#fanfict

bsf! rafe cameron x bsf! reader smut with a lil plot🦢 masterlist

warnings: p in v, and idk if i missed anything lmk female! reader

based on this headcanon i wrote: ౨ৎ “it starts by you ovulating and flirting with him just a little too much to be playful.”౨ৎ daydream:

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧

“i need your help with something,” you mumble from where you’re laying across rafes bed, face half buried in one of his pillows. he barely glances up from his phone. “that usually means trouble.” “probably.” that gets his attention.

rafe snorts softly, tossing his phone onto his chest before looking over at you properly. “alright, c’mon then. what’d you do?” you hesitate just long enough for him to narrow his eyes. “why do you look nervous?” “because it’s embarrassing.” “that’s never stopped you before.” you throw one of his pillows at him immediately, and he catches it with an annoying grin.

“seriously,” he says, sitting up now. “what is it?” you chew on the inside of your cheek before blurting it out. “i’m ovulating and it’s making me insane.” “…you came to me with this information?” your face burns. “i knew i shouldn’t have said anything—” “no, no,” rafe interrupts quickly, trying not to laugh. “keep going. this is the best day of my life.” “rafe.” “sorry, sorry.” he presses his lips together, still smirking. “continue, princess.” you huff before asking quietly, “can you help me..” “what’d you need my help with, exactly?” he says, trying to contain how great he feels.

“you know what i need your help with rafe! don’t try mess with me or I’ll just leave, im not in the mood for your messing!” slowly, rafe leans back against the headboard finding the whole scenario amusing. “okay, okay i get it. you want me to make you feel better, princess?” “please rafe i can’t take it anymore! i think im losing my mind.” you say with an annoyed, impatient sigh. “your my only friend!”

he lifts you up and places you on his lap. “you know, you didn’t have to suffer for so long you could have just asked.” he says looking at you smugly. “just.. help me relieve it a little, please?” “only because you have asked me so nicely.”

“you wanna give me a kiss, princess?” rafe said, so clearly amused. “mhm.” you lean in, lips softly touching each other as your hand reaches up to sit on his shoulders. movements getting more desperate. you move a little, grinding on him. a soft, quiet whimper escaping your lips.

“you need more?” rafe asks. “please..” his hand slips down to pull down the zipper of his jeans. “you gonna put it in for me?” “okay.” he pulls your lacey underwear to the side, while you bring his swollen cock out. “you ready, princess?” “mhm so ready.” you say, desire spreading over your face. he lays back a little further as you put his tip over your entrance, slowly sinking down. “awh baby, your so wet. you really wanted this huh?” “yes, wanted it so bad.” you reach his pubic bone as he hold your hips, griping tight.

you start to move, sliding your hands under his shirt. “fuck, princess your so tight.” he starts to guide your hips, grinding. “nghh, rafe it’s too much,” you say quietly. “shhh, i know baby. you wanted this, remember?” rafe says with a smug condescending tone. the movements get faster, sloppier. “your squeezing me so tight. you ready to cum baby?” “yeah, i-i’m ready.” “let me feel you milk me dry, princess. cmon.” you let go as your eyes roll back, with one final moan. finally getting the realise you’ve been longing for. rafe cums just at the sight of you, his best friend, cumming around his dick.

the movements come to a slow and stop. you guys have now road out your high. “you feel better princess?” “so much better, thank you rafe.” you say catching your breath and planting a kiss at the corner of his mouth. rafe can officially say that that’s the first time he’s ever truly been content.

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧

a/n: yes, i am ovulating and thought it would be so much easier if i had a guy friend so i dont have to have a serious relationship with him and we can still be friends.🙄 anyway, i hope you angels enjoyed!

say sorry ༊ rafe cameron

in which..rafe punishes reader for flirting with another guy

pairings : obsessed!rafe + petal!reader

warnings : spanking, pet names, aftercare, clit play, degradation, not proofread

“—‘m sorry!” i squeal, my body jolting forward as rafe’s hand comes down on my skin again.

rafe’s always been super possessive, and can never let go of what’s ‘his’. so even though rafe and i are no longer together, seeing me flirt with another guy drove him crazy.

i giggled softly at the guys joke, which was in no way funny, looking up at him in awe. i complimented him a few times, and he made it clear he liked me.

ping! i hear a notification from my phone. the screen lights up and my face drops, body freezing.

rafe

╰ leave your seat and come to the bathroom.

