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karlheinz-sama · 5 months

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Reiji - House of Chanel

Inherently, I think this went well especially with Chanel being such a traditional fashion house but also with its very feminine undertones. In comparison to some of the others, calling Chanel Reiji’s brand was more symbolic than realistic but I’ll explain.

Chanel in all its years since 1910’s has the same iconic look, the tweed structured suits, and the armoured corset dresses with delicate but impactful embellishments. It makes sense for Reji, he has this blunt yet sophisticated personality which physically manifests in his clothes; always well put together, tailored and steamed.

His suits may change but they maintain the same composition and colour palette, to the untrained eye they don’t look different but if you look closely he pays a lot of attention to what he wears.

He’s aware even as a vampire he still has the face of an 18 year old boy, there’s still that youthfulness present in his face, he makes up for it by wearing glasses he doesn’t really need but they highlight the aristocratic cutting of his face - with his sharp upturned nose, and bright red eyes.

He doesn't have his mother’s curls or his father’s pin straight hair but rather a wavy touch to his locks, he knows how it makes him look when it’s down, younger, softer …gentle and that’s just despicable! So he carefully styles his hair with mousse slicking it back, making him look more stern.

Reiji is also a lot more sensitive ( he’s a fussy, whiny little rich brat), so he can’t stand pungent smells ( blood, guts, drugs), that doesn’t mean he makes excuses to lose his composer so he has this strong cologne that is like sandalwood and kind of fruity? Like winter berries and tea leaves or something no one expected it to smell so good but he makes it work. Not to mention his hygiene is always top tier, so he has this freshly washed cotton and minty undertone.

So that's his main style right? So I was in between Dior and Chanel - and Chanel won of course

Mainly I mentioned before Chanel has more feminine undertones which I think expands well with Reiji’s complex relation with his brothers; whilst the misogynistic response to his trauma is still present he almost takes on a maternal role towards his family as much of the fandom has noticed - the reasons as why he does this is quite ironic actually. In his entirety, the persona of someone being capable is important for him, if he cannot be successful in maintaining - not only his family's name and reputation through the dictatorship of his brothers - how he holds himself in public how does he expect to be King?

Yet, all the care and attention to detail he gives is almost seen as motherly. The sheer unseriousness of it is not lost on me, even with all the rampant comments on the inferiority of women within the Sakamaki Home, the most well-adjusted and competent man is seen as feminine.

In other readings of Reiji though his feminine undertones are more purposeful, they come from the fact that him and Shu are perpendicular to one another because of Shu’s immense strength being seen as this "laid back protector archetype" as intrinsically masculine so Reiji’s more mentally vulnerable, cunning, shrewd approach is seen as more feminine ;dissect that how you will. My favourite though is Reiji picking up on etiquette by copying his mother who was a figurehead for women in the vampiric society.

Also reflected in Coco Chanel who is like, not a nice woman but she did have her moments - a cause for much scandal was her pioneering for trousers and women's athletic wear believe it or not, she was a big equestrian ( is that not the most Reiji sport ever?) and encouraged women to wear equestrian kits.

I think this also goes really well with his character in terms of politics, the synonymous nature of being a traditionalist yet paving the way is a part of Reji. He very strongly believes in the House of Sakamaki and what it stands for but he also like his father wishes to further vampiric society from it’s barbarism; in some ways he is a cultural snob but in others he’s quite attentive to the the silver lining that maintains modernism and the old ways.

The House of Channel also does this; it has always had its roots cemented in the old ways of aristocratic luxury items, but unlike many other fashion houses it does try to adapt to the changing times sometimes successfully, others not so successfully.

On a less serious note, in general I think it suits his aesthetic as well; as I’ve mentioned the iconic Chanel suits, but also the Corsets? Like Reiji is a big corset man I don’t care what anyone says, the timeless figure of archive Chanel pieces, the monotone colour scheme of darker colours. Moreover, even the chic pieces take inspiration from old money outfits: the arranged tulle of the Victorian era, the heavy contrast, the heavy gold pieces and brooches.

In comparison to Reiji’s fashion, with his fitted suits and tiny waist with the chain of his watch fob, as well as heavy contrast colours: blacks, reds, whites and navy’s.

Also the chunky jewellery makes sense in my head, it’s like masterfully placed so it doesn’t overwhelm him but I think the jewellery Reiji has includes: obviously the different chains for his antique watch, but also chunky rings seem more his thing than thin ones especially ones with carefully placed family jewels (rubies, emerald's, obsidians - as I said: snob) , this would do for more traditional attire too.

His outfits in the demon world definitely include brooches, and chains and pendants to embellish his outfit, eye makeup isn’t a big thing for him because it’s so fussy but he would definitely do darker eye makeup to bring out his eyes. He’s quite theatrical, and definitely plays into the ashy white vampire skin ( this is the skin of a killer Bella).

Overall, I refuse to believe he does casual clothing- like Reiji in sweats ( esp the juicy couture ones ) is a horrendous image. So yeah Reiji is a Chanel girl!

Also I can’t believe I completely forgot this but in the beginning Coco Chanel was overlooked by the media, in terms of her designs in the beginning of career because of a little brand called Polo…owned by Ralph Lauren that was also making athletic wear but also quite good friends with Coco Chanel

It’s almost like A certain someone who I said represented Ralph Lauren (Shu) overshadowing Chanel at first before she split off to make her own name.

