reijisteacup

[reijisteacup]

This is a close up of the artwork from my "So Breakable" fic enjoy 💕💕

enjoy subby Kanato in a maid dress

[reijisteacup]

"So Breakable~"

Kanato Sakamaki x Dom Male Reader

Synopsis: Kanato made a bet with his brothers and found himself in a situation...

The mansion was unusually quiet, save for the faint rustle of lace and fabric behind one of the parlor doors. You had been wandering the halls, killing time as the vampires squabbled over some stupid competition again. It was nothing new — every day felt like a game between bloodthirsty aristocrats with too much ego and too little maturity. But today? Today felt... different. You turned the corner and paused. A familiar mop of lavender curls slipped into the parlor across the hall, the hem of a ruffled black and white skirt flashing with every step. You blinked. Was that—

You smirked.

With slow, quiet steps, you pushed the door open just a crack. Inside, Kanato Sakamaki stood stiff as a statue in the center of the room. His face was flushed red all the way up to his ears, fists clenched at his sides as he glared daggers at the floor. He was wearing a maid outfit. A full one—frilly apron, thigh-high stockings, garters, lace gloves, and a tiny headband sitting on top of his violet curls like a cherry on a mortified sundae. And of course… a stuffed Teddy tucked under his arm. You slipped in without a word, letting the door close with a soft click behind you. The sound made Kanato flinch. “...Oh? What’s this?” you drawled, walking over with an amused tilt of your head. “Did the porcelain doll lose a bet?” His head snapped up, eyes wide in horror. “What are you doing here?!” You laughed. “Ayato and Laito made you wear that, huh? What was it this time, Kanato? Couldn’t guess how many times Reiji cleaned the tea set last week?” “Shut up!” he snapped, turning away and hugging Teddy tightly. His pale shoulders trembled. “I didn’t want to do this—those idiots tricked me! This isn’t funny!” “Mm…” You circled him slowly, eyes raking over the smooth curve of his waist in the tight corset and how the fabric hugged his thighs. “It is a little funny. And adorable.” “I’m not adorable!” he hissed, avoiding your gaze. His blush deepened, lips trembling. “Don’t look at me like that...!” “Like what?” you teased, standing behind him now. Your fingers brushed his hip, and you felt him tense under your touch. “Like you’re the prettiest little maid I’ve ever seen?” Kanato let out a sound between a gasp and a whimper, jerking away with his arms stiff at his sides. “Y-You’re horrible…! Stop teasing me!” You took a step closer. “Why? You’re blushing so hard I thought you liked it.” “I don’t!” he insisted — a little too quickly, a little too breathless. He backed up until the backs of his knees hit the loveseat. “Y-You’re being mean...” You smirked and leaned down slightly, hands braced on either side of the couch behind him. “That’s funny. You’re still standing here. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you wanted me to keep going.” Kanato’s hands gripped the lace of his apron, twisting it nervously. His violet eyes flicked up to meet yours — wide, glassy, and trembling. “…You’re not gonna tell the others, right?” he whispered, almost shy now. “That I let you see me like this…” You blinked, then smiled — softer now. “Nah. Your secret’s safe with me.” Kanato lowered his gaze, a little smile tugging at the corner of his lips despite his embarrassment. “...Good.” You moved beside him and sat down, letting your arm rest behind his shoulders. “You know, you’re cute when you’re flustered like this. Almost makes me wanna—" He suddenly whipped around, pressing a hand to your chest with wide eyes. “Don’t say it!” You blinked innocently. “Say what?” “That I’m cute again!” he scowled, face redder than ever now. “T-That’s... annoying.” You chuckled and gently pulled him into your side, letting your hand rest around his waist. He didn’t resist — in fact, he sank into your warmth with a tiny sigh, the lace of his outfit brushing against your arm. “Alright, alright. I won’t say it again.” “…Hmph.” There was a beat of silence, save for the ticking of the clock in the corner. “…But I will say,” you added, brushing his cheek with your knuckles, “if you ever want to dress up for me again… you’ll have my full attention.” “Y-You’re impossible,” he muttered, hiding his face in your shoulder — but not before you saw the shy little smile he tried so hard to bury.

================================================================================================

Kanato stayed curled into your side, his face hot against your shoulder. You could feel his heartbeat fluttering like a trapped bird, thudding in time with the rise and fall of his delicate chest. His breath was shallow, warm against your neck. You tilted your head down, voice dropping just a little more. “You know… I’ve seen you lose your temper. Heard you scream and cry for blood. But this?” You gently ran your fingers up his thigh — slow, deliberate — letting the lace of the garter brush your palm. “This is new.” Kanato jolted. His hands gripped Teddy tighter. “D-Don’t touch me like that,” he muttered, eyes darting up at you but unable to hold the gaze. “You’re treating me like… like a toy.” You smirked. “But you look like one. All dressed up. Soft. Breakable.” You cupped his jaw, guiding him to look at you. His breath hitched when you brushed your thumb over his lower lip. Kanato's eyes fluttered, pupils dilating ever so slightly. “I-I’m not breakable,” he whispered. “No?” you murmured. “Then prove it. Sit in my lap.” He stared for a second — like a deer caught in headlights — then slowly moved, carefully settling across your thighs with his knees straddling either side of you. His dress rustled, ruffles shifting as he perched in place, tense and trembling. You ran your hands down his sides, thumbs teasing the curve of his waist. “Good boy…” He shivered. “D-Don’t call me that,” he whispered, biting his lip. “Why not? You’re behaving so well now,” you said, tracing a slow path along the top of his stocking. “So obedient.” He squirmed, face buried in your chest now to avoid your gaze entirely. “I hate you,” he mumbled. You chuckled and tipped his chin up again. “No, you don’t. If you did, you wouldn’t be making those little noises every time I touch you.” Kanato whined softly — a helpless, frustrated sound — caught between flustered rage and undeniable desire. His cheeks were blazing now, lips parted in shallow gasps as you slowly dragged your hand up to rest just beneath the frilly edge of his skirt. “You like being teased, don’t you?” you said lowly, brushing your lips against the shell of his ear. “You act like you hate it, but your body always tells the truth.” Kanato was trembling, clinging to your shirt now like it was the only thing grounding him. His violet eyes shimmered with both defiance and submission — caught in that dangerous balance only he could ever maintain. “…Then…” he whispered breathlessly, “if you’re going to keep teasing me like this…” He swallowed, expression burning with fragile pride. “…Don’t stop halfway.” You froze, eyes narrowing with interest. “That so?” Before you could respond, the door creaked open. “Oi—” Ayato’s voice echoed in. “Hey, Kanato—” Laito’s tone followed, sing-song and smug.

Both stopped dead in the doorway.

Kanato's eyes widened in horror. “GET OUT!” “PFFFFT—” Laito doubled over laughing, while Ayato just whistled. “Well, well… Looks like our little bet gave us more than we bargained for,” Laito grinned, eyes glinting. “Maid Kanato, and lap time? Mmm, scandalous~” Kanato looked like he might explode. You wrapped your arms protectively around his waist, tugging him closer as you cast the other two vampires a lazy glare. “You got your laugh. Now leave,” you said firmly. “Unless you wanna find out if I bite harder than him.” That shut them up. Laito gave a mock bow and winked. “Have fun~” he purred, slipping out. Ayato smirked. “Tch. Freaks.” Click. The door closed again. Kanato was silent, seething in your arms, humiliated beyond belief. “…I hate you,” he hissed again, though this time it sounded more like a weak, pouty whimper. You kissed his temple and chuckled. “No, you don’t. You just hate that I saw how cute you look when you’re begging.” Kanato’s entire body tensed—and then melted into yours, hiding his face completely as his soft voice trembled through your shirt.

“…Then don’t make me beg alone next time.”

hope you enjoy the artwork 💕subby kanato is so cute

[reijisteacup]

got caught up listening to a reiji sakamaki cd drama and got a little carried away... o///o i love my husband 💜💜💜

will be doing more asks soon lovelies i got like 40ish asks left so bare with me but the ask box will stay open for a good bit 💕

[reijisteacup]

"Can you handle me....sow?"

Yuma Mukami x Reader (be warned this gone be dirty)

Synopsis: You’d been teasing him all morning — whispering those words that set fire to his blood: “Bet you can’t handle me.” “Don’t think you’re tough enough for this, Yuma.” “Come on, prove me wrong.” Each time, he’d glare, fists clenching, but say nothing. Until now.

================================================================================================

The door slammed shut with a bang, the sound echoing down the Mukami estate halls. “Are you done yet?” you hissed, arms crossed over your chest. Yuma stalked into the room after you, scowling, a mix of dirt and sweat on his arms from whatever work he’d been doing in the garden before you set him off. His jaw was clenched, that vein in his neck pulsing with heat, and the wild, unbothered hair falling over his brow only made him look more like a storm about to break. “The hell you mean, am I done? You’re the one who’s been mouthing off since breakfast,” he growled. You turned, eyes gleaming, deliberately poking the bear. “Tch. Maybe I wouldn’t mouth off if you weren’t all bark, no bite.” Yuma blinked. Then laughed. Not a friendly laugh. No — a low, dangerous, feral laugh that rolled out of his chest and made the air in the room grow heavy. “Ohh, I get it now,” he said, voice going dark. “You’re beggin’ for attention like a spoiled little sow, huh?” You gave him your sweetest smile. “I’m just saying… for someone always puffing his chest and talking big, you sure don’t back it up when it counts.” He was on you in two strides — one hand slamming against the wall beside your head, the other gripping your jaw to make you look up at him.

“The fuck did you just say?” You smirked, breath already hitching. “You heard me. What, mad ‘cause I said it out loud?” “You got no idea what you just started.” Yuma leaned in, lips grazing your ear as his voice dropped into a brutal, low whisper. “You wanna act like a brat? Fine. But I’m gonna fuck that mouthy attitude right outta you.” His breath was hot against your skin, and his fingers moved to grip your hips tightly. “Gonna cry when I break you in?” he taunted, lips dragging along your jaw. “You talk all that shit but you’re shakin’ already.” “I can handle you,” you whispered, though your body betrayed you, already arching toward him. “Oh, baby…” he chuckled darkly, lips brushing your neck now, “you think you can. But once I’m in you deep, hittin’ that spot you can’t run from, you’re gonna sing for me.” With a sudden growl, he tossed you onto the bed, the mattress bouncing beneath you. He loomed above you with that grin — the one that promised ruin — while shrugging off his jacket and yanking his hair tie out, letting the mess of it fall wild around his face.

He crawled on top, dragging his mouth down your neck, over your collarbone, teeth grazing with barely controlled hunger. “You feel that?” he groaned against your skin, pushing his hips against you — slow, hard, threatening. “That’s what you’re about to take. Every inch, every thrust.” You squirmed, heart pounding, half from nerves, half from how feral he felt above you. “Keep talkin’ that crap,” he muttered, gripping your thighs. “Swear to god, I’ll make you say my name ‘til your voice breaks.” You gasped as he rocked into you, the friction igniting your nerves like wildfire. His hands gripped your wrists, pinning them above your head. “Feel me right there, sow? Yeahhh, I know you do,” he grunted, thrusts deep and calculated. “That’s the spot that makes you lose it, huh?” Your moans spilled out, voice wrecked and breathless. “Keep goin’. I got you. You wanted to be handled? I’m fuckin’ handling you.” The bed creaked beneath you both, loud and aggressive — and Yuma didn’t let up. “You talked all that shit earlier. What happened, sow? Can’t even speak now?” You whimpered his name, back arching into him as pleasure raced up your spine. “That’s what I thought,” he hissed, leaning over you, one hand cradling the back of your head. “You’re all mine now. Loud mouth, bratty attitude — I’ll break all of it. Right here, in my fuckin’ bed.” Your breath caught as the heat in your belly hit a fever pitch, every movement from him pushing you closer, closer— “That’s it. Let go,” he growled into your ear. “Fall apart for me.” And you did. You shattered beneath him — a rush of sensation crashing over you, body clinging to him like he was the only thing keeping you from floating away. Yuma didn’t stop. He kissed you through it, his voice growling against your lips, “That’s it, baby… cry on it. Cry on this cock that you swore couldn’t handle you.”

=================================================================================================

The room was a mess — the bed broken, sheets tangled, your clothes half-hanging off the edge like the last remnants of dignity clinging to a storm. And you? You were lying beneath Yuma, your chest heaving, thighs still trembling, mouth slack from the aftershocks rolling through you. But he wasn’t done. Not even close. He leaned back on his knees, dragging his eyes over your wrecked form with a twisted smirk — smug, mean, and so unfairly hot. “Well, well…” he drawled, voice rough from effort but still soaked in power, “you were talkin’ so much earlier. What happened to all that lip, sow?” Your lips parted, but no words came out — just a shaky breath and a weak sound that wasn’t quite a whimper. He snorted. “Nothin’ to say now, huh?” You blinked up at him, body sensitive, every nerve still raw — and yet… something about the way he was looking at you, the way he knew exactly how deep he’d already taken you — it made that fire flicker again. Just a little. “…Yuma,” you whispered, breath hitching. “I’m s–” “Oh no, no no no,” he interrupted, his hand sliding slowly between your legs again, and you jumped. “Don't try that sweet act now,” he murmured, leaning down, his nose brushing yours, his voice dripping with heat and mockery. “You were beggin’ to be handled. You said I couldn’t take it.” His fingers traced over your most sensitive spot, featherlight — but enough to make you squirm with a whimper. “This is what you wanted, right?” he teased. “Pushed me, begged for it, ran that mouth — now look at you. All dumb and shaky under me.” You turned your face, biting your lip — but he grabbed your chin, making you face him. “Nuh-uh. You gonna look at me when you come again.”