╰ now.

fuck no. i got this date, i’m going to enjoy it. i close my phone, putting on a smile and turning my attention back to the guy in front of me.

and that’s what got me here; bent over his bed, bare ass on display.

“did y’think it was funny or some shit? think it was funny to ignore my fucking message?” he growled with fury, punctuating his words with another slap to my rosy ass.

i shake my head, a choked sob escaping my lips as i reach my hand back to soothe my skin. but rafe grabs my hand and throws it back to my side. his hand trails from my ass to my—embarrassingly wet pussy.

“you’re not supposed to enjoy this, doll. you’re supposed to take your punishment like a good fuckin’ girl, not get wet from it.” his humiliating words cause a blush to form on my cheeks. it’s true, i’m not supposed to be enjoying this. but i am.

his hand reaches my clit, rubbing tight circles on the sensitive nub. “fu-ck, rafe!” i mewl pathetically, hands gripping into the sheets as the magical movements release the pent up arousal.

but it soon stops, and my overstimulated skin is met with a slap to my drenched pussy. i whimper and jump forward, flattening my body in the bed. rafe’s hands come colliding down on my ass, before gripping my hips and forcing me back up.

“don’t fucking run from it.”

“it hurts!” i sob, clutching onto the sheets.

“it’s supposed to. say sorry.” he punctuates his words with another slap, leaving my skin raw and tingling.

“i’m sorry! ‘m so sorry, it shouldn’t have flirted with that guy,” i cry out between tears.

“good girl. now say you won’t ever flirt with a another man.” rafe demands dangerously, lifting his hand again, ready to strike.

“i-i won’t ever flirt with another m-an again,” i stammer. at this point my skin burns like it’d been lit on fire.

he goes silent for a moment, and i look behind me to see what he’s doing. he wasn’t there, he’d gone to the drawers to get something. he comes back with a bottle of lotion.

thank fuck, finally something nicer. he squirts some of it in his hand, before softly massaging the magic mixture into my skin, the cool temperature cooling the burning sensation deliciously.

“don’t cry, doll.” he cooes, thumb swiping the tears in my face away as i stand in front of him, looking up at him innocently. “c’mere.” he sits in the bed, patting his lap.

Your childhood rival, Aizawa!, “Hates” you.

Pairings — Aizawa! x thick!brownskin fem.

Aizawa! “hates” you. He’s “hated” you since you were teens fighting for the top spot. He hates your our beautiful brown skin, the way your fat ass bounced in your tight costume, how sexy you sounded cussing him out and how your scent of vanilla and cocoa butter lingered.

That still didn’t explain why your back slammed against the rack of supplies with each rough thrust he gave you, making your legs wrap around him tighter as you scratched on his tacky costume, within your second week of teaching at U.A.

“Oh, f-fuuck!” you moaned helplessly as he groaned in your ear, squeezing you tighter against him as he threw his head back in pleasure. He sure was fucking you like he hated you. “Shut the fuck up and ugh take it. This what you wanted, huh? slut. you’ve been haah— teasing me ever since you got here.” He growled, hot breath against your neck and he slammed into you once again, his balls smacking against your ass as your moaned louder. The shelf creaked loudly each time your back slammed against it as random pens and highlighters threatened to spill out of it. your cries and pants clashed with his deep grunts as he shifted a hand down to squeeze your ass as he continuously rammed into your slick, warm walls. “oh gosh— shouta!” you whined, scratching at him harder as your tight pussy tightened around his veiny cock, trying to milk him dry. He let out a shaky moan before squishing your ass cheek harder and plunging deep into you once again. “shit— I hate you so much!” you panted helplessly, your body clearly betraying you. “Your pussy doesn’t nghh s-sweetheart. Greedy little hole.” He growled lowly, words shattering your walls and ego, but also adding to the slickness of your shiny cunt.

