of mood you were in that day. I studied your drinking patterns, so that I could offer you my blood before you grew truly hungry."

Astarion's eyes were widening slowly. You pretended not to notice as you continued.

"Oh yes. There were many things. Most of all, though ... "

And here you placed a hand gently under his chin, tilting his head to admire him better in the dim light of the camp lantern.

"I learned that you like your name on my tongue, in all its variations."

His voice was positively faint now.

"Variations?"

You offered him a radiant smile, one that drew on every ounce of affection you had for him.

"My sweet star. My unruly nightingale. My beautiful shadow. My bewitching blade dancer. I'll praise you in every form."

And there it was.

Maybe it was only possible due to the fact that he had fed on you a short while before, but the faintest of russet hues, delicate and fleeting, had appeared on the elegant bridge of his nose. You smiled, pressing your lips gently to the tip of it.

"Shall we say I win tonight?"

He let out a shaky breath.

"The victory is yours, my darling."

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sil-writes-fiction-too · 1 day ago

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Bg3 companions if you wanted to stay the night in their tent

characters: Astarion, Wyll and Gale

Astarion

“I suppose I could make space for you just don't drool on my bed roll”

He would probably not be asleep since he only trances for 4 hours at a time because of his elf heritage but then he is also a vampire that doesn't really feel exhaustion the same way the living do. So he would not be the best ‘sleep’ buddy in that sense but he would not turn you away.

You would walk up to his tent in the middle of the night completely restless from not being able to fall asleep. It was cold tonight and even though a vampire without a heartbeat would be able to provide much warmth it would still be a nice presence to have next to you.

Luckily you always put your tent next to his so no one in the camp would wake up from you sneaking around to get to Astarion.

When you open the flap of your tent you quickly go over to your lovers and whisper “Hey.. Star, are you awake?” and to your relief the fabric door separating you two opens up and reveals the pale man. “Love? What in the hell are you doing still awake?.. I will not go out and chase some creature with you again.” He said in a haste as if you were gonna drag him out on a random adventure.

“Yeah no..” you said with a light chuckle before your voice got a bit heavier “Um.. could I sleep with you tonight..? I just don't really wanna be alone right now.” The words felt so thick coming out of your throat, dripping with emotion. Not quite sadness from what had been weighing on you but not shame either from asking. but just tiredness.

Astarion took one good look at you, “For the love of- don't look at me like I would ever tell you to leave. Come on”. He moved further into the tent to let you move in. Apparently this had been one of the rare moments that you had caught Astarion right before he fell into his trance so he had already fixed up his bedroll to rest for the night.

As he climbed into the soft fabrics to make himself comfortable, Astarion had a hand on one of the corners of his blanket to hold it open for you.

You moved into the tent and slowly situated yourself into the bedroll with the vampire. He wrapped his arms around you and held you close to his chest as he let his fingers comb through your well kept hair which he had put himself in charge of. You two fit like two puzzle pieces as you laid together, not really any extra warmth from him but it made it easier to nuzzle into him extra without getting too hot. Astarion would reciprocate by holding you head in his neck and the other on your waist to have you as close to his body as possible.

But all in all Astaion would be a good cuddle buddy when it's also his time to sleep but otherwise he would let you lay in his bedroll while he reads or he would leave you with something smelling of him as he disappears into the night to hunt if he had been taking too much blood from you lately.

Wyll

“Just like my heart, there is always a space for you to rest next to me”

Wyll is exactly what you want when you look out for comfort during the night no matter if it's because of your own head haunting you in the dark hours of the night or simply because you cannot get comfortable. Especially if you are in a relationship because this man get giddy over you wanting to kiss him during the tiefling party in act 1. Do you think he would do anything but smile like a loser if you wanted to share a tent much less a BEDROLL.

You couldn't really sleep tonight and there was no real explanation to it. You were feed, happy, safe, it was comfortable in your tent and it was over an hour after when you usually fall asleep but then again you might just miss Wyll. He went to bed pretty early so you haven't seen him a good few hours. Maybe it was just time to see your little devil, even if you woke him up.

You stepped out of your tent and looked at the tent right across from yours which was Wylls. Currently the entire party had set up camp in some forest cave covered in moss so you and wyll took a secluded area for your tents to have a little time for yourself without everyone else being down your throat. Your legs automatically knew where you were gonna go and led you to the tent door that separated you and Wyll. With your hand you slowly lifted the flap to find Wyll staring directly at the roof of his tent.

“Y/N?” Wyll said as he propped himself onto his elbows. “Is everything alright?”

You let your head in the tent and let the tent door fall onto your back. “Yeah.. just missed you. Can I sleep with you tonight?” Wylls cheeks immediately took on a warmer hue after you said that and his eyes widened a bit. He rubbed the back of his neck while looking at you “sometimes I really do think you can read my mind. I was just thinking about you myself.”

He smiled at you with his boyish grin and arm open for you to climb into. You would lay down on top of him to provide warmth to each other. It only took you two a few seconds before he started rubbing your back with one hand and supporting his head with the other. Both of you had sweet smiles resting on your faces as you melted into the other.

In the end Wyll would be a great cuddle buddy even though he can’t really lay on his sides because of his horns and he has to use two pillows to prop his head far up enough so the horns wouldn't hit the ground. He would always invite you to sleep on his chest mostly because of the fact that you can’t really cuddle another way but also because I can see wyll being someone that loves weighted blankets and his S/O would be the closest thing he would be able to get to that in fearun.

(Bonus thoughts) If you fall asleep before him he will just sit there giggling to himself about you being curled up on his chest.

Gale

Oh you have your own tent? Bitch please since you started dating Gale you haven't even put it up because you two share your spaces so much it's basically pointless. Gale spent years alone with no company but Mystra and maybe some fellow wizard he would know because of his studies but then he also spent a year of pure solitude because of the orb in his chest. Now he has a partner that loves him and what? Is he not supposed to fall asleep next to them every night? You are acting like there are enough hours in the day for him to love you.

