ᴏʙᴇʏ ᴍᴇ! x ꜰ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ᴏɴᴇꜱʜᴏᴛꜱ

ᴀᴛᴛɪᴄ ᴄʟᴜʙ ꜱᴀɴᴅᴡɪᴄʜ

Beel x Reader x Belphie (NSFW)

It is early afternoon. Beel has just finished his fifth meal of the day, and is heading back to his room to hang out with Belphie. In the hallway, he runs into you, shoulders slumped as you limp along, looking like the dead. "Hey, (y/n)."

You look at him tiredly, managing a small smile. "Hey, Beel." He cocks his head curiously, studying you. "What's up with you?" You groan and tip forward, resting your head against his chest. His large hands immediately come up to rest comfortingly on your shoulders.

"Lucifer made me workout for next week's physical test. He said that if we don't get a perfect score, he'll punish us, and I'm personally not looking forward to running twelve laps around RAD." You mutter, mustering the energy to pull yourself away. Your back and hips ache, from the weights you were lifting and the punishment Lucifer gave you after you zoned out during his instructions. Beel listens on sympathetically. "Sorry to hear, (y/n). Rest well, okay? And if you're hungry, you have to eat or you won't have any energy..." You nod absent-minedly, exhaustion making your body and brain sluggish. "Mmm...okay. See you, Beel...ah!" You make to continue to your room, but feel a twinge at your lower back that nearly makes you fall over. You brace yourself against the wall and suppress a whimper.

"(Y/n), did you injure yourself?"

Beel's presence is at your back, steadying you. You wince slightly as he runs a hand down your spine. "I think you might have overexterted yourself. Does it hurt alot?" You nod, sweat rolling down your temple. "I'm probably just sore...it'll be fine." He shakes his head, a serious look crossing his face. "Come to my room. I'll help you, okay?" He wraps an arm around your torso to support your weight. "Can you walk?" You try to take a step, and bite the inside of your cheeks as your body screams in agony.

"Oh, nevermind," Beel says. With that, he effortlessly scoops you into his arms and begins striding down the corridor. He smells faintly like the food he had for lunch.

"Wha—Beel, you don't have to—besides I'm all sticky and sweaty..." You cling to his blazer, the ground now seemingly a good distance from your feet, embarrassed he's doing this for you. He waves off your protests, and you eventually fall silent, having no further arguments. Beel nudges open the door to the bedroom with his foot, gently letting you down by the door. Belphie is splayed on his bed like a starfish, long limbs tangled in the sheets and handing off of the bed. He cracks open an eye as you and Beel enter, giving you a grunt of acknowledgement by way of greeting before turning his face into the pillow. Your lip quirks softly. Right now, you can relate to him.

You snap out of your daze as Beel bundles a towel in your arms and begins steering you in the direction of the en suite bathroom. Confused, you dig in your heels slightly and glance back at him. "Um, Beel...?"

Patient as ever, he nudges you into the bathroom and begins shutting the door. "Bathe first," he instructs. "You can use my shampoo, or Belphie's. He won't mind..." You continue to look at him, mind blank. At your lack of response, he raises his brows. "Or do you need my help?"

Beel's question is innocent and well-intended. You shake your head furiously, flushing as your mind races with thoughts about his unintended double entendre. "Nope! All good."

"Okay. Yell if you need anything." He smiles and closes the door, giving you your privacy. You begin to strip, tugging off your damp shirt and tossing it into the wash basket along with your tights, underwear and socks. You carefully step into the shower, praying for your back to hold out a little while longer. You turn on the water full blast, the boiling hot water fogging over the glass doors of the standing shower and the heat sinking pleasantly into your muscles, briefly relieving the soreness on your lower back and thighs.