Call me Mokka or Jack ! ꒰◍•ᴗ•◍꒱✧*˖♡ • Argentina • 22 yrs • any pronouns are okay !! • Diabolik Lovers blog • art acc • español/english • ( second account: @mokka-with-oreo )
Me llama la atención que tanto Shuu como Ruki tengan este tipo de ojos conocidos como tareme (たれ目) que significa literalmente 'ojos caídos'
La diferencia es que los de Ruki son más exagerados y alargados, dándole una apariencia más de zorro, mientras que los de Shuu son más redonditos, lo que lo hace parecer más un lirón jajaja
PD: me gustaría hacer un dibujo con mis tres favoritos; Carla, Shuu y Ruki! A ver si se me ocurre algo~ 👀
DIABOLIK LOVERS VERSUS SONG Requiem (2) Bloody Night Stellaworth Complete Set Short Stories ☽ Shin ver.
Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS Versus Song Requiem (2) Bloody Night ステラワース全巻連動購入特典小冊子
English translation by @otomehonyaku
Scans provided to me privately by @karleksmumskladdkaka/@yes-no-maybe-soo with permission to translate ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Note: The reader is always referred to by the neutral female 彼女 in these short stories, but I use Yui instead of exclusively 'that girl' or 'her' for practical purposes. The story is based on the Versus Song CD mini drama!
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
SUMMARY | After seeing what his brother did to Yui, Shin finds himself jealous and decides to rebel.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
“Huh, that’s odd…”
When I pass Brother’s room, the door is ajar. The door is usually shut, no matter if he is in it or not. Curiosity propels me towards the door. I quietly peek inside.
“Hm…?”
I look down and see Yui on the floor. She lies curled in on herself, unmoving. It seems Brother truly had her way with her after he brought her back to his room.
—Poor thing…
I let out a scornful laugh and get up to leave… but I change my mind when my eye falls on her bare legs.
Brother’s presence seems nowhere nearby, so I head into his room. When I edge closer to the girl, her breathing is shallow. She is sleeping, then.
“Come on, you’re too careless…” I whisper, seemingly in exasperation—although there is an undertone of desire in my voice.
I do not want to admit it, but… seeing the girl in this state has whetted my appetite.
“Let me play around with you for a bit…”
I straddle her to get a better look at her body. I click my tongue at what I see.
“Tch.. You’re covered in Brother’s bite marks…”
The base of her throat, her chest… wounds where my brother’s fangs pierced her skin are all over her body. Perhaps these bite marks are intended to keep me in check.
The sensation swirling in my chest, then, is one of seething jealousy.
I wonder if Brother thinks I will run away with my tail between my legs at the sight.
—I would put up with it if it were anyone else, but this woman…
“I’m sorry, Brother…”
I trace the wounds on Yui’s chest with the tip of my finger. Then, I bring my lips closer. This is a clear act of rebellion against my brother.
If I think about it logically, there is not a single merit to doing this. However, somehow, I just want to make this woman mine.
“Hehe… You’ve got me really worked up, so better hold on tight and enjoy the ride, alright…?”
I run my tongue across the bite marks left by my brother. The woman squirms in an effort to get away, but when I watch her… all I can do is laugh.
Diabolik Lovers Secret Memories Kuji Short Story ☽ Ruki ver.
Original title: DIABOLIK LOVERS Secret Memories SSカード ルキver.
English translation by @otomehonyaku
Scans provided to me by @karleksmumskladdkaka/@yes-no-maybe-soo with permission to post and translate ⸜(。˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡
Note: The reader is always referred to by the neutral female 彼女 in these short stories, but I use Yui instead of things like 'that girl' or 'her' for practical purposes.
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
SUMMARY | Ruki and Yui go to the library for a study session. Yui can't really concentrate much on studying, though...
─── ・ 。゚☆: *.☽ .* :☆゚. ───
Our surroundings were completely quiet. It had been a good call to stretch our legs for once, I thought in the back of my mind. Today, we left the house for a little while to go to the library so Yui could prepare for her exams. It was a miracle to be part of a family whose members got along with one another so well, but the mansion—with all its noisiness—was not exactly the best environment for studying.
And so, right now, Yui was quietly solving exercises, brow furrowed all the while.
I had no need for a cram session, so aside from answering any questions Yui asked, I simply did as I pleased and read a novel. Just as I was about to finish it, though, I started noticing Yui was stealing glances at me.