Aizawa! Grips your face, thumb digging into your cheek as he stared deep into your brown orbs, daring you to look, away. You panted heavily as the messiest moans flew out your mouth. Your hips bucked against his pelvis making his bulbous, throbbing tip nudge your cervix leaving you moaning uncontrollably. His pale, thick eight— no, ten inched dick got wetter each time your greedy, tight hole sucked him in, your cream painting his cock with each pump. He buried his head in the crook of your neck before ramming into you continuously make your cry out as he let out the sluttiest groans in your ear. “yes-yes-yes! right ‘fuckin t-there sho!” You whined as you felt him dig at your sweet spot almost making you release right there. Your drenched pussy squelched with each thrust as some of your slick splattered all over his thighs. “I’m going to fucking ngh break you— nobody ‘ll ever f-fuck you like this, sweetheart.” he growled low and shaky in your ear as he had to stop himself from cumming right there at the sight of your beautiful fucked out face. he locked his pink lips with yours, kiss messy and desperate, swallowing eachothers moans and cries. “ooohh shit haah—I needa cum” You howled as your felt the knot in your stomach release as you let out a dragged moan, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your skull. “shiiiit, ‘m cummin’ sweetheart.” he roared as you felt his length twitch inside of you before his hot cum shot deep inside your womb as you whimpered in response.

——————-

2 years of marriage and a baby later..

Aizawa! tickled you and pecked your face as you rolled around in the fluffy, extra comfy king sized bed, in attempt to escape him. “Cmon, ma. Just a taste?” he pleaded as he stopped tickling you before pulling at your thong, letting it snap back harshly on your skin with each tug…

who would’ve thought you guys ‘hated’ eachother a few years ago.

..

⚠️⚠️Psychological and physical abuse, forcing, deumanization,

English is not my first language, btw :)

An echo of footsteps resonated on the upper floor. The former sacrificial bride—now a redeemed woman who had managed to escape the walls of that mansion—went to investigate, thinking perhaps her baby had woken up from her nap.But that was not the case. In front of her stood Reiji, the father of her child; the man who had violated her both physically and psychologically.

“W-What the hell are you doing here? Let go of my daughter and get out,” she exclaimed, trying to project a confidence she did not feel.

“My, my! I do not understand your indignation, considering this is our little creation... my creation,” he replied coldly while cradling the infant, managing to soothe her crying.

“So, this was the reason for your flight. You know? Had I suspected it, I would have never allowed you to cross the threshold of your room. I shall wait for you downstairs to talk.

”The vampire descended toward the small living room with a firm step, leaving the young woman in a state of absolute stupor.```

~~~~~

Years had passed since she received the news of her pregnancy—a home test she had taken in her high school bathroom; a child who was not born from the man she loved, but from the one who considered her a simple piece of meat, a mere food supply, and an object to satiate his lust.

The truth was that terminating the pregnancy was not an option; she had barely reached adulthood and knew that, if the vampire found out about her intentions, he would end her life immediately.

Despite the fear inspired by the creature growing in her womb, she understood it was much safer to flee with the child and hide than to risk being murdered for rejecting it.She had to act quickly.

Vampires were extremely susceptible to the chemical and biological changes of a human body.

She remembered with bitterness that, when Reiji first profaned her, the triplets were quick to mock her, jeering that she now "reeked of him." Based on that premise, she knew it was crucial to escape before her hormonal surge gave her away.And so she did.

She packed barely five articles of clothing and, using physical discomfort as a pretext, asked to stay home instead of attending school.

—"Are you sure? I can stay and prepare something for you," Reiji had told her that day, taking her hand with a frigid delicacy.

—"Yes... I just don’t want the teachers to reprimand me. My body hurts a lot," she replied, avoiding his gaze.

—"I understand. If that is the case, I shall prepare something special for you upon my return. Rest.

"That kind of attention disconcerted the young woman. Reiji could behave like the most refined gentleman one moment and, in the next, slap her for not being "enough" according to his standards. But her decision was made.

With her heart in her throat, she fled that mansion, not to see them again for 1 year and 5 months.

~~~~~

Sitting across from him, her eyes fixed on the floor, she was unable to muster the strength necessary to meet his gaze. Hate, disgust, and a suffocating shame swirled in her chest; feelings so overwhelming that not even the love for her daughter allowed her to raise her head before her captor.

