Demon Summoning for Idiots [BNHA x female reader]

Hawks

You pop the cap of the bottle of hot sauce open, because that magic circle isn't going to draw itself, and you'd rather not use your own blood to do it. Besides, hot sauce is red and viscous. Just like blood. Nothing could possibly go wrong.

You're not even trying to summon some high ranking demon, just something that can give you flight. Not even endless flight, just like, five minutes, or even levitation would be fine. Sure, you'd love more, because who wouldn't want to zip around in the sky like a tiny aircraft, but you'd also love a million dollars and your own private island, and those aren't going to be part of your life anytime soon. Probably not ever. It's good to start with a realistic goal.

Magic circle drawn, and the other ingredients chucked into the center like some kind of occult hotpot, you grab the book and chant whatever gibberish is inscribed on the page. You're pretty confident- and you used literally the most benign ingredients you could think of just in case. Even if the summoning fails, it was worth a shot. You have no regrets.

The book bursts into flames. You panick and toss it into the air. It falls into the center of the magic circle, which promptly ignites directly in front of your face, creating a fiery column of heat straight up into your living room ceiling. The fire alarm goes off, screeching and sprinkling you with water.

You have regrets.

---

The water does a slow, painful job of dousing the flames. The entire room fills with smoke. You just stand there, a victim of your own idiocy, and wait for everything to settle down. When it does, and you can see properly, you realize that there's a figure standing in the middle of what, mere minutes ago, was a towering pillar of fire. It steps closer to you, and you realize it comes with wings attached. Wings.

"You dare summon me?" he says, raising his hands in mock claws, and it might actually look threatening if he hadn't taken ten entire seconds to look inquiringly around your living room first before actually noticing you. "Cower, mortal! Raaaagh."

You hi-five him. He looks mildly disappointed. You double-hi-five him. He perks up slightly.

---

Your living room is a disaster, but then so are you, and you've still alive, aren't you? No big deal.

The demon busies himself checking out your home, and you busy yourself checking out the demon. Generally normal-looking, if you don't count the copious amount of eyeliner (that you're pretty sure isn't actually eyeliner). Or the wings.

"Ow," he says, whacking said wings on the doorframe. "Your doors are kind of narrow." His stomach growls, and he looks sadly down at it. You try not to worry. Do demons need blood? Is he going to try and eat your soul? He doesn't look very fast. Maybe you can outrun him.

Then he looks longingly at the takeout menus on your desk, and you reach into your pocket for your cell phone.

---

"I'm not a chicken demon," he says, when you squint at what he's pointing at on the menu. "Do you have any more of that hot sauce?"

---

He drowns the first of his chicken drumsticks with hot sauce. It's like he has no taste buds. Or maybe just no taste. Then he raids your fridge, pulling out your favorite beer, and you grudgingly acknowledge that maybe he can appreciate the good things in life, but-

"That's the last one! Go buy your own," you say, yoinking the can (that's now covered in hot sauce fingerprints) out of his hands. He looks morosely at his empty hands, and it's ridiculous how a demon manages to look so pitiful. You won't fall for it. It's a feint. You're not that dumb. You absolutely won't fall for it.