diavovulating

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i wanna bite ruki's ass (yes this is a reiji stan blog)

i think i'm sooo funny

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art that I will never finish

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Is anyone alive from this fandom? 😆🌙✨️

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luminescence.

laito x reader

contents; in which you & laito fool around in the sakamaki limo. explicit content, blood-sucking, alcohol, roleplay, mild degradation, dubcon, exhibitionism, worship, cunnilingus, laito being his own warning, afab! reader, wc: 2.2k, mdni.

masterlist

Throughout your life, you used to associate daytime with all things bright—colour, movement, chirping birds. But it’s the nights that are truthfully blinding to the senses. After the time spent accommodating the lifeways of your new household, you’ve come to learn this much. Even if you close your eyes, you can still feel the lights pressing on your eyelids, a hypnotic burst of violets and greens, twirling, swirling like a kaleidoscope. Music is still ringing in your ears, and there’s liquor that you can taste as you run your tongue across your swollen lips. You can taste it on his lips, too, take in the way it blends with the cologne and nicotine soaked into the collar of his shirt. 

Just like he got you used to, he catches on instantly, instinctively, like he was made to read into your reactions. Oh, and how he enjoys seeing it. Having you lose it to your senses, bite into his bottom lip just as Eve would lick the Fruit off her fingers. He lets you know that with a smile spreading past the corners of your mouth and a meaner squeeze on your hip. You pull on his hair a bit harder. There’s a whine, a wet, sinful one. 

“Ah,” Laito breathes against your cheek. He weaves the words low and alluring, only for you to hear. “Look at you grinding so pathetically on my lap, not even giving a fuck about the driver probably having the worst time of their life in there.”

He throws a glance past your shoulder—a trick. If anything, Laito lives for watching you pull through the shame blooming to your cheeks, hide your eyes behind one shaky hand. But after a while, you’ve caught a thing or two about him as well, know which and how many ropes he pulls to get anything he wants from someone. For all you know, this driver might not even be able to see what’s going on in the back of their limousine. 

And still.

A twisted part of you doesn’t want any of this to end, so you choose to keep quiet about it. Or rather, you’re too fucking drunk to care. 

“I bet they’ve seen worse,” you say, and it’s honest.

A small chuckle comes out of his throat, tickling your skin. Alcohol shouldn’t affect him as much. 

And still.

Even the faintest octave he gets from you tonight is numbing his mind more than he would like. Maybe you both went a little too far this time. 

Laito pushes his arousal between your legs. His grasp on your sides tightens. “You’re underestimating yourself, Bitch-chan. For one I had no idea you can move your body like that,” he hums, moving your hips from left to right. “Should I start calling you Stripper-chan from now on?” Half-mocking, half-pensive. 

There it is—the shame, the racing heart. Heat crossing your face, you recall yourself from just moments before, sweaty chest, swaying hips, fading into neon. You also can’t forget the way Laito’s hands coiled themselves around your waist back then, matching your rhythm. “You just lo~ve having so many eyes on you, don’t you?” his head rested at the crook of your neck. “Naughty Bitch-chan. How about I take you right here and show everyone you already belong to someone?” You shuddered at that because you knew he might actually be up for it. He settled on sinking his fangs into your shoulder blade, “Just one sip, okay? You know I get dozy when I have too much”. Hotly, stealthily, and you closed your eyes to focus on the music and the pain and the lasting tingle his voice was leaving on your skin. 

Despite your better judgment, you watch yourself aim for a similar high, tracing a thumb across Laito’s lips. “That would make this our VIP corner, and you still haven’t paid for the service,” you say in a voice you hardly recognise. 

“This is how you like to play, hm?” Laito leaves a kiss on your knuckle, his smile dangerous. There’s no hesitation as his hand reaches for his wallet, plucking out his credit card and pushing it under the waistband of your underwear. A sinking feeling settles in your stomach. Laito looks at you with the eyes of someone ready to exchange status for one cheap thrill at any given chance. Propping his chin on your chest, he chirps, “Then go on and eat the rich, like they say.”

No one prepared you for this. You smile back, somewhere between amusement and curiosity. Laito’s credit card flattened on your abdomen, cold and risky, you allow yourself to sink into the role, index finger guiding him against the backrest of the vehicle as your body starts working through some kind of imaginary music. By no means do you think you’re a pro at this, and there’s enough booze in your system to not even pretend that you are, but he drinks in each movement with rare fascination. Hair ruffled and eyes fogged out, his cheeks catch a redder shade when you hook a finger into the collar of your top, showing skin, and more after that. 

“This is good,” he says, breathless. “You’re a natural at turning me on, Bitch-chan.”

You can’t help yourself. “And one would say I’m the pathetic one here.”

Devilish, poised. “Will I be charged extra for the bad-mouth act? Oh, but I wish there was something more on me to give in return.” 

He knows how you’re about to answer that. He wants you to. Legs spread, emerald eyes gleaming through messy curtains of hair, Laito lingers on each second as you lean yourself closer, arms thrown around his neck. When you speak, you can feel his mouth coil against your cheek, “There is. I’ll expect it once we get back home.”