“Yuma,” you gasped, voice cracking. “I-I can’t…” He chuckled darkly, tongue clicking as he leaned in, voice velvet and venom. “You can, sweetheart. You will. You’re not gonna tap out now, not when you talked all that shit.” You felt the heat build again — unbearable, unfair, overwhelming — and this time, every thrust of his hips, every breath he growled against your neck, felt like it was too much and still not enough. “Say it,” he rasped, pace unrelenting. “Tell me what you were sayin’ earlier. Come on, sow. Let’s hear it.” You clutched at his arms, nails digging into his skin, your voice trembling as your second climax started to rip through you, every part of you twitching, moaning, breaking under him. “Yuma— Yuma, I’m s-sorry,” you choked, voice high and wrecked. “Damn right you are,” he growled, eyes locked onto your teary, blissed-out expression. “You sorry, baby? Sorry for what?” “For— for saying you couldn’t handle me,” you gasped, legs shaking. He slowed, but didn’t stop — grinding deep, making you cry out again. “You fuckin’ right you’re sorry,” he murmured darkly. “Don’t forget it.” He finally collapsed beside you, dragging you into his arms like something precious, ruined, and wholly his. His lips ghosted over your forehead, damp strands of your hair sticking to your cheeks. “Next time you run your mouth like that,” he whispered, voice hoarse but satisfied, “I’ll remind you twice as hard.” You didn’t answer — couldn’t. You just nodded weakly, letting yourself melt against him as your heart pounded in your ears. And Yuma? He held you close like a man who would burn the world down to keep you exactly where you were — breathless, messy, and his.

================================================================================================

Your body was boneless in his arms, every inch of you spent — thighs sore, lips kiss-swollen, breaths still shallow from the storm you’d just weathered together. Yuma didn’t say much right away. He just pulled the blanket over your shoulders, tucking it around you like a cocoon while his large hand rubbed soft, lazy circles into your lower back. His other arm lay draped across your hips, protective and heavy, like he was anchoring you to the bed. To him. You shifted slightly, eyes barely open. “Yuma…” “Shh,” he mumbled, voice gravelly and low, “I know, sow. I know. Don’t push yourself.” You felt the pad of his thumb wipe the corner of your eye — a stray tear he hadn’t missed. He tilted your chin, just enough to press a soft, grounding kiss to your forehead. His usual cocky smirk was long gone. In its place was something quieter, heavier — a look that said you’re mine, not just in lust, but in the stillness after. “You did so fuckin’ good,” he whispered, breath fanning across your cheek. “Took all of me. Let me ruin you like that.” You let out a tired breath, curling into him. “You didn’t ruin me…” Yuma let out a soft scoff, amused. “Nah, baby. I did. But in the way you like.” He nuzzled into your temple, voice dropping to a gentle rasp. “You ain’t goin’ anywhere after that, you hear me?” “I wasn’t going anywhere anyway,” you murmured. “Good.” He kissed your shoulder this time, lingering there.

“Stay mine.”

I been waiting to post this T_T

[reijisteacup]

"Too Sweet to Bite"

Subaru Sakamaki x Reader

Synopsis: Subaru Sakamaki has always believed that love is a cruel illusion — especially for a vampire like him. Isolated by his own rage and trauma, he keeps the world at arm’s length, convinced he’s too broken to be worthy of something gentle. But then you came along. Sweet as pie, kind to the core, and stubbornly warm even in the face of his cold shoulder, you make it your quiet mission to understand him. You don’t flinch at his temper or tremble at his fangs — you just offer tea, tender smiles, and the kind of patience Subaru’s never known.

And maybe, just maybe… love doesn’t have to bite.

=================================================================================================

The moon was pale and full overhead, casting a glow across the Sakuramiya manor’s endless corridors. Subaru leaned against the balcony railing, fingers tight around a chipped pillar. The night air was crisp. Quiet. Still. He hated it.

He hated nights like this — when the silence was heavy, and his thoughts wouldn’t shut up.

"Monster. Rabid dog. Unlovable."

He squeezed the stone till it cracked.

“Subaru!”

He stiffened, his hand instantly yanking back — as if caught in something shameful.

You stood there, hands clasped behind your back like a child hiding something. Your skirt swayed with the night breeze, and the warmth of your voice — your existence — swept over him like spring sunlight through a shuttered room.

“Tch,” he muttered, turning his face to the garden. “What’re you doing out here this late? You’ll catch a cold.”

You stepped closer with that same soft giggle that always made his chest feel like it was caving in.

“I was looking for you.” You leaned on the railing next to him, chin resting on your arms as you gazed at the stars. “I made strawberry tea. I thought maybe you’d like some…”

He side-eyed you, blush already creeping up his cheeks. “...I don’t even like sweets.”

“You do when I make them,” you said cheerfully.

He cursed internally. She was right. You always made things too sweet. Your tea. Your voice. Your face. Your soul.

Too sweet for him.

“Why do you do that?” he asked suddenly. His voice came out rougher than he intended. “Why are you always so… nice to me?”

You blinked, tilting your head. “Because I like you.”

His eyes widened. “You… like me?”

“Mhmm.” You reached out gently, brushing a silver strand of hair behind his ear like it was the most natural thing in the world. “You're always protecting me. Even when you act grumpy, you're kind underneath it. You make sure I eat, you tell me when the others are being too harsh, you fix things I don’t even realize are broken. I see you, Subaru. And I really… really like what I see.”

His breath hitched.

No one had ever looked at him like that. No fear. No disgust. Just you — soft, glowing, like honey in the sun — looking at him like he was good.

“I don’t… I’m not—” he started, voice cracking.

But you stopped him with a small hug. Arms wrapping around his middle. Face pressing to his chest.

“You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted you to know.”

Subaru stood frozen for a heartbeat.

Then two.

Then slowly, as if terrified he might break you, he let his arms slip around you. Not tight — not yet — but enough to feel you breathe.

His head bowed. His heart thudded. His voice, barely audible:

“...Idiot.”

You looked up at him, eyes shimmering. “That’s okay. I like you even if you call me that.”

He looked away, flustered, the tips of his ears crimson. But his grip around you tightened just a little more.

For once… he didn’t feel like a monster.

He felt loved.

=================================================================================================

After that quiet embrace under the moonlight, the world seemed softer, less sharp. Subaru’s usual restless energy was tempered by a calm he didn’t quite understand — but wasn’t in any hurry to question.

You both stayed on the balcony, the night humming quietly around you. Your head rested against his chest, fingers tracing lazy patterns along his ribs, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath his skin.

“Subaru,” you whispered after a long pause. “Can I ask you something?”

He made a grumbling noise, but didn’t pull away.

“Why do you always push everyone away? Especially me?”

He swallowed hard, the words caught in his throat.

“I… I don’t want to hurt you,” he admitted finally, voice low and rough. “If I get too close… if I let someone in… they get burned. Or broken.”

You lifted your head, eyes shining in the moonlight.

“But you don’t have to be afraid with me. I’m not like the others.”

He looked down at you, the vulnerability flickering behind his usual scowl making his gaze softer, more open.

You reached up, fingers brushing his hair, the silky strands slipping between your touch. “Let me be the one who stays.”

Subaru’s breath hitched, chest tightening. His eyes fluttered closed for a moment.

Then slowly, painfully, he leaned down.

His lips brushed yours — tentative, searching, like a question whispered in the dark.

You melted into the kiss, hands threading through his hair, pulling him closer.

The world faded away — the cold nights, the loneliness, the scars he hid — and all that remained was the warmth of your lips against his.

When he finally pulled back, his cheeks were flushed, eyes wide and unguarded.

“D-don’t get used to it,” he muttered, voice barely above a whisper.

You smiled, heart swelling.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

[reijisteacup]

could you please make sfw things for Carla girl, thanks 🫶🏼

Of coursee lovely <333

Carla Tsukinami Alphabet Head canon

SFW Alphabet Head canon

A = Affection Carla is not physically affectionate in the traditional sense — at least not at first. He’s precise and measured, as if unsure whether his touch will shatter you. When he does show affection, it’s quiet but deeply intentional: gloved fingers brushing your cheek to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, offering his cape if you're cold without a word, or standing silently at your side like a silent sentinel. In private, when he begins to trust you, he becomes more tender — a hand on the small of your back, a kiss to your forehead before you sleep, his voice low as he murmurs, “Rest well. I am here.”

B = Bonding Bonding with Carla is a slow, almost ceremonial process. He doesn’t form attachments easily due to both pride and pain — but once he starts opening up, it becomes clear how much he values deep emotional connection. He’ll share pieces of his past, his burdens as First Blood King, and seek your perspective on philosophy, immortality, and power. You’ll spend time walking the castle gardens together at twilight, or reading side-by-side in a quiet chamber. He bonds through presence — and by treating you not as a fragile human, but as someone who might just be his equal.

C = Cuddling Carla doesn’t "cuddle" in the classic sense — it's more like you're drawn into the regal fold of his arms, where you're cradled like a treasured relic. He’ll hold you while you lie against his chest, his hand resting over your lower back, his breathing calm and deep. Sometimes he’ll rest his cheek against your head and close his eyes, and you’ll realize that for all his coldness, he finds peace in your warmth. His heartbeat is steady, quiet, as though it's matching yours. If you fall asleep like that, he won't move an inch — his stillness becomes your sanctuary.

D = Domestic While Carla isn’t domestic in a practical sense (he doesn’t cook or clean), he has a natural inclination toward creating order and refinement. He would ensure your chambers are always warm and well-stocked with your favorite teas, clothes, and books. He enjoys orchestrating things — setting a table for you with pristine silver, hand-selecting flowers for your room, or bringing you rare fabrics and jewelry “suitable for a queen.” Living with him feels like being honored in a sacred way, even if he rarely says anything aloud.

E = Emotions Carla struggles with emotional vulnerability. He has spent centuries mastering control — over himself, over others, over his own fate. That makes falling in love feel dangerous. He won’t admit his feelings outright until they’re too strong to ignore, and even then, it will come out in a quiet moment: “You have become important to me. More than I anticipated.” His emotions, when they emerge, are not chaotic — they are powerful, like an ocean kept still by a single breath. But once he lets them in, he holds nothing back.

F = Flirting Carla’s flirting is subtle, intellectual, and intense. He’ll make veiled compliments wrapped in riddles, brush his fingers along yours during chess games, and make lingering eye contact that leaves your knees weak. He’ll say things like, “You speak boldly for someone so delicate,” and it’s hard to tell if it’s a tease or a warning — or a challenge. He doesn’t flirt for amusement — he flirts to claim, to test, and to pull you in. His words might be cold, but his gaze burns like a flame kept behind stained glass.

G = Gifts Carla gives meaningful, luxurious gifts — nothing gaudy, always personal. A pendant bearing your family crest, a dress made in your favorite color, a music box that plays a lullaby you once hummed in his presence. He notices what matters to you even if you never speak of it. He’ll present these things without ceremony, simply placing them in your hands or leaving them on your pillow with a handwritten note: “To honor your presence in my life.”

H = Hugs He doesn’t initiate hugs often, but when he does, it feels like you’re being wrapped in a spell. His arms around you are firm but gentle — protective without being crushing. He rarely squeezes tightly, instead letting your body settle against his, resting your head against his shoulder as he strokes your back in slow, grounding motions. If you’re crying or frightened, Carla hugs you like he’s shielding you from the entire world. And in those rare moments when he initiates out of need? It's one of the few signs that his walls have truly fallen.

I = Intimacy (Non-sexual) Carla’s non-sexual intimacy is profound. He’ll brush your hair, help you put on a cloak, lace your boots when your hands shake, and place a hand at the small of your back in a room full of dangerous men to remind you you’re never alone. He wants you close while he works — letting you rest your head on his lap while he reads, or placing your hand over his heart when he’s feeling overwhelmed. His intimacy is quiet but deliberate — like every moment shared with you matters more than centuries spent alone.

J = Jealousy Carla is above petty jealousy — or so he claims. In reality, he burns with silent intensity when someone else touches you too casually or speaks to you with flirtation. He doesn’t lash out. Instead, he’ll calmly place himself between you and the other person, one gloved hand resting possessively on your hip as he says something like, “I believe your attention is needed elsewhere, my dear.” Later, in private, his possessiveness becomes more evident: “I do not like the way they looked at you. You are mine. Do not forget it.”

K = Kisses Carla kisses with purpose. His kisses are usually slow, firm, and deliberate — as if each one seals a vow. He favors your forehead and the back of your hand in public, but in private, he’ll tilt your chin upward with two fingers and kiss you like he's memorizing the shape of your soul. If you’re trembling, upset, or afraid, he kisses your pulse point — soft and silent. And if you kiss him first? He freezes — like the world stopped — before pulling you into a deeper, more possessive kiss that says: “You’ve undone me.”

