Delkira after living with you for almost a year has noticed some mornings your not fully awake, in those mornings he tries to help you, he moves you to place to play and even feeds you himself...he actually adores this given this a cute side of your usually harsh , annoyed or done with him attitude...he still finds those aspects of you hot mind you-
Y/n*Sitting in the chair looking at your breakfast for the past 5 minutes and drinking "orange" juice**...' Kira...Say, there is something wrong with this orange juice...
Delkira*Smilling at you, putting honey on your pancakes*...It's carrot juice, Tiny
Co-Worker: *Asking from an innocent mindset*Does it make them swell?
You remember the FIRST time you drank wine was with Delkira after you two spent new years ears together for the first time... the next morning your legs didn't work, your bed broke in two...and the wallpaper had scratches like some wolverine was set loose and snooring like a baby was delkira next to you-
a routine wellness check on NABERIUS KALEGO during his evil cycle quickly spirals into an afternoon neither of you will ever be able to explain — especially after another coworker of yours walks in at precisely the wrong moment.
ⓘ starring 、evil cycle.naberius kalego x babyls teacher.reader
ⓘ content warnings 、spoilers up to chapter 319, likely ooc kalego (even his evil cycle can't justify this one atp lmao)
ⓘ production note 、reader's a demon, childhood friends trope, pre-established relationship, can be read as either romantic or platonic (tho it noticeably leans toward the former) & kalego misses you but he'd rather die than admit it
ⓘ script length 、~ 2,256
“kalego—”
“don't.”
“but look—”
“do not.”
a soft sigh nonetheless slips past your lips, your gaze wandering across the room its occupant currently calls home.
to describe it as a bedroom would be . . . exceedingly generous.
it bears far greater resemblance to the forsaken chamber of some long-abandoned estate, where neglect violence have long since taken root. deep claw-like gouges rake across the walls in uneven trails, while shattered furniture lies strewn about as if something had reduced it to splinters in a fit of blind fury.
what little remains of the curtains hangs in ragged strips from their rods, mercilessly torn apart until only frayed tatters continue to sway in the stagnant air. broken wood, shattered ornaments, and scattered debris litter every corner, leaving scarcely a single surface untouched by whatever calamity seems determined to revisit this room time and time again.
. . . that's the poetic way of putting it. to be perfectly frank, however — kalego is currently in his evil cycle. and, evidently, rather upset.
the evil cycle of the naberius bloodline is said to be extraordinarily rare. according to kalego himself, some members of his own family have gone their entire lives without experiencing it even once — which only makes the current situation all the more concerning.
you suppose whatever transpired during the deviculum or something like that truly managed to get under his skin. after attending that gathering of demon nobility, kalego returned carrying an amount of stress and pressure you had never quite seen before — for reasons you have yet to piece together yourself.
whatever the cause, it eventually proved enough to drag him into his wicked phase, forcing him to take a temporary leave from his duties at babyls.
which, naturally, is why you're here — just a quick visit; a simple wellness check on your childhood friend, as routine as any of the others you've done before — nothing more and nothing less.
. . . the only issue being that it was supposed to remain quick.
“kalego, i'm serious. listen—”
your earnest attempt is answered by little more than a low grumble. or perhaps something closer to a hiss.
it isn't that you're trying to close the distance between the two of you in some misguided attempt at comforting him; the truth is — there isn't any distance left to close.
if anything, there is far less than what most demons would consider appropriate.
because you're currently being hugged. or, more accurately — held captive.
the ever-stern, ever-intimidating naberius kalego; the guard dog of babyls; one of the academy's most fearsome instructors—
—is hugging you.
truthfully, even entertaining the sentence sounds absurd — and yet reality has already decided to prove otherwise. the sheer absurdity of it almost has you convinced this must be some particularly vivid dream, one from which a good hard pinch ought to awaken you.
that is, if kalego's claws weren't already doing a convincing job.
they dig ever so slightly deeper each time you attempt to wriggle free — not enough to break skin, merely enough to remind you that escape is, for the time being, decidedly out of the question. maybe even in his current state, some corner of his mind still refuses to let your uniform — or your person — share the same unfortunate fate as the floorboards and furniture scattered throughout the room.
knowing words are unlikely to get through to him in his current state, you gradually abandon your rather futile attempts to wriggle free and simply settle where you are.
with only the slightest tilt of your head and the smallest shift of your posture, you make yourself as still as possible, careful not to startle him. by some means or other, you can't shake the feeling that merely witnessing him like this — especially you of all people — is already pushing the limits of what his pride can tolerate. maybe such awareness is simply the byproduct of spending years walking beside him.
and so, you wait.
long enough for silence to descend upon the room and comfortably curl up between the two of you. if left unattended for much longer, you're fairly certain it'd start paying rent.
despite the dull ache recurrently blooming on your back from being pressed against the hard-surface sofa, along with the all-too-familiar complaint from your neck, you still remain exactly where you are.
you cautiously clears your throat.