Bullseye. His laughter is fragrant, effortlessly sensual. Something about this enrages you. Excites you. The car rushes into a turn, and you cling onto him in search of balance. 

“When I was just starting to think you were leaning to the more adventurous type,” he says after a while. Soon he takes your chin between thumb and forefinger, voice dripping from his lips like melted, melting wax, and you can feel each word searing into the shell of your ear. “Come on, Bitch-chan. Whatever you want me to do, I bet you’re very much aware that I can do it here.”

Shameless. 

You think of the driver peering at you from the rearview mirror. Fighting the knot that has set in your guts with the image, you drowsily twirl some strands of hair around your fingers, rest your head on one of his shoulders. “What if I want to make you wait? Or even better, make you beg for it?” 

Laito’s ecstatic. “For letting me service you?”

“Mhm.”

“You minx,” Laito wails. “As much as I love the pretty faces you make when you squirm in my arms, I must say this side of you isn’t that bad either.”

“Then you know what to do,” you say, unrelenting. “If you want to see more of it.”

His hand rolls then to your inner thigh, thumb pressing into the flesh. He doesn’t stop looking at you as he massages the skin with the skill of a sculptor. It’s almost reverent, the way Laito touches you like you were one of his most prized creations.  

A chuckle trembles in his throat, “Well, who am I to deny you this?” 

Laito’s thumb wanders somewhere deeper, hitting your sweetest spots through your clothing. Your breathing slows down. He takes it as a sign to push harder. 

His voice drops to a whisper, “I can’t bear it anymore, Bitch-chan. I always make you feel so good, don’t I? So please, let me be yours. Use me to your filthiest desires.” 

Without realising, your judgment is fogged out by a bolder touch and a pretty face and a handful of candied promises. The power he has over you. The expressions a sweeter voice can paint on him. 

“Will you promise to be good, Laito?” you say at last, your hand raking through his hair. 

“You wound me, really. Haven’t I always been a good man to you?” Laito croons against your neck. Soon his mouth dips lower, until your body is conveniently laid across the back seat of the limousine and his head poises itself between your legs. 

You feel grateful for not being allowed to answer that, for Laito wastes no time before beginning to pull down your jeans, sighing into your underwear. “I’ll promise to make this a night you’ll never forget.” 

Then he traces a greedy tongue across the spreading stain on the fabric, and it sends a shiver up your spine as he does. You gasp. He licks again. His voice is muffled as it adds to the numbing heat building up throughout your body. 

“So deliciously wet already,” Laito muses. “Is it because you’re being watched, I wonder?”

Reflexively, you turn your head to the driver’s seat. The privacy curtain has already been set. Not sure whether to feel uneasy or relieved by the realisation, you let out a breath. Quick to notice the change, Laito giggles against your clothed folds. He’s always known how to pluck the best of responses from your body. Every time he coaxes one, he shivers. An addictive dance.

“Ne, don’t be disappointed. I’m sure there’s still so much we can do to feed that dirty mind of yours.” Saying this, he pushes the fabric aside, careful not to disturb the credit card you so rightfully earned just minutes ago. “Something like this, maybe?”

With this, he buries himself in, lapping at your slit and moaning in shameless delight. It was teasing at first, tongue circling past the spots that have you writhe the most, but beats later, he starts eating you with the desperation of a starving man, always aching for more, never satiated. Lungs pressed onto each other, you lock your legs around his neck, pushing him deeper into your soaking core. Laito is sinfully good at this, like he got you used to, but it’s the rush of this night out together that has you lose it completely. The moment your voice finds its way out of your chest, it’s whined and quivery, hitting an octave you didn’t know you had. It only pushes Laito to swallow more, mewl louder, and as he takes one second to look up at you, drunken, flushed, equally trashed out, you cannot help but feel your stomach burning up.

“H-ha,” Laito coes at you then. “What an exquisite taste, Bitch-chan. Almost as maddening as your blood.” He licks at your slick a few more times before adding to the thought: “Only the sweetest, and only for me to indulge.”

Fuck—you’re getting close.

“Laito, keep going,” you urge him. 

“Until you die thinking of me,” he promises. 

In anticipation of your orgasm, you hopelessly thrust your hips into his face, increasing friction. Laito continues to devour you without much concern about the lack of air. Sloppy lips, flattened tongue, squeezing hands. He needs to restrain himself from begging for his name, to watch it sit on your tongue the way it did only seconds ago. When you come, it’s loud, it’s obscene. Your nails are scraping into his scalp, and your lips start tasting like blood. Laito is likely to be just as loud as you are, but you can’t tell for sure, since your senses are still numbed out from the high you’ve been riding. After leaving a kiss on your inner thigh, he eventually lifts his weight from your legs and catches your eyes in a persistent stare. You don’t have the time to level your breathing as Laito leans in to enjoy the taste of your bitten lips, fangs scraping the wound with little care for it. The blood stays smeared on the corner of your mouth like a signature. 

“Just as I thought,” he breathes out. “You’re delicious from head to toe.”

A loose smile blooms to the side, “Don’t think you’ll get away with just this.”

Laito’s hand runs a touch through your hair, a tender gesture. His lips are coated in your slick. “Don’t you worry. I simply happen to know how to satiate greedy little things such as yourself.” Then, taking to hushed, “That’s what makes me your favourite toy after all.”