#dl #diabolik lovers headcanons #diabolik lovers #diaboys #diahell #yui komori #sakamaki brothers #the boys as brands #shu sakamaki #reiji sakamaki #ayato sakamaki #laito sakamaki #kanato sakamaki #dl moodboards #diabolik lovers moodboards #if anyone mentions typos i'll leave on a hiatus twice as long

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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I’m very busy with school rn so unfortunately I couldn’t make anything new for Laito for his birthday plus the other two so here’s a drawing of all three of them in my own ✨style ✨

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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Would u rape a little girl? If u would, ur horrible.

...

It's like y'all think the rules are covered in a invisibility cloak, this is why shop stays closed 🔒

#nahhh #cuz i was cleaning out my ask box yeah #spring cleaning and that #whats thins #bro has audacity #diabolik lovers #diahell

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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devyn @ karl at least a few times a week

#he deserves it

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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Hey fellow Beatrix stan~💋 Was thinking about how Beatrix does not have a title like “the demon king’s daughter” or “the white rose”. If she had a title, what do you think it would be?

Let me die, let me drown, lay my bones in the ground

I will still come around when the time for sleep is through

Over hill, over dale, through the valley and vale

Do not weep, do not wail, I am coming home to you

AHHH hello!! I love fellow Beatrix stans, I literally think about her 24/7. Thank you so much for this ask. It brings me so much joy to be able to talk about her and put down in writing the various ideas I have about her, even though it is very late I hope you’ll enjoy it!

Personally, I feel as though Beatrix has been an enigma throughout the short glimpses we got of her.

Especially as a vampire who has such a long history, most of these are simply theoretical based on what limited information there is about her. If that makes sense?

- Ice Princess

- Queen of Hearts

- Plain Woman

Ice Princess is probably the first one that came to mind with her, I think her impassive exterior is one formed over a long period.

From her actions, she has this callous care for the people around her that I think came from being one of those quiet children that meant well but stayed silent unsure of when they were allowed to speak, so she stayed content in not having to stand in the limelight. So she was probably someone quite introverted, hence when it came to being put out like a puppet her flight or fight response literally caused her to … freeze.

As far as I’ve understood from the way she treats her sons, she almost has an avoidant personality, many people do this by dissociation or simply ignoring things that will complicate their situation at hand, the worst part is it’s never on purpose and they feel guilt but it’s what they believe is for the best.

By choosing not to respond or give in to bait, and never being able to gain the courage to leave her mental castle, in a way she traps herself in her own tower from others because of something that occurs in her life that is so violent, unpredictable, something so out of her control.

It is the catalyst for her mask, like most children raised in these conditions they often find comfort in these abusive situations as it’s something familiar to them, and because her most frequent response became to avoid as much conflict as she could; the persona she now exudes is hardened, cold-blooded, and someone who needs control. Someone that puts priority and duty first not out of obligation or responsibility but as a survival tactic.

Which is my explanation for the ‘ice’ bit.

The princess bit is what I think is a bit more obvious, in comparison to Cordelia who is of viboran and first blood descent which makes her so important as a foreign bride of another powerful - if not equally powerful - clan.

Or Christa who is second or third? cousins with Karl which clearly solidifies her lineage as the blood of the imperial monarch of vampires.

Beatrix would come from nobility, partially as someone who would need solid legitimacy and also because it puts a balance to powers within the court because Cordelia strengthens the power of foreign ministers. Christa reinforced the power of royalists within the court the nobles would be neglected.

Within the peerage of nobility, the highest are the Dukes, usually 2 or more within every empire to restrict the power of the royal family, this is why many of their titles are also Prince or Princess before they inherit their duchy’s, or Your Highness.

Not to be confused with royal titles which are Your Royal Highness, otherwise, you might just be tried for treason and killed.

Again because the main responsibility of ducal families is to limit royal power, hence their families are kept separate. No marriages.

Normally the second most important rank in the peerage - the Marquises - would marry into the Royal Family.

So if there were a need for revolt it wouldn’t be cousin vs cousin or brother vs sister as coups are led by the Ducal Families so whoever wins has to execute all family members on either side and that would simply be crude.

Beatrix was an exception however and as a Ducal Princess the only one relevant enough to challenge the rights of the other wives.

So came the title ‘ Ice Princess’ in her younger years

Queen of Hearts is something I feel occurred once she became more established within her role.

I imagine it was a title of jest at first, where in the years after her marriage Cordelia spent her time throwing lavish balls and travelling the country from noble family to family under the guise of forming connections and spreading patronage; Beatrix was the polar opposite.

She spends long hours confined within her palace sorting through documents, attending royal ceremonies, meeting with officials, dignitaries and ambassadors. She looks through contracts and complaints within constituencies. As most would expect, such thorough combing through of the parliament and court led to quite a lot of lords and influential people being stripped of power, exiled, or executed.

Hence the trail of rolling heads at her feet led to the title ‘ Queen of Hearts.

However, near the end of crimson and amber leaves that once decorated the demon world, comes a new joy. His royal highness, crown prince Shu who is the firstborn of Karlheinz and Beatrix Sakamaki; it’s such a joyous occasion even the demon world’s winter couldn’t damper the hopeful festivities in hopes that he’d make it through the winter.