"Hmm... I see you have not been negligent in her care, and for that, I show you my gratitude," Reiji uttered with deliberate slowness. "Nonetheless, we both know you were never a viable option to raise her on your own permanently.".

"I have shown far more humanity in caring for her than you ever would, of that you can be sure," she shot back, her voice trembling but laced with venom.

"Hahahaha!" The vampire’s laughter, heavy with absolute disdain, echoed through the room.

"The difference is abysmal, my dear. She is of my own blood; I can sense her essence. You, on the other hand, were nothing more than a sacrifice destined to satisfy us. An object designed for a specific use. However, I propose a deal: return with me and the child to the mansion, where she will receive the attention her lineage demands."She swallowed hard, feeling a lump in her throat.

"And if I refuse?"

"I will take her and put you to death," he declared with terrifying calm. "Your life holds no value to me if it is not to serve the purpose of raising my daughter. Have I been clear enough?"

"Yes..."

Despite no longer wanting to live, she could not make a selfish choice; after all, what would await her daughter if she were raised by a monster alone?

~~~~~~~~~~~

The return to the mansion was like a death sentence executed in slow motion. The imposing stone walls, which had once been her prison, seemed to close in on her with the same coldness with which Reiji observed her.

As she crossed the threshold, the weight of the past hit her with the force of a gale: the scent of black tea, the sepulchral silence, and the feeling of being watched from the shadows by the other brothers.

Reiji walked ahead of her with impeccable posture, carrying the child with a naturalness that was deeply unsettling. Upon reaching the main hall, the young woman could no longer contain the bile rising in her throat.

"Do you know what torments me the most?" she blurted out suddenly, her voice echoing in the emptiness of the hall.

Reiji stopped and turned his head slightly, adjusting his glasses with a deliberate gesture. His silence was an invitation to continue, one charged with arrogant indifference.

"I regret every single damn second of my life that I chose you," she continued, her hands trembling with fury and disgust.

"I regret allowing it to be you who tasted my blood for the first time, for believing that amidst so much depravity, you might have an ounce of honor. I was a fool to prefer that it was you who sank your fangs into me.

"The vampire remained motionless for a moment. Then, a frigid and barely perceptible smile formed on his lips as he approached her, invading her personal space with that predatory elegance that terrified her so much.

"Your regrets are as insignificant as your will," he whispered, brushing his fingers against the young woman’s neck, right where the scars of his bites still remained. "The fact remains that, no matter how much you lament it, my mark is on your skin and my blood runs through that child’s veins. Regret is a luxury of the weak, and you no longer have the right to it."

~~~~~~~~~

Reiji did not take her to a new room, but instead led her through the familiar hallways until he stopped in front of the very same door she had crossed two years ago with the hope of never returning.

Upon opening it, the stale air and the faint scent of sandalwood hit her. The room remained pristine, as if time had frozen at the exact moment of her flight.

"I have kept this place just as you left it," Reiji remarked, entering with the child in his arms.

"Though, of course, I have taken the liberty of adding what is necessary for my daughter’s safety.

"In a corner, a crib made of dark wood and carved with gothic elegance waited, breaking the aesthetic of what was once merely a cell for a sacrificial bride. Reiji laid the little girl down with a delicacy that clashed brutally with the coldness he directed toward her.

"You will settle in here. Do not attempt to cross the threshold of this room without my permission, and much less think about approaching the mansion's exits.

The consequences, I assure you, will not be as 'polite' as the first time.

"The girl hugged herself, feeling the walls closing in around her.

"This isn't a home, Reiji. It’s a tomb with better furniture," she whispered, her voice breaking.

Reiji stepped toward her, forcing her to back up until her back hit the cold wood of the door. He leaned in, his face mere inches from hers, allowing the crimson glow of his eyes to intimidate her.

"Call it what you prefer," he declared, his voice barely a frigid whisper. "But it is the only place in the world where you are permitted to exist.

Be grateful that I have decided your utility has not yet expired. Now, change your clothes; that ordinary human attire is offensive to my sight. I will come for you for dinner.

"Without waiting for a response, Reiji left the room, and the metallic sound of the lock turning confirmed her reality: the cage had closed again, and this time, the iron bars were thicker.