It does not take long until the limousine reaches the front of the manor, and Laito helps you step out of your ride. The building reflects your memories, tall and flat and unkind, with vegetation climbing atop the windows. Sluggishly you gape at the sky unfolding a pleasant blue over the lot, wondering when the sunset even happened. But just as you think about heading towards the entrance, you notice that Laito continues to hover by the limousine, knocking on the driver’s window. It rolls down. He giggles. 

“You won’t tell Reiji about this, and you and I will continue to live a happy, peaceful life, okay?” It’s a threat. Despite the smiles, something about his tone makes you shiver. “Thank you for the ride, hot shot~”

[diavovulating]

Silly sketch, mini Reiji

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prettiest 🥺

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Tried sketching shu from memory . Realized I’ve never posted a sketch of sleepy boy. 🤭😏

Please do not steal, trace my artwork

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sneaking into their bed. (ii)

contents; mild degradation, suggestive, some fluff here n there, a little dubcon here n there, azusa being azusa (tw self-harm). there's a small treat waiting for you at the end 🍫

ft. the mukamis | masterlist | here for part i

📓✧˖° ruki

“hm.” he’s awake when he notices you, lying on his back with a book hovering over ever-so-focused eyes. at all surprised, rather confirming some theories he made of you the first time you met. “livestock finally answering to their true calling by coming to stay at their master’s feet? how fascinating.” his voice is low and throaty, close to a whisper. he doesn’t bother to look away from whatever he’s reading. everything in his room is as orderly as you expected it to be, except for the pile of volumes he keeps on the nightstand. light from the reading lamp blinks an obscure amber into the space, and it settles charmingly on the contours of his face, his oversized sweater, his ruffled hair. 

at first you feel just the way he described you: small and helpless, waiting for him to react to your presence in order to think your next move. ruki himself tests this for a while, challenges your patience, asks himself how long you can just sit there with him not caring enough to pay attention. there’s a silence. when he turns the page, it sounds louder than it should. when he finally decides to pull you by his side, the scent coming off his clothes dulls your senses more than you’d like, he smells like cherries and starless nights and modern poetry. “i understand, however, that just sitting here won’t satisfy someone like you. they taught you to long for action, didn’t they?” his words are wrapped in velvet as he drags his fingers around your neck, thumb pushing into chin. ruki’s book drops on the floor. “here’s some action to remember us by.”

then his fangs sink in, smooth at first, but more violent by the second. ruki drinks your blood like he wants to prove a point, not only to you, but to him as well, to confront and defy the laws of nature. he keeps a hand on your nape and another on your back, holding you in such a way that you cannot cling onto anything else but him. sometimes he doesn’t stop until you drop unconscious. other times, he brings life back into your eyes with a drowsy breath against your neck, “such a tame little thing. as much as i’d like to consume you whole, we still need you as you are.”

he reads to you until you fall asleep, a hand under his head, sheet pulled to his torso. belletristics, history volumes, and sometimes, he even lets you tag along while making observations in that pocket notebook he always tells you not to touch. to me he seems like the type to study in bed rather than at a desk, and that shows as you take a look anywhere around his side of the bed. ruki wouldn’t initiate further closeness than a hand raked through your hair, but he really likes it when you come to nestle at his chest. “oh, i see,” he sounds smoother than you remember him to be, making idle circles on your back. “you still need someone to feed off you? you’re a hopeless thing, livestock. but i might as well oblige.”

🌱 ₊˚⊹ yuma

if he hasn’t fallen asleep somewhere in his garden, or the animal shed, you will find him collapsed on the mattress, slippers misplaced on the rug—the traditional type with red patterns and tassels at the edges. sometimes there’s a bowl of sugar cubes by the bed. other times, an empty bottle of beer. yuma definitely won’t be friendly if you happen to wake him up. “oi,” he says, and it feels like a butcher’s knife hitting the cutting board. “the fuck ya think ya be doin’ here? hah?!” with this he wastes no time before catching your wrist and pinning you down to the rug. “i was takin’ a darn nap for fuck’s sake!” your heart races having him get so close to you, so violently. your breathing slows down. 

yuma’s stare is intense, unrelenting. his clothes still carry a dizzying hint of his perfume—something fresh, something sporty, it makes you think of a hike into the forest. he stops for a moment, then tsks, “it’s so clear that some people haven’t worked a single fucking day in their life. how ‘bout i throw ya in the shed and not let ya sleep after a week of work?” careful with the response, he might actually be up for it. however you don’t get the chance to say much, because soon yuma takes your chin into his palm with little care for it. “but now that i’m up already, ya owe me breakfast, right, sow?” there’s no further warning. yuma leans in to suck your blood.

the ceiling twirls and whirls as his fangs relish your flesh. he sucks in deep, hungrily, wrists pressed under his grip, trapped above your head. something tells you he won’t stop too soon. you’re not sure if you want him to. suppose yuma feels your blood isn’t sweet enough, or you’re on the verge of fainting. then he will push a sugar cube between your lips, his eyes fixed on yours with foreign depth. “tsk, careless fucking creatures,” he says under his breath, licking his fingers off what remains of the sugar he’s fed you. “fragile like eggshells and y’all still haven’t learned to treat your bodies with the respect they deserve.” and despite the brutality there’s genuine concern you can catch in the slight curve of his lips and the frown set between his eyebrows. 