And he did.

Thus with his birth, and the first obstacle overcome with the resilience of a righteous ruler emerges a new Beatrix from her cocoon. Most are stunned at the frequency, they see her look content if not joyous in the presence of her little sun; she takes him out on parades around the nation and far travels.

Soon disperse the rumours of the plain, bookish woman who is their queen, for who better represents vampiric values than Beatrix. Someone who puts her family and duty first and frivolous activities second, never faltering in her politeness and gracefulness not to mention her striking looks that their prince has inherited. Vividly displaying power and commandeering those around her, they soon grow proud to have someone like her as Queen.

Especially with the work she puts into improving the social, economic and political situation within the country; her hard work evident in the new improved infrastructure, the peace treaties developed, so that some day her son shouldn’t have to lead armies like her husband once has.

So came a new meaning to Queen of Hearts, it wasn’t often someone became monarch and deserved their title.

It was to the extent even Karlheinz was forced to change inheritance laws, for so long only divorced or widowed women could own titles, but in the beginning of spring when more exciting news of her being pregnant again spread ‘The Act of Succession’ was passed, that if a husband were to pass his wife/mother of his eldest child shall take his title till his eldest child (not son) is of age unless specifically passed to another in his will.

It was enough to start outcries, and debates but in the end no one could deny faults within Beatrix as their ruler, and even if they never became regent monarch they happily let her rule their hearts.

Plain Woman had to be the most vicious of the nicknames Beatrix had gained in her time, for what did someone with such pure intentions know of the mental games that would exhaust her soul in the next century.

Obviously Beatrix was beautiful, but in the twisted comparison to the other wives not even the strongest mental fortitudes could resist it's slow decay.

Cordelia with her exotic features, enchanting lilt from her accent, and seductiveness that poured from the cells that made her or even Christa with her innocent pretty features, oh she was as pretty as the moon itself, with her illustrious silver strands and blood-wine eyes.

In comparison, Beatrix often wondered in the colder afternoons, when she would sit alone for hours on end her tea long cold, staring at her ink stained hands, knobbly and ugly, her straw like hair heavy, and her dull goulish skin in the reflection all she can wonder why was this the one truth Cordelia had to utter in all of her lies.

#diabolik lovers #diahell #shu sakamaki #lore #my wife u guys #beatrix headcanons #cordelia sakamaki #christa sakamaki #karlheinz #sakamaki beatrix #the og cast #dl headcanons #diabolik lovers headcanon #asks #my ask

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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If you fail to plan, you plan to fail.

No one wanted to play with me as a little kid, so I've been scheming like a criminal ever since - to make them love me and make it seem effortless.

I'm only cryptic and Machiavellian because I care...

Beatrix Sakamaki hcs

Beatrix is handsome.

She takes in nearly every way after her father with her striking gunmetal blue eyes, her strong jaw, and her height.

Those dreamers’ eyes were the softest shades of blue circling one another, like the hypnosis of cerulean.

They were framed by long caramel blonde lashes. She had deep-set eyes, one would think they were unfocused and lethargic if not for her rehearsed icy glares shades of brandished steel striking through the blue.

Not to mention their shared standoffish demeanour, however, her father is chased and admired as the steadfast and mysterious Duke of Calabria. She is the self-centred, ice princess who thinks she is better than others.

How strange is that?

Not to mention her monstrous fangs, it was the talk of society, an abnormality. Most vampiric women had lethal fangs but they were long, thin, and elegantly curled in.

Beatrix inherited her war hero father’s large fangs that would slice the flesh of her lips as a child if she wasn’t careful, they were thick and long, glistening with paralysing venom, one wrong move and she could rip one’s throat clean out. It was commanding and they were a clear symbol of an apex predator.

Some find it alluring as there are very few records of women having such ferocious teeth, some find it insulting, a ducal princess having such a feature is vulgar and unladylike.

Others are tempted to know how it feels, after all, vampires experience another’s bite under 2 conditions. When they’re locked in battle or a lover’s embrace. As a way of signifying belonging to another or dominance of the fiercer vampire, even among men such a fearsome trait was rare.

Her height was another factor that stood out; vampires were no dainty creatures, reaching up to 6’8 or 7' 0, but very few women, especially those of the aristocracy, were over 5 '11. Whereas Beatrix reached 6’3, dwarfing her brothers. Yet even as she stood out, heads turning to her approach, very little had seen hesitance in her footfalls.

Everything about her is purposeful.

The person you stare at in envy because she looks like a creation of Pygmalion comes alive. So utterly fantastic to look at with her fluid motions, and sharp angular features carved of marble creating a creature that invokes a sense of inferiority.

Do not be mistaken these circumstances do not mean she lacked the feminine allure, her mother Adelaide was infamous throughout high society for her beauty, to the extent many would whisper she had the blood of fæ. It was evident if the rumoured blood of fæ did exist, Beatrix had inherited it.

But she is sensible and self-deprecating, with a timid air around her, speaking when spoken to, centring herself as a wallflower.

With her mother’s flaxen blonde hair, with thick curls that glistened like Apollo’s. It was radiant, tousled naturally just so, curling around her pale face almost creating a halo-like barrier separating the veil of reality and the ethereal.