As soon as the sound of the bolt clicking into place finished, desperation suffocated her. That room was not a refuge; it was a mausoleum of traumatic memories. Without a second thought, she ran toward the large window, struggling with the latch until the cold night air hit her face.

She looked down; the height was dizzying, but any fracture was preferable to the agony of being his prisoner again.

She was about to throw herself into the void when a gloved hand, cold as marble, grabbed her by the torso and threw her violently back inside.

"Do you value your life so little, or does your stupidity know no bounds?" Reiji’s voice cut through the air like a blade.She tried to stand up, her breath hitching and her eyes clouded with tears of rage.

"I’d rather die on the asphalt with my daughter than live under your roof!" she screamed at him, facing him with the last of her pride.

Reiji’s response was immediate and brutal. Before she could react, he delivered a sharp blow to her face. The impact sent her crashing to the floor, leaving her cheek burning and a deafening ring in her ears. The metallic taste of blood soon followed.

"It seems the months of freedom have made you insolent," he stated, kneeling over her to pin her against the carpet.

With a firm hand, Reiji gripped her jaw, forcing her to expose her neck. She struggled, feebly hitting the vampire's chest, but he didn’t even flinch.

"If physical pain isn't enough to teach you manners, perhaps hunger will," he whispered against her skin before sinking his fangs in with excessive cruelty.It was not a clean extraction; it was a punishment. She let out a harrowing cry that drowned into a sob as she felt him reclaiming her body in the most violent way possible.

The suction was rhythmic and painful, draining not only her blood, but also her strength and her will.When Reiji finally pulled away, the young woman lay there like a broken doll, trembling under the moonlight streaming through the open window. He stood up with unshakable calm and slammed the window shut, sealing her only exit.

Yandere Suitors + Their Valentine’s Day Dream Scenario vs. Reality. – Do their grand dreams meet reality, or does fate have other plans? Pairing ; Napoleon, Jean, Mozart and Leonardo.

Header Credit: Ikemen Series

Pairing: Multi Scenario x Fem Reader.

Tags : Yandere suitor, Possessiveness, Control, Emotional Intensity, Romantic Frustration, Jealousy, Vulnerability, Imperfect Romance, Grand Expectations vs. Reality, Character Growth, Emotional Manipulation.

Warning : This scenario includes themes of possessiveness, control, and emotional intensity. The character of Napoleon, Jean, Mozart and Leonardo expresses a yandere-like attachment, which may be unsettling for some readers. The dynamic includes moments of frustration, jealousy, and emotional manipulation as part of the character’s growth and evolution throughout the scenario. Please read with caution if you are sensitive to these themes.

A/N : Request from a friend, Yandere Suitors + Their Valentine’s Day Dream Scenario vs. Reality. – Do their grand dreams meet reality, or does fate have other plans? Pairing ; Napoleon, Jean, Mozart and Leonardo.

The following is my interpretation of what I believe Yandere Napoleon, Leonardo, Jean and Mozart would say and act, and I kindly apologize if it does not align perfectly with the character or if you have a different understanding. Please bear in mind that it is intended purely for entertainment purposes and should not be taken to heart.

─────────ೋღ 🌺ღೋ─────────

Napoleon (Ikemen Vampire) – Valentine’s Day Dream vs. Reality

Dream: A Grand Celebration of Love and Power

Napoleon's dream for Valentine's Day is nothing short of magnificent—a celebration of his power, your love, and his undeniable control over your heart. For him, this day is a spectacle, something grand and larger than life, reflecting his strategic mind and unshakable pride. Everything must go according to plan, and every detail must be designed to show you just how much you belong to him—and how devoted he is to you.

He imagines the day beginning in a luxurious setting—his personal quarters, draped in velvet and gold, soft music playing in the background. The light from the chandelier reflects off the polished floor, casting a soft glow as he approaches you with a confident, almost regal air. He will present you with an extravagant gift, something befitting of his station—perhaps an opulent piece of jewelry, or even a rare artifact. It’s not just a gift, but a symbol of his dominance and the value he places on you.

"You are mine," he would say with a self-assured smile, placing the gift in your hands, his voice low and commanding. "You deserve nothing less than perfection."