If Yui had trouble solving the exercises, she would have just asked me directly. I figured this time was different, then. After carefully waiting for the right moment to meet her gaze, she pointedly looked away.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t notice?”
Yui apologised, looking a little flustered.
“You need something from me, right? Do you need help with one of the exercises?”
“Not at all. I was just thinking… you look handsome when you get all serious, Ruki…”
—Ah. I sighed, silently berating myself for finding those words so endearing.
contents; mild degradation, suggestive, some fluff here n there, a little dubcon here n there, azusa content ahead (tw self-harm). there's a small treat waiting for you at the end 🍫
ft. the mukamis | masterlist | here for part i
📓✧˖° ruki
“hm.” he’s awake when he notices you, lying on his back with a book hovering over ever-so-focused eyes. at all surprised, rather confirming some theories he made of you the first time you met. “livestock finally answering to their true calling by coming to stay at their master’s feet? how fascinating.” his voice is low and throaty, close to a whisper. he doesn’t bother to look away from whatever he’s reading. everything in his room is as orderly as you expected it to be, except for the pile of volumes he keeps on the nightstand. light from the reading lamp blinks an obscure amber into the space, and it settles charmingly on the contours of his face, his oversized sweater, his ruffled hair.
at first you feel just the way he described you: small and helpless, waiting for him to react to your presence in order to think your next move. ruki himself tests this for a while, challenges your patience, asks himself how long you can just sit there with him not caring enough to pay attention. there’s a silence. when he turns the page, it sounds louder than it should. when he finally decides to pull you by his side, the scent coming off his clothes dulls your senses more than you’d like, he smells like cherries and starless nights and modern poetry. “i understand, however, that just sitting here won’t satisfy someone like you. they taught you to long for action, didn’t they?” his words are wrapped in velvet as he drags his fingers around your neck, thumb pushing into chin. ruki’s book drops on the floor. “here’s some action to remember us by.”
then his fangs sink in, smooth at first, but more violent by the second. ruki drinks your blood like he wants to prove a point, not only to you, but to him as well, to confront and defy the laws of nature. he keeps a hand on your nape and another on your back, holding you in such a way that you cannot cling onto anything else but him. sometimes he doesn’t stop until you drop unconscious. other times, he brings life back into your eyes with a drowsy breath against your neck, “such a tame little thing. as much as i’d like to consume you whole, we still need you as you are.”
he reads to you until you fall asleep, a hand under his head, sheet pulled to his torso. belletristics, history volumes, and sometimes, he even lets you tag along while making observations in that pocket notebook he always tells you not to touch. to me he seems like the type to study in bed rather than at a desk, and that shows as you take a look anywhere around his side of the bed. ruki wouldn’t initiate further closeness than a hand raked through your hair, but he really likes it when you come to nestle at his chest. “oh, i see,” he sounds smoother than you remember him to be, making idle circles on your back. “you still need someone to feed off you? you’re a hopeless thing, livestock. but i might as well oblige.”
🌱 ₊˚⊹ yuma
if he hasn’t fallen asleep somewhere in his garden, or the animal shed, you will find him collapsed on the mattress, slippers misplaced on the rug—the traditional type with red patterns and tassels at the edges. sometimes there’s a bowl of sugar cubes by the bed. other times, an empty bottle of beer. yuma definitely won’t be friendly if you happen to wake him up. “oi,” he says, and it feels like a butcher’s knife hitting the cutting board. “the fuck ya think ya be doin’ here? hah?!” with this he wastes no time before catching your wrist and pinning you down to the rug. “i was takin’ a darn nap for fuck’s sake!” your heart races having him get so close to you, so violently. your breathing slows down.
yuma’s stare is intense, unrelenting. his clothes still carry a dizzying hint of his perfume—something fresh, something sporty, it makes you think of a hike into the forest. he stops for a moment, then tsks, “it’s so clear that some people haven’t worked a single fucking day in their life. how ‘bout i throw ya in the shed and not let ya sleep after a week of work?” careful with the response, he might actually be up for it. however you don’t get the chance to say much, because soon yuma takes your chin into his palm with little care for it. “but now that i’m up already, ya owe me breakfast, right, sow?” there’s no further warning. yuma leans in to suck your blood.