Everyone had just finished dinner and was heading to their own tents so they could set up their bedrolls. Gale had started to clean up after the dinner he had served the camp that night. He was gathering up everyone's plates to wash them in the river just a short stroll from camp and putting out the fire. “Do you need help?” you asked him.

Gale looked at you briefly before smiling to himself before his eyes found the bowls again "Don't worry about that, dear. I'll take care of this but if it would not be a bother could you ready our tent?” He said as he stood up to go down to the river. “Of course I can, love”

Gale walked away to finish cleaning up as you turned around to go to yours and Gale's tent. Inside it there were two bedrolls that were neatly folded up from you cleaning up last night.

You rolled out your bedding for the night and put the next to each other as close as possible so you would not feel a gap between yourself during the night. Then you carefully placed down your pretty flat pillows and big blanket to cover you both during the night.

When everything looked neat and ready for a good night of rest you grabbed your night clothes and changed before slipping under the blanket with a book Gale had given you. It was some story about two starcrossed lovers that Gale swore up and down reminded him of you two.

You managed to read a few pages before the tent opened and the wizard himself crawled in. His eyes flicker to the book you had been reading, probably proud of himself to have given you a book you liked enough to keep reading each night. He quickly changed into his purple sweater and pants before settling right next to you. He picked up his own book but only 20 minutes after laying next to each other you two ended up in the other's arms.

Gale loved to be pulled into your chest at night and he would wrap his arms around you to pull himself closer to you so he could inhale your musk as he has been very open about liking. He would stay in that position all night and he would not move before the morning light forced him awake.

Gale is basically your husband. This is no cuddle buddy, this is the man you pay your taxes with. He would always sleep with you after the first night you two fell asleep together. Now he is a little loser (lovingly) that can’t succumb to slumber without his breathing teddy bear.

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sil-writes-fiction-too · 6 days ago

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The Wizard's Game

Premise: Smutspiration by @optimisticgrey ✨ You and Gale play a little game to test his - ahem - concentration 🍆✊😏

• Gale x afab!reader • Act 3

Reader POV, "you", it's all fun and games till someone gets hard, Gale horny and struggling, oral (m rec), silence spells, concentration, tadpoled connection, unexpected revelations (but they're sexy), fantasies, round 2?

2.5k words

God bless @ym523 for this gif of Gale having a.. 👀🥵 Not even the Oakfather could preserve us.

Come in my beautiful tagged pretties, come in!: @optimisticgrey, @spyvstailor, @enbyofwaterdeep, @cheshireizxpikeveil, @roguishcat and @faerybella219

_____________________________

•°•°•

A devious smirk spreads across your face, the kind that follows a wicked thought.

"Gale, love?" You ask, with an innocent lilt to your voice.

"Yes, my darling." He answers, half turning his head, half nose still buried his dusty tome. The soft candlelight cascading warmly over his handsome features.

"I'd like to play a game. A game to test your dedication, your control over magic." You suggest, pulsing your brows and giving him a smirk, pushing onto your knees to sit back on your heels.

"I think you'll find it's not much of game if I'll win," he scoffs, glancing over the book at you, "Need I remind you of my astounding wizarding prowess again? Why, just today when those Saughuin leapt from the murky depths of Grey Harbour, who's outstanding constitution for magic won the day?" He returns the smirk, tilting his head towards you with abject confidence.

"Ah, it's not your battle casting mind I need. It's more subtle than that. It's a test." You hint, leaning forwards on straight arms.

"A test? Well, I did achieve top of my class concerning testing feats of casting at Blackstaff. What is this game/test thing?" He leans for his bookmark, and slots it into the page.

"Well, if you win, you'll win big but if you lose, you win too. Technically." You state, intentionally unhelpfully.

"Enough riddles, love. Don't keep me in suspense. What is it?" He encourages, placing his current volume down and sitting up, intrigued.

"Well, firstly; you can chose to back out at any time." You offered, sincerely.

"Doubtful but do continue, love." He says, arrogance growing by the second.

"Well. There are two parts; first part is to see how long you can keep a spell's concentration going." You begin to explain, making space within the tent.

Gale's eyes flex wider, increasingly more curious, "And the second part?"

"Uh-uh, that's part of the test. You can't know what's coming, or you'll know what to expect." You posit, holding your arms in a small shrug.

"Sounds logical. Alright, I agree to this game, test thing. It sounds fun," he grins broadly, rubbing his hands together, "What's first."

"Well, once you've prepared yourself, just cast Silence when you're ready to start." You nod, feigning bearing down to throw a spell at him.

You catch the faintest flicker of his brows, knowing that he sees your movements. He steadies himself, then calls out in a commanding voice, "Silencio!"

Immediately your demeanor changes; instead of daring and playful, you switch to seductive and dominant.

You bite your bottom lip and glide it through your teeth, "You're gunna regret that." You croon through the tadpole connection.

Gale's eyes go wide, confusion, then fear then surprised arousal. He huffs out a breath but there's no noise.

"What are you-" he begins, his voice unsure.

You thread your arms through the thin straps of your nightie, and let it fall to your waist, your beautiful breasts bared to him in the soft amber glow of the candlelight.

You stretch yourself out slowly downwards, like a cat that has just arisen from a deep slumber. Breasts pressing together, your ass in the air, you look up through half-lidded eyes, hair mussed around you.

"You lose concentration, you don't get to cum." You cluck your tongue over your teeth, a sinful smirk plastered across your face, "and I use mage hand to fuck myself in front you. But you. can't. touch."

His arcane bubble thrums around him, pulsing out protective energy. He swallows thickly and breathes heavily but silently - so far.

This was going to be so much fun.

Gale's eyebrows furrow and flinch, as he tries to keep his grasp firm on the spell.

"You think I didn't practise this as a boy when I needed some privacy in the dormitories?" He questions, his expression trying valiantly to relax, "This'll be easy." He remarks, rolling his eyes for effect.