at some point he will put you back into his bed, throwing a blanket over your life-drained body. “there, ‘s this what ya wanted?” soon he climbs next to your side, an arm draping itself around your chest as he does. his voice takes from annoyed to sluggish. “fuck around with my sleep again and ya won’t get away as easily.” but at later occasions, you will find out he's bringing some of his harvests on the nightstand—tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, freshly picked and carefully washed, all lingering in a plastic bowl. so that next time you step on his nerves and he sucks your blood, he can feed you with double the amount of the nutrients you lost. 

⋆｡🎤♡ kou

taking into account his work as an idol, kou is rarely at home, and more often than not, you go to his room only to be met with an uncharacteristic silence. an unmade bed, a pile of tried-on shirts, a half-emptied box of chocolates. you end up staying anyway, leafing through some of kou’s scandal magazines and fan letters. everything here smells so much like him that you don’t have the time to miss his presence. the feeling only deepens when you climb into his bed, that expensive scent of honey and patchouli, constantly reminding you that your bubbles are so far away from each other. you wonder if you could hit it off with the groups he usually hangs around with. if you want that to begin with. 

you’re still awake the moment he catches sight of you, hair ruffled and fingers battling with a row of stubborn buttons. kou stops for a couple of beats, then breaks the silence with a smirk pushing to the side. “hah, m neko-chan? you here for a show?” somehow, your response only pulls his lips higher. his right eye blinks red, redder, a shade you still don’t know whether is a figment of your own imagination. “but that can’t be true.” kou retorts, slow and feline. he curls himself closer to you, the bed soundless under his weight. “i can read through you, remember? pick all and each of your spiciest secrets.” whatever you tell him, he won’t deviate. he chuckles when he notices the pile of letters left shuffled on the coffee table. “don’t tell me, were you perhaps wondering if i’d be coming home with one of them?”

closer. kou’s voice feels closer. “you’re so silly, m neko-chan. if you wanted me to pay you more attention you could’ve just asked.” then his shirt goes off, and his hand reaches to cup your chin. the proximity is hard to bear. “after all,” he purrs on. “there’s no one i like to toy with more.” your lips are at a finger’s length from one another. his laughter flutters away from his throat like face powder shaken off a brush. “but since i so kindly let you stay in my room and rummage through my stuff, aside from pulling this confession from me just now, what will you give me in return?” kou does nothing out of the goodness of his heart, and does not expect others to do otherwise. his lips trail from your jaw to your neck. 

defy him, and he will throw one of his tantrums. stay silent, and he will make his assumption based on his eerie ability to ‘read through you’ so very damn well. kou’s fangs pierce your skin more forcefully than you believed they could. his hand settles on the side of your torso, squeezes when the blood hits his palate. moments later his lips paint your earlobe with a stroke of red. your heart suffocates between your lungs, as this time, he speaks with an intensity you haven’t known before. “you’ll stay mine, and i’ll become yours as well. we live in a give-and-take world at the end of the day.”

𓂃🔪𓆪 azusa

a sweetheart through and through. seeing you curl up next to him in bed, he looks as surprised as ever. “hey…” you hear him say, a faint sound. his feet shift under the covers. “you… want to… sleep together?” somehow, it feels colder inside azusa’s room than the rest of the manor, and the bed springs are cutting into your skin. but you know it’s because he made sure it feels this way. but when he turns to meet your face, and attempts to speak again, you experience a warmth you never thought there existed. “i’m glad…” for a fleeting second his eyes carry something more than the incurable sadness. you wish you could keep it there forever. despite yourself, you tell azusa that you missed him too. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear. 

there’s a long sigh, less annoyance and more exhaustion. “but i can’t fall asleep now…” he says. “too excited…” even though he doesn’t show it, you can tell he’s honest. he rests a hand on your shoulder. props his chin on your arm. “can we have some fun instead…?” something catches in your stomach. you flinch. after the time spent by azusa’s side you’ve come to learn what he perceives as ‘fun’. his bandages press themselves damp against you, his skin as cold as a knife. azusa doesn’t use a specific perfume, but as you allow yourself to be intoxicated with the closeness, you feel like you’re walking down the hallways of an abandoned hospital, metallic scent soaking into disinfectant. 

you have no say in whether you would like to join the fun or not. azusa knows you are going to enjoy whatever he will do to you, because deep down, you might be exactly like him, and you might just be starting to acknowledge this about yourself. he starts teasing you with the tip of his fangs. tells you it’s ok to do the same to him, since some of his older wounds have been closing themselves up. “what’s more fun than… making new cuts is… cutting through the ones who want to go…” like going through a photo album. to azusa, wounds are more than irresistible pains. they are memories. reluctantly you trace a touch across the scars with one of your nails, and he hums in response. he sinks his fangs deeper into you, expecting a similar reaction. he always coaxes it from you.