the ceiling twirls and whirls as his fangs relish your flesh. he sucks in deep, hungrily, wrists pressed under his grip, trapped above your head. something tells you he won’t stop too soon. you’re not sure if you want him to. suppose yuma feels your blood isn’t sweet enough, or you’re on the verge of fainting. then he will push a sugar cube between your lips, his eyes fixed on yours with foreign depth. “tsk, careless fucking creatures,” he says under his breath, licking his fingers off what remains of the sugar he’s fed you. “fragile like eggshells and y’all still haven’t learned to treat your bodies with the respect they deserve.” and despite the brutality there’s genuine concern you can catch in the slight curve of his lips and the frown set between his eyebrows.
at some point he will put you back into his bed, throwing a blanket over your life-drained body. “there, ‘s this what ya wanted?” soon he climbs next to your side, an arm draping itself around your chest as he does. his voice takes from annoyed to sluggish. “fuck around with my sleep again and ya won’t get away as easily.” but at later occasions, you will find out he's bringing some of his harvests on the nightstand—tomatoes, carrots, lettuce, freshly picked and carefully washed, all lingering in a plastic bowl. so that next time you step on his nerves and he sucks your blood, he can feed you with double the amount of the nutrients you lost.
⋆。🎤♡ kou
taking into account his work as an idol, kou is rarely at home, and more often than not, you go to his room only to be met with an uncharacteristic silence. an unmade bed, a pile of tried-on shirts, a half-emptied box of chocolates. you end up staying anyway, leafing through some of kou’s scandal magazines and fan letters. everything here smells so much like him that you don’t have the time to miss his presence. the feeling only deepens when you climb into his bed, that expensive scent of honey and patchouli, constantly reminding you that your bubbles are so far away from each other. you wonder if you could hit it off with the groups he usually hangs around with. if you want that to begin with.
you’re still awake the moment he catches sight of you, hair ruffled and fingers battling with a row of stubborn buttons. kou stops for a couple of beats, then breaks the silence with a smirk pushing to the side. “hah, m neko-chan? you here for a show?” somehow, your response only pulls his lips higher. his right eye blinks red, redder, a shade you still don’t know whether is a figment of your own imagination. “but that can’t be true.” kou retorts, slow and feline. he curls himself closer to you, the bed soundless under his weight. “i can read through you, remember? pick all and each of your spiciest secrets.” whatever you tell him, he won’t deviate. he chuckles when he notices the pile of letters left shuffled on the coffee table. “don’t tell me, were you perhaps wondering if i’d be coming home with one of them?”
closer. kou’s voice feels closer. “you’re so silly, m neko-chan. if you wanted me to pay you more attention you could’ve just asked.” then his shirt goes off, and his hand reaches to cup your chin. the proximity is hard to bear. “after all,” he purrs on. “there’s no one i like to toy with more.” your lips are at a finger’s length from one another. his laughter flutters away from his throat like face powder shaken off a brush. “but since i so kindly let you stay in my room and rummage through my stuff, aside from pulling this confession i gave you just now, what will you give me in return?” kou does nothing out of the goodness of his heart, and does not expect others to do otherwise. his lips trail from your jaw to your neck.
defy him, and he will throw one of his tantrums. stay silent, and he will make his assumption based on his eerie ability to ‘read through you’ so very damn well. kou’s fangs pierce your skin more forcefully than you believed they could. his hand settles on the side of your torso, squeezes when the blood hits his palate. moments later his lips paint your earlobe with a stroke of red. your heart suffocates between your lungs, as this time, he speaks with an intensity you haven’t known before. “you’ll stay mine, and i’ll become yours as well. we live in a give-and-take world at the end of the day.”
𓂃🔪𓆪 azusa
a sweetheart through and through. seeing you curl up next to him in bed, he looks as surprised as ever. “hey…” you hear him say, a faint sound. his feet shift under the covers. “you… want to… sleep together?” somehow, it feels colder inside azusa’s room than the rest of the manor, and the bed springs are cutting into your skin. but you know it’s because he made sure it feels this way. but when he turns to meet your face, and attempts to speak again, you experience a warmth you never thought there existed. “i’m glad…” for a fleeting second his eyes carry something more than the incurable sadness. you wish you could keep it there forever. despite yourself, you tell azusa that you missed him too. he brushes a strand of hair behind your ear.