L = Love Confession When Carla confesses his love, it is not dramatic — but it is monumental. He does not say it lightly. In fact, he likely avoided saying it for quite some time, unsure whether he was even allowed such a fragile thing as love. It happens on a quiet evening, maybe while he’s tending to a wound you received or listening to you read in candlelight. You might not even realize it at first when he murmurs, “You have become… essential.” But then he’ll look you directly in the eyes and say it, voice quiet and reverent: “I love you. As I have never loved anyone before — and may never again.” It’s not just a confession. It’s a vow.

M = Marriage To be married to Carla means stepping into a sacred, timeless bond. It wouldn’t be a public affair — no grand feasts or crowded halls. It would be a private, moonlit ceremony in the heart of Eden, with only the spirits and stars as witnesses. He would give you a ring made of rare, ancestral metal, etched with runes only he could translate — and the promise etched beneath it would be simple but binding: “Mine. Always.” He doesn’t say “husband” often. Instead, he calls you “my chosen” — a title heavier than any crown.

N = Nervousness Carla is rarely nervous in battle, in diplomacy, or even in death. But when it comes to his feelings for you, it terrifies him. You make him vulnerable — and vulnerability, to someone like Carla, is more frightening than mortality. He hides his nerves behind silence, averted eyes, or curt words. If you ever catch him hesitating to touch your face or visibly struggling to find the right words, that is his nervousness. It’s in the pause before he says your name like a prayer. In the sharp breath he takes before confessing, “I do not understand why I feel this way. But I do.”

O = On Cloud Nine (What makes him feel happiest with you) Carla finds his version of paradise in quietude — in silence shared with someone who understands him without needing words. Lying with you in a garden after a long night, your head on his chest, stars overhead. Sharing a slow meal where you feed him fruit and laugh softly. Listening to your heartbeat beneath his hand as you drift into sleep. The knowledge that you are alive, beside him, safe — his — brings him a serenity that no conquest ever has. He will never say “this is bliss,” but his softened gaze and loosened shoulders say it for him.

P = Protective Carla protects in the way a dragon guards its hoard — fiercely, silently, and absolutely. He doesn’t need to shout or threaten. The very presence of his magic curling in the air behind you is enough to send enemies trembling. If someone dares to hurt you, they will not be granted a quick death. But his protection goes beyond violence — it’s also in the way he ensures you’re never alone in a room of strangers, in the layers of enchantments woven into your jewelry, in the way he watches your face for signs of discomfort and steps in before you speak. He will never let harm touch you — even if it means tearing down the world to do it.

Q = Quiet Time Carla lives for quiet moments with you. Reading in companionable silence, drinking tea with your hands gently touching on the table, lying beneath the ancient canopy of Eden with your head in his lap while he runs his fingers through your hair. The quiet allows him to let down his constant guard. In those hours, he doesn't have to be king, vampire, or First Blood — he can just be Carla. And you, his most beloved, are the only person in the world allowed to see him like that.

R = Romantic Carla is a classically romantic lover. He writes letters in ink so dark it glimmers, quoting poetry older than any human civilization. He gives you roses preserved by magic, so they never wilt. He offers you dances in candlelit rooms with ancient music playing on phonographs. But even more romantic is the subtlety: holding your hand in his without a word, brushing your lips with his thumb after a kiss, calling you “my moonlight” when he thinks you’re asleep. His romance is slow-burning, noble, and all-consuming.

S = Security (How safe he makes you feel) Carla makes you feel safe in ways no human could ever provide. With him, you are untouchable — not just physically, but emotionally. You never have to wonder if he will leave. You never doubt his loyalty. And when the world becomes too loud, too violent, too painful… he wraps you in his embrace and says softly, “You are with me. Nothing will touch you here.” His mere presence is a wall between you and harm — and the look in his eyes when he sees you afraid is enough to convince you he would burn kingdoms for your peace.

T = Touch Every touch from Carla carries intention. He does not touch idly or without meaning. When he takes your hand, it’s to anchor you. When he cups your face, it’s to remind himself you’re real. When he places a hand over your heart, it’s to feel your life beating — something he cherishes more than he’ll ever admit. The first time he ever touches you voluntarily, it’s like the breaking of a dam. Slow. Reverent. Sacred. He memorizes the slope of your shoulders, the curve of your spine, the softness of your lips — as if every inch of you deserves a silent hymn.

U = Understanding Carla doesn’t understand emotion in the human sense — but he tries, deeply, to understand you. Your fears, your desires, your complexities. He listens more than he speaks, watches more than he asks. If you need space, he gives it. If you cry, he holds you. If you tremble, he doesn’t demand explanations — he simply exists beside you in solidarity. He may not always say the right thing, but he will always try to understand, because understanding you feels like discovering a new reason to keep going.

V = Valentine’s Day While Carla doesn’t celebrate Valentine’s Day traditionally, he recognizes its significance to you. That day, he might bring you a rare flower that only blooms once every century, its petals glowing faintly in the dark. He might give you a handwritten poem, sealed with wax and pressed with his family crest. But most importantly, he will spend the day at your side — no meetings, no obligations — simply you and him, alone in a quiet space carved out of time, where he can murmur in your ear, “You have enchanted me. Utterly.”

W = Waking Up Carla wakes early and alert, but when you’re with him, he lingers. You’ll feel the faintest trace of his breath on your neck before his hand gently slips around your waist. He doesn’t speak right away — just listens to your breathing, lets the moment stretch, watches the sunlight trace your face. If you stir, he’ll say something low like, “Still tired? Stay… a little longer.” And if you nestle into his chest? He’ll close his eyes again — just for you.

X = eXpressions (How he shows love) Carla shows love through action and ritual. He offers you protection, gifts, poetry, his time — but more than that, he offers you his silence. His stillness. His vulnerable presence. In a world where he must always perform, always command, always protect… the act of simply being with you is how he expresses his deepest love. No walls. No facades. Just Carla, raw and real.

Y = Yearning Carla’s yearning is hidden beneath a façade of composure — but it runs deep. He aches for you when you’re gone, though he won’t say it aloud. You’ll see it in the way his eyes flick to the door, the way he holds your letters longer than necessary, the way his fingers linger on your empty side of the bed. When he finally speaks it, it comes out like thunder behind a whisper: “My soul longs for yours. And I despise the silence your absence leaves behind.”

Z = Zzz (How he sleeps with you) When Carla sleeps beside you, it is with complete stillness — like a statue carved into the shape of a man in love. But he always keeps a part of himself touching you: a hand over your heart, his leg resting against yours, your head tucked into his shoulder. And if you wake from a nightmare or whimper in your sleep, his eyes will open instantly. He’ll hold you close, voice low and calm, murmuring, “Sleep, little one… I will guard your dreams.”

[reijisteacup]

desperately need Shu nsfw alphabets🙏🏼

Of course <333 I know u been waiting for a min anon!!!

Shu Sakamaki Alphabet Head canon

NSFW Alphabet Headcanon

A = Aftercare Shu doesn’t say much after sex — words are rarely his language — but the way he holds you speaks volumes. When it's over, he stays inside you for a while, chest to chest or pressed flush behind you, his breath warm and slow against your ear. He’ll murmur something like, “Too tired to move… just stay there,” but what he means is “Let me hold you longer.” You’ll feel his fingers drifting down your back, featherlight, like he’s grounding himself in the reality that you’re still here, still warm beneath him. If you’re shaking or overstimulated, he’ll clean you up gently — a warm rag, lazy kisses to your temple, his body curled around yours like a security blanket. It's not flashy. It’s intimate. And it makes you feel completely owned and entirely safe.

B = Body part (his favorite on you) Your neck is his obsession — and not just because he’s a vampire. It’s the vulnerability, the intimacy, the trust it takes to expose it to him. He’ll press slow kisses right under your ear and murmur against your skin, “Your pulse is racing… am I that good?” Biting you is ritualistic to him — part of marking you, yes, but also savoring. He'll kiss the bite afterward like a reward. But if he's feeling more physical than emotional, it's your thighs that pull his attention. He loves watching them tremble when he spreads you open, or digs his fingers into them while you ride him, slow and desperate. If you wrap your legs around his waist during sex? Expect a choked groan and deeper thrusts. Your body tells him everything he needs.

C = Cum Shu is not the type to make a tidy finish. He cums hard and deep, drawn-out groans vibrating against your skin as he holds you in place. When he finishes inside you, he doesn’t pull out unless you beg — and even then, he takes his time, watching it leak out with a lazy smirk. “Tch… ruined you again.” There’s something deeply possessive about the way he cums in you — like he’s leaving a piece of himself behind, marking you from the inside. If he finishes on your skin instead, he’ll smear it into your stomach or thighs with his fingers, drawling, “Look at this mess you made me make…” and act like you were the one who seduced him.

D = Dirty Secret Shu fantasizes about being worshiped. Not in a performative way — he doesn’t need theatrics — but slow, sensual devotion. He dreams of you straddling his lap, hands in his hair, trailing kisses down his chest while whispering how good he makes you feel. He’ll never admit how much it affects him to be treated like he’s divine, like you crave him. And then there’s the public aspect. He secretly wants to fuck you where someone might hear — the risk of being caught with your mouth full of his cock under a grand piano or your moans echoing down a castle hallway while he keeps your legs open. His control may be lazy, but his desire to be your undoing in forbidden places? Sinful.

E = Experience Shu has centuries of experience under his belt, but he’s never flashy about it. He doesn’t need to prove anything — he just knows how to touch you, how to drag moans out of your throat without rushing or fumbling. He’s the kind of lover who memorizes every twitch of your hips, the way your breathing changes before you cum, how your hands clench when you’re on edge. His experience shows in how well he can tease you to the brink, stop, and start again until you’re crying from pleasure. If he feels like showing off, he’ll make you cum with just his fingers while he murmurs, “You really are weak for me, huh?”

F = Favorite Position Shu prefers positions that let him feel everything — slow, connected, and full-bodied. Missionary is a favorite not because it’s boring, but because it lets him press his chest to yours, feel your heartbeat flutter, whisper in your ear as he rolls his hips in deep, steady thrusts. He also loves spooning sex — sleepy, hazy mornings where he wakes you with his cock already inside you, one hand cupping your chest while the other plays with your clit under the sheets. If he’s in a lazy mood (which is often), he’ll pull you onto his lap and let you ride him while he guides your hips, groaning softly as your walls flutter around him. His voice? “Slow down… I wanna feel all of it.”

G = Goofy (is he playful?) Shu isn’t goofy in the traditional sense, but he has this smug kind of playfulness — the kind that makes you feel exposed just by the way he looks at you. He’ll tease you with drawn-out touches, barely-there kisses, and lazy taunts like, “You’re this needy just from a kiss?” If you try to fluster him, he’ll lean into it with a slow grin, totally unbothered. It’s his little game — seeing how much he can make you squirm without lifting a finger. But if you do something silly or fluster yourself? He’ll chuckle low, kiss your nose, and whisper something like, “You’re ridiculous… but I like it.”

H = Hair He’s completely natural. Blonde hair dusting his lower stomach and a soft, trimmed patch between his legs — not overly groomed, but not wild either. He doesn’t care to shave, but he will if you ask him to. That said, there’s something intimate about the way his hair smells — like cedarwood, old fabric, and faint traces of blood. You’ll find yourself nuzzling into his curls, lazily tracing the trail of hair down his abdomen just to hear him grunt lowly in approval.

I = Intimacy Shu is an extremely intimate lover, even if he doesn’t always say the words. The way he touches you during sex — the slowness, the weight of his body over yours, the quiet sighs and soft kisses he leaves on your collarbone — it all adds up to a kind of reverence. He doesn't just want to fuck you — he wants to sink into you and stay there, like you’re the only place he belongs. When he’s feeling vulnerable, he’ll hold your hand while he’s inside you, fingers entwined, eyes half-lidded but focused only on you. He may not say “I love you,” but when he whispers, “Don’t go anywhere,” you’ll feel it like a prayer.

J = Jack-off He doesn’t do it often — Shu prefers the real thing. But when he does, it’s slow and indulgent, usually while thinking about the exact sound you made the last time he made you cum. He’ll tilt his head back against the wall, one hand lazily stroking himself, the other gripping the edge of the bed as he bites his lip and growls your name under his breath. If you walk in? He’ll barely pause. Just look at you with half-lidded eyes and say, “Tch… took you long enough.”

K = Kink

Shu is a slow-burn sensual sadist with a taste for vulnerability. He craves your desperation — your begging, your trembling, the way your breath catches in your throat when he leans in and whispers exactly what he’s going to do to you. His biggest turn-ons include:

Somnophilia — not in a creepy way, but in that hazy, early morning need where you’re too dazed to resist, body instinctively curling toward him as he starts moving inside you.

Overstimulation — he’ll make you cum once, twice, again, fingers relentless even when you’re sobbing into the pillow. Your shaking only excites him.

Bloodplay, obviously — the way you shudder when he licks up the blood from your neck after biting you, how pretty the crimson looks dripping down your collarbone.

And praise kink, which he’ll never admit — but the second you whimper, “You feel so good, Shu… please, don’t stop,” he loses the lazy act and fucks you harder, rougher, with his mouth hot against your ear.

L = Location Shu doesn't really care where — as long as you're with him, pliant and warm, he'll make do. But he does have a soft spot for places that feel intimate or forbidden.

His bed is sacred: low lighting, soft blankets, music humming faintly in the background. Sex there is slow and deep and emotional.

But the music room is where his dangerous side comes out. He’ll bend you over the piano while whispering things like “Try not to be loud, yeah? Tch… not that you can help it.”