after the fun is over, you offer to change his bandages, a tender gesture beneath faint lamplight. like he does each time, he thanks you for making him feel just so. for staying by his side. everything he says is heartfelt, and you cannot help but feel your chest heat up with the words. you try to dismiss it when he tells you to tighten the bandages more around the wounds, keep them as tight as you can, don’t let them breathe. “they will… feel better this way… next time we reopen them…” instead you wind up your work by pressing a kiss on each new mark you’ve given him. his eyes widen. a moment passes. then azusa mirrors the gesture on the bite marks he’s left on your own body, holding you close in his arms, the closest. “sleep… well…”

₊˚ ཐི BONUS ཋྀ ˚₊

⋆♱ ruki & reiji

“it is outrageous that one would conduct their research like this,” reiji points out, pushing his glasses a little higher on the bridge of his nose. you look up to him, not sure of what to say, or that you want to say anything at all. not now, not here, not when ruki’s chest gives off more heat than any bicker with the stuck-up sakamaki would produce. sharing the sentiment, ruki sighs, “your bourgeois ways are making a fool out of you, sakamaki. it’s the place your mind is that counts most.” it’s loose, impassive. it quickly, surely, stirs a flame somewhere inside reiji. 

“and you sure pretend to be very knowledgeable, for a lowly vampire such as yourself,” he huffs, and the reaction drags ruki’s lips to the side, they are so predictable, always so easy to offend. he was enjoying this more than he should’ve. reiji crosses his arms, throwing you a look—you know that siding with ruki would earn you a punishment later on. ruki is fast to catch that as well. “and instead of running your mouth on things like my work desk, or lack thereof, you might as well come back to bed.” ruki takes your chin between thumb and forefinger. he continues to address reiji, but his stare is locked on yours entirely. “livestock here looks to be in need of some more tending.”

⋆♱ yuma & shu

enough is enough. enough is enough for fuck’s sake. yuma grits his teeth, the mattress creaking at the sudden shift of his body. “oi,” he spits. “are ya just goin’ to sit there ‘n let me do all the fucking work?” he looks at shu from the other side of the bed—always lazy, unbothered shu, lying with his arms crossed and eyes shut under your weight. contrastingly, yuma was the one who had to bring you all the way here and bite you from top to bottom, plucking the reactions they were both so starved of. you won’t admit it if asked aloud, but a part of you was glad no one made you do any sort of carrying this time around. 

shu opens one of his eyes then, and a small smile appears on his lips as soon as he does. “is it my fault that they always come to me to tone down their appetite?” his drone is tickling your ear. shu gives in no effort to clasp his arms around you, his lips lingering so conveniently on the side of your neck, and as if to prove his point, you don’t shift an inch from his grasp. a chuckle escapes from his throat. “see? they are such a good slut for me, waiting for me to just—” this is when shu’s fangs sink in, magnetic, dizzying. you tilt your head backwards, and yuma sneers at the sight. he won’t let anyone outdo him, let alone this bastard. he takes the skin on your torso between his own fangs and bites.  

⋆♱ kou & subaru

subaru still isn’t sure what sort of business he looks for here. how he ended up here in the first place. all he knows whatsoever is that kou’s sheets reek of perfumes and creams and makeup powder and that your hand on his own thigh is more addictive than he could predict. sure, he expected some things. like to see the damned louse be all over you like a bitch in heat, or to watch himself bite on his inner cheek at the sweetened, sweetening smell of your blood. but colour found his cheeks as soon as he started being the centre of attention, with your mouth trailing numbing kisses across his shoulder and the louse’s laughter searing his neck. 

“come on already,” kou rolls his eyes, half-bored, half-amused. he hovers next to the shell of his ear—snake slithering its way to eden. “m neko-chan loves this kind of stuff, i assure you.” assure him based on what? subaru clutches the sheets. he might soon clutch someone’s neck if whatever this is continues. “take a bite and see for yourself,” kou chirps on. and he sure fucking does, take a bite of you, flatten a big hand around your torso and press you as close to him as he can, all the while his fangs drain you of all the nerve it took you to drag him to this bed. when he’s done with you, kou snatches subaru’s cheek in his own hand, tasting you off the corner of his mouth. “good boy,” the pest breathes against his lips. 

⋆♱ azusa & kanato

azusa cannot believe his eyes. “why… do you let him?” he trudges through the words, watching kanato scream at you to fucking stay put and make more room for his fangs. this pain does not look enjoyable. it is nothing like the type he could dearly inflict on you. “why do you let him… treat you… like this?” he says again. you give him a look—if you knew the answer to that, you would give it to him. it does not take long for kanato to take his attention away from you and hurl it directly to him. “you don’t interfere with our play! stay the fuck away!” he snarls, frenzied. but azusa doesn’t stop. he couldn’t. drawn by the mystery of you not running away, he drags himself closer to you, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. kanato snaps it away. “are you fucking deaf?!”

it stings. he adores it. azusa looks down at his hand, trailing his fingers around the mark kanato’s left on him. there’s a pause. he looks back at you—a part of him understands, another is still trying to figure you out. without a word he pulls you from kanato’s scorching grasp. leaning a cold cheek on your shoulder, he says, “you like pain… don’t you? is this why…” but he doesn’t get the chance to end the thought because kanato is already pinning him down the mattress, his eyes crazed, vicious. “who do you think you are? ignoring me, then taking them away?! no one can join the play, you hear me? no! one!” his voice quivers on his bottom lip. azusa’s eyes catch a strange gleam the moment kanato’s hands reach for his throat.