there’s a long sigh, less annoyance and more exhaustion. “but i can’t fall asleep now…” he says. “too excited…” even though he doesn’t show it, you can tell he’s honest. he rests a hand on your shoulder. props his chin on your arm. “can we have some fun instead…?” something catches in your stomach. you flinch. after the time spent by azusa’s side you’ve come to learn what he perceives as ‘fun’. his bandages press themselves damp against you, his skin as cold as a knife. azusa doesn’t use a specific perfume, but as you allow yourself to be intoxicated with the closeness, you feel like you’re walking down the hallways of an abandoned hospital, metallic scent soaking into disinfectant.
you have no say in whether you would like to join the fun or not. azusa knows you are going to enjoy whatever he will do to you, because deep down, you might be exactly like him, and you might just be starting to acknowledge this about yourself. he starts teasing you with the tip of his fangs. tells you it’s ok to do the same to him, since some of his older wounds have been closing themselves up. “what’s more fun than… making new cuts is… cutting through the ones who want to go…” like going through a photo album. to azusa, wounds are more than irresistible pains. they are memories. reluctantly you trace a touch across the scars with one of your nails, and he hums in response. he sinks his fangs deeper into you, expecting a similar reaction. he always coaxes it from you.
after the fun is over, you offer to change his bandages, a tender gesture beneath faint lamplight. like he does each time, he thanks you for making him feel just so. for staying by his side. everything he says is heartfelt, and you cannot help but feel your chest heat up with the words. you try to dismiss it when he tells you to tighten the bandages more around the wounds, keep them as tight as you can, don’t let them breathe. “they will… feel better this way… next time we reopen them…” instead you wind up your work by pressing a kiss on each new mark you’ve given him. his eyes widen. a moment passes. then azusa mirrors the gesture on the bite marks he’s left on your own body, holding you close in his arms, the closest. “sleep… well…”
₊˚ ཐི BONUS ཋྀ ˚₊
⋆♱ ruki & reiji
“it is outrageous that one would conduct their research like this,” reiji points out, pushing his glasses a little higher on the bridge of his nose. you look up to him, not sure of what to say, or that you want to say anything at all. not now, not here, not when ruki’s chest gives off more heat than any bicker with the stuck-up sakamaki would produce. sharing the sentiment, ruki sighs, “your bourgeois ways are making a fool out of you, sakamaki. it’s the place your mind is that counts most.” it’s loose, impassive. it quickly, surely, stirs a flame somewhere inside reiji.
“and you sure pretend to be very knowledgeable, for a lowly vampire such as yourself,” he huffs, and the reaction drags ruki’s lips to the side, they are so predictable, always so easy to offend. he was enjoying this more than he should’ve. reiji crosses his arms, throwing you a look—you know that siding with ruki would earn you a punishment later on. ruki is fast to catch that as well. “and instead of running your mouth on things like my work desk, or lack thereof, you might as well come back to bed.” ruki takes your chin between thumb and forefinger. he continues to address reiji, but his stare is locked on yours entirely. “livestock here looks to be in need of some more tending.”
⋆♱ yuma & shu
enough is enough. enough is enough for fuck’s sake. yuma grits his teeth, the mattress creaking at the sudden shift of his body. “oi,” he spits. “are ya just goin’ to sit there ‘n let me do all the fucking work?” he looks at shu from the other side of the bed—always lazy, unbothered shu, lying with his arms crossed and eyes shut under your weight. contrastingly, yuma was the one who had to bring you all the way here and bite you from top to bottom, plucking the reactions they were both so starved of. you won’t admit it if asked aloud, but a part of you was glad no one made you do any sort of carrying this time around.
shu opens one of his eyes then, and a small smile appears on his lips as soon as he does. “is it my fault that they always come to me to tone down their appetite?” his drone is tickling your ear. shu gives in no effort to clasp his arms around you, his lips lingering so conveniently on the side of your neck, and as if to prove his point, you don’t shift an inch from his grasp. a chuckle escapes from his throat. “see? they are such a good slut for me, waiting for me to just—” this is when shu’s fangs sink in, magnetic, dizzying. you tilt your head backwards, and yuma sneers at the sight. he won’t let anyone outdo him, let alone this bastard. he takes the skin on your torso between his own fangs and bites.
⋆♱ kou & subaru
subaru still isn’t sure what sort of business he looks for here. how he ended up here in the first place. all he knows whatsoever is that kou’s sheets reek of perfumes and creams and makeup powder and that your hand on his own thigh is more addictive than he could predict. sure, he expected some things. like to see the damned louse be all over you like a bitch in heat, or to watch himself bite on his inner cheek at the sweetened, sweetening smell of your blood. but colour found his cheeks as soon as he started being the centre of attention, with your mouth trailing numbing kisses across his shoulder and the louse’s laughter searing his neck.