"Ohh, I'm sure teenage Gale used to be very practised at this." You irk an amused brow at him.

Moving towards him slowly, padding forward on hands and knees like a panther stalking it's prey, crawling towards him and settling your heat on top of his growing erection. Gale groans silently through his teeth, as you ease your hips torturously over his clothed length.

Gliding your hands up his soft camp wear, you feel the gentle vibrations of the Orb underneath the fabric. You fist his shirt and pull it over his head, throwing it aside. The amethyst and cerulean radiance of the temporarily sated Orb, glowing within the tent space.

"Your body betrays you." You whisper in his head, grinding down on the bluge in trousers.

"All according to plan." He shrugs with shoulders, leaning back to illustrate his clear lack of concern with the situation. Telltale sweat begins to bead on his upper lip and you bite back a sly smirk.

Leaning forward, you trace the seam of his beautiful mouth with your tongue, softly. Pressing gentle kisses on the edges of his lips, then finally kiss him properly. He tastes like hot cocoa and brandy, smells like clean sheets and warm leather.

You sigh a hedonistic moan through the connection, "Mm, darling. You taste so good. The only time you taste better is when you've had your face buried in my pussy."

Gale shudders against your mouth, nearly swallowing his own tongue, as yours lovingly melts into him. Your hands gliding through his silken hair, his remaining firmly planted behind him.

It's an underhanded tactic, talking dirty about him messily feasting on your pussy; but it's supposed to be a test, after all.

Rolling your hips on his hard cock, you squeeze your thighs to add a gentle bounce. One palm glides up the meat of you thigh, trying to halt your ministrations against him. Although, the attempt felt a little half-hearted.

"When I mounted your face, last night. Gods, your tongue, your mouth. Gale. Fucking my hole with your tongue, rubbing my clit with your nose. Fuckk." You shudder, reminiscing the already fond memory.

You share it with Gale, showing him the view from your perspective. His face blissed beneath you, hair sprawled on the pillow, desperate hands grasping at your full hips, urging you to fuck yourself faster on his face.

He pushes you up off him with great force, trying to slowly breathe, steading himself. And still not a peep.

"Uh-uh, it's cheating." You bat his hands away.

"We didn't discuss the particulars of the parameters, my darling." He counters, with a smirk you can hear through the tadpole. You arch a brow at him.

"Well, consider that a warning. Play the game, Dekarios. Win the test fairly. It should be easy for a Wizard of your legenary prowess, right love?" You goad, pushing him down to land noiselessly on the pillow, "For that. We enter harder territory." You curl your tongue around your incisor deviously.

Sliding yourself down his body, peppering kisses down his muscular torso; licking and gently biting your way down his body, his body convulsing at the light, teasing touches.

Swiftly yanking down his trousers and underwear in one, his cock bounces free. Fisting the bedroll beneath him, Gale screws up his eyes. His hips subconsciously writhing in miniscule motions.

"This isn't fair. How am I supposed to-" he stops mid-sentence, as you engulf the tip of him in your wet mouth, and slather the saliva you'd gathered over his swollen cock head.

You see and feel, rather than hear, the effort of his lungs whooshing out all the air contained inside.

"Ohh fu-" he trembles out, unable to finish the word. He screws up his face in concentration, biting down on his lip hard.

You pause and snap your fingers. No sound. You were impressed.

"Well done, my darling. You're doing extremely well so far." You commend, looking up at him from your position between his legs. He willfully doesn't look at you, knowing it would make it so much harder to concentrate.

You caress his mind with the image of your point of view: the sensation of your pussy throbbing at the thought of sucking his dick; how hot this was, watching struggle to keep his composure, his tenuous grip on the Weave.

Gale clenched his jaw, and body tensing. You gave him no chance to recover.

Taking as much of him into your mouth as you could, you choke down his length. Gale's fist slams silently down to beat the floor, you can feel the intensity of his breathing against your flat palm, on his toned stomach.

You smirk around the thick girth of his cock, "Does it feel good, love. Do I make you feel good?" You ask through a croon, "Does the feeling of pumping your thick, hard cock down my throat make you want to cum?"

"You feel good. Yes." He praises, voice strained through the connection.

You add your hand to work the space you couldn't take into your mouth, working in perfected rhythm.

You gently reach out to touch Gale's mind through the connection, his thoughts swirl through your mind, jagged and unfiltered.

An image of your current position, sucking enthusiastically on his cock; how incredible it felt. Your tongue working the sensitive underside of his head, your hand working his shaft. Bobbing and taking more down your perfect throat-

Sudden his mind rips to the thought of Halsin fucking you, how angry it made him. How you'd cry out with wanton pleasure, as another man fucks you hard.

You look to him with needing eyes, you reach your hand to him.. invite him to join you both. Halsin's warm chuckle, as he refuses to slow his gait, pounding his barbarically enormous length into your pussy.

Him kissing Halsin, as you suck them both. Halsin tasting of warm honey. Him on all fours, eating your gloriously wet pussy, the press of Halsin's cockhead against his-

A sudden jerk and the thought is pulled away, ripped out from the senario.

Your brows pulse up in surprise.

Embarrassment flooded his thoughts, chastising himself.

"Don't be embarrassed, I wanted to see what happened next." You tease through the connection.

He ignores you, fists bunching and unbunching the bedroll beneath him.

Thoughts of his Mother and Tara at home in Waterdeep, scolding him for previous misdeeds; not writing, not visiting, not getting rid of his "obscene" beard.

The image of you meeting his mother, of Tara speaking highly of you. Swapping recipes in her homely kitchen. Preparing food together. Laughing. Drinking freshly prepared tea out of impossibly tiny, floral cups, with dainty saucers. Discussing the complexities of the weather.

You bent over the counter, hair fisted in his hand. The joyous slap of your ass bouncing against his hips, as they snapped to fill your deliciously wet cun-

He resists. Every muscle bunches and tenses, you feel the guttural pulses of his taut core.