Her face was pale like milk, unblemished, with no unsightly blotchy flush, sheen like crushed pearls, a youthful inquisition imprinted upon such a face that it would not fade even as the years wore at her;. a philosophical beauty if one was ever made. The mathematicians would be driven mad by the perfect proportions of such a face.

The golden ratio as they said.

Aside from a triangle of moles on the side of her forehead. With dark arching brows and adorably feminine lips, no matter how hard she tried her poker face, they were set in a pout, a pale peach-pink that complimented her wintertime shades.

Her hands are thin and nimble from long hours of perfecting her letters for her household, they are pronounced at her knuckles, with rosy nails always kept small and tidy. The constellations of needle pricks along her arms were covered in the kingdom’s finest lace.

The face of regrets, she had this intense aura with her long straight nose that she would observe you from as well as her slender neck and collarbones like that of a swan, decorated by precious gems.

Women gripping their sanity when she speaks to them, looking down at them, her eyebrow arched and her lips pulled into this smirk, an amused yet indecipherable face, smarter, stronger, more chivalrous than their pathetic fiancés. Countless handkerchiefs dropped just to hold her attention, foolish excuses of tired legs as they occupy her table at banquets, brought along to dinner parties with picture-perfect poise as they take hidden glances at this dreamlike entity.

Her most appealing feature (to a man at least - to most her existence itself so paradoxical you could not look away) would be her legs, she had a dancer's poise. Her slender figure curved into wide-set hips, and strong legs with taut muscles.

To her it's all just a burden, her slim pear silhouette just means her corset has to be tighter to emphasise it.

All in all, she looked like the idealistic vampiric woman, with her inscrutable expression, practised politeness, and gentle voice with the sophistication that the affluent lorded over.

Her voice is quite a nasty thing, it’s quiet, throaty, and feminine. It’s commanding, a declaration of someone so obviously of the upper echelon, with her mixed accents of the knowledge of more languages - dead or alive- than one could even name.

It made you feel centred when she talked to you, concentrating only on you, her lips moving inpatient syllables, the attention was flustering, but it was flattering.

But when she smiled? Those rare unpractised uncertain smiles that came with the hesitance of one who wasn't used to joy? She was the most stunning woman in the eyes of the beholder.

She looked her best in her bruised colours. They complimented her golden blonde locks as they fell against bodices of the shades of twilight. Always neatly tied out of her face, even such untameable hair was placed with the purpose to enhance her face.

At her debutante, it was for the sake of her family flaunting their newest offer for the marriage market, or to showcase her dress from the seamstress sponsored by her family, or her earrings from her family's diamond mines.

A perfect political piece. One that raked in just the right amount of attraction without shoving herself out like a harlot, her audience’s shallow curiosity that could never uncover her swallowed secrets pushed down to the bottom of her stomach allowing her to put duty first, such a well-rehearsed puppet it was no wonder no one had ever cracked past her facade.

And I could recite about that beauty of hers for many more pages, but there lay such charm in her sardonic wit that I'd truly be doing her an injustice with just flattered vanity of her physical appearance.

When the water washes away the dark liner, power and rogue blush it reveals tired eyes tinged with lilacs from sleepless nights pouring attention over old, cracking books, possessed by a mind with far more ideas than her body could ever contain.

Her conversations with Mr Moon and the ceiling were never-ending, feet pacing back and forth, curls tugged in frustration, a pathetic figure curled in the warm water of the tub during the witching hour. Her matted hair is wet as she seeks warmth; a cigarette lit between her lips, already the third one. Evident by the other buds in the ashtray yet it is only a prelude to all the other substances she will smoke before attempting to bear with her stifling family at breakfast where her brother’s hateful stares and her father’s refusal to sit at the same table will erase her appetite so she fills herself with the dizzying smoke in preparation.

Rather than the princess in the glasshouses, she is the glasshouse.

Even though she is effortlessly beautiful, she is an absolute mess if left to her own accords.

Her hair was tossed together in a ridiculous excuse of an updo framing her face in the privacy of her attic regardless of whether it was wet or knotted, all alone slouched over the library chairs, hands turning pages of journals that should be falling apart.

Her tongue slips past her fangs, a teasing pink, as she concentrates—chapped lips and a dry throat, a hunger so desperate to fill the void.

So focused on the past not wanting to live in the present.

She spends her days cooped in the West Wing’s library long abandoned since Adelaide’s death, skipping the family dinner times and seeking refuge in a dusty salon sipping soup from her maids tin can, she blocks out the scornful looks - stealing the tiniest amounts of power hidden in her brother’s waistcoat, her sharp accent slurred into something softer and more compassionate - almost human on her fall from divinity.

Cautiously, weaving lies to hide the large secrets in her larger mansion.

Familiar with the dark attic where long hours are spent, the rusted phonogram has been playing the same tunes since she was a child. Long limbs glistened with sweat, stretching and bending. Twirling and twisting, the music slithering into her bones, guided by pure instinct and primal need to continue this solo piece for hours on end, surpassing perfection till her bloody feet, blue and black now dyed bloody red, had created her masterpiece on the floor.

At her core she was a dancer first, a slave to the muses, discarding all to glide in a castle of salt and sand made from soft notes to the tempestuous thundering of instruments. Only broken feet to prove it.