The morning would then continue with a private breakfast, a banquet of his finest foods, and a carefully curated atmosphere where no one else exists—only the two of you. He’ll share a romantic yet intense conversation with you, making sure to remind you of how lucky you are to be the object of his love and attention.

In the afternoon, Napoleon envisions taking you to an extravagant venue—perhaps an opera house or a grand ballroom—where you’ll enjoy a private performance just for the two of you. He will shower you with attention, making sure that all eyes are on him and you, the perfect couple, basking in admiration. Every glance, every whisper, every act will reflect his control over you.

As night falls, he imagines a candlelit dinner, the finest wines, and the richest foods. The table will be set for just the two of you, alone in the quiet of a grand, lavish hall. Napoleon will sit across from you, his gaze possessive and intense, never leaving you as you eat.

At the end of the evening, Napoleon will take you into his arms, his hands firm around your waist, pulling you closer. He will whisper in your ear, reminding you that you are his. No one can take you from him. This day, this night, is his gift to you, and he will make sure you know just how deeply he loves you.

... ♔

Reality: The Perfect Plan Meets Unforeseen Disruption

In reality, things don’t quite go as Napoleon envisioned.

The day begins with much of his plans already being thrown off. Napoleon wakes early, eager to start the day, but the staff has been lax with his instructions. The extravagant gift he had planned to present you has been delayed in shipping, leaving him with nothing to show you as the morning begins. His irritation simmers, but he masks it, trying to maintain the regal composure he prides himself on.

When you awake, Napoleon greets you with an intense, determined gaze. “I had something grand prepared, but of course, it’s been delayed. You’re not disappointed, are you?” His voice is sharp, as though expecting any negative reaction from you to feel like a personal betrayal.

“I’m not disappointed, Napoleon,” you reassure him with a gentle smile, trying to alleviate his frustration.

“Good,” he mutters, though his expression remains tight.

The breakfast he had meticulously planned doesn’t go as smoothly either. The servants have been slow, and the table is not arranged as he requested. Napoleon’s temper begins to fray, but he still tries to make the most of it. However, the food is lukewarm, the coffee bitter, and the atmosphere far less romantic than the one he had meticulously imagined. His sharp tongue slips as he complains, muttering under his breath about the incompetence of others.

But you, always the calming presence, gently guide him back to reality. “Napoleon, it’s okay. We’re here together, and that’s what matters.”

Despite your reassurance, his frustration continues to grow as the day progresses. The opera house he had hoped for has been booked for another event, forcing him to change venues at the last minute. The new location is far less private, filled with crowds, and Napoleon is unable to fully enjoy the performance, distracted by the presence of strangers. He had hoped for an intimate moment between just the two of you, but instead, he finds himself on edge, unable to truly relax.

By the time dinner rolls around, the meal he ordered is delayed—yet again. The candlelit hall he had planned is too crowded, the noise from other guests growing louder as the evening progresses. Napoleon’s jaw clenches as he tries to maintain his composure, though it’s clear his frustration has only grown.

“Why must everything go wrong today?” he grumbles under his breath, staring at the food, his mind racing with plans that have been ruined.

You, ever understanding, smile and reach across the table to touch his hand. “Napoleon, we’ve still got each other. That’s all that matters.”

He looks at you, and for a moment, he sees not the grand spectacle he had imagined, but the sincerity in your eyes. It quiets the storm inside him, and though he’s still visibly upset, his grip on your hand softens.

The evening continues, and as the last of the wine is poured, he pulls you closer, his voice softening. “You always make things… bearable. You truly are a treasure.”

Napoleon leans in, brushing his lips against your forehead, a possessive but tender gesture. “I may not have been able to control everything today, but I will always control my love for you.”

... ♔

Despite everything, the reality of the day feels far more genuine than the perfection Napoleon had imagined. Yes, things went wrong—there were delays, interruptions, and moments of frustration. But through it all, you remained by his side, soothing his nerves and calming his temper with your unwavering support.

By the end of the night, as he holds you in his arms, his possessiveness still apparent but softened by the bond between you two, he realizes something. Perfection is not what matters. What matters is your connection, your loyalty, and the love you share. Even in the face of a less-than-perfect day, the most important thing is that you are his, and he is yours.