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Reiji do u know that hair cannot drink tea

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Rukiyui kiss

Ruki is a hair puller no doubt 🤷‍♀️

Here’s the simple background version too hehe

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sneaking into their bed.

contents; mild degradation, suggestive, slightly fluffy (i think?), a little creepy towards kanato's part. first thing i’m posting in such a long time & it’s a dl contribution. what can i say, these 2d vampires really have a grip on me. enjoy yourselves, cool cats <3 

ft. the sakamakis | masterlist

🎧ྀི♪⋆ shu

if you find him there to begin with, this guy is more likely to fall asleep against his entrance door than the bed, hands in his lap, music from his headphones still filling the space. when this happens, the only thing you can do is sit next to him, propping your head on his shoulder. this also comes with the risk of being called clingy and annoying; yet pushing you away would be too much of a hassle for him—“whatever,” his voice would push through a yawn. “flaunt that blood of yours in a vampire train station, for all i care.” he won’t open his eyes, neither would he stretch an arm around you no matter how close you’d cling onto him. “you already showed us how much of a slut you are.”

his bed is warm and cosy with soft sheets that someone can only lose themselves into. pulling them up your form, you are overwhelmed with how everything here smells like him—of rain and varnished wood and lilies of the valley. his music is on, gentle and hypnotic. curtains are shut, keeping any unwanted source of light from spilling in. watching him like this, face dug into his pillow, hair dishevelled, shoulder blades moving up and down, you would notice he looks more peaceful now than the times you stumbled upon him down the hallways of the manor, sleeping in places that wouldn’t cross your mind. 

it’s an entracing view; hopelessly compelled, you press your cheek against his back, arms pulling into a cuddle. this is when the sigh comes. “a bother,” shu murmurs into his pillow. snapped back to your senses, you open your mouth, then close it. by now you should be used to what may follow after waking him up. shu himself got used to all the reactions he could coax from you. especially with the times you were about to say something. “not too loud,” he prevents. “your noise hurts my head.” a moment later he rolls to the side, and a pair of blue eyes floods your focus as he does. “can’t sleep?” rather, you’ve been curious to know what he’s been up to. you tell him that. 

soon there’s a hand flattening on your ass; you shift your legs as he gives it a meaner squeeze. shu chuckles at that, a faint sound at the base of his throat. “kicking you out is too much of a hassle, so i suppose you can stay here?” he says. his voice is still coarse from his interrupted sleep. “and you have to make up for disturbing me, too, how will that go?” with his free hand shu runs a touch across your torso, a hot breath coating your neck. “i’m guessing this is what you’ve been after from the beginning, you whore.” long fingers work their way down your inner thigh. fangs prickle at your skin. “can’t sleep without your blood being sucked.”

☕‧₊˚ ⋅ reiji

hardly uses his bed. there were a few instances you tried seeking him out in his room, and each time, reiji was to be found either at his desk, proofreading notes, polishing porcelain, or not in his room at all. the laboratory is the second option in cases like this. when you crawl into his bed, it’s most likely to make him go to sleep than anything. he finds the gesture audacious and distasteful—“my, what an unsanitary habit. going to sleep anywhere but your own place. you ought to unlearn it as soon as possible, lest you end up like that good-for-nothing.” as you do it, you will come to notice a pattern of him changing the sheets after the moments you spent here. 

despite reiji’s perpetual comments, there are still times you sink yourself into his sheets, waiting for him to join you. and sometimes he does, with a lingering sigh and a frown pulling his brows downwards. he sets down his glasses on the nightstand with a light sound. “very well,” he starts. if you insist on sleeping together, there’s a code of conduct to accommodate yourself with. but no worries—he will teach you everything you’ll need to know. after that, you should be mindful that any deviation will be punished accordingly. your head full of things you should and shouldn’t do, you lie on your back, eyes glazed over, facing the ceiling. there’s no other sound than your controlled breaths and a clock ticking somewhere in the background. 

then, something else catches your attention. reiji’s voice: “no matter how impudently you conduct yourself, you sure do love taking orders from me, considering you are still here.” he sounds more amused now; you can’t but imagine his lips curling upwards. “what does that make you?” a beat later, you can feel his hair tickling your temple, his nose ghosting over your face. his fingers are slightly tugging at your pyjamas. “a pet? a servant?” he rolls his fangs down your neck to prove a point. “my personal food supplier?” laughter follows, hushed and gracious. his clothes smell of soap, a hint of bergamot underneath. “not only have you shown your outrageous audacity, but you are rather foolish as well, wanting to share a bed while reeking of blood.”

the moment your head eventually leans in his direction, you are met with something different from reiji’s stamp impersonality. his eyes are dark, intense, and the smile stretched on his face suggests that whatever intentions he has for today, sleeping is far from playing a role. not when you’re here, a study in progress for which he wouldn’t need a book or a desk, but a handful of choice words and a bolder touch. “luckily for you,” reiji adds up, thumb tracing the spots where his fangs have once wandered. “i have grown to surpass my urges. unless this is the reason why you so incessantly attempted to disturb my quiet?”