Yet she was sharper than she ever let on, books tucked under her arm snuck into her room, jam stains smeared on them as she carelessly turned pages, folded her pages as her attention is dragged away to another, ink-stained hands noting her discoveries cramming pages that had been filled when no other journals were found and she filled notebooks away with her thoughts only returning to write more about her mundane life, the lines squeezed with the pressure of recording her.

An attempt to immortalise herself, to prove her existence, to stop herself from becoming a nobody that nobody will remember.

They were stacked alongside the walls, making her protective fortress of loneliness, crates of chalk used up as she wrote up equations and erased them upon her walls, spewing the voices in her head across them.

Her inquisition continues. What was the point in starting something if she couldn’t see it through?

She was no lady, not here at least, they could herald her as their porcelain puppet out there but here. In the drab rooms, just past the insect-bitten velvet curtains, the light shone on a little dirty diamond. Unfortunately, her walls had ears.

Jars of stored specimens, dirt so deep under her nails from the dusks and dawns when her silent steps discovered what lay beyond her gilded castle, but her excuses were flimsy for all her intelligence the language of people came weak.

Her brothers raided her rooms of adventure, smashing bottles, tearing and burning pages of long nights, the tiniest mistakes led to unimaginable consequences.

Accusations hurled, the scorn and misplaced anger toppled its boiling cauldron.

God forbid anyone heard her pleas, her father who had long forsaken her too burdened with the sight of his wife’s killer. Her phonogram was in so many pieces, that even her skilled fingers rearranging the coils and metal pieces could not resurrect it.

So she escaped, for more and more days, the hours stretched until she escaped from her tower. Disguises and lies freely flowed and she perfected her art, but all her achievements outside her snowglobe led to harsher winters within.

Unfortunately, children who are starved accept all that is given, the warmth of the outside made her forget how filthy it was. It dragged her down, and the wrong people started seeking her, but it made her feel wanted so she followed the tune of the piper, it was a shelter of delusion and exploitation.

Till that too shattered and she transcended the basic wants and needs.

Perhaps that is where her loathing for the outside world came from, the poison far too deeply attached to her haemoglobin, flowing through her beating heart and corrupting all.

But every action has an opposite effect and consequence, and the cane, the choice of weapon her executioner had chosen, broke her apart further than she had ever been before.

As her facade came apart there was only one solution really, to send the doll shop back to the toy shop for parts to be switched out and replaced, once more winded to perfection till it fell apart again.

She arrived at her new home ‘ Grimhilde’s Academy for Noble Ladies’, on a drizzling January morning.

#diabolik lovers #diahell #beatrix sakamaki #beatrix #beatrix headcanons #dl headcanons #diabolik lovers headcanons #dl oc #diabolik lovers oc #christa sakamaki #cordelia sakamaki #karlheinz #diabolik lovers headcanon

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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Bonjour y'all

It's been a long time huh.

Following @nutaella-kookie-deactivated2023 's announcement, I decided (with her permission) to create a new blog as a web host for most of her work on Tumblr. I've been feeding this blog with spam-tons of reblogs for 3 days straight and I'm sorry for that.

/!\ Browsing might be a bit complicated because I didn't (yet) take the time to put new tags on all the posts (there are prolly more than 600, I didn't have the energy🫠)

The name is vivi-pearldiver

Share it with those who might be interested. Now I'm going back to bed

Enjoy, and again, thank you, Laila, for everything you've done on this platform. We love you, take care .

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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mr krabs’s license to kill expires tomorrow

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karlheinz-sama · 1 year

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#karls childhood

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karlheinz-sama · 2 years

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how i picture karlheinz:

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karlheinz-sama · 2 years

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Reiji and a mermaid AU for the ask game please

temptations

nsfw - reiji sakamaki

literally, feel free to send feedback this is like my first time writing NSFW and I am shaking, but like read at your own discretion. I have very clearly tagged it.

tw: light gore? mentions of bloody feeding, misuse of aphrodisiacs, slight dub con, deepthroating.

There it was again.

The icy chill shot down his spine, it was a feeling he was well-versed in but never in the position of prey; a sick glee spread into his gut.

Most people assumed his aloofness would translate into how he hunted his prey but that would be too easy.

Too easy for him.

He subdued obstacles in his path with clinical precision, washing hands as a boy due to the bloody mess smeared across his petite torso. He had never acted like a degenerate like the other double-dwelling nobles, like his bastard brothers.

But the exhilaration had consumed him.

oh, it started in the pit of his gut sending tingles and goosebumps, he couldn’t stop smiling, he had never smiled his wide- this long before - it made his cheeks ache and his hands shook but one thing he could say for certain is that it was not from the slightest hint of displeasure.

That and he had to re-create it again.

He had learned his favourite form of feeding came from driving his prey sick with paranoia, and playing fairy prince till they stumbled into his clutches like he was a venus fly trap.

However, there was just something about the women he chased to recreate that glee.

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He still remembers her, I suppose it could be a first love if he hadn’t been so wickedly perverse. She had been some human aid of one of his tutors, and the first thing he noticed about her was her height, she was tall. She had these dark eyes, big, almost scary if it wasn’t for how much she smiled whether genuine or in those teasing lilts that made something in him stir.