Gods. He barely scraped by that time. But he was still too good at this. You need to turn up the heat on this final and most crucial stage.

A viciously sinful idea springs into your mind; your vulva was soaked, practically dripping with arousal at the visions in Gale's mind.

Taking your free hand and trailing it up the length of your sex, you collect your essence and slide your fingers directly into Gale's mouth. At first he resists, then realises almost immediately what it is.

"Taste how wet you make me, love." You whine breathlessly through the connection. He shudders a desperate keen in response, reverberating through his chest and clenching his stomach muscles.

He suckles desperately on your slickened fingers, begining to tremble uncontrollably. His right hand fists into your hair like in his vision, and an almighty roaring moan erupts from his chest, past your thrusting fingers.

He'd lost, it seemed.

"Gods dammit!" He curses between your digits, realising the same. Resigning himself to his failure he huffs out and slaps a hand to cover his eyes.

Doubling down, you fuck your mouth and throat down on his cock, spearing him passed your gag reflex, tears pricking your eyes.

"No, no, no. Don't you dare." You warn, pleading with him.

You don't stop. Even though you should. You stroke his glistening cock in your hand, every vein pumping and pulsing, "Cum darling, nice and fucking loud. I want you to cum."

"Suck on my fingers." You instruct desperately through the tadpole. He does so with disgustingly licentious fervour, whining at he does.

The debauched, wet, choking sounds of you proudly sucking Gale's cock finally free. You moan wantonly around him length pounding your throat.

You never understood why sex should be quiet. It was supposed to be this incredible, beautiful thing, not something to be ashamed of.

You loved the noises your bodies made when you were lost within each other.

Why would you ever not want to hear the desperation in his voice, the neediness in your throat, as he fucks your mouth?

It doesn't take him more than three seconds before his body tenses, and the soles of his feet cricket against the floor. Pulling back your fingers to rest on his chin, you feel the telltale jerking of his hips and the increasing, fervent thrum of the Orb under your skin.

Fuck silence spells, you want to hear him.

A trembling, needful wail of pent up release ricochets around the tent and resonates outwards. Hot, shooting spurts of cum land on your tongue and hit the back of your throat. You roll your eyes up in pleasure.

Gods, you loved the sound of him as he came.

"Yes, yes love. Good, louder. Let them hear us." You encourage, milking every last drop of cum from his pulsing cock.

A low, deep growl turned yell strangled out from his throat, body convulsing with aftershocks.

"Enough, stop please. Please." He begs weakly, unable to move away.

He pants hard, chest heaving with each breath. His cock lands exhausted on his tummy, with a soft pop of your mouth. You turn to nuzzle kisses against his thigh bowed around you.

"Waaaaay! That's the way, Gale!" Cheers Karlach laughing from her tent.

"Yes, wonderful. Now do shut the fuck up!" Shouted Astarion, droll and irritated.

"Yes, some of us are trying to sleep!" Shadowheart calls pointedly, over the various jeers and agreements that rumble from the other tents, at different volumes, depending on distance.

Gale's hands slap to the sides of his face.

"Oh, great Angerion's lost nose! That was humiliating." He frowns, from behind his clasped hands.

Your face twitches with guilt, as you push up onto all fours. Maybe it was a bit much; not everyone was as comfortable with sex as you were.

"But Gods was that incredible." He shoots himself up to catch your face into a deep, lavishing kiss, "Gods, I love you."

He snaps his mouth to yours, tasting himself on your tongue, as he greedily feeds open-mouthed kisses to you. Hands tangle in your hair, and wrap around your back.

He deftly rolls you to the floor and you gladly follow his strength down. Gale grinds against you, the thin fabric of your nightie the only barrier between him and your soaked pussy.

"Your turn, my love," he gently taps your thigh wrapped around his hips, and palms the soft skin, "It's only fair to extend the game to sorcerery - the less impressive magical class." He provokes with pumped eyebrows.

Pushing your nightie to encircle your waist, he slides himself down your body and settles himself between your thighs.

"Oh god, you look so good." He basks in the sight of your soaked folds and curves a wild, salacious smile at you, from his nestled position at your aching core, "Come on, or are you afraid you won't compare to a wizard's capabilities?"

"Oh, I would say you'll regret that but.. I can't refuse you." You arch a brow at his insinuation, "Darling, I have no qualms about screaming your name so the whole damned city can hear me. Sex is a beautiful thing, especially when I'm with you, and I refuse to be ashamed of it. So, when you're ready," you card your fingers through his hair and take a tight grip, "Make me scream, love."

He slowly suckers a kiss just above your pubic bone, waiting patiently. You smirk and cup his face, gazing down at the man you loved so fiercely.

"Silencio."

•°•°•

I hope I did the prompt justice 🙈😏✨

Got time to read more? Can I interest you in my Masterlist in these trying times?

396 notes · View notes

sil-writes-fiction-too · 7 days ago

Note

Are requests still open? Hopefully. If not please ignore this. I really love you work. Could you write a reaction of the demons being particularly demonic (they murder someone or anything that comes to mind) and MC sees without them noticing. Instead of MC being scared they are impressed and in awe.

PS: I love you writing. So good!

Demonic Brothers: It's more common than you think!

Seven demon brothers x Reader

@obey-mes-treasure i hope you like it!! My fav part was Beel's. This was fun to write.

LUCIFER

Trespassers are unheard of in the House of Lamentation.

Wards have been placed accordingly, boundaries clearly established by scent and hierarchy. The seven most powerful beings in this realm, who would dare intrude upon them?

He shakes head in disbelief. Almost pities the lack of awareness and almost admires the audacity.

Watches from the shadows as the demon flits through manuscripts and scrolls of the previous millenia. They don't even have the presence of mind to put things back in their place. Lucifer flicks out the candles, observes the intruder bare his teeth in frustration. Good. The light was too bright anyways. Puts his coat down and adjusts his tie, savours the moment. Steps out.