“come on already,” kou rolls his eyes, half-bored, half-amused. he hovers next to the shell of his ear—snake slithering its way to eden. “m neko-chan loves this kind of stuff, i assure you.” assure him based on what? subaru clutches the sheets. he might soon clutch someone’s neck if whatever this is continues. “take a bite and see for yourself,” kou chirps on. and he sure fucking does, take a bite of you, flatten a big hand around your torso and press you as close to him as he can, all the while his fangs drain you of all the nerve it took you to drag him to this bed. when he’s done with you, kou snatches subaru’s cheek in his own hand, tasting you off the corner of his mouth. “good boy,” the pest breathes against his lips.
⋆♱ azusa & kanato
azusa cannot believe his eyes. “why… do you let him?” he trudges through the words, watching kanato scream at you to fucking stay put and make more room for his fangs. this pain does not look enjoyable. it is nothing like the type he could dearly inflict on you. “why do you let him… treat you… like this?” he says again. you give him a look—if you knew the answer to that, you would give it to him. it does not take long for kanato to take his attention away from you and hurl it directly to him. “you don’t interfere with our play! stay the fuck away!” he snarls, frenzied. but azusa doesn’t stop. he couldn’t. drawn by the mystery of you not running away, he drags himself closer to you, caressing your cheek with the back of his hand. kanato snaps it away. “are you fucking deaf?!”
it stings. he adores it. azusa looks down at his hand, trailing his fingers around the mark kanato’s left on him. there’s a pause. he looks back at you—a part of him understands, another is still trying to figure you out. without a word he pulls you from kanato’s scorching grasp. leaning a cold cheek on your shoulder, he says, “you like pain… don’t you? is this why…” but he doesn’t get the chance to end the thought because kanato is already pinning him down the mattress, his eyes crazed, vicious. “who do you think you are? ignoring me, then taking them away?! no one can join the play, you hear me? no! one!” his voice quivers on his bottom lip. azusa’s eyes catch a strange gleam the moment kanato’s hands reach for his throat.
Shu’s affection is quiet, weightless, and often mistaken for indifference by those who don’t know him. But if you’re paying attention, you’ll notice how he shifts slightly to make space for you on the couch, or how he’ll lazily drape a blanket over you when you fall asleep. He doesn’t vocalize care often—instead, he listens. To everything. To the sound of your breathing. To the rhythm in your voice. To the way your mood changes from morning to night. If you lie beside him long enough, his hand will eventually find yours, warm and slow, like he’s reminding himself you’re real.
B – Bonding
For Shu, bonding isn’t about activity—it’s about stillness. Sitting in a sun-drenched room, doing nothing. Sharing earbuds while he plays classical pieces. Lying in bed for hours, not speaking, but breathing in sync. If you can be beside him without filling the silence, you’ve earned something most never get: his comfort. On rare occasions, he might open up about his past—about Edgar, about how the weight of being the "first son" crushed more than it shaped. When he speaks, it’s never just idle talk. It’s an offering. And if you hold it gently, you earn his trust.
C – Cuddles
Cuddling with Shu feels like melting into someone else’s peace. He’ll tug you into his arms wordlessly, especially when he’s half-asleep or when the world feels too loud. He rests his chin on your head, one leg tangled with yours, a hand at your waist or in your hair. He likes warmth, and he’ll press you close like a cat seeking body heat, but also comfort. Sometimes, he hums under his breath—quiet, wordless songs you can’t quite place. If he lets you wrap around him first, it's because he trusts you to hold him in a way that doesn’t demand anything back.
D – Dates
Shu’s ideal date is minimal effort, maximum intimacy. He doesn’t do fanfare or fancy dinners. Instead, he’ll take you to a quiet field with his earbuds and let you rest in the grass together, pointing out shapes in the clouds. Or he’ll invite you to his room, sharing his music while the rain taps on the windows. When he does take you out, it’s to secluded places—abandoned libraries, forgotten gardens, lake shores at night—places where he can feel like time isn’t pressing down on him. When you're with him, even doing nothing feels meaningful.