The bath? That’s where he’ll lap at your thighs, slick with water, and finger you until your legs shake. And if you tease him during the day, don’t be surprised if he drags you into an empty stairwell, presses you against the wall, and fucks you slow while you cover your own mouth.

M = Motivation You’re his biggest weakness — especially when you’re not trying. The way you stretch and sigh after waking up beside him, the way you look in his oversized shirt, your lip between your teeth as you focus on something… it all drives him wild. He’s especially reactive when you’re soft with him — clinging to his arm, whispering his name, burying your face in his chest and asking, “Can we stay like this forever?” The mixture of emotional intimacy and physical closeness makes his control crack. He needs to feel you — inside, under, around him. That’s when he rolls you under him and makes good on every unspoken need between you.

N = No Shu draws a clear line at anything degrading in a way that disconnects you from him emotionally. He might tease, spank, overstimulate, or growl possessively, but he doesn’t do cruelty. Humiliation, slurs, or anything that makes you feel “less than” turns him off entirely. He needs to feel like you're his, not a prop. He’s also not into performative BDSM culture — no contracts, titles, or protocol nonsense. If you're doing this with him, it's raw, messy, and real.

O = Oral Shu gives head like he’s got nowhere to be for hours. He’ll lay you back and devour you slowly, tongue dragging across your folds, fingers spreading you open as he hums low and lazy. He doesn’t need you to cum — he wants it. Multiple times. He’ll lick you through each one and still keep going. Receiving? He lives for it. But not in a dominant way — more in a “watching you fall apart on your knees for me” kind of way. He’ll sit back, thighs wide, one hand tangled in your hair, occasionally groaning, “You look so pretty like this. Don’t stop.” He won’t force your head, but the moment your tongue flicks the underside of his cock and you moan around it? He tilts his head back and softly moans your name like a prayer.

P = Pace Shu is known for his deep, slow thrusts. He takes his time — grinding into you, hitting every sweet spot until you can’t do anything but claw at his back. He loves dragging it out. Each movement is languid, deliberate, laced with control he barely holds on to. But if you push him far enough — tease him too long, grind against him in public, call him by a nickname that makes his cock twitch? The switch flips. He’ll pin your wrists down and fuck you hard, voice low and rough as he curses into your shoulder, all slow rhythm gone. That contrast — lazy control giving way to sudden hunger — is what makes Shu so addictive.

Q = Quickies Quickies aren’t his favorite, but if you catch him in the right mood (needy, possessive, or jealous)? Oh, he’ll bend you over the nearest surface and take you without even undressing you fully. His version of a quickie isn’t frantic or rushed — it’s slow, intense, and dirty. Expect breathy groans in your ear, hands gripping your hips, and Shu biting down hard on your neck to keep you silent. Afterward, he’ll smirk as you struggle to walk straight, muttering, “Tch… you started it.”

R = Risk Shu doesn’t seek risk, but he absolutely doesn’t care about getting caught if you’re the one who tempts him. He’ll let your hands wander under the table during family meetings, pull you onto his lap during lazy afternoons, even finger you slowly while pretending to nap with you in public. The real thrill for him is how you react to the risk — your flushed cheeks, your ragged breathing, the panic in your eyes as you try not to moan. If you tell him you’re scared someone will hear? He just smirks. “Then maybe they’ll learn something.”

S = Stamina He can go all night, but only when he wants to. Shu isn’t hyper — he’s focused. One round with him might last two hours, with teasing, edging, and deep slow thrusts that leave you sore and boneless. He rarely stops after one orgasm. He’ll fuck you through two, three, even four, giving you water between rounds, maybe sucking at your neck while you recover. He likes wearing you out, making you melt under his body until you’re moaning his name like it’s the only word you know. And when he’s really hungry? Expect a full night of being ruined in every room of the house.

T = Toys Shu doesn’t like mechanical toys — they’re too cold, impersonal. But he’s into sensation play and using objects that feel good on you. Ice cubes, silk scarves, maybe a feather or a warmed oil he pours over your chest while watching you shiver. He’s also interested in toys that let you lose control — vibrating plugs or remote-controlled toys you wear while he watches, half-lidded eyes locked on your reactions. He won’t use them every time, but when he does? You’ll never forget it.

U = Unfair Shu is cruelly unfair in bed — the kind of unfair that has you crying from how close you are. He’ll edge you over and over, pausing right when you beg the hardest, licking you until you’re shaking and then stopping. All while wearing the most nonchalant expression. He wants to break you down slowly. Make you beg. Make you whimper. And when he finally gives you what you want? It’s only because he wants to see you fall apart for him completely. He thrives off power — but the soft, emotional kind. The power of having you utterly ruined on his cock, whispering that you’re his.

V = Volume He’s not loud, but intensely vocal in a quiet, breathy, devastating way. Shu moans softly when you clench around him, sighs your name when he slides inside. When he’s close? His voice drops lower, rougher — cursing under his breath, murmuring filth into your ear, “You feel too fucking good. Gonna cum again, huh?” Sometimes you’ll hear him groan your name like it’s the only thing tethering him to reality. And if you ever cry out his name mid-orgasm? He’ll literally cum on the spot. No warning.

W = Wild Card Shu pretends he’s laid-back, but sometimes he snaps. It usually happens when he’s jealous or emotionally overwhelmed. One second he’s quiet, the next he’s pinning you down, fucking into you like he owns every inch of you. Another wildcard? He’s secretly into you being in his lap while he's doing something else — reading, listening to music — and casually fucking you from underneath while still pretending to pay attention to his task. It makes you feel filthy and adored at the same time. He’ll kiss your neck mid-thrust and say something like, “Mm. Don’t stop squirming.”

X = X-ray Shu is lean but strong — the kind of body built from centuries of quiet strength. His chest is broad, his arms subtly muscular, and his abdomen toned just enough to make you stare when he stretches. Below the belt, he’s thick and long, with a slight curve that hits exactly where you need it. You’ll feel full in the best way possible, especially with how slow he goes — giving you every inch, drawing out your pleasure until it borders on unbearable. And the way his hips roll? Criminal.

Y = Yearning Shu doesn’t show it easily, but his yearning runs deep. When he wants you, it’s not just lust — it’s this quiet, soul-crushing hunger that simmers in his bones. He’ll stare at you from across the room, eyes heavy-lidded and filled with something aching. When he finally gives in, it’s like watching a dam break. He’ll grip your face with both hands, kiss you like he’s dying, press his forehead to yours and murmur, “Don’t disappear. I need you here. Right here.” And then he makes love to you in a way that feels like eternity condensed into one moment.

Z = Zzz (Sleep) After sex, Shu turns into your personal blanket. He drapes himself over you, head on your chest or tucked into your neck, limbs entwined like he can’t bear to let you go. He’s not a cuddler in public, but in bed, post-orgasm? He won’t let go. If you try to leave, he’ll groan, tighten his hold, and mumble, “No. You’re mine tonight.” His breathing slows as he listens to yours — and more often than not, you both fall asleep tangled together, his body heat lulling you into the kind of sleep only he can give you.

[reijisteacup]

Hii! I was just wondering of how the diaboys would react to an S/O who's an artist and thinks of them as their muse? Like literally you can look at their sketch book and it's just FULL of sketches of them. Also love ur blog sm keep it up!! 💗(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

At first, he thinks you're just teasing. He raises a brow lazily as he flips through page after page, headshots, figure studies, sleepy expressions, and even ones from behind when you thought he wasn’t looking. “…You’re seriously this obsessed with me?” His voice is slow, teasing, but there’s a noticeable pause in his tone — because deep down, he’s not used to being seen. You’ve captured him in quiet moments no one else bothers to notice: when his hand twitches in his sleep, when his lips curl just slightly at a song you hum. He may play it off like he’s unfazed, but your sketchbook becomes one of the few things he secretly treasures — even hiding it away when you’re not looking, just to keep it for himself.

Reiji Sakamaki:

Initially, he’s skeptical — thinking it’s a frivolous waste of your time to fill an entire sketchbook with just him. But when he realizes how seriously you study his features — the way your pencil captures the elegant line of his jaw, the graceful arc of his fingers when he pours tea — he becomes intrigued. “So I’m your source of inspiration… how flattering.” But he quickly spirals into quiet obsession: if he’s your muse, then surely he owns a piece of your heart through your art, yes? He may even start subtly influencing your subjects: straightening his tie with precision, posing in candlelight — all for your eyes. He secretly binds the sketchbook like a treasured tome and tucks it into his library, claiming it’s a "personal archive of their artistic legacy."

Laito Sakamaki:

“Ohhh~ Bitch-chan, you flatter me~” Laito purrs as he slowly flips through your pages, eyes sparkling with both affection and possessiveness. There’s a very specific kind of reverence in your strokes, and he notices it right away. “So this is how you see me… interesting.” For someone who has been objectified and used, being seen through your eyes — and immortalized so tenderly on paper — hits him deeper than he lets on. You aren’t just drawing his face. You’re capturing his soul, and that terrifies and excites him. He’ll start watching you draw him, lounging intentionally or whispering, “Draw me like I’m your darkest fantasy.” But if anyone else tries to look at that sketchbook? He’ll take their eyes out.

Kanato Sakamaki:

Oh… he adores it. Be ready for an almost feral level of possessiveness. “All of these are me? As they should be.” He’s both charmed and unhinged by it — he finds it incredibly validating that you think he’s worth drawing over and over. If your style is soft and dreamy, he’ll coo over how angelic you make him look. If your style is darker or dramatic, he’ll swoon over the theatricality. He demands that you draw him daily. If he ever sees a drawing of someone else, even once, he’ll destroy it. “You said I’m your muse. So that means only me, right?” He’ll even want you to draw him with Teddy in his arms, or draw the two of you as a gothic fairytale couple.

Ayato Sakamaki:

“HEH? OI—YOU DREW THIS?!” He’s smug as hell, flipping through your sketchbook with the proudest grin imaginable. “Tch, of course I’d be your muse. Who else would it be? Ore-sama is perfect!” But the moment he sees the softer pieces — ones where you’ve drawn him when he’s vulnerable, maybe sleeping curled up or with a rare, soft expression — his voice falters. “You really… look at me like this?” He tries to shake it off with bravado, but he’ll find himself staring at the pages later when you're asleep, wondering when you captured those versions of him. He starts posing more around you on purpose, subtly giving you new angles, hoping to inspire more drawings of just him.

Subaru Sakamaki:

He panics. Completely red in the face, eyes wide as he flips through and sees pages upon pages of himself. “W-Why would you draw me this much?! I’m not even good-looking—!” He can’t handle the intimacy of it — the way your pencil strokes seem to capture moments he didn’t even know were visible. It makes him feel exposed. But at the same time… it makes him feel loved. Like someone finally sees him beyond the violence and the walls. You think he’s beautiful. And that thought sticks with him. He’ll pretend to be annoyed, but he’ll start wearing shirts you said you liked. If he ever sees you sketching, he’ll grumble and turn away — but never leave the room.

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

Ruki is deeply flattered, but he plays it cool. “Livestock, am I truly worth so much of your ink?” Yet his eyes linger on every line, studying how you see him: wise, composed, almost romantic in some drawings. It strokes his ego, yes — but it also chips away at his mask. You don’t just see the manipulator or the intellectual. You see the man. The one who reads with his head tilted, the one who softens around you. He starts giving you deliberate moments to capture: reading near a window, removing his gloves slowly. But if anyone else dares to see the sketchbook, his expression turns cold. “That is for their eyes. And mine. No one else.”

Kou Mukami:

He lights up immediately. “Waaah~ M Neko-chan is so obsessed with me, huh~?” He’s used to cameras and fame, but your drawings are intimate. Personal. Unlike fan photos or selfies, these are moments you captured in silence, and it melts him a little inside. He’s absolutely thrilled that he’s your muse — and he starts “accidentally” walking around shirtless more, making smoldering eye contact, just in case you’re looking. But if he finds out your drawings are only for your eyes, it strikes something much deeper. “So you only draw me… for you? Not even for others to see? Hehe~ Then I must be the most special person in your world, huh~?”

Yuma Mukami:

At first, he laughs it off. “Oi, ain’t ya got anyone else to draw? Yer sketchbook looks like my damn baby album.” But the second he sees a sketch where he’s smiling while working in the garden, or one where you captured him mid-laughter — he goes quiet. He’s not used to being seen as soft. As more than just a brute. And the fact that you, someone so talented, chooses him as your artistic obsession… it’s humbling. He’ll get all flustered and shove the sketchbook back into your hands, growling, “Tch, d-don’t show me this kinda stuff without warnin’ me, dammit.” But later you’ll find him staring at a drawing of him hugging you, fingers lightly brushing the paper with a stunned expression.

Azusa Mukami:

He’s in awe. “...You… drew me…?” It doesn’t register at first. He touches the page like it might dissolve, staring at how gently you’ve rendered his scars — not as something ugly, but beautiful, even sacred. “You… see me like this…? Not… broken?” He nearly cries. Truly. It becomes one of the most important things in the world to him. He’ll beg you to draw more. Even if he’s bleeding. Even if he’s crying. “Please… show me how I look… through your eyes.” Every page is like a piece of validation he never received. He’ll even start drawing you in return — clumsy, sweet sketches with hearts and his name next to yours.