"Care to explain your presence in our territory?" He asks, watches as the demon snarls at him. "You have dirtied my study."

They tries to flee, but a force holds them in place. Scrambles at the air since their feet have failed them. Lucifer hums as he moves forward, retrieves the document crumpled in their pocket. Raises an eyebrow and smiles. Lets the paper burn in his hand and blows the ashes in their face, making them sneeze.

"What shall be done to you?" He ponders, putting on a TSL soundtrack. Sits on the chair and closes his eyes. "Public execution?"

At least they have the presence of mind to keep quiet.

"Or maybe I will hang you in front of the house as a warning. The flowers have been dull recently, maybe a fool's blood will assist in their vitality."

Maybe chop them into eight pieces and bury one in every direction. Nourish the soil with their blood and let Purgatory take hold of their soul. Let the Council try them for treason. One thing the House of Lords is adept at is delivering punishment, apart from having snobby nobles and vassals intent on getting their way.

"Or maybe, I should deliver punishment myself."

A mess he would glady partake in. The intruder writhes in their place. The music reaches a crescendo. "Your protectice wards are weak. Who do you think you are, Morningstar? You seek refuge in this realm when you were thrown out from your own, and have the gall to pretend you are above everyone else. This is a land of demons, not for betrayers of their own realms."

He raises an eyebrow. "Oh? Then why do I have dominion over Pride?" He gets up to face them, lets his fangs glint in the moonlight, the pallor of his skin and the veins bulging in his neck evidence of how deranged he looks. "Why am I one of the Avatars? Why was I a Seraphim?"

Arguing with fools has led to no productive output. Hence it must be made quick.

Lucifer watches the blood flow down, stain the floors red. Lets the demon tremble and whine in pain. Stares in disgust at the mess and turns to leave the room. If they are alive by the next day, he will hang them from a tree in the garden.

Then his eyes fall on you.

Lucifer freezes, watches you stand there with your mouth open and body rooted in place. Clearly, having sought him when you were unable to fall asleep.

"You were not supposed to see that."

Your eyes dart between the being bleeding out and Lucifer's face, unable to speak. Then a gloved hand covers your eyes and turns you to face the hallway.

"MC—"

"No, wait—that—that was so damn cool!"

His mind halts.

You smile at him wide-eyed, nearly vibrating in your place. "Like—the soundtrack, the way you unalived them—your smile, oh fuck your smile—"

Interesting choice of vocabulary.

The demon smiles. "My smile?"

"No—your fangs aren't showing like this—"

You hold his chin and angle his face so that his canines glint in the light. Then grin in victory. Lucifer's mind fumbles.

"How did you do that?!"

"I'm a demon."

"Can I sit back and watch?"

"Go to sleep, you have a test tomorrow. That hold priority."

"Ugh."

MAMMON

Mammon can be called a hypocrite.

He does not like to be cheated at all, but will do so himself at a moment's hesitation. He's a demon, after all, and while honesty might be virtue in the Celestial Realm, here it holds no pedestal. Especially for being of Greed.

There's a product he wants to purchase for himself: a diamond bracelet, hand-carved and procured from the mines in the outskirts of the Devildom. Incredibly rare.

Normally he would grab it without a second thought, but he's currently waddling in cash from his gigs and deals, and before Leviathan comes asking him for his 500 year old money with interest on it again, it would be better to spend it. Plus, an item of such worth going missing would surely make headlines.

So when f the money has been paid, the jewellery finally rests in his hand.

Mammons looks pleased with himsef, lets it rest in his hand—so shiny, and wonders how it would look on him. Or MC.

Yeah, MC.

A blush dusts his cheeks at the thought, dopey grin on his face. The jewel shines, his hand holding it up in joy.

But then Mammon freezes.

Brings it closer to his eyes, applies pressure. The stone on it does not budge, but then more and more and more—

A crack.

"Oi!" He calls to the agent, who have retreated to another room to complete some documentation. "What ya' giving me a fake for?!"

They make a face of confusion. "But sir, this is a real item. Certified in its quality." Their expression freezes when Mammon gives them the cracked jewellery; and gives them a look.

"Explain this then."

The agent stumbles over their words while forming excuses, and his eyes dart around the room. The second-born cackles suddenly.

"Don't tell me—you're the illegal vendors of these diamonds? Selling fake ones in the name of the real thing."

They apologise when caught, blubber and form apologies and promises that Mammon knows are hollow. If he's here, he might as well have a bit of fun, and y'know....its been some time since he last let go.

"Usually, I'd let Lucifer or Lord Diavolo handle such a thing, but you're lucky to have me instead busting your ass." His voice is a tad high-pitched, and the way his eyes glint means whatever plans he has in mind do not have decent consequences. "Say, what, let's make a deal."

Making a deal with the Avatar of Greed never has the desired consequences. It is like playing Russian Roulette with your luck and life.

By the time the deal is finalised, the place is trashed. Wallpapers torn and windows broken, glass shattered on the ground. Crimson bleeding into the fabric of the carpet.

And a new bracelet adorning his hand.

The real deal.

He whistles as he walks out, admires the shine of the stone and looks up.

Sees you standing there.

Backtracks.

"You—MC—what are you doing here?!" His voice comes out rushed, eyes widening. "Did Lucifer send ya here or somethin'?"

"I followed you," you declare, setting a hand on your hip.

"Firstly that's kinda creepy, and why?" He asks, looking you over as you stand so nonchalant. Mammon's hyperaware of the destruction that the establishment has, but takes pride in knowing that he was the one to do it.

"I was bored."

"What kinda reasoning is that?!" Pokes you in the head, and the action causes the bracelet to shine in the lamplight.

"You'll want to get the blood off the back of your shirt before Lucifer sees," you point out, and Mammon strains his head to look at his back. Sighs in defeat when he sees crimson. "It was all over you when I saw you come out."