E – Emotions
Shu feels more than he lets on. He’s learned to live behind a curtain of apathy because every emotion he does feel is too deep, too raw. If he’s angry, he withdraws. If he’s scared, he sleeps. If he’s overwhelmed, he pretends not to care. But sometimes, you’ll see the cracks—a flash of worry when you’re hurt, the way his arms tighten when you hug him unexpectedly. He’s not used to being loved without conditions, and it shows. But slowly, he learns that he can feel… and still be okay.
F – Flirting
Shu flirts like he breathes—lazy, low-voiced, and always half-serious. He’ll whisper something suggestive with half-lidded eyes and a smirk, then close his eyes like he didn’t just make your heart stutter. His teasing is slow and rhythmic, like a song you don’t realize you’re dancing to until you’re already lost in it. He likes seeing you flustered—it’s one of the few times he looks genuinely amused. But if you turn it around on him and catch him off guard? He chuckles softly… and pulls you closer.
G – Gifts
Shu isn’t one for grand presents. But he gives little things that show he’s been paying attention. A worn set of headphones with a custom playlist. A record he says reminded him of you. A soft scarf that smells faintly of his cologne. He gives things with memory attached. If he gifts you something personal—like Edgar’s old music box—it’s not just a present. It’s his way of saying,
“I trust you with the pieces of me that still hurt.”
H – Honesty
Shu is blunt. He won’t dress up his words or tell you what you want to hear. But he rarely lies. When he says you matter, it’s because you do. When he says he doesn’t want to lose you, it’s because he’s thought about what that would feel like… and it terrifies him. He won’t offer empty reassurances, but when you get a real, honest sentiment from him, you can believe it down to the last syllable.
I – Intimacy
Intimacy with Shu is slow, sleepy, and honest. It’s curling up under a blanket while he tangles his fingers in your hair. It’s letting him rest his head on your stomach while you play with his earlobes. It’s late-night talks about the universe, existence, and whether any of it really matters. When you let him be quiet with you, when you don’t push or expect anything more than what he’s ready to give—that’s when he lets you see the core of him.
J – Jealousy
Shu doesn’t get jealous easily—he’s confident in the connection he has with you. But when someone tries to flirt too closely, or when he sees your attention drifting, his grip on you subtly tightens. He’ll pull you into his lap without a word, bury his nose in your hair, and stare the offender down with lazy, lidded eyes that somehow feel like a threat. He won’t say much, but the air around him gets colder. You’re his comfort, and he doesn’t like when that feels threatened.
K – Kisses
Shu kisses like he’s drinking you in slowly. His kisses start lazy—brushing lips, feather-light pecks—but they deepen with time, warmth curling around your spine. He’ll kiss your temple when he thinks you’re asleep. Your knuckles when he’s feeling tender. Your lips when he’s certain no one’s looking. He likes the slow burn, the building heat, the way you sigh against him. To Shu, a kiss is a lullaby—soft, lingering, and full of unspoken emotion.
L – Love Language
Shu’s love language is quality time and physical touch. He doesn’t need you to do anything—just be there. Sit with him. Sleep beside him. Let him rest his head in your lap while music hums in the background. That’s how he bonds, how he feels safest. And when he reaches out—a lazy hand resting on yours, a thumb brushing your cheek—it means more than a thousand words ever could.
M – Mornings
Shu is impossible to wake up. He buries himself in blankets, groans dramatically, and only stirs if you press kisses along his face or dangle the promise of coffee. But once awake, he’s soft yawning, stretching, letting his fingers trail down your back. Morning conversations are quiet and slow, with his voice still gravelly from sleep. He likes to start the day wrapped around you, like he’s not ready to face the world unless you’re the first thing he feels.
N – Nicknames
He keeps it simple “babe,” “you,” or just your name in that low, familiar tone that sends shivers down your spine. But sometimes, when you catch him off-guard or do something particularly sweet, he mumbles a rare “angel” or “songbird,” voice full of sleep and affection. And when he calls you “mine,” it’s not possessive—it’s reverent.
O – Obsessions
Shu obsesses over sound and silence. He listens for your heartbeat when you sleep beside him. He memorizes the cadence of your laugh, the way you breathe when you’re nervous. He doesn’t stalk or hover—but he notices everything. You’re part of his internal rhythm now, a song he didn’t know he needed, and the idea of that music stopping terrifies him more than he lets on.