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

Carla initially picks up your sketchbook out of curiosity — but what he finds stuns him into silence. Page after page of carefully rendered images: his solemn eyes, the intricate fall of his silver hair, the way his fingers curl delicately around a wine glass, his profile as he reads or gazes out a window. He’s speechless, but not visibly so — he just closes the book slowly and stares at you. “You truly see me as your muse?” His voice is low, quiet, but there's a quiver in it. You didn’t just draw his power — you drew his essence. His loneliness. His regality. His humanity. He becomes strangely protective over your art. “No one is to lay eyes on these drawings. They are… sacred.” You notice he starts presenting himself differently — wearing ceremonial robes more often, sitting in regal poses, letting his softer emotions slip in front of you… so you’ll be inspired again.

Shin Tsukinami:

He laughs when he sees the sketchbook. “Heh? You seriously wasted this much paper on me?” His teasing tone covers his sudden overwhelming shock. He flips through the pages like a kid in disbelief, his brows slowly furrowing as he realizes… this isn’t just infatuation. It’s adoration. You’ve drawn his anger, his rare moments of playfulness, even moments of quiet — the look in his eyes when he's watching the moon or holding an animal. “You… draw me like I’m important.” He gets quiet after that. Real quiet. Shin isn’t used to being the center of gentle attention. It strikes a chord that hurts, actually. From then on, he becomes kind of possessive about your sketching. “You better not be drawing anyone else like this,” he growls, trying to sound tough, but his voice cracks just slightly. He needs to know he’s the only one you see this way.

[reijisteacup]

I know this is random but looking back on the request I sent I don't think the outfit in the

picture would look good on kianna so changing

this request could I please ask for the yandere DL boys but how would they react to kianna

Wearing this something completely different from her usual Style

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

At first, he opens one lazy eye and drawls, “What the hell are you wearing?” But when he actually sits up and takes you in — skin showing, posture confident, energy foreign — his brows furrow. “That’s… not you.” He stares for a long time. Doesn’t blink. Doesn’t even smirk. His silence becomes suffocating. Then he murmurs, “Did someone tell you to dress like that? Are you trying to impress someone? Or…” He stands, slowly walking toward you, placing his hand on your cheek like he’s grounding himself. “Don’t change. Not for anyone. Especially not if it means… I don’t recognize you anymore.” He won’t demand you take it off — but he’ll spend the whole day clinging to you in quiet jealousy. Breathing against your neck. Leaving fresh bite marks. Reminding you who you belong to.

Reiji Sakamaki:

The click of his shoes stops mid-step when he sees you. He stares. Slowly takes in every detail. The color. The texture. The bold silhouette. “This is… certainly a departure.” But his calm mask cracks as he steps closer, gloved fingers ghosting over your arm. “You’ve always had a sense of decorum. Modesty. Why now?” His voice is quiet. Accusatory. Terrified. Reiji believes in order — and Kianna’s aesthetic is part of that. A sudden change feels like a loss of control, and he spirals. “Tell me immediately: what prompted this?” If you tell him it was just for fun, his smile is tight. “You are not a creature to be paraded. You are precious. Fragile. And I will not have others defiling what is mine with their eyes.” He will personally help you back into lace, pearls, and modesty — even if he has to lock the wardrobe and dress you himself.

Laito Sakamaki:

He smirks — a little too wide. A little too still. “Ara~ Bitch-chan looks so daring today~ Did someone give you this outfit, hmm?” On the surface, he’s all teasing. But underneath? Unnerved. He fell in love with you when you were demure. Soft-spoken. Reserved. This version of you — bold, confident, flirty? It throws him. He wraps his arms around you from behind and whispers: “If this is a game… you should remember who plays it best, okay?” He kisses your neck slowly. Leaves bruises where the fabric ends. He lets you wear what you want… but insists he gets to “mark you up” before you go anywhere. That night, he makes you wear your old nightgown. Just to remind you — “I want every version of you. But the one that’s mine… is the one who trembles when I kiss her.”

Kanato Sakamaki:

He. Loses. It. Throws Teddy across the room. Screams. “WHAT IS THIS?! Why are you trying to look like one of them?!” He takes it personally. To Kanato, Kianna is supposed to be his doll. Soft. Innocent. Pretty in the way he remembers his mother before she left him. You changing how you dress? Feels like betrayal. He pulls you close with trembling hands, eyes wide and glassy. “Don’t you love me anymore? Are you trying to attract attention? Is that it?” He’d shred the outfit if he had the chance. But later, once he’s cried enough, he might curl into you and whimper, “I don’t care what you wear. Just don’t stop being my special girl. Please…” He keeps a photo of you in your old style inside Teddy’s chest. Just in case you really leave him one day.

Ayato Sakamaki:

He chokes on his soda when you walk in. “THE HELL IS THIS?!” You’re suddenly confident. Showing skin. Wearing dark eyeliner?? He’s instantly feral. “Oi, OI, where d’you think you’re going lookin’ like THAT?!” He’s in denial at first. Laughs it off. Paces around you like a guard dog. Then grabs your waist and mutters into your ear: “You tryna get stared at? Huh? You forget whose doll you are?” He’s scared. And mad about being scared. So he bites your neck a little too hard that day. But later, when you’re alone, he gets weirdly quiet and whispers: “You don’t need to change yourself to be noticed. You’re already everything I look at.” Secretly makes you promise to wear his jersey next time instead — so you’re sexy and stamped with his name.

Subaru Sakamaki:

“Wh-WHAT THE HELL—?!” He panics. Literally throws a chair. “Who—who told you to wear that?! Is someone messing with you?! Don’t lie to me!” His voice cracks. His fists are clenched. He doesn’t even know why he’s mad — just that seeing you like this hurts his chest. You, his fragile little doll, dressed like someone else. Walking with swagger. He drags you into the hallway. Presses your back to the wall, panting. “Why’d you change?” You explain it’s just fun. An experiment. He doesn’t believe you. Not fully. But later, he lets you wear it again — only after he’s held you tight, forehead to forehead, begging, “Don’t stop being you. You’re the only thing that makes me feel like I’m not a monster.”

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

Ruki doesn’t yell. Doesn’t even flinch. But the second you walk into the room wearing something totally unlike you — a short skirt, an off-shoulder top, bold eyeliner — his expression drops like a guillotine. “Kianna.” He closes the book he was reading. Slowly. “What. Is that.” You try to explain it’s just fashion, something you saw online. But the moment you say “I wanted to try something different”, his jaw locks. “Different? As in, ‘not mine’?” He steps toward you. One gloved hand cups your chin, almost tender — but his voice is steel. “You are not a trend. You are not to be tampered with — not by yourself, and certainly not by others.” He’ll make you change. Gently, but without giving you the option. He’ll even dress you himself if he has to. “You belong to me. Down to the ribbon in your hair.” Later, he stares at your reflection in a mirror, brushing out your hair and whispering, “That’s better. That’s my girl.”

Kou Mukami:

Kou freezes mid-hum. His phone falls off the vanity. “M-Neko-chan… what… what are you wearing~?” You walk in wearing something bold — maybe it’s sparkly, or modern Harajuku, or way more revealing than he’s used to. He’s smiling… but his eyes are calculating. “Aw~ are you trying to dress like one of my fans?” He plays it off at first. Laughs. Compliments you. But deep down? He’s spiraling. Because if you’re changing… does that mean you’re getting bored of being his precious little broken thing? He takes you out that day — but makes sure everyone knows you’re his. Hand around your waist, lipstick smudged by a kiss, love bites on your shoulder. Later, in private, he takes off every piece of the new outfit himself. “You’re cute, you know. But you’re cutest when you’re mine. Maybe I should design your clothes from now on~?”

Yuma Mukami:

“THE HELL IS THAT?!” Yuma loses it immediately. Sees you walking toward the garden in an outfit that’s clearly out of your comfort zone — maybe it’s dark, daring, or streetwear — and he’s pacing before you even speak. “Since when do you dress like this? Did someone say somethin’ to you? Did someone touch you?!” You try to calm him, but he’s already in protective overdrive. “You don’t need to prove anything to anyone. Not with clothes. Not with makeup. Not with nothin’.” He hates it. Not because you don’t look good — you look too good. And that makes him want to bury whoever gave you the idea. Later, when you're curled in his lap in your old clothes, he murmurs: “Yer perfect as you are. Don’t let no one change you. Not even yourself.” He burns the outfit in the garden. You don’t ask him to. He just does it.

Azusa Mukami:

Azusa sees you. Blinks. Tilts his head slowly. “You look… different…” He doesn’t get angry. He gets sad. Because in his mind, a sudden change means you’re unhappy. Or worse — that you don’t feel safe with him anymore. “Do you… want to be… someone else?” You shake your head, but he’s already spiraling. “Did I… do something? Did I hurt you… too much?” He holds your hand in both of his, kneeling at your feet like you’re a goddess trying to leave him. “I like you… just as you are. The soft, sweet… fragile Kianna… that only I get to see.” Even if you insist it was just for fun, he’ll beg you to wear your usual style the next day. And that night, he lays his head in your lap and whispers, “Please don’t leave… not even piece by piece…”

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

He notices immediately. Eyes narrow. His wine glass pauses mid-sip. “You have changed your attire.” It’s not a question. It’s a quiet challenge. You’re wearing something unlike your usual soft, elegant look — maybe something revealing, defiant, or even mundane. His silence is dangerous. “Did someone influence this? Or is this your rebellion?” He approaches, gloved fingers dragging along the hem of your sleeve. “Your image is not yours alone to command. You are a symbol. You are mine.” Carla doesn’t allow disorder. He will not yell. But your wardrobe is reorganized within hours — down to the colors, textures, even your accessories. “A queen does not play dress-up. She ascends.” Still, that night, when you ask why it upset him so much, he gently places your head against his chest and murmurs, “Because you looked like a stranger. And I do not wish to rule a stranger.”

Shin Tsukinami:

“Yo—what the actual hell is that?!” He whips around when you walk in. “You tryin’ to be someone you’re not?” He’s defensive. Not because he doesn’t like it — but because it scares him. You were his innocent little thing. Fragile. Untouched. Reserved. Now? You’re bold. You’re showing skin. You’ve got bite. And that threatens his whole mental ownership of you. He gets possessive fast. Pulls you close, nose to nose. “Who gave you the idea, huh? I bet I can beat it outta them.” When you whisper it was just for fun, he scoffs. But later, when you fall asleep in his hoodie and old soft clothes, he strokes your hair and mutters, “You wanna be new? Fine. But you’re still mine, no matter what skin you wear.” Shin lets you experiment. But only if he’s the one picking out the accessories.

[reijisteacup]

I have a bit of a fluff question idk if you did this yet tho.

How would the diaboys react to an S/O who they forcefully drank their blood from earlier. Walks into their room really tired from the blood loss but to scared that maybe one of the other boys might attack them aswell. And in their head the safest place to rest would be with the guy who had already fed.

Idk if any of this makes sense. So sorry if it doesnt.

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

He hears the door creak and barely lifts his head from his headphones. “Tch… what do you want now?” he mutters lazily — but then he sees you. Pale. Shaky. Eyes glossy. You look like you could pass out. The guilt slams into him like a truck. “…Oi. Come here.” You shuffle in slowly and sit by his bed, whispering “You already fed. I thought… maybe you wouldn’t hurt me again.” He closes his eyes like he’s in pain. And without another word, he pulls you under the blankets, letting you curl against his chest. “I’m sorry…” he whispers once, almost too soft to hear. From that night on, he offers his hoodie and pillow anytime you need a place to sleep. He doesn’t say “I love you” — but he always lets you stay. Even if he leaves his headphones in.

Reiji Sakamaki:

He’s cleaning his glasses when you knock faintly on his door. He opens it with an impatient sigh — but the second he sees your swaying frame and tear-glossed eyes, his tone drops. “You’re unwell.” You nod, eyes low. “I’m just… tired. I thought you wouldn’t feed on me again since you already did today.” For a moment, Reiji can’t speak. He wants to correct you. To tell you not to assume, that you should be stronger, more careful — but… the words don’t come. Instead, he steps aside. “Lie down. My bed is clean.” He brings you tea, vitamins, and painkillers in total silence. When you fall asleep in his sheets, clutching a pillow like a lifeline, he watches you for a long, long time. “I’m a monster. And yet… you still trust me.” The next night, he doesn’t feed at all.

Laito Sakamaki:

He grins when he sees you walk in. “Aw~ Back for more already, Bitch-chan?” But the smile dies the moment you sway on your feet. You clutch the doorframe, whispering, “You… already drank. I just wanted somewhere safe…” Laito stares. His chest feels tight. He stands up slowly and helps you to the bed, not saying a word. He even pulls the sheets up to your chin, hands uncharacteristically tender. You pass out, shivering. He sits beside you, running his fingers through your hair. “Even after I used you… you still thought of me as safety. That’s… cruel, you know?” He doesn’t touch you that night. Doesn’t feed for three days. And when you wake up to him curled up beside you like a cat, eyes open and tired? He whispers, “Don’t leave. I’ll be good this time, okay?”

Kanato Sakamaki:

He was singing to Teddy when you stagger in. At first, he’s furious. “Why are you in my room?! Don’t come crawling back after you cry like a baby when I drink from you!!” But then you whisper, trembling: “I was scared the others would feed too… and you already did. I thought I’d be safe.” Kanato freezes. His lip quivers. He stands perfectly still. Then — ever so gently — he grabs your wrist and leads you to his bed. “You’re mine. Mine to hurt… and mine to protect. Don’t let anyone else touch you, okay?” You fall asleep to him brushing your hair back and whispering lullabies to Teddy. The next time you’re injured, he cries louder than you do. “WHY DIDN’T YOU COME BACK TO ME, HUH?! I’M THE ONLY ONE WHO WON’T HURT YOU!!”