"Aren't you afraid or grossed out?" He asks, licking his lips.

"Nope," You declare, enunciating the 'p'. "You did the right thing."

"Now, did I? Ya think so?!"

LEVIATHAN

Leviathan does not like to go out in public very often.

Newfound peace in the Devildom means that there's no more conquests to be made, and so with peace often comes gossip and boredom. It's been centuries since he last wore his uniform and donned the cap.

The public knows him as the Avatar of Envy, the Grand Admiral of Hell's navy, a master strategist. One who led enemy forces belonging to the House of Lords many millennia ago straight to their demise without shedding a drop of blood.

But right now he wants to be the demon who's here to purchase the groceries for the week.

Loathes, loathes—going out. But Satan's down with a cold (it was his turn today) and with no other sibling free the chore fell on him.

Leviathan blows the bangs away from his face and squints at the bread. Inspects it for any weird smells, but its fresh. Quality checks in this establishment have always been top-notch. Takes the cart to the pickles section, wonders which one to get. Deviled zebra in spices, or Hell Mango in the spicy base that Mammon always prefers? There are so many of them too, that he has to take a moment to decide.

Overhears two demons nearby snickering. Ignores it, shrinks a bit into himself and focuses on choosing a jar.

Their laughter is, frankly, grating to his ears.

Goes a little ahead, leaving his cart behind to pick a chicken pickle. Leviathan's hand freeze as soon as their words rush past his ears. "Sucre Frenzy? Really?" One of them exclaims, staring at his cart. "A grown demon, of all things?"

Their chuckle is cruel.

It makes his heart sink in his chest, a tightness that makes his brain freeze. Of course I would be ridiculed, what was I thinking even stepping out—shakes his head and pretends everything is normal.

The second one, with overgrown fangs peeking out smirks. "What kind of loser purchases such things?"

"I've heard the Avatar of Envy likes such stuff too."

"What—no way!" The latter exclaims, disbelief clouding their eyes. "You're telling me this is the demon we have as an Admiral? Fuckin' loser."

Leviathan's chest heaves with each breath.

All doubts in his mind come to a halt, the only thing remaining is the incredulity at their words. Oh? Him? They're doubting him?!

There's no better Sucre Frenzy fan than him. Or an Admiral.

How dare they how dare they how dare they

How dare they think of him as lesser?! Such low demons have no rights. How dare they be so secure and confident in their words?! He'll show them what he is, then. Let his nature decided on their fate.

"Do you truly believe that?"

Leviathan's voice is flat, head angled towards the snickering pair. At the sight of his eyes amidst the light from the freezer at the end of the aisle, they freeze.

"L-Lord Leviathan! We didn't know you'd be here!" One sqawks, while their partner straighten their posture, eyes widening at his presence. Too stunned to speak.

"Oh, go on, you know," He says, putting the jar in the cart. "About what you thought of me being a loser." Levi's unimpressed.

They fall at his feet, begging to be forgiven. His eyebrows furrow.

"That's not very brave of you. Where did all that audacity go?" He bites every word as he speaks, rage brewing in his heart. "Or did you speak it because you both are cowards?"

His fangs start to peek through, eyes metamorphing into slits, like the predator he is. "Know your place."

They both babble something, incoherent apologies and whines. But he doesn't want to hear it. They think he's not fit to lead? Well, he'll make an example out of them.

One starts to scream from the aisle, their partner's own horrified shrieks delving into garbled cries for help. No one interferes. No one protests. A shopper in the adjacent aisle quietly vacates the space. That section of the store is made unavilable for the rest of the shoppers.

Leviathan's home an hour late, humming the tune of the concert he had attended last week.

You greet him at the door.

"You're in a.....strangely good mood." You comment, watch Levi fumble for a moment before he removes his shoes.

"Uh, yeah! There's this game I want to play tonight, and it has garnered a lot of positive feedback already."

You smile. "Don't lie, Levi. I saw the video."

His shoulders sag. Of course you did. It was all over social media now. Their accounts had garnered followers quickly, but for all the wrong reasons. Envy's mark carved into their skin.

"Erm—I was hoping you'd rather not—I don't want you to think of me as some hotheaded demon," He mutters, fiddling with the buttons on his top. You giggle.

Levi's head snaps upwards.

"Of course not, silly." You say, pinching his cheek. "They must have done something stupid anways to get that treatment, I'm glad you stood your ground."

His cheeks feel hot at that, and Leviathan smiles. Did they get a defective human? They're usually not so used to bloodshed occuring as regularly as in the Devildom.

"Mhm. And I got Sucre Frenzy chips! They're on sale today!""

Both the demons social media accounts have their mutilated bodies, half-alive, posted on their profile. A warning not to test the third-born.

SATAN

It is a waste of time being here, clearly.

The host has not stopped droning on and on about the art piece, and while it certainly is an eye-catching piece, it lacks the originality that the blonde being desires. Another manufactured item catered for popular tastes.

"I’ll be looking around," Satan tells him as he inspect the artwork, and out of the corner of his eye the demon’s face falls.

The host does not take it well.

A snarky comment, a two-faced one, and the blonde demon’s polite smile hardens. They have every right to be annoyed, but at the same time another part jumps in. You have every right to refuse, you are the fourth-born!

"Oh? Is that so?" He grins, voice still calm. "Just because I refused, you lost your temper?"

A laugh.

Wrath swims in his chest, burns burns burns and demands that he slam the host’s face on the nearest surface. You dare think of me like that?!

"We are only demons, Avatar of Wrath," they croon, their shadow shifting in the sparse light. "To expect consideration would be too far-fetched."

"I do not want your consideration," Satan declares, putting his D.D.D. in his pocket. Lets metamorphosis sprout the features that define his presence. Revels in the knowledge that the being in front of him grits their teeth. "Knowing your place is an essential part of being a demon, is it not?"

The whip of a tail; the host groans as they are made to kneel. Blood leaks through the fabric of their trousers from where it was pierced.