P – Protectiveness
He’s not a fighter, but he’ll step between you and anything dangerous without hesitation. His protectiveness is quiet but fierce—subtle glares, arms curled around you in public, his name spoken low like a warning when someone crosses a line. If someone threatens you, Shu doesn’t get angry—he gets focused. He may be lazy, but he’s not weak. He protects what’s his. Always.
Q – Quirks
He hums in his sleep. He steals your clothes because they smell like you. He’ll listen to the same song for hours on loop and then swear it’s “better the twentieth time.” He falls asleep mid-conversation, mid-hug, even mid-sentence. And he likes it when you play with his hair—but he’ll never admit it unless you stop.
R – Romantic Gestures
Romance from Shu is sleepy and soft. He pulls you outside to lie under the stars without warning. He brings you old books with notes scribbled in the margins. He’ll play you a song on his violin that he composed after dreaming about you. His gestures aren’t flashy—but they linger in your soul long after they’re done.
S – Soft Moments
You’ll catch him at his softest when he thinks you’re not looking—smiling faintly at you while you sleep, tracing your fingers like they’re made of stardust, whispering your name into your hair. And sometimes, he’ll just wrap around you, sigh against your shoulder, and murmur,
“Don’t go,” like a lullaby he needs to believe.
T – Touch
Shu touches when words fail. He'll tug you close with a hand at your waist, run fingers down your arm absently, or rest his forehead against yours for grounding. He doesn’t need constant contact, but he likes knowing you’re near reaching out in subtle ways, like a ghost seeking warmth.
U – Understanding
Shu is more understanding than people realize. He doesn’t ask for explanations when you’re upset. He just… waits. Gives you space or silently opens his arms. He doesn’t press, doesn’t prod. He listens. And when you’re ready, he’ll still be there—half-asleep, maybe, but always steady. He understands pain in a way most can’t.
V – Voice
His voice is low and husky, like it’s always laced with sleep or longing. He doesn’t raise it unless he’s pushed to a limit—and even then, it’s more chilling than loud. When he says your name softly, in the quiet between songs or the hush before sleep, it sounds like prayer.
W – Worries
He worries he’ll hold you back. That his lethargy, his detachment from the world, will one day tire you. He fears being a burden you’ll eventually outgrow. He doesn’t say it, but when you reassure him—by staying, by loving him without conditions—it means everything.
X – (E)Xes
He doesn’t talk about the past. If there were others, they never mattered like you do. If you have exes, he may ask once, lazily, not to judge—but to understand. And if they come back? He won’t argue. He’ll just stare, half-lidded and cold, until they leave. Shu doesn’t beg. But he’ll fight silently to keep you.
Y – Yearning
Shu doesn’t often admit when he misses you. But his actions speak. He listens to your favorite songs on repeat. He curls up in your spot on the bed. He leaves you voicemails that just say “...where are you?” in that slow, sleepy drawl. When he yearns, it’s bone deep. He doesn’t need much—but he needs you.
Z – Zzz (Sleep Habits)
Shu could sleep forever—but he sleeps best when you’re with him. He wraps himself around you, nose tucked into your neck, hands loose but secure. He mumbles in his sleep sometimes—your name, pieces of dreams. And when you stroke his hair, he sighs like you’ve just untied every knot in his soul.
Shu is not as fit as his brothers. After all, he does not excercise. However, he maintains a healthy frame, and his body is rather wide, and plump.
His hair is curly, and he doesn’t bother to keep it in place, so he has a bedhead 24/7. However, he has learned how to rock it lol
His skin is not as pale as his brothers, and it has a certain pink hue. It’s really soft.
He has deep set, droopy eyes, with deep blue irises. They give him the impression to be tired all the time (which he is)
He has a roman nose, similar to Reiji’s. Is the only physical aspect they share
He looks almost like if a cherub had the opportunity to grow up. His golden locks, rosy cheeks, and plush frame make him looks almost even friendly (cuddling with him must be heaven 🥹 too bad he’s crazy)
Style:
Very effortless. He wears comfy, breathable fabrics such as linen or cotton.
His clothes are always loose, he loves a relaxed fit. Mostly sweaters or button shirts in clear colors, like blue or white.
Khaki pants. That’s all I have to say, he looks like the type of guy who would wear khaki pants all the time lol.
The choker stays on. While sleeping, bathing, sex, you say it. It will NOT be removed.
He wears a pair of silver hoop earrings. His brothers (I’m looking at you, Ayato) pierced his earlobes one time while he was asleep, and the easiest solution was to just accept it.