Ayato Sakamaki:

You barely make it to his door before collapsing against the frame. Ayato opens it thinking he’s about to be annoyed — until he catches you mid-fall. “WOAH—O-Oi! Are you okay?! Hey—HEY, answer me!” You blink up at him, exhausted. “You already took blood… I thought I’d be safe here…” Ayato’s heart drops into his stomach. He lifts you like nothing and sets you on his bed, grabbing water and snacks and muttering “Dumb Chichinashi… why would you come to me if you’re scared?!” But he doesn’t yell. He stays close. He even holds your hand while you sleep, squeezing it every few minutes to make sure you're still warm. He spends the next three nights guarding your door like a watchdog, snarling at any brother who comes too close. “She’s mine. And if any of you bastards touch her again, you’ll be drinkin’ your own teeth.”

Subaru Sakamaki:

You collapse right into his arms the moment the door opens. He freaks. “WH-WHAT—HEY! What happened?!” You cling to his hoodie, breath ragged. “I just… didn’t want the others to find me. You already took blood. So I thought I’d be safe.” His heart shatters. He carries you in, hands shaking. Throws his whole blanket on you. Paces like a caged animal. “Damn it. I… I didn’t mean to hurt you this bad. You’re so stupid—why the hell would you come to me?!” But he stays. He holds your hand and kisses your temple and mutters things like “I’m sorry… I’ll make it up to you, I swear.” After that, he demands that everyone asks before feeding. No one touches you again without your permission. Not while Subaru’s breathing.

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

He hears the knock and calls out sharply, “I said not to disturb me—” but his voice cuts off the moment he sees you. Pale. Shaky. Dried blood still on your collar. “Livestock…?” You avoid his eyes. You whisper, “You already fed… I thought I’d be safe here.” His breath stutters. He knows he was rough — meant to punish you, meant to teach you a lesson… but he didn’t expect you to still come to him. Without a word, he guides you into his room and helps you into bed. He doesn’t say “sorry.” He shows it — water on the nightstand, bandages for your neck, cool cloth against your brow. When you finally sleep, curled against his chest, he whispers to the dark: “Even now… you choose me. I don’t deserve it. But I’ll protect that trust. Even if I destroy myself doing it.”

Kou Mukami:

He’s livestreaming when you knock — then stumbles off camera the moment he hears your weak little voice: “Kou… can I stay here tonight?” He opens the door and stares, eyes wide with shock. “Kitten…? What happened?” You wobble, eyes unfocused. “I just… didn’t want anyone else to feed. You already did.” His stomach flips. He knows he drained you too fast earlier, too caught up in the rush. But seeing you like this — vulnerable, scared, still choosing him — it makes his throat close up. He cuts the stream without a second thought and brings you in, sitting on the bed with you bundled in his hoodie. He lets you fall asleep on his lap while stroking your hair. Later, he whispers, “Even when I hurt you… you thought of me as home. I’ll make it up to you. I promise, Kitten. No more pain. Not from me.”

Yuma Mukami:

He’s in the middle of chopping firewood when he hears soft footsteps behind him. “What the hell’re ya doin’ outta bed—?” You sway, and he catches you instinctively. “Shit—! You okay?!” You nod slowly. “You already fed… I figured you wouldn’t come at me again. I was scared someone else would.” Yuma goes dead silent. His arms tighten around you like steel. “...Goddamn. You thought I was the safe one?” He scoops you up bridal style and takes you straight to bed. Piles every blanket on top of you. Makes soup. Forces you to drink water. And when you’re finally drifting off, he leans in close and murmurs, “Yer safe with me now, sprout. Even if I gotta tear those bastards apart to keep it that way.”

Azusa Mukami:

You barely whisper his name as you enter, “Azusa… can I stay here?” He blinks, gently folding a bandage he had been using on himself. “But… I hurt you…” he says, voice full of self-loathing. “I bit you… so deep… and you bled a lot…” You nod. “I know… that’s why I feel safer here. I thought if I stayed… no one else would hurt me tonight.” Azusa’s whole face crumples. He rises, slowly and carefully, and takes your hands. “Then… I’ll protect you… from everyone. Even… from myself.” He lets you rest in his bed, hands shaking as he tucks the blanket under your chin. He kisses your forehead like you’re porcelain. That night, he doesn’t sleep. He watches over you, eyes full of guilt and love. “You chose… the monster who broke you. I’ll spend forever… keeping you safe now.”

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

You enter his chamber like a ghost — and he doesn’t even look up at first. “Do you require something?” he says coldly. “I… didn’t know where else to go,” you mumble. “You already fed. I thought… maybe I’d be safest here.” Carla stills. He sets his wine glass down slowly. Turns toward you. You look destroyed. And you still… chose him. Without a word, he approaches and gently places his cloak around your shoulders. “Lie down. You’ve lost too much blood.” He won’t say he regrets hurting you — but his hands are softer now. His lips, when they press against your temple, are reverent. And when he stands guard by the door all night, sword in hand, it is not out of duty. It is out of silent penance. “You fear pain… yet you came to the one who gave it. I will earn the right to your trust, no matter how long it takes.”

Shin Tsukinami:

You slump against his doorframe and whisper, “Shin…?” He’s lounging shirtless, annoyed at the interruption — until he sees your colorless face and bloodied neck. “…The hell? You look like death warmed over.” You mutter, “You already fed… I thought I’d be safe with you.” Shin stares. You’re scared of his kind. Of his family. Of what happened earlier. But still… you came to him. “Tch. Idiot.” He pulls you inside and helps you into his bed, rolling his eyes like he’s annoyed — but his hands are steady. His touch is gentle. He brings you water. Keeps the lights dim. Sleeps with one arm wrapped around you and his claws out toward the door. No one gets near. “Yeah, I drank your blood. But I’m the one who’ll make damn sure no one else does. You’re mine now. And I don’t share.”

[reijisteacup]

What if the boys had a sacrificial bride that had avoidant attachment issues?

uh oh...

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

He immediately recognizes your pattern — because he’s the same. He sees himself in your distance: the way you fake indifference, pull away when touched too tenderly, or dodge conversations that inch too close to emotional honesty. He doesn’t push. Not at first. But it kills him. You’ll be close for a second, maybe a rare quiet moment when you let your head rest on his shoulder—and then it’s gone. Walls up. Cold tone. And he’ll whisper lazily, “Do you really think I can’t tell you’re scared of loving someone?” He’ll use silence as a mirror. He doesn’t chase. Instead, he lets the weight of his stillness settle on you until you realize you miss his presence. And when you do? He’ll be there — slowly, consistently, unwaveringly. “I’ll just stay here. Until you believe I won’t leave… even when you do.”

Reiji Sakamaki:

This infuriates him. He views relationships as contracts of obedience and order — and your emotional distance is a disruption. He thinks, at first, that you’re being disrespectful. But when he starts seeing the pattern — how you flinch when praised, avoid eye contact during arguments, shut down when overwhelmed — a memory flickers. Of Cordelia. Of the emotional chaos he never understood. “So… you’ve been taught that closeness is dangerous. That needing someone is weakness.” He won’t coddle you. But he will protect you — with rules, structure, and quiet gestures of safety. He’ll notice you hide your vulnerability, and he’ll praise you when you don’t. He leaves notes like “You are permitted to speak your mind. I will listen. I am not your enemy.” He teaches you slowly, with fierce devotion, how to stay when it’s easier to run.

Laito Sakamaki:

He tries to laugh it off. “Aww~ You’re so mean to me, Bitch-chan~ Afraid I’ll break your little heart?” But it hits too close. He knows what it’s like to keep people at arm’s length because they always end up hurting you. And when he sees that in you? It rattles him. He flirts harder at first—testing you. But when you pull away too fast? His smile drops. “You’re like me, huh? Touch makes you flinch. Love feels like danger. That’s why I’m addicted to you.” He becomes serious in private. Gentle. Uncharacteristically patient. He’ll kiss your wrist and say “You don’t have to open your heart all at once. Just give me one crack. I’ll slide in and stay.” It’s terrifying. But he never leaves. Even when you shut down. Especially when you shut down.

Kanato Sakamaki:

At first, he takes it as complete betrayal. How dare you pull away when he needs love? Why won’t you sob in his arms the way he does in yours? Why do you go quiet when he screams for your affection? “Why won’t you cry with me?! Don’t you love me?! ANSWER ME!!” But the more time he spends watching you, the more he understands. He sees the trembling hands under the calm face. The way you soothe him instinctively, even when you’re dissociating. His obsession twists: he becomes gentler. He starts whispering instead of screaming. “You don’t have to be strong around me. I’ll cry for both of us… but please… don’t disappear.” He begins to treat your avoidant patterns like fragile glass — wrapping you in dolls, softness, lullabies. You don’t have to show him your pain. He’ll feel it for you. But if you try to run…? He’ll break the world to bring you home.

Ayato Sakamaki:

He takes it personally. So personally. You dodge his kisses? You avoid eye contact after you laugh together? You sleep with your back to him and pretend it’s just “habit”? He starts spiraling. “Tch, what? You think you’re too good for Ore-sama?” He lashes out, accuses you of playing games — but he doesn’t leave. Never. Eventually he sees the pattern — that your distance is fear, not malice. That you’re afraid of being seen and left. That’s when he gets quiet. “You know I’m not gonna disappear, right?” Ayato becomes loud in love — obnoxious even — because he wants to overpower the silence you carry. He yells “I love you!” until it forces its way into your bones. He pulls you close and won’t let go, even if you’re stiff in his arms. “You can’t scare me off, Chichinashi. So stop trying.”

Subaru Sakamaki:

“Tch… figures. Of course you don’t want to be close to someone like me.” At first, he believes your distance is disgust. That you’re afraid of his rage, his claws, his brokenness. So when you avoid cuddling, or tense up when he says something sweet? He implodes. He punches walls, mutters “I knew it. I’m too much.” But then he sees it — how you shut down when he cries. How you leave the room when things get emotional. Not because you don’t care — but because you care too much and don’t know what to do with it. So he starts knocking before coming near you. Speaking softly. Sleeping on the couch until you whisper, “You can stay.” He’ll never stop trying. Because he knows what it’s like to be scared of love. “I won’t hurt you. Even if you don’t believe it yet. I’ll stay until you do.”

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

He recognizes your pattern immediately. He reads you like a novel he’s already underlined. The stiff shoulders when he gets too close. The deflection when he asks about your past. How you smile and say you’re “fine” every time he catches that glassy look in your eyes. He doesn’t scold you for it. But he won’t let it go. “Livestock. You are not fine. You are surviving.” And that infuriates him — not at you, but at what made you this way. He becomes more structured with you, more protective. He won’t force affection, but he sets consistent expectations — morning tea, afternoon check-ins, nighttime reading beside each other. So when you inevitably try to withdraw, the world he’s built around you stays still. Solid. There. “You fear abandonment… so I will become something permanent. Until your silence becomes safety.”

Kou Mukami:

“Ohhh? Playing hard to get~? No kisses today, M Neko-chan~?” That’s what he says on the surface. Playful, teasing, flirty. But under that mask? He’s aching. Kou thrives on attention, on being wanted, and watching you pull away — no matter how soft his tone — hurts. He starts spiraling: “Is it me? Am I too much? Or do you just not care?” But then… he realizes. When you flinch, it’s not hatred. It’s fear. When you avoid eye contact, it’s not apathy. It’s protection. And Kou gets that. He’s lived it. So he starts putting the games down. Becomes softer with you. Quiet moments with music. Resting your legs on his lap even when you don’t talk. Letting his fans think he’s “busy” just so he can stay close. “You don’t have to perform for me. I already love the version of you that hides.”

Yuma Mukami:

He’s pissed at first. “Oi, why do ya keep runnin’ away every time I get close?!” He thinks you’re being stubborn. That you don’t trust him. He yells. A lot. But the first time he sees you sitting alone in the greenhouse, crying in silence because your heart can’t handle how much you want him but don’t know how to show it? He freezes. Yuma drops everything. He crouches beside you, big hands gentle on your back, voice low and gruff. “...You don’t gotta talk, okay? Just… lemme be near ya.” He starts showing up in little ways: placing warm food in your hands, letting you plant your own corner of the garden, brushing soil from your cheek instead of kissing it. He’ll wait. Even if you never say it. “I don’t care if you never tell me you love me. I’ll know it when you start stayin’.”

Azusa Mukami:

He never takes it personally. He sees the fear in your flinch. The heartbreak in your silence. Azusa has known pain longer than he’s known peace — and in your avoidant walls, he sees a reflection. So he doesn’t push. Doesn’t force. He simply sits with you in silence. Offers his hand, palm scarred, waiting. “You… don’t have to love me today… I’ll wait… until you feel safe.” He brings you soft bandages, warm tea, plushies that look like you. Talks to you about the pain in him, so you feel less alone in yours. When you pull away, he whispers, “I know. It’s hard. I’ll be here… when you come back.” And when you cry? He doesn’t ask why. He just holds your hand until you stop shaking. “You don’t scare me. Even if you leave… I’ll always be… where you can find me.”