✮₊ 👑 ayato

he tends to misplace his things, so when you get into his room, especially in the dark, be careful of your step. he’s also a sound sleeper and won’t notice your presence right away. because of that, you’re able to enjoy some quiet in his proximity, even snuggle up to him if you’re feeling a little more adventurous. his hair is ruffled, and his leg is hugging the blanket as he wanders into a deeper dream. usually he sleeps with his forearm covering his eyes. his cologne lands on the stronger side, the type that easily embeds in someone’s clothes and sheets. it could be overwhelming at times, just like the rest of him, but it definitely adds up to a thrill of its own. 

when he eventually becomes aware that you’re there, however, the air shifts, like a switch being flipped on. expect a hand on your waist, pulling you against his chest in a forceful motion. “heh, figured i was smelling something tasty,” his breath hot against the shell of your ear. “the best deserves only the best, without having to lift a finger. ‘m glad to see you finally get it.” with this he would trace a touch to your hips, your chest, your neck. ayato speaks with a dangerous intensity and won’t hesitate to do whatever he pleases with what he sees as ‘rightfully his’. 

ayato would tease, bite, pinch and maybe even tickle you, a hurricane of inconveniences and bitter pleasures, but you won’t be allowed to complain since “you’re the one who called for your one and only, right?” he can have his softer moments, though. when he’s happy to be in your company, he would playfully bite your earlobe as he would keep you tightly in his arms. a leg draping itself around you, he won’t hesitate to express his possessiveness. “oi,” he’d say, somewhere between authority and intimacy. “who said you can leave? if you had the nerve to tip-toe all the way here, you might as well stay until i’m satisfied.” and you would do just so; not because you’re afraid of what he might do if you didn’t, but because you’ve become shamelessly addicted to the warmth of his embrace. 

“hey, ‘m bored. entertain me, why don’t you?” most of the time, he would take the opportunity to have a pyjama party in two; curtains shut, snacks he stocked in his drawers, maybe some music as well—to reiji’s displeasure. he eats loudly, speaks with his mouth full, and lets crumbs fall all over the bed. there are knocks threatening the door from time to time, not that he cares enough about that to call it a night. occasionally ayato would keep an arm around your waist or shoulders, blanket thrown over your knees. for some, being around a significant other works as a narcotic. to him, it’s an energiser. he could go hours without feeling like getting back to sleep. 

𐙚🧸ྀི kanato

most likely to throw a tantrum if you do this. “hey,” his voice would quiver at the base of his throat, raw anger close to bursting out. “who told you that you can come here? are you really this empty-headed?” it only gets worse if you touch teddy—truth be told, he made it quite clear to you before that teddy and teddy alone owns the right to sleep on that spot. the thing eerily looks at you from the other side of the bed. your eyes move back to kanato, without finding a thing to say. a moment passes until his voice finally thunders, high-pitched, frenzied, “fucking! answer! me!” you manage to explain that you only wanted to see what he was doing. he pushes you from the edge of the bed. 

watching your form plastered on the floor, he laughs. hard. loud. “look at you! just like a puppet with its strings cut loose!” kanato takes teddy in his arms then, looking down at the bear for confirmation, his tone pushing to gentle, “isn’t that so, teddy? just like a puppet. this idiot here would make for a great dolly, right?” no answer comes from teddy, at least none that you’re aware of. but kanato listens intently, surprisingly patient. he also agrees to the idea of giving you a chance as one of his most treasured dolls and plushies—the ones he has displayed on his bed. 

and he keeps a bunch, all right. they are carefully lined on either side of the bed, at your feet, scattered through the pillows. as more time passes, they start to feel almost alive, suffocating. kanato’s toys suffocate you. kanato lies on the side, looking at you with madman eyes and a weird smile stretched on his lips. he always had a feeling that you would be oh so very adorable as a doll, but he never thought how well you could fit in his collection. as expected, there’s a sugary scent in the air, like bubblegum or cotton candy. it isn’t necessarily unpleasant. if anything, it feels comforting. a strange balance you can’t seem to find a name for. 

the same goes for the shiver that comes with kanato’s touch as he leans forward and caresses your cheek. “you like it here, don’t you, dolly?” he whispers. later, his touch rolls down to your jaw, and eventually, your neck. “i was so kind as to make room for you, should you give me something in return now?” the spark flaring in his eyes frightens you. “like your blood, perhaps?” stay silent, and he will snap. reply, and he will fling his fingers at your neck, holding you in place as he will drink your blood for longer than what can be called a healthy amount. either way, sleepovers with kanato are long and unpredictable. he will sing you lullabies to help you fall asleep. 