". . . feeling any better?"
"yes."
". . . can you—. ." your fingers twitch faintly against his sleeve as you attempt a tentative shift, only to stop midway. "—move a little?"
all that consideration on your part is met with nothing but a familiar, dreadful silence — then again, that much hardly comes as a surprise.
words have never been kalego's preferred means of expression — let alone now, when even his composure has been thrown into disarray by his wicked phase. if his mouth remains stubbornly shut, however, his actions are anything but.
the vice-like grip that had kept you caged so fiercely — like some instinctive part of him feared you might simply vanish the moment he loosened his hold — gradually relents, albeit with visible reluctance.
just narrowly enough for the crushing pressure threatening your ribs to ease by a mere fraction. enough for the talons that had stubbornly dug into the fabric of your uniform to finally withdraw — though not nearly enough to be mistaken for actually letting go.
". . thank you."
you experimentally straighten your back.
as someone who has somehow accomplished what most demons would deem outright impossible — befriending the guard dog of babyls, to borrow iruma's rather fitting description — you've spent more than enough years at kalego's side to recognize when something is genuinely amiss. checking in on him every now and then has simply become second nature; especially now, when he's clearly suffering under the effects of his evil cycle.
even so, you can't honestly say you yourself ever anticipated this.
if anything, this alone speaks volumes about just how severely his wicked phase has taken hold.
unfortunately, regardless of how much you wish to remain here — whether to care for him properly or simply keep him company until he calms down — you are still, first and foremost, a teacher at babyls.
and teachers, regrettably, do not possess the luxury of an endless schedule.
truth be told, you've already slipped away in the middle of your shift just to check on him. and you have the distinct feeling kalego is fully aware of that fact — which only makes his current behavior all the more contradictory.
". . . as much as i'd like to stay with you," you begin cautiously, each word chosen with the same care one might exercise when approaching an injured animal liable to bare its fangs at the slightest wrong move. "you know i'm still on duty, don't you?"
"i can't just disappear for the rest of the day without telling anyone."
"that doesn't mean i can't stay with you," you murmur, voice mellowing of its own accord. "i can always request a leave of absence. the earliest they'd approve it, though, would probably be tomorrow."
"either way, i have to head back first. i still need to ask for permission, seeing as i don't even have my phone with me. if you really want me to stay with—"
"quit talking."
the demand comes barely above a mutter, muffled against your shoulder.
". . ."
". . ."
the words you had been about to say gather at the very tip of your tongue, only to wither there before they are ever given the chance to escape. whatever retort, persuasion, or compromise you had hoped to cobble together suddenly no longer feels worth uttering. not when he looks this miserable.
with a half‑hearted puff, your eyelids drift shut for the briefest of moments.
there it is. complete, undeniable surrender.
every attempt to coax yourself free has, for all intents and purposes, sunk without so much as leaving a ripple behind. if you can't pry yourself out of his embrace, then perhaps the only remaining hope lies with another close coworker of yours — balam shichiro.
if memory serves, he'd also been asked to drop by with kalego's medication. unless he'd already come and gone before your arrival, there's still a chance salvation might walk through that very door sooner rather than later. and even if he had already finished delivering it, you're fairly certain the koala currently clinging to you won't be keeping his captive forever.
hopefully.
so until then, you suppose there's little harm in making the situation a touch more bearable — for both of you.
with that thought in mind, you cautiously ease one arm free from the confines of kalego's embrace, moving with painstaking care as if even the slightest misstep might shatter the fragile calm he'd finally settled into. once liberated, your hand slowly rises toward his back, stopping only a few inches away, suspended in the air to test waters whose depth you can't yet discern.
one of kalego's pointed ears gives a faint twitch. a low, almost inaudible rumble escapes him — not quite a growl, yet not entirely unlike one either.
. . . you decide to interpret that as permission — only then does your palm finally settle against his back.
the first pat is hesitant, feather-light — little more than an experimental touch. then comes another, and another after that — your hand gradually falling into a slow, unhurried rhythm as it gently travels up and down between his shoulder blades.
from the way the tension in his shoulders eases — if only by the slightest margin beneath your palm — perhaps you're doing something right after all.