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

He is... confused. You’re meant to be his Empress. You were chosen. Why, then, do you flinch from his touch? Look away when he praises you? Shrink into the walls of the palace like you’re just another shadow? He tries logic at first. “You belong to me. You are safe. What is there to fear?” But when he sees the tears you hide behind politeness, the way your voice shakes when you try to thank him for kindness instead of just accepting it — something in him cracks. He softens. Carla begins to speak to you with almost reverent quiet. He stops demanding obedience and starts offering devotion. “I see the pain in your silence. You will not lose your worth by leaning on me.” He starts reading to you at night. Touches only your hand until you reach for more. When you finally collapse into his arms — trembling — he whispers, “Now… you begin to understand. You were never a prisoner. You are my heart.”

Shin Tsukinami:

“Tch. What, you think I’m gonna bite you if you get soft on me?” He takes it like an insult at first. You dodge affection? Pull away when he praises you? He thinks you don’t trust him — and that hurts his pride more than his heart. He snaps. Gets loud. Says something like, “Don’t act like I give a damn anyway!” But later, when he sees you sitting alone, hugging your knees, trying so hard not to cry — he realizes. You’re not rejecting him. You’re scared to need him. So the next time he sees you pulling away, he doesn’t yell. He just steps closer. “You wanna leave? Go ahead. But I’m not lettin’ you pretend I don’t matter. You’re scared. I get it. I’ll still be here when you stop runnin’.” Shin becomes the kind of gentle he swore he’d never be. Just for you. “I’ll wait. Even if it pisses me off. ‘Cause I want you. Not just when it’s easy.”

[reijisteacup]

How would the yandere Diaboys react to their little sister getting used by Karlheinz for his experiments? Like the girl is literally the most innocent and cute thing on earth and she is being treated harshly? 😞 (and she has tasty blood too 😈) Luv your content!!!

Thank youu bby <3

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

He finds out by accident. Walks into a locked wing of the castle because he heard faint whimpers — and he sees you. Bloody. Hooked to a machine. Karlheinz looming over you. He doesn’t scream. He doesn’t speak. He just… freezes. When he finally moves, it's deadly quiet. “You're… experimenting on her?” He’s in front of Karl in an instant, grabbing him by the throat with a speed he’s never shown. The only thing saving Karlheinz is the blood bond — but Shu doesn’t care. He drags you out, swearing under his breath, wrapping you in his coat like you’re sacred. Afterward, no one is allowed near you. You become his. He sleeps next to you every night, playing soft melodies on his violin to lull you to peace. And if Karl tries again? “Try to touch her again… and I’ll forget you’re my father.”

Reiji Sakamaki:

At first, he refuses to believe it. His hand trembles as he reads the notes: Subject shows increased resistance to sedation. Blood purification efficiency at 92%. Sampled directly from heart valve. “...He cut into her chest?” Reiji’s mind fractures like glass. That strict, calculating calm shatters. He storms into Karlheinz’s lab, his coat flying behind him like a phantom. When he sees you strapped down, mumbling his name, his heart collapses. “Little sister… my sweet girl… I’m so sorry.” He burns everything. Every vial. Every note. Every machine. Karlheinz is spared only by Reiji’s desperation to save you. You’re moved to his private chambers, where he personally tends to every wound. From then on, he won’t let you walk alone. Won’t let you bleed. “You are my masterpiece, not his experiment. And I will never… let him soil you again.”

Laito Sakamaki:

He laughs at first—nervous, breathless. “What kind of sick joke is this? Papa? Really?” But the laughter fades the second he sees your terrified eyes. You’re naked under a bloody sheet. He looks like he’s going to throw up. He covers you immediately, pulls you into his arms, and glares at Karlheinz with dead eyes. “You think this is enlightenment? You’re filth. She’s an angel. She’s… innocent.” For once, Laito doesn’t flirt. Doesn’t joke. His voice is ice. After this, you become the center of his twisted affection. He touches you constantly — not in lust, but in obsession. “I’ll protect you, Little Doll~ No one will touch you again… not even God.” He poisons anyone who speaks your name in the wrong tone. Karlheinz? He’ll kill him with a smile.

Kanato Sakamaki:

He walks in humming a lullaby… until he sees you. Strapped to a table. Crying. Bleeding. The sound he makes is inhuman. “FATHER. What are you doing to her?” Karlheinz smiles and explains—but Kanato is already tearing the room apart. Screaming. Ripping wires out of the walls. “You TOUCHED her! You HURT her! HOW DARE YOU?!” He grabs your body like porcelain, rocking you while sobbing violently. Teddy gets soaked in your blood. From then on, you never leave his side. He bathes you, dresses you, sleeps with your head on his lap. Anyone who dares mention what happened gets silenced. He builds a little coffin for the lab itself and sets it on fire. “You’re mine now. Only mine. And if anyone tries to take you again… I’ll bury them alive.”

Ayato Sakamaki:

He catches the scent of your blood down the hall — and he knows something’s wrong. He busts down the lab doors without a second thought and sees you crying, strapped to a surgical slab, needle still in your arm. “WHO THE HELL DID THIS?!” When Karlheinz calmly says, “For the sake of evolution,” Ayato snaps. His claws tear through the room, destroying everything. He tries to kill his own father. “That’s MY little sister! You’re not GOD! You’re not even a FATHER!” He carries your trembling body out like a knight from hell, pressing kisses to your cheeks and growling with guilt. From that moment on, you’re never alone. He sleeps at your feet, watches the door, and panics every time you flinch. “Don’t worry, Chichinashi… Ore-sama’s here now. I’m never lettin’ you get hurt again. Never.”

Subaru Sakamaki:

The moment he sees you bleeding and limp, his heart stops. “N-NO. NO. WHO DID THIS?!” He sees Karl. The room explodes. He grabs you, shaking, cradling you like a broken doll. “WHY DIDN’T YOU CALL ME?! WHY DIDN’T I PROTECT YOU?!” Subaru completely loses himself. His fists punch through walls. He holds your body in a crater of rubble, sobbing. Afterward, he refuses to let anyone else touch you. “I failed once. I’ll never fail again.” He builds you a garden sanctuary away from the others, and guards it like a wolf. Anyone who enters without permission is erased. You whisper “Subaru…” in your sleep and he presses his forehead to yours. “You’re my sister. I won’t let anyone hurt you again. I swear on my blood.”

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

The second he finds out what Karlheinz has done, he loses all composure. His gloves come off. Literally. “How dare you touch what is mine.” He breaks into the lab, rescues you, and leaves destruction in his wake. He takes you into his study, wraps you in blankets, and kisses your hair gently. “I failed you… but I will not make that mistake again.” After that, he becomes your personal caretaker. You sleep in his bed, drink only what he brings you, and anyone who questions it gets one warning: “She is under my protection now. Touch her… and you die.”

Kou Mukami:

When he sees you bruised and bloodied, all the fake smiles vanish. “You… hurt my little sister? My BABY sister?” His rage is cold and cruel. He goes full executioner. Every camera in that lab? Smashed. Every vial? Broken. Karlheinz escapes barely intact. Kou brings you home and spoils you insanely. New clothes. Pillows. Soft foods. He treats you like a fragile porcelain doll. But under the smile is a barely-controlled storm. “Smile for me, princess~ Let’s forget all the pain. And if Daddy comes back… I’ll cut his eyes out.”

Yuma Mukami:

He kicks the doors down screaming your name. The moment he sees your wounds, he falls to his knees, eyes wild. “No… NO. Not my lil’ sprout…!” He punches Karlheinz so hard the wall cracks. He carries you out like a bridal bouquet, trembling, promising “I got ya… I got ya now…” From that day forward, Yuma becomes a full-time bodyguard. No labs. No injections. No tests. You live on his farm and he teaches you how to garden—so you can remember life, not pain. “Yer too sweet for this world, and I’ll beat the hell outta anyone who tries to change that.”

Azusa Mukami:

He walks into the lab and freezes. Your blood is everywhere. You’re begging softly. His blade is in Karlheinz’s shoulder before anyone can blink. “You… hurt her. That’s not… allowed.” Azusa cradles you gently, whispering “It’s okay… I’ll make the pain go away… I’ll take it for you…” He carves your name into his chest that night in vow. From then on, he’s constantly at your side, soothing you, feeding you sweet things, cuddling you in the moonlight. “You were made to be loved… not broken. Let me be your shield…”

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

He is furious. “You defiled my sister… for knowledge?” He storms the lab with his dragons, dragging your broken body out of the rubble. He heals you with his blood, even if it shortens his life. “You are royalty. Not a specimen.” Afterward, Carla locks you away in a golden tower. “You will never see another monster’s blade again. You are sacred.” He annihilates any who approach without blessing. Even if you cry, even if you beg to leave — his answer remains: “You are too precious. And this world is not worthy of you.”

Shin Tsukinami:

“What… the actual… F**?!” * The scream shakes the mansion. His fangs are out. His claws draw blood. He lifts Karlheinz by the throat, furious. He takes you back to his room and wraps you in his coat. “I got you. You’re safe now. I’ll kill him. I SWEAR I WILL.” After this, Shin is unhinged. Possessive. Violent. He won’t let you out of his arms. You’re his baby sister, the only one he actually loves. And he’d rather burn the whole world than see you hurt again. “You’re not going anywhere. You’re mine. And I’ll kill anyone who says otherwise.”

[reijisteacup]

I KNOW THIS IS MY 3RD ASK IN BARELY TWO DAYS BUT I HAVE A REALLY KEWL ASK THAT POPPED UP

What would they do if a sacrificial bride walks in, and she's like 7'2

TALL GIRL REFERENCE

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

looks up… keeps looking… still looking… “…Huh.” He’s not intimidated, just lazy and deeply intrigued. He 100% sees you as a literal goddess. Will call you “my giantess” while draped across your lap like a sleepy housecat. “Guess I’m the little spoon now. Not complaining.” Secretly loves when you pick him up like a ragdoll. Teases you by pretending he’s too small to defend himself—“Oh no, giant woman, what ever will you do with me?”

Reiji Sakamaki:

You throw off his entire sense of structure. “This is… highly irregular.” You're towering over him in heels and lace, and he’s both scandalized and deeply into it. Absolutely refuses to admit he likes the height difference—acts like it’s an inconvenience—but lowkey reads gothic vampire × Amazonian bride smut behind locked doors. Constantly adjusts his glasses to avoid ogling. Will force you to sit during tea ceremonies because he “can’t look up to someone inferior,” but you know he’s into it.

Laito Sakamaki:

“Ara araaa~ Such a big girl…~ Are you here to dominate little ol’ me?” He is THRIVING. Starts making all kinds of height kink jokes—leans against you with his chin on your chest like it’s a built-in pillow. 100% calls you his “giantess goddess” in bed. Wants to see you in towering heels and thigh-highs just to suffer under your power. Will dramatically faint in your arms for attention and sigh like, “Mmm~ So strong. So dangerous. So mine~” Unhinged in the best way.

Kanato Sakamaki:

He looks at you like you’re an angel of death and he's obsessed. “How… unusual. You’re tall enough to carry me to Heaven.” Immediately demands to be carried around like a haunted baby doll. Forces you to sit so he can still put his head in your lap and pretend he’s dominant—but then he asks you to hold him and feed him sweets like you’re his personal tower maid. Lowkey gets jealous if people stare at you in public. “They’re mine. Even if they can crush me.”

Ayato Sakamaki:

“WH-WHAT THE HELL?! Oi, you better not be taller than me, Chichinashi!” Full Napoleon Complex activated. He jumps to reach your face when he kisses you. Tries to act like it’s not a big deal but secretly lives for it. If you ever bench press him just for fun? He malfunctions. Starts calling you “My Slam Dunk Bride” and tries to challenge you to basketball every chance he gets. You carry him bridal-style and he pretends to hate it while blushing like mad. Bonus: always demands piggyback rides.

Subaru Sakamaki:

You walk in and he goes full tomato red. “H-HUH?! T-THE HELL?! ARE YOU A GIANT?!” He is so flustered because he’s usually the “tall scary one” and now you could literally crush him between your thighs and he might cry about it (in a good way). Gets insecure at first, but you gently bending down to kiss his forehead? Game over. His tsundere switches off immediately. Likes it when you ruffle his hair. He won’t admit it, but he feels safest when you pull him into your arms during storms.

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

Brows raise. Adjusts his gloves. “Impressive.” Completely unfazed but secretly intrigued. He sees your size as a challenge—a power to tame. Calls you “my towering Eve” and insists on disciplining you if you ever tease him about the height gap. But if you ever press him to your chest while whispering sweet nothings? His ears turn red. “You will kneel for me eventually, livestock. Don’t get cocky just because I have to look up to you.” (He likes it.)

Kou Mukami:

Screams. “W-WAIT, WHY ARE YOU SO TALL?! YOU’RE LIKE A MODEL ON STILTS!!” He’s both threatened and OBSESSED. Starts doing TikToks of you walking in heels next to him like “Me vs. my tall goddess gf ”. Forces you to do couple cosplay where you’re the sexy knight and he’s the spoiled prince. Loves sitting on your shoulders to get a better stage view. “This is my giant bby <3 she could fold me in half like laundry and I’d say thank you.”