“Today didn’t go as planned,” Napoleon admits, his voice tinged with a rare vulnerability. “But you made it perfect anyway.”

You smile softly, resting your head against his chest. “I’m happy as long as we’re together.”

And with that, Napoleon understands—the day may have been filled with imperfections, but your love, your unwavering presence, is the perfect conclusion to his Valentine’s Day.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Jean d'Arc (Ikemen Vampire) – Valentine’s Day Dream vs. Reality

Dream: A Quiet, Intimate Union of Souls

Jean Valentine’s Day dream is one of calm and serenity, a day where everything aligns perfectly for the two of you to exist in a world of your own. His aloof and somewhat distant demeanor hides a deep yearning for connection, and Valentine's Day is the one time he envisions that connection becoming absolute.

In his ideal vision, the day begins early, before the rest of the world stirs. The two of you are alone in his private quarters, the air thick with the sweet scent of roses he hand-picked for you. The soft flicker of candlelight dances against the walls, casting long shadows that create an ethereal atmosphere.

Jean would greet you with a quiet intensity, his gaze almost inscrutable as he takes your hand. “Today is for us, and no one else.” His voice would be a whisper, deep and full of promise, and he would escort you to a lavish breakfast spread—something simple, but elegant. A delicate tea served in porcelain cups, buttery pastries, and fresh fruits. His presence would be commanding yet tender, as he watches you carefully, assessing every flicker of emotion on your face.

The plan then moves to a quiet walk—somewhere secluded, perhaps a garden with freshly bloomed flowers or a picturesque spot by a lake. Jean’s ideal would be a setting that feels timeless, undisturbed by the outside world, where he can be with you and you alone.

“Let’s forget the world, just for today,” Jean would say, his hand resting gently on the small of your back, guiding you through the tranquility of nature. His aloofness fades slightly in the peace of this moment, and he would be entirely focused on you—on the soft sounds of your voice, the gentle touch of your hand in his, the slight shift of your expression as you react to his every word.

In the evening, he would have prepared a meal, though not overly extravagant. He would carefully arrange the dishes, making sure everything is to your taste. The setting would be intimate—just the two of you, a single candle casting shadows around the room, the only sound being the soft rustling of your clothing and the occasional clink of silverware.

For Jean, the pinnacle of the evening would be a tender, almost reverent moment—a shared kiss under the soft glow of candlelight. His touch would be delicate yet possessive, as if claiming you not with grand gestures, but with the quiet certainty of his love.

“This is my vow,” he would murmur against your lips. “To be the only one for you, and for you to be the only one for me.” His kiss would deepen, slow and deliberate, as if sealing that vow in the silence of the room.

... ♘

Reality: A Day of Quiet Discomfort and Underlying Tension

In reality, Jean’s carefully constructed day doesn’t unfold quite as he imagined.

The morning begins with a certain stiffness between you two. Jean’s aloof nature, which he assumes will be an alluring mystery, begins to feel distant rather than comforting. The breakfast, while still elegant, feels stilted—there’s an awkwardness in the air as neither of you quite know how to bridge the gap that his emotional reserve has created. His dark aubergine eyes remain focused on you, but it’s almost as if he’s watching you from afar, gauging your reactions to every subtle movement.

His words, which he believes are poetic and sincere, don’t have the impact he anticipated. “Today is for us,” he says, but there’s a coldness in his voice that makes it feel more like a command than an invitation. You smile weakly, trying to comfort him, but Jean is so caught up in the vision he’s crafted that he doesn’t notice the subtle tension in your body language.

When you go for the walk he envisioned, the silence between you both grows uncomfortable. He tries to speak to you softly, asking questions about how you feel, but the answers are brief, almost distracted. Every moment is loaded with his expectations, and while the scenery is beautiful, the atmosphere feels suffocating, like the weight of his gaze is too much to bear.

“Is something wrong?” Jean would ask, his tone more clipped than he intended. He’s frustrated that the day is not going according to his carefully planned script, and his irritation bubbles to the surface.

“No, nothing’s wrong,” you assure him. “It’s just… quiet.”

He looks away, the tension in his posture evident. He feels like he’s failed somehow, despite his best efforts. The garden he thought would be tranquil and perfect now feels like a reminder of everything that is lacking.