"you know," emboldened by what you deem to be a sufficiently comfortable stretch of silence, you begin. "you don't actually have to pounce on me like some starving beast as a greeting next time if all you wanted was a hug."
"you could always just admit you missed me and i'd be more than happ—"
they don't pierce your clothes, nor do they so much as scratch your skin, but the unmistakable pressure of his talons digging into your side is more than enough to make you jolt.
"alright, alright—!" a startled yelp escapes before you can stop it. "owch— it was just a joke, that's all."
"will you ever learn to keep your mouth shut?"
". . yessir."
with all the dignity you can salvage, you awkwardly sink back against the sofa's unforgiving cushions, letting your body go limp against both the furniture and the apparently immovable demon attached to your side.
before your mind is even aware of it, sleep has already claimed you as swiftly as the blink of an eye. the rigid sofa at your side proves far from the most comfortable place to drift off, yet exhaustion wins regardless, pulling you into unconsciousness before you can so much as protest.
somewhere amidst that hazy slumber, you vaguely register the faint sound of a door easing open.
bleary-eyed, you slowly pry your eyes open — only for the dreadful, no less humiliating realization to strike you square in the face.
balam is here.
and, judging by the small, ever-so-understanding nod he offers upon noticing the two of you occupying the very same sofa — resting well within one another's personal space in what could only be described as a rather intimate position — he has already reached whatever conclusion his wonderfully imaginative mind has decided upon.
before you can utter a single word to defense your little dignity left, he quietly places the medicine onto the coffee table.
". . . it seems kalego‑kun is well cared for, then. i’m relieved.”
with that, he offers another gentle, closed-eyed expression — the unmistakable air of subtle delight radiating from him despite the mask concealing whatever smile surely lies beneath it — before politely excusing himself.
"s-shichiro, wait—!"
your voice rises on instinct, only to falter midway through as you simultaneously realize kalego has, at some point, also drifted off beside you.
". . . i can explain! it's not what you think it is!"
unfortunately, by the time the words leave your mouth, balam has already slipped beyond the doorway — perhaps a little too quickly. or, rather, deliberately.
after all, as the self-appointed captain of a certain ship that had long since set sail, one can hardly blame him for choosing not to interrupt what he almost certainly believes to be a long-awaited breakthrough between the two of you.
". . ."
somehow, you have the terrible feeling this perfectly innocent wellness check is about to snowball into an astonishing number of misunderstandings.
and, knowing balam . . .
by tomorrow morning, that ship will have reached every dock in babyls.
DIRECTOR'S COMMENTARY ──────── ✦ is it just me or does kalego look even more put together in chapter 319 than when he's not in his evil cycle . . either way i just know he's a big fat ahh yearner. like bro will spend the entire day thinking about you and then act like your existence is a mild inconvenience the moment you show up gsyadickj (and supportive sweetheart balam yayyaa)
my wheel spun on opera and my dice landed on ten <3 / kinktober masterlist / kinktober guide
word count: 650+ words / 18+ - mdni
your nails are leaving large marks on opera's arm, where you're clawing repeatedly at their body simultaneously trying to get away from their touch and closer as well.
it's not the first time you've been in this position and you know it won't be last, you don't know how it started but in the past year the two of you have been hooking up on occasion. you first met at babyls many years ago when they still had black hair and you were more quiet and hated people's attention on you when it was unwanted, and it mostly was.
opera's face expressionless apart from the slight flicking of their sleek black tail you can see from where you're propped up on the pillows of your bed and they're between your thighs, sitting on their knees as they're touching you casually, almost indifferent but you know better than that. you know that as you babble more and more nonsense as the night grows old, the more enjoyment opera gets. "plea' opera! ' can't take it 'more!"
some people don't realise that opera is a mischievous demon, they don't see that side of them, you do, you see it when they relentlessly tease kalego every chance they get, you see it at your secret rendezvous as they playfully provoke you. "you keep begging and pleading it's incoherent, you need to learn to enunciate more. you're zayin, someone who has such a high demon ranking should speak clearly." it's extremely difficult for you to think clearly, let alone speak, when for the last hour and a half opera has been continuously moving two of their lithe fingers in and out of your cunt, rubbing your g-spot and brushing their palm against your clit. it's hard to focus on anything apart from the constant stimulation as they're constantly making you cum and cum again and again.