Yuma Mukami:

“…Well damn, Sow. Never thought I’d look up to a bride.” Yuma is INTO IT. Thinks you're the most beautiful force of nature he's ever seen. He’ll literally challenge you to lifting contests. “Bet I can still pin ya down, even if you got legs longer than my corn rows.” Massive flirt. Constantly calling you "Tree Trunk Legs" and "Goddess of the Grain" while trying to lift you bridal style—just to prove he can. But if you do it first? He short-circuits. “Y-Yeah… alright… I could get used to this…”

Azusa Mukami:

“You’re… like a… mountain… of kindness…” He looks up at you with literal sparkles in his eyes. He doesn’t find it strange—he’s just deeply honored you exist. Calls you his “gentle tower” and loves when you bend down and softly kiss his scars. Holds your pinky like it’s sacred. If anyone teases your height, he immediately defends you—even if he has to climb your back to do it. Will beg you to carry him. Whispers, “I feel… safe… even if I’m small…” and cuddles your shoulder like a baby koala.

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

“Curious. A bride of such stature is… unprecedented.” Carla gives divine deity energy, so you being a literal Amazon? He respects that. He circles you once like a predator evaluating prey—but there’s a glint in his eye. He likes this. Says something cryptic like, “The heavens sent me a partner worthy of standing beside me.” He’ll insist you kneel during formal ceremonies, but not from disrespect—he wants to look you in the eyes when he claims you. And if you tease him? He'll smirk and say, “Height is meaningless… when you're already beneath me.”

Shin Tsukinami:

“W-What the f—?! You're HUGE?! What are you, a tree?!” At first, Shin tries to clown you to hide how flustered he is. He swears he’s not into it but immediately picks fights with anyone who stares at your legs. Calls you “Kaiju-chan” as a joke but secretly loves when you sit on his lap and dwarf him. Height difference? It's his villain origin. You try to ruffle his hair? He swats you. But kiss his forehead while smiling sweetly and he turns feral. “You think you can just dominate me ‘cause you’re tall?! ...Do it again.”

[reijisteacup]

Hi!! Hope ur having a good day!! I saw ur requests were open and i was wondering,, how would the diaboys react to their S/O dying in their arms from a vampire hunter attack right before their wedding day?

Sakamaki's

Shu Sakamaki:

At first, he doesn’t move. Doesn’t even blink. He’s holding you in his arms, your once-warm skin rapidly cooling as blood pools beneath you. The scent should intoxicate him, but all he can do is stare at your face, slack and lifeless. “No... you idiot... why’d you go and leave me now, huh?” His voice cracks, rare and ragged. Shu is still and quiet—but the fire in his soul has extinguished. He drags your body somewhere hidden, far from the castle and the ceremony, and refuses to return. He doesn't feed. Doesn’t sleep. He just exists. Even when the others try to reach out, he remains unreachable, trapped in an endless loop of memories. He plays your favorite lullabies on his violin until the strings snap from overuse—he’ll never love again, because you were the only one worth waking up for.

Reiji Sakamaki:

It happens so fast that he doesn't even realize he's screaming. His polished, controlled mask shatters as he cradles your body, his gloves soaked in your blood. “This wasn’t part of the plan. We were to be married. We had a future—I was supposed to protect you!” He blames himself mercilessly. No potion or alchemical remedy can save you now, and that helplessness drives him to the brink. Reiji becomes obsessed with revenge, hunting down every last vampire hunter involved, meticulously and sadistically. He then builds a sealed chamber in the mansion, preserving your body with alchemy—perfect, untouchable, and dressed in your wedding attire. No one is allowed in. Not even his brothers. Reiji continues to “speak” with you in private, consulting your corpse as though you were still alive—because if he accepts your death, he’ll truly break.

Laito Sakamaki:

He laughs. It’s soft, high-pitched… and terrifying. “Ah~ Bitch-chan, you’re such a tease… don’t joke like that… ha…haha…” But when you don’t respond—when your blood soaks into his clothes and your eyes glaze over—his laughter turns into ragged gasps. “No, no, no, no… not now… not today!” The one person who saw through his cruelty. Who loved him without games. Laito spirals into a state of manic denial. He kisses your lips, your hands, your eyelids, repeating “You said you’d marry me. You said we’d be together forever.” He becomes eerily calm over time—too calm. He starts dressing strangers in your style, luring them into playing the role of “his bride,” but none are quite right. No one ever is. Deep down, he knows you’re gone. But to admit it would mean he’s unlovable—and he can’t bear that truth. Not again.

Kanato Sakamaki:

Kanato collapses into hysteria instantly. His screams are bloodcurdling, wild and animalistic. “No, no, NO! I didn’t say you could leave me!!” He tears at his own hair, smears your blood on his face like paint, wailing as he begs you to wake up. He tries to feed you his blood, force it down your throat—but it’s too late. In his madness, he believes you’re only sleeping. So, like his mother, he preserves your body in a lavish coffin, decorated with wedding roses and lavender. He keeps your wedding dress, places your ring on your finger, and has “tea parties” with your corpse, acting as though the wedding simply had to be… postponed. Anyone who dares mention your death is immediately met with violent shrieks or murderous glares. Kanato’s mind fractures permanently—he refuses to believe you ever died.

Ayato Sakamaki:

“Chichinashi…? Oi, don’t mess with me right now—this isn’t funny…!” At first, Ayato tries to convince himself you’re faking. He shakes you. Cries your name. Shouts that he’s “the best,” that he’s unbeatable—so why couldn’t he save you? It hits him like a freight train. His screams echo for miles, filled with feral rage and desperation. When your heartbeat finally stops, something inside him dies too. Ayato goes berserk. No one—not even his brothers—can calm him as he slaughters the vampire hunters responsible. He destroys entire organizations, driven by blind rage and grief. Afterward, he isolates himself in your shared room, hoarding your things, refusing to wash away your scent from his clothes. He sleeps with your ring around his neck, muttering your name like a prayer—because he was supposed to be your hero. And he failed.

Subaru Sakamaki:

Time freezes. All the strength in his body vanishes as he falls to his knees with you in his arms. “Please don’t go… please, please… I’ll give you my blood, I’ll do anything—just stay with me…!” His voice cracks, hoarse and trembling. He holds your lifeless hand against his chest, where his heart is breaking wide open. Subaru weeps openly, for hours, days maybe. He blames himself—“If I had been stronger, if I hadn’t hesitated…” The ground around the wedding site is scorched from his uncontrollable power surge, a crater of grief and rage. Once the vampire hunters are dead, he disappears. No one sees him for years. When he finally returns, he’s no longer the boy you knew. Quiet. Hollow. He visits your grave every day, speaking to the wind as if it still carries your voice. You were his hope. And now, he walks the world alone.

Mukami's

Ruki Mukami:

He was supposed to walk you down the aisle. He had your vows memorized. You were everything to him — his Eve, his salvation. When the attack strikes and your blood begins to spill, Ruki doesn’t even hesitate — he kills the vampire hunter in a flash. But then… he looks down and realizes he was too late. “Livestock…? No. No, you can’t do this to me.” His voice trembles as he holds you, pressing your wound, whispering commands like you’re still alive. “Stay awake. Breathe. I order you.” But his authority means nothing to death. Ruki becomes a ghost of himself after that. Stoic. Silent. His books gather dust. He visits your grave dressed in black and blue velvet, placing the vows you wrote on your tombstone. The wedding rings? Still in his pocket. Worn every day, like a chain. “If there is an afterlife… I will find you. And we will finish our ceremony.”

Kou Mukami:

Your blood gets on his white suit. Your body collapses into his arms with a soft thud. Kou laughs—high, broken, hysterical. “Ahaha~ Babe, quit playing. You're not allowed to die before the cameras even roll.” But the blood is real. Too real. And the light is already fading from your eyes. He presses his forehead to yours, trembling. “I told you… we were going to be stars together… what am I without you?” Kou screams until his voice is gone. He vanishes from the media, from society, from his brothers. No one sees him again for years. When he reemerges, it’s on stage—singing a love song you wrote together. He wears your ring on a chain and tattoos the date of your wedding-that-never-was over his heart. He talks to your spirit every night, his only comfort being the thought that you're watching, smiling, somewhere.

Yuma Mukami:

Yuma’s screams shake the entire forest. “OI! STAY WITH ME! YA HEAR ME?!” He’s cradling you, clutching your body like you’ll disappear into the soil. Blood spills over his calloused hands and he tries everything—ripping off pieces of his clothes to stop the bleeding, begging you not to leave him. “We were gonna grow somethin’ together… a whole life. You promised me, dammit!!” He’s sobbing uncontrollably, dirt on his face, your blood on his lips from trying to give you his healing blood. When you die in his arms, he breaks. He builds a flower field just for you—planting every bloom you loved. That’s where he stays, day and night. No more violence. No more war. Just him, your memory, and a silent ring box he never got to open. “The soil’s too cold without ya… everything’s withered now…”

Azusa Mukami:

He holds your hand even after your pulse fades. There’s no screaming. No anger. Just silence… and shaking. “You… were warm… before… why not… now…?” Azusa doesn’t understand. He gently traces your lips, your cheek, your eyes, as if trying to memorize your face before it vanishes. He whispers how proud he was to be chosen by you. That he never thought someone so kind could ever love someone so “broken.” And now, without you, he is… undone. He sews your wedding dress himself, even though you’re gone. Dresses your body. Sits by your side in the candlelit chapel he built for your wedding, now a tomb. He begins to carve your name into his skin in swirling, delicate patterns—an eternal vow, etched in blood. “You were… the only pain… I wanted forever…”

Tsukinami's

Carla Tsukinami:

Carla’s hands tremble for the first time in centuries. “How... unsightly,” he murmurs as he holds you close, cradling you like the rarest of treasures. Your blood stains his regal wedding robes. He looks down at the ruin, stunned. “They dare take you from me…? You were to be Empress…” His rage ignites the skies—storms, plague, fire. He wipes your face clean of blood, his claws trembling as he cups your cheek. He kisses your cold lips and doesn’t cry—he’s beyond tears. Instead, he creates a mausoleum in your name, grander than any temple. No one may enter it but him. He stores your soul in a vessel, refusing to let it move on. “If I must burn the heavens to see you smile again… then so be it. Death will not keep you from me.” The universe itself will bend—or break—for his grief.

Shin Tsukinami:

Shin shatters completely. No theatrics. No noble rage. Just primal agony. “Hey… hey, no. No. You’re not leaving me. I won, dammit—I got you! You’re mine!” His claws are slick with blood from tearing through every hunter that touched you, but it wasn’t enough. He holds you so tightly your body goes limp in his arms. He sobs into your neck, howling like a beast, rocking back and forth. “You promised me eternity. You said you’d always stay.” He tries to turn you into a Founding Blood with a desperate bite, but it’s too late. In his grief, he attacks anyone who tries to comfort him. He becomes king of a ruined, desolate throne. And he wears your wedding ring on a chain of teeth from the hunters who took you. No one is allowed to speak your name—except him. Over and over, he whispers it in the dark.

[reijisteacup]

@yuma-mukami-garden-god love your work pookie💕

ALL THINGS REIJI!

Headcannons:

Reiji x witch s/o

Reiji NSFW alphabet

Oneshots:

A thorn in the mind (NSFW) s/o who is exactly like Shuu with a listless attitude and only find peace rotting on a couch but has incredible potential  that shines once in a blue moon, that Reiji notices and can't help but admire but also loathes that he's invested in somone who's against all his standards. Basically a lazy intelligent s/o that stresses and intrigues Reiji.

Control theory - a thorn in the mind part two (NSFW)

Gravity of composure (NSFW) (kind and warm) gf, the "problem" is that she has big breasts

gravity of composure pt 2: pressure points (NSFW)

Discipline (NSFW) Reiji Sakamaki x Reader (NSFW, Brat Taming, Bondage

Glass Masks (NSFW) s/o that is responsible and mature, basically a mirror of him, who was parentified at a young age and never truly got to be a kid to get to know themselves as a person

Wild whispers (NSFW) artistic wild s/o she writes poetry and paint sand sings and dances and writes, she has a vivid imagination and can spin stories out of nothing

Perfectly obedient (NSFW) Reiji Sakamaki x Female Reader (Dom/sub, degradation, praise kink, light bondage, aftercare

Porcelain and fire Reiji Sakamaki x Sweet MILF!Reader

Tempting Order Reiji Sakamaki x Bold, Lustful Reader NSFW

Candy and Discipline Dom!Reiji, spanking, light bondage, power imbalance, dumbification kink, breeding kink, possessiveness, praise + degradation, lace and heels kink, emotional denial

The Placebo affect

A* student/ A+ student jealous reiji doesnt like being second in the class, his temper flares when you beat him on a test with perfect scores.

the lab rats reversal Sub!Reiji x Dom!Reader. you put reiji in his place, the tables have turned

Art:

Reiji Shower selfie

Reiji Christmas pic

Other:

[reijisteacup]

So happy your back queen 🫶🏻

💕💕💕back like i never left but ill start doing asks soon just putting some pieces together thank you all for the lovee 🥹🥹

[reijisteacup]

im drooling..

DIABOLIK LOVERS MORE, BLOOD Official Visual Fanbook Short Story: Sakamaki Reiji VS Mukami Ruki

Source: Diabolik Lovers More, Blood Official Visual Fanbook

Release date: 2013

Disclaimer: Both sides portray the same story, but from a different perspective. The first story is written from Reiji’s POV, while the second portrays the events from Ruki’s POV.

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