"A pathetic excuse for an infernal creature," He chuckles, chest heaving with each contained breath. The air feels heavy, weighing on them with its silence. The fourth-born's laughter echoes. The beings in the rooms nearby simply close their doors.

"I shall have to teach you to know your place, then."

We are but demons.

Do not expect us to act otherwise.

It is late by the time he leaves the establishment, blood soiling the cuffs of his clothes. The moon is about to reach its darkest, signalling midnight.

A twig snaps, green eyes dart around.

"MC?"

You stand there, staring at the crimson staining his clothes. Satan turns away from your gaze. "I don't want you to see me like this.."

He expects you to run away from him.

The Avatar of Wrath, anger in every fibre of his being. You've never been exposed to the bloody aspects of cohabiting with demons, you won't be used to it.

"That was.....wow."

He makes a noise of confusion.

"What."

The word comes out blunt, Satan's head whipping around to stare at you. "Are you not afraid?"

You shrug your shoulders. "Nah." Take in the sight of him in his glory: blood staining the outfit, eyes a storm of green and hair tousled. Claws still out, teeth still bared, and eerily calm.

"You're quite odd," He says, but there's no malice behind it. Laughs and lets you hold his hand. Walk him outside.

"So...what did they do to warrant that?"

ASMODEUS

The scent of perfume and lotion hangs in the air, intoxicating and alluring.

Asmodeus hums as he walks, the tune of Hell's Burger Commercial. It got stuck in his head since it was played on repeat, and he decided that humming it out would make it fade from his memory faster.

His manicured nails shine, lavender and white in intricate designs. He got them done last night with you, and hasn't stopped admiring them since. You chose the design for him, and my my, his little lamb sure has good taste!

Unfortunately, someone bumps into him, and he grunts, regains his balance and then realises that his torso feels wet, their drink staining his top.

Asmodeus lets out a sigh. Its turmeric. Will be a pain to clean.

"Watch where you're going!" They admonish, dusting their clothes. "Or are you too busy staring at yourself?!"

"That's no way to talk to someone!" He retorts, unwilling to believe the rudeness this demon is displaying. "My top is dirty! And its turmeric, a pain to clean!"

"Then you should have been alert, not gawking at your nails," They bite back, and Asmodeus freezes. "No use of such a pretty face when your eyes don't work."

Its muttered under their breath, of course, but he catches it all the same.

He doesn't let the demon walk away, steps in front of them and leans against the wall. They scowl in annoyance. "What, are you going to follow me now?"

He giggles. "I would have forgiven you if you had apologised, buttttt," The fifth-born drawls on, smiles at the way their eyes narrow. "It seems you're a little dumb in the head, but that's okay!"

Grabs their chin and forces them to look him in the eye—and their pupils dilate.

Never stare into the Avatar of Lust's eyes for too long.

In the dim light of the Devildom, his eyes glow. Smile too wide, and it sends unease shooting through the demon's stomach. But their head is empty, can't bring themselves to pull away and leave, can't can't can't

"Your skin is so soft! What moisturizer do you use?" He croons, a manicured nail touching the skin under their fluttering eyes. The answer he gets—a garbled reply—is of no use to him.

Maybe he should skin them and wear it instead. Or better, make a lampshade out of it! It would go so well along with the colors in his room....

His smile is gone now. Replaced by sharp canines.

They apologise, but he tuts. "Tch, maybe I should tear your heart out and see for myself. Then I know you're truly sorry."

You catch him coming out of a dim alleyway behind Majolish. He's sucking on his finger, stops as soon as he catches a glimpse of you. Puts that hand to work to hold his shopping bags. "Oh, MC, I wasn't expecting you here!"

You come closer, notice nothing is amiss about him. Expect, for a stain in his outfit. "Is that.....turmeric?"

He sighs. "A very rude demon decided to bump into me." Adjusts his hair, holds his bags tighter. "But it's okay, they apologised! Even got me a new top as an apology!"

You notice the blood on his nails, lavender and white streaked with red.

"Did you do something to them?"

He freezes. Smiles softly and croons. "I was hoping you won't notice." Shakes his head and walks with you. "But they were so awful, and I had to make them learn some manners. No place for imperitnent demons."

"How did you manage to not get blood on your clothes?" You ask, and watch his brain halt for a moment.

"That's your question?"

"Yeah."

He giggles at you, this time not hiding his blood-stained fingers. "You're so adorable, MC, has anyone told you that?"

"You. Plenty of times."

BEELZEBUB

The Fangol match starts in fifteen minutes, and his equipment is missing.

Beelzebub stares at his open locker in disbelief, wonders if he had misplaced it somehow. Maybe left it somewhere in the cafe, or the bathroom. But no instance comes to mind. It is intentional. Curses under his breath at the inconvenience caused.

He shrugs, goes out to inform the coach.

The demon finds his equipment later, torn to shreds, under the bleachers when he sat there to unwind. Utterly unsalvagable. Sniffs the air and wrinkes his nose at the scent that is perceived. Knows who it is, gets up with his jaw clenched.

Goes to the locker room and makes a beeline for the mop of green, ignores the others confused glances at him. Stands behind the offender and watches as the demon in questions turns around to look at him.

"Woah, hi there Beelzebub!" They smile, closing the locker to face him fully. "Nice work today—"

"You sabotaged my equipment."

Puts in bluntly, observes them freeze for a moment before putting on their usual expression. "There must be a misunderstanding! I did not do that!" Watches them sqawk and make excuses, the stutter in their words evident at his serious gaze. "You must have misplaced it somewhere dude! No one would dare—"

"It has your scent."

They fumble, brain freezing in an attempt to make further excuses.

"Not me at all, Beelzebub." They declare, shaking their head. They had their chance. And they blew it.

He sighs. Thinks over it for a hot minute.

Then his arm swings at them, resulting in a crack echoing throughout the room as their skull collides with the locker. They have a thick skull too, clearly, since they dare to mess with one of the Seven Avatars. The others stand frozen.