opera ignores you begging for mercy again, "for just a few minutes rest!" he doesn't even reply to your request though, unceasing with their movement. even when your scratches on opera's arm get deeper and you try to wriggle away they don't stop. even when opera's other hand has to grip onto your plush waist and hip dips to stop you from squirming too much they still don't let up. even when with their other hand they tease your nipples until you automatically arch your back into their touch before you quickly shy away and try to get back again.
it's hitting the hour and forty minute mark, your overly sensitive body is becoming sore. you've came eighteen times and your bedsheets are soaked. a demon can only take so much.
opera can tell you're reaching your limit as your moans decrease, only making whines and small whimpers. "too much!" you slur and your head lolls to the side, opera thinks it's cute.
"you can give me one more, let's get you to nineteen," opera's tone sounds more softer than normal, quieter, the voice you'd have if someone fell asleep and you didn't want to disturb them. you don't believe you've heard them speak any other way than the way they usually do but your head is too hazy and fuzzy to even notice the slight difference.
you're able to make it to nineteen, your pussy spasming and clenching around their fingers as you cum.
opera sees that you're coming back to yourself, when your breathing evens out and your eyes lose the cloudy haziness that they just had. "nineteen's a record for us." it wasn't a question, just a statement.
your head falls onto their upper chest, resting on opera's shoulder, "yeah."
"weren't we nineteen when you told me you had something important to tell me and you wanted to meet on the roof but we never did."
"yeah," you repeat your last response.
you're currently twenty eight now and was twenty seven when you reconnected with opera, at nineteen you lost contact and stopped seeing them.
at nineteen you were planning on going to the roof and confessing your feelings towards opera but you couldn't stomach the thought of being rejected.
At first, Asmodeus doesn’t pay much attention to you. You’re just another classmate, someone he sees during lessons, but he doesn’t feel the need to interact with you. He’s more focused on his studies and, of course, Iruma.
It isn’t until he tags along with Iruma and Clara to one of your performances that Asmodeus realizes who you really are. When you step onto the stage as one of the top performers, Asmodeus is completely caught off guard. His eyes widen as he watches you perform.
After seeing you as an Akudol, something changes in him. Suddenly, you’re not just his classmate—you’re someone amazing, someone with talent that he never noticed before. He starts thinking about how he never really paid attention to you in class.
From that moment on, Asmodeus can’t help but notice you. In class, his eyes keep drifting to you, wondering how he missed the fact that you were so popular in the netherworld. He tries to act like he’s still indifferent, but inside, he’s curious.
He starts showing up at every Akudol event you’re part of, trying to be subtle but failing miserably. He watches your performances with an intense focus, and when you make eye contact during a show, his heart skips a beat.
Back in class, Asmodeus begins offering to help you with little things—like studying or magic practice—hoping to get closer to you. He doesn’t mention your Akudol status, trying to play it cool, but it’s obvious he’s trying harder to be around you.
He also blushes whenever you compliment him, even if it’s something simple like, “You’re really good at magic.” He tries to stay composed but always ends up stuttering a quick thank you.
When other demons in school start fangirling/fanboying over you, Asmodeus gets a bit jealous. He won’t admit it, but hearing them talk about how much they admire you makes him want to be the one who’s closest to you.
Asmodeus starts doing things just to make you smile. Whether it’s using his magic to make a situation easier for you or offering to walk you to your next class, he’s clearly trying to impress you without saying it.
He gets a little flustered when you catch him staring or when you thank him for his help. He’s not used to being nervous around anyone, but something about you—especially knowing you’re admired by so many—makes him act a bit differently.
Sometimes gets lost in thought during class, staring at you while you take notes. He snaps out of it only when the teacher calls on him, flustered and embarrassed that he was caught daydreaming lolll.
─────────────୨ৎ─────────────
𖦹 please do not translate, repost, steal, or copy my work.
I just need a moment to process how Kalego our residential guard dog has less X reader fics on AO3 than Balam. Sure both are pretty lacking but Holy shit I thought there would be hundreds not
37
For reference balam has 46 not a huge difference but holy shit I thought you guys would be thirstier than THIS!?
sharing a snippet of what i've written for a various!mairuma x oc/reader long fic!
name is still tentative because I can't seem to find one I really like... but I need a name that could have 'Momo' as a nickname... also she calls Kalego, 'Kalego-chan', unironically because REASONS (they are childhood friends (childhood devis? ig??)!!!!!!)