-'🍷⁠⋆. laito

notices immediately. he will make sure to let you know that he does, with a theatrical moan and a chuckle peppered on his lips. “ah, if it isn’t lovely bitch-chan,” he would croon, still not moving to face you. “i take you were feeling just so honest today, wasn’t aware of this bolder side of you.” there’s a pause, enough to make your breath catch in your lungs. a beat later you’re embraced by waves of green, poised, expectant. laito drags himself uncomfortably close to you. “can’t say i don’t like to see it, though.” the next thing that hits you is his scent, something soft and tantalising at the same time, like roses and pepper. whatever intentions you had with you when climbing into laito’s bed, they are now frozen somewhere in the back of your mind. 

“come now, what’s the plan?” he insists, words slow and velvety. “i’m here to your heart's content.” your attempt at an explanation does nothing but paint his cheeks a pinker shade. “bitch-chan,” laito whines against your lips. “you’re so clumsy, so cute. it kinda turns me on.” he doesn’t need to tell you that; you can already feel it, the air thickening, his arousal pressing against your body. in no time you feel like a butterfly lured to a spider’s web, and despite your better judgement, you wait for anything there might be in store for later. laito wraps his arms around your waist, hands tangled to your lower back, tying you to him completely. “i know my bitch-chan enjoys a good thrill, so i’ll try not to disappoint, okay? let’s do something f~u~n together.”

but he’s not always to be found in his room. maybe he isn’t at home at all, wandering places you’d rather not ask about. when that happens, and you’re met with an untouched bed, you sneak in anyway, hugging emerald covers. you’re already sound asleep the moment the door creaks. laito—unbottened shirt, messy hair, perfumes mixed up—watches you, at first confused, then downright surprised. a smile settles on not as fast as it would be expected of him. he goes about his bedtime routine quietly, occasionally turning his head to make sure you’re still there. 

his teasing will increase tenfold after you wake up. it’s insufferable, truly. “mm,” he’d start, biting your cheek. “a little needy, are we? you waited all day for my fangs? so lewd of you, bitch-chan.” the questions follow: did you pleasure yourself, hot and desperate for him? did you do it naked? with your pyjamas on? what about the pillows? did you use any of those? can you so kindly pull a demonstration for him? he lies about having to rethink his laundry schedule based on each tiny detail you can share. yet despite the never-ending innuendos, laito is genuinely happy for having you seek him out in his bed. rewinding the scene, he even considers putting an end to his after-hours adventures. 

🎸˚.ᐟ₊ subaru

going to his room is one thing (even though he told you several times to stay the fuck away), but getting under his sheets? touching him this way and that? he’s absolutely freaked out. “oi, the fuck’s this?!” he barks, trying to shake you off the bed. “‘ve you lost your fucking mind?!” and maybe you did, as you continue to tag along despite him pointing it out so clearly just how dangerous he could be, how unpredictable. from the other side of the bed you watch him breath in and out, chest quivering, mouth half-opened, blood-red eyes curtained by layers of unkempt hair. light streaks slip inside, cutting his features in half, dipping his skin in an ethereal glow. 

at some point, subaru’s cheeks catch colour. he scratches his nape. “well, i mean,” he manages, words stumbling upon one another. “you can stay if you wanna stay. but don’t get the wrong idea or anything. okay?”and when he eventually realises you’re not leaving anytime soon, subaru doesn’t know if he should feel worried or relieved. restless, unnerved, he switches on all sides, his sighs deep and lingering as he does. silence follows. he doesn’t talk with you. does not look at you. tries to stay as far as possible from your side of the bed. touch him in any sort of way under the covers and he will burst into a flustered mess. “christ, can’t you fucking sleep?!”

he won’t tell you to return to your spot, however. never does. before he knows it, you two are pulled towards each other like magnets, at first by a touch of a finger, a fleeting stare, and soon enough, your legs tangle, his chin resting at the place between your neck and shoulder. he smells like metal and something earthy, something fresh, it reminds you of a pine forest on an autumn night. yet being so perilously close to you isn’t peaceful. isn’t quiet. subaru’s breath hitches, and his grip on your arm tightens. “the hell did i tell you about staying away?” he hisses. it feels like something he’s told to himself. 

“here’s what you put yourself into,” is the last thing you hear before feeling his fangs dig into your skin. the bite is sharp, deep, his fingers clinging to you more roughly than you’d expect of him at this hour. it’s too late for him to restrain himself any longer. you take it because you’re captivated by the effects you have on him. as life gradually leaves your body, and the wounds he’s left on you start to numb, subaru snarls at his own recklessness. when he’s done, you find yourself somewhere between life and sleep, pleasure and daze. subaru tsks. “y’see?” he says, pushing your face down onto your pillow, a sudden gesture. his cheeks flash a vivid red. “this is what you get for fucking around with someone like me.”

[diavovulating]

here we love THIS hot nerd 😋

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YUI IN MONSTER HIGH!! I love Monster High and I love Yui so this was SO fun to make y’all. This includes a redesign of Yui’s outfit too

[diavovulating]

¿El fandom de Diabolik Lovers sigue vivo?

[diavovulating]

ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆

I didn’t expect to do so much hahshs well there she is 🍷

Milf? Or sugar mommy?

(I have… an uncensored version, but … should I post it?)

ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆⁺ ೃ࿔ ⋆☾⋆

[diavovulating]

[diavovulating]

And what if I told you Ayayui is the visual representation of this meme?