Whilst his brothers spent their teenage years exchanging leering glances with the women of the palace bar and the company of their right hand. He spent it seduced by this quiet sly girl with a strong voice and warm arms. He would keep his touches light, brushing away her stray strands of hair, or implanting the imprint of the outside of her hand as he accepted that day’s lesson material into his mind. Taking these innocent moments and revelling in the perverse act of using that strong scent of jasmine that wafted after she left, imaging those warm human hands with her firm grip on other places he desired, her voice in his ears as he threw his head back whilst stroking out the remaining of what he could through the afterglow.

She had denied him, and at first, he thought she was being meek, she probably couldn’t understand the honour of him choosing her as the epitome of what he had envisioned for a mistress, he would even give her children, breeding her to his heart's desire and god he desired. If the position of king wasn't his top priority he would've happily been only hers, if he had wanted, all the things she could’ve wanted till her stupid mortal life would came to its end.

Even then he would’ve taken care of their children, and cherished her dead spirit, he even knew that their eldest daughter would’ve been the pride of his entire life.

she threw it away, in mumbled whispers, deceiving eyes, about how she couldn’t, and he would’ve accepted it too if it wasn’t for how he saw that slut let the stable boy take her, right then on the open field. It should’ve been him, even then in the sick dread spreading across his constricting chest, he felt his trousers get tighter, she just dared to look like that under the moon, head thrown back, spit-slicked puffed lips, it drove him furious.

He would just confront her, that’s what he had told himself, but the scent of wildflowers had replaced the jasmine, and that stupid limp could not be more obvious, not to mention how she spoke in a gentler voice than usual not to placate him.

no, not for him. but it was obvious the hoarseness would seep into her usual accented words.

He wondered all the things her mouth could do to sound like that.

He had slammed her head right into the table, the impact effectively rendering her unconscious, his strength incomparable even then but balanced for his purpose, and then he drank from her, he knew even with all the ropes and silks he tied her with and the knife he dragged against her supple skin, he wouldn’t be able to sleep with her.

That didn’t mean he couldn’t touch her whilst drinking his deserved fill, I mean he deserved this, the swell of her breast fit so perfectly against his hands, warm. It was so enticing he couldn’t help but bite into the top of one. as the blood spurted out he used his hand to roll the bud of the other one.

His semi- with just that much - exposed a lot more vulnerability than he would’ve liked to have shown, but he had to enjoy this. He had craved this for so long slipping a hand under her loose nightgown, gripping those thighs knowing it would leave a mark, digging his nails in. He wanted to own every part of her, rolling his thumb into the curve of her hip bone, he kissed her. It fulfilled him in ways he didn’t know anything ever could.

His ministrations upon her only lasted a while after that, as he came all over her face twice, and once over those tits, he had grown quite fond of them.

He cleaned up and waited till she was conscious he wanted her to be somewhat aware of what would happen next. trying his different creations on her seeing which aphrodisiac drove her to squeeze those thighs tightly together, have her panting in want like a bitch in heat, eyes crossed humping against the edge of her chair, leaving her in want like how she had left him.

Not that he wasn’t getting his fun, his expression was discernible to her, but it made it all a little bit more satisfying that night, shoving himself against the door connecting his room and his study, hand shoved into his trousers in sync with her lewd whines, knowing she wanted him just as badly.

After completely unravelling her senses he finally fucked her, it was raw, and cathartic and so fulfilling like something had clicked into place looking at her rosy face and sweat-soaked skin, bouncing up down, moving like a dumb fleshlight by the tight grip on her waist, his hands squeezing into soft flesh, leaving bruises and bites as he drove them to release.

Once he was finally tired of her, her betrayal only left her one choice and that was death. He refused to be served someone's sloppy seconds without repentance. The only thing that remained of her was her heart still stored in a vault within the scope of his childhood home.

But it had become tiring over the years, humans were weak, and lacking qualities that would inspire passion. It was the passion that had made her so delectable, it was the deep constricting feeling that left him gasping for air and grinning - the one he didn't dare name - that had made her so precious. They didn't have girls like that anymore, or maybe he had changed too. No longer that boy with pleading eyes, now a more jagged man who knew how to cover his selfish desires far better.

His nostalgia was broken by something cutting through the dark waters, well if it wasn't his little stalker. He had noticed it for a while now, using one of his family's coastal villas for research. At first, his things started going missing and he had never been careless enough to misplace his belongings, his favourite pen, a glove of his, even a vial of his seaweed tester. All lost after he placed them too close to the edge of the jagged rocks where he liked working.

Against popular opinion he wasn't a complete recluse, he just refused to mingle with his brothers longer than necessary, perhaps why he was growing so fond of this place. He knew he had spent much time outside, which gave the perpetrator plenty of time to read him and his actions.

Walking across the shores was a dangerous game to play, knowing his little stalker loved any attention he paid them, the attention made him heady. Someone craving his presence this much fulfilled some complex he chose to ignore.

After his realisation that rather than his belongings being swept away with the unsteady tide, it was being swiped, he decided to play a little game.

He would observe the ocean from the tower opposite his villa, making sure to use his abilities to mask any sign of his existence. At first, the ocean seemed more restless than usual - as if the thief had control over such things - then it was eerie still. This is when he first caught sight of that quicksilver tail, assuming it was a creature he let it go. But once again catching a glimpse of a larger shadow than of seaside fish, piqued his curiosity.