Nature at its play.

"Do not take me for a fool," Beel grunts, goes in for another hit. "You knew the consequences," Another swing, and this time their nose bleeds. Clearly broken. "And yet you went forward with your stupid plan."

When they babble out apologies and excuses, he decides he does not want to hear it. Besides, their whimpers and cries irritate his ears. The smell of their blood might aggravate his hunger, but he does not want to consume a fool's flesh.

Finally relents, and their form crumples on the ground, bruised and bloodied, red smeared on their locker.

No one says a word, and Beelzebub does not bother damaging their equipment in retaliation. The injuries he gave them will keep them out of the game for a considerable period. They would prefer to drop out of Fangol before facing him again.

A permanent scowl on his face—default expression—and bloodied knuckles.

He knows his size is intimidating, knows that lesser demons cower around him. But also knows that his nonchalance can be taken for passivity.

His stomach growls.

Beel decides its better to run, the grass on his feet damp with dew and the air whooshing in his ears. Heart thudding in his chest, nearly enough to drown out the way his stomach threatenes to eat itself. So hungry—fuck—he needs to get home or find his stash of snacks before he goes on another rampage. It would be easy too, eat some demons alive to deliver the message, crunch their bones in his teeth and let the taste dance on his tongue.

So hungry, it occupies his mind and body.

Halts when he sees you standing.

A bag in hand, plastic crinking in it. Snacks. He finds himself reaching out for them, and you offer it to him. Tears open a cookie and devours. Breathes a bit easier as his stomach finally quells for the time being.

"Thank you," He grunts, voice muffled between bites. You smile at him with your arms folded.

"I heard your equipment was damaged from the coach," You say, wiping crumbs from his mouth. "Another demon tore it up."

He nods. "It's been taken care of." Then remembers that there is still blood on his knuckles, and demons have never been the one to hide their nature. The coach would have not spared you of the gory details.

It's biology, you see, and why should we hide who we are, little lamb? You reside amongst demons.

You don't seem to be mad, or afraid, he thinks, biting into a protein bar next. You're smiling at him, and its like the warmth of a thousand suns directed at him.

"You did the right thing," You blurt, fixing your hair. "Let's go to get you new equipment later." Watch as he shakes his head and smiles.

"You're an odd human."

Beelzebub walks with you after. Thank you, thank you, thank you.

BELPHEGHOR

It's a human world history quiz and his desk neighbour is intent on cheating.

Belpheghor's eyes droop, every limb weary with sleep as he fills in the boxes for the answers, nearly makes a two into a six for a fill-in-the-blanks question. Easy. Too easy.

The demon behind him shifts to see an answer that he had just filled.

His eyebrows furrow in annoyance, and he shoots the demon a warning look. They shrink into themselves for a moment, caught and flustered.

But they don't stop peeking.

He looks at Beel, who's stuck at question number six, catches his eye and mouths the correct option. His twin smiles briefly before writing it out. Belpheghor submits the test, goes to sit back at his desk and falls asleep.

Then wakes up, in his dominion, of course. The demon who was the offender is also there, confused. Blabbers and rants on about why they're being held here when they lock eyes with him.

Belpheghor's smile is sharp.

"You're really fucking dumb, aren't you?" He bites off each word, the usual lethargy that encompasses him now gone. The culprit feels their eyes grow heavy, each limb feeling as if attached to heavy rocks. "Can't believe you had the audacity."

The Avatar of Sloth is not to be messed with, don't you know? Even sorcerers from the human world desire to avoid him. Such a clever tongue too, and being the youngest means he's spoiled, used to getting his way. Blunt in a way that would cut if being kind means hiding true feelings. And haven't you heard, he got into a fight with Lord Diavolo?! At least, that is what everyone else says.

The demon tries to speak, but their tongue is heavy in their mouth, and the words freeze halfway through their throat.

"Luckily for you, I've got somewhere to be." Belphie declares, smiling too innocently for someone who's about to act otherwise. "We'll make it quick."

The bell rings, a sharp piercing sound that signals that time is up, and to submit the test papers. Demons shuffle about, chatter starting. Belpheghor and the demon behind him remain asleep, with everyone else none the wiser.

A few curious glances are thrown their ways, but no one interferes.

It's late by the time Belpeghor wakes up, his D.D.D. filled with unseen texts and missed calls. Shrugs his shoulders and flexes his neck, stiffness setting in from the awkward posture.

Looks behind at the demon with bruises on his neck and body, and grins.

His name being spoken makes him freeze.

He turns around, towards the source of the voice that could break him out of his slumber. It's you, D.D.D. in hand. Belphie's eyes widen as he realises the position he is in.

"It's getting late....why are you still at RAD?" He asks, picking up his bag without a care. His tone is careful, neutral, calm.

"You didn't come home on time," You begin, eyes trailing behind him to the demon who looks as if they are sleeping, but the mottled bruises say otherwise. "I told Lucifer I would pick you up."

He laughs. "That's kind of you."

"You never fall asleep for this long in class." You point out. "No one could wake you up. Satan considered having you carried home but Beel refused, which is kind of weird y'know. So.....care to tell me what's going on?"

"They copied from my sheet without asking."

You scoff at that. "And you put them in a dream where they get beaten up?"

He scratches his head. "Kind of, yeah. They'll wake up in an hour or two."

The demon observes your reaction as your eyes rake over them, the bruises marring their neck and the way their breath comes out laboured. That their sleep is a nightmare. He thinks you'll flinch. Run away maybe.

You have been on the receiving end of his malice.

Belpheghor does not like to think about that. Feels his heart sink when the memory comes to mind like needles in his skin. a cold sweat at the back of his neck.

But you stay.

"Honestly, valid." You quip, texting a message to the HoL. "Didn't know you could manipulate dreams."

He gapes at you, then shakes his head.

"What a weird human." Flicks your head and smiles.

And he's grateful for it.

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