He watched the large shadow, once he figured out its pattern, going from the deepest point of the water near the underground catacombs next to the cliffs to swimming alongside the shore his house overlooked, it always lingered there. It made him feel giddy. Nothing had truly roused his interest in so long.

Then came the gifts, normally he would have assumed they were washed up onto the beach, if not for their abnormal quantity. The first was scallop shells, enough that he could load his arms full and there would still be more, they were unceremoniously dumped upon his usual rock where he preferred to sit when describing his theories.

He chose to see what would happen if he ignored these gifts. Next came enough sea glass that he would cover his entry's villa’s floor with it. No, that was a feat he had to admit. It forced him out of his shelter in the tower to try to ascertain how on earth the creature had carried this much. With no signs of the creature he swiftly turned away, apparently that caused quite a riot as he saw how the creature streamlined towards his position. Choosing to draw out their game a little longer, he manipulated the night’s shadows to cover himself

It seemed to rile his pursuer far more than anything, stopping suddenly confused as to where the land dweller it stalked had disappeared.

The day after that no presents appeared as if it was trying to give him the cold shoulder, so he decided to up the stakes.

Dressing himself up for the first time in a couple of months, with a nice dark blue dress shirt that clung to his arms, and his oxford loafers polished he headed down to the down bar. The picture-perfect image of a city boy tourist with no clue of where he was meant to be, he saw how the women there had eyed him, but he had to be careful about his prey if he wanted to execute this perfectly.

He needed this to solidify his belief, the intentions of the creature were based only around him, that by simply existing he had caught the intention of another being. No manipulation is needed for such reckless provoked behaviour all just for him.

The girl he picked up from the bar was a local. He saw how she greeted the bare minimum of her dinner party and only took a glance at the drinks section on the menu. As this was the only decent establishment around there was no need for her to try to change her usual order.

She couldn't be an outcast but also not an extrovert; she had to be one of the quiet ones, who have very little circles, who has nothing to hold her down in this tiny town. Someone who people cared about but not special enough to be remembered if she ever took off without warning.

It was easy enough to convince her he was the most charming non-chauvinistic man that she'd ever met in her life. He made sure to walk with her by the coast so that whatever it was watching him could get a good look at who would capture his attention this evening, going as far as to kiss her then and there on the beach.

It was a different matter once they entered the villa, he had accomplished what he had wanted. It was clear enough from the choppy waves and the strange animalistic sounds that almost sounded like whales or dolphins.

He snapped the human girl's neck and made a quick meal for himself, her blood wasn't the finest but it served nutrition.

Cleaning up he chose to watch the storm with a glass of wine, truly marvelling at how someone would throw a tantrum of this height without ever holding a conversation. He was tempted to let this game continue and not ruin their relationship with his dampening personality as his brothers put it, but his curiosity would soon get the best of him.

It seemed he had pulled his little stalker’s leg too far, the silence was endearing at first but it had been well over a couple of weeks by now and he was becoming restless.

Till he finally came up with a present he knew would appease the creature, it was a risk on his part but he had some faith in his strength. He spent the morning carefully cleaning the shells he was given a while ago, luckily he had the foresight to keep them cool and prepare a marinade. Once he knew the dish was perfect he played it up with a cloche the steam would do the rest for him whilst he got his stalker’s main present prepared. I mean for all his unique quirks he knew how to be a gentleman to a lady.

Arriving at the shore it didn’t take him long to put out the bait, himself rolling up his trousers, he knew he looked odd. A lanky man with a chive-stained shirt, a giant cloche in one hand and a rotting corpse in the other as he stumbles into the icy waters, attempting to not let the rocks dig into his feet. But some things were worth the effort, he waited a while placing the cloche on the rock and the girl’s body in the water, watching as it bobbed uncertainty in the water.

He knew he had waited long enough when he observed the shallow waters get darker; his time was up, teleporting right onto the shores as the clawed figure just reached him. And then he saw it - her.

/pretty. Pretty pretty pretty./

It was a mermaid? Of course, it was a mermaid.

It was a lithe thing with strong muscles, that dipped into a slim v of quicksilver and shades of lime, the glistening scales reached around her back, where a large dorsal fin was nestled - webbed and torn- a large contrast to her more human features. Her face resembles a human enough the palest shade of ivory blue with tingles of green and lilac, long fingers connected by dark green web and long sharp nails. Her face with its pouty lips and doe black eyes framed by a short cropped bob just touching her shoulders. Guessing from the expression she was attempting to make he'd say she was glowering. Guess that meant his time was up.

Teleporting back to his villa, his mind is overrun by the green mermaid.

Sleeping or frankly speaking any action that wasn’t being completely enticed by his little stalker had long fled him, she was just so, I suppose demons just had their allure. Spending all these centuries with humans, he had forgotten the natural charm demonic women had, with their thinly veiled fury in their large eyes, with coy smiles that hide large sinister fangs.

It didn't take long for his mermaid to return with her response, it was his glove placed upon a skull he didn't have to put too much thought into who it could be, decorated with iridescent shells. He knew his curiosity always got the best of him, but now that he had seen her, he knew the stirring in gut would only grow stronger. It was better to strike the iron whilst it was still hot.

He anticipated a range of courses his actions could lead him, but he had already made up his mind. Wading into the water. Its iciness rose past his thighs as he decided he had to be bold about this, sinking underneath and swimming towards the rocks. He waded slowly towards the tendrils of seaweed floating above the water, making his way through it till his back was turned to the cliff. If he was going to play on his enchantress’ turf he would at least be aware in what direction he would be attacked.

That is what he expected at least, till a cold grip tightened around his waist dragging him under, from behind too! Now that was unfair!

He couldn’t complain much even as he felt his arms grazing against the rough edges of the rocks, as she pushed against him. Their torsos glued together, this wasn’t what he was used to at all. It wasn't all a bad thing.

If he had to say truthfully it was far more exciting than he thought, being pinned by the weight of that impressive tail, curled around his legs holding him down. Sharp nails dug into his forearms, pinning them into his sides as she reached up, softly tucking herself into his neck, nuzzling him whilst she softly crooned at him.

The pain of digging into his back and the stinging in his arms numbed by the cool water only for her soft curls to brush against his cheeks, as well as the phantom touch of her warm lips in the cool sea, started a heady reaction within him. His blood roared in his ears, screaming at him to pull up his defences, as the water took over his senses, slowly losing consciousness. His last vision was her floundering movements as her frosty fingers tried to shake him awake.

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Opening his eyes, he hacked up enough water to completely drench himself again. Whilst drowning wasn't a major concern for vampires due to the lack of oxygen having close to no effect, it still wasn’t ideal to be submerged in water that long. Although there were more important things at hand, looking around for his little mermaid he saw her. Meekly sinking into the water on the edge of the salt cave, he approached her car to grow apprehensive.

They took a moment to study each other, the heat stirring in the gut once again with the way she lingered on his skin through his soaked translucent shirt.

“Reiji.”

She cocked her head at him, he pointed to himself and repeated, if she was going to go along with his sinister ideas he would rather she be aware of whose name to scream. She in turn pointed to herself crooning a sound that sounded like a garbled sound of ‘Lia’.

“Thalia?”

The grin that spread across her face was truly worth all this long-played game, it would entertain him for a while. Peeling his shirt off himself he watched how her eyes widened, tracing his pale skin before pausing on the triangle of moles right above his hip bones.

He was a scientist at heart, after all, he should be allowed to examine such a fine specimen. Dipping his arms into the water, startling her, before bringing her into his lap. his arms flexed as she gripped him in shock, still staying close to the water in case she went under any strange side effects. Dumping her into his lap, he adjusted himself under the weight to not expose his intentions quite yet.

He watched her reactions keenly, the way her mouth fell open in a half gasp and she stroked down her tail, or how her lashes fluttered as he dipped her into the ground, digging his fingers into the place below her chest and his other hand gripped her neck bringing her up to join their lips tightly.

It was salty and wet and forceful, she stumbled across the motions whilst he cruelly sought what he wanted, his motions purposeful, forcing his tongue into her mouth and circling her fangs. His hands wrapped around her face bringing her closer to him, or as humanely close as they could be. The chill had caused his nipples to harden and the soft flesh of her tits rubbing against them made it all the bit more sensitive, blood travelling south.

Pulling away he studied her dazed face, a grin spreading across his face at the sight as he made himself comfortable kneeling above her waist, staring at her splayed figure. Trailing his hands up and down her sides, she squirmed impatiently, he abandoned his hands in favour of leaving a trail of kisses up her navel to her neck, lightly grazing her skin with fangs, licking the salty skin, leaving his own marks.

As she dug her own crescent-shaped marks into his shoulders, arching herself into him, pouting for more when something caught her attention. She propelled herself into motion using the weight of her tail to hold down his legs as her arms crossed behind his neck, pulling him straight up against her as she tried to imitate what he had done, her chilling lips raising goosebumps as she scratched his torso on her journey. stopping right above his bulge blowing air into it making him rock hard.

He did quick work on his zip, pulling his boxers down to release himself, he could practically see her eyes glisten as started. The cold air did nothing to hide its size, gripping her hair to bring her closer to his dick. She got the gist pretty quickly from there running her tongue across her palm before gripping him tightly. Delivering quick kitty licks to his tip that made him throw his head back trying to hold back groans. She obsessively stared at him with her big eyes stroking him faster her little webbed things providing lubricant that made it so so nicer, he hadn't realised how long her tongue was till she blew out her cheeks, sucking and swirling her tongue around his length, the wet warmth making his eyes roll back. Maybe it had been too long.

She was toying with him, from the teasing glances under those long lashes. He growled his eyebrows furrowed, twisting his hand already nestled in her hair making her whine.

"Come now darling, don't play with me… you asked for it remember?" His gaze became dark as he shoved his in between her plump lips making her deep-throat him. They both moaned at once, as soon as he regained some control he began thrusting into her tight little throat, arching back whilst holding her down by the neck like a pup.

It wasn't long before he came all wound with, skin a sweaty sheen his dark hair matted against his forehead making him look younger and his glasses askew on his blushing face. She was a sight to see too, with her heavy pants still nuzzling his inner thighs as her lashes fluttered shut, lips red and spit slicked with the smallest amount of cum trailing out from what she hadn't managed to swallow. He would continue to see where this would lead, but for now, it was best they rest if they wanted to try out all the things he had envisioned.

#diabolic lovers #diabolik lovers #diahell #diabolik lovers headcanon #diabolik lovers fanfiction

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