Later, during dinner, Jean’s frustration peaks. The meal is perfect, but it’s marred by the fact that he can’t seem to connect with you. Every movement feels rehearsed. You both sit in silence more than he intended, the atmosphere heavy, as he watches you with a sharpness that feels more like observation than affection.

When the candlelight flickers and the evening draws to a close, Jean tries to bring the moment back to where he imagined it should be. He leans in to kiss you, but the tension is still there, lingering in the space between you. His touch is soft, but the possessiveness he intended feels more like desperation, his frustration seeping through.

“I am the only one for you,” he mutters, but his words are laced with uncertainty, as if he’s trying to convince himself as much as he is you.

The kiss, though tender, carries an underlying weight of his dissatisfaction. He’s not sure what went wrong, but he feels it—a gnawing emptiness that no amount of perfect planning can fill.

... ♘

By the end of the evening, Jean is left with a sense of failure. The day he had envisioned—filled with romance, serenity, and the soft glow of connection—hasn’t materialized. Instead, it’s been filled with silences, unspoken frustrations, and moments of tension.

“I wanted today to be… perfect,” Jean admits quietly, his usually confident demeanor cracked. His eyes, though still dark and unreadable, now hold a touch of vulnerability.

You reach out to him, your hand brushing his in an attempt to reassure him. “It’s not about perfection, Jean. It’s about us being together, and that’s what matters.”

For the first time, Jean allows himself to relax, just a little. His lips curve into a small, sincere smile—one that speaks more of acceptance than victory. “You’re right,” he murmurs, his hand tightening around yours. “Today… wasn’t perfect. But as long as you’re here, I’ll endure it.”

Jean d'Arc may not have had the day he envisioned, but in the end, he realizes that the imperfections only made it more real, more human. And though he is far from perfect, your love for him feels like enough to bridge the gap between expectation and reality.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Mozart (Ikemen Vampire) – Valentine’s Day Dream vs. Reality.

Dream: A Serenade of Love in Perfect Harmony

Mozart’s idea of a perfect Valentine’s Day is not extravagant, but it is precise. Everything must be executed flawlessly, just like his music—no mistakes, no disruptions, no deviations from the masterpiece he envisions in his mind. He has planned every detail with an almost obsessive attention to perfection, ensuring that this day will be unlike any other.

The morning begins with him waking up early, composing a new piece of music just for you. He doesn’t want to gift you something as meaningless as flowers or chocolates—no, that would be too ordinary, too temporary. He will create something eternal, something that will carry his love through every note. The melody will be gentle yet possessive, weaving his emotions into a composition that only you can truly understand.

By noon, he imagines taking you to an intimate, secluded space where no one else exists. He cannot stand the thought of sharing you with the world today. The idea of another man—even a passing stranger—glancing at you, hearing your laughter, or witnessing your beauty makes his jaw clench with restrained fury.

The location must be perfect: a grand, candlelit music hall, empty except for the two of you. He envisions sitting at the piano, guiding your hands over the keys as he teaches you how to play a melody meant only for you. His fingers would linger on yours, his voice low as he murmurs instructions—his control both tender and unyielding.

As evening falls, he dreams of a private dinner where no one can interfere. You will sit beside him, close enough that he can feel your warmth, hear your heartbeat. There will be no distractions—no unwanted guests, no interruptions. Just you and him, sealed away from the world. He will watch you with those sharp, calculating violet eyes, memorizing every detail of your expressions as you listen to the piece he composed for you.

And at the end of the night, he imagines holding you close, whispering his devotion in a voice only you can hear.

"I will never allow anyone to take you from me. You are mine, and mine alone."

... ♪

Reality: A Discordant Note in His Symphony

Reality, however, is far less cooperative.

The morning starts well enough. Mozart wakes up before you, lost in his world of composition, pouring his emotions into the notes of his new piece. But as he plays it, testing each chord, he can already feel something is off. It’s not perfect. It’s missing something.

Frustration builds in his chest like a storm. He replays the piece over and over, his hands growing harsher against the keys. He doesn’t even notice you waking up, watching him with sleepy confusion.

“Mozart…?” you call his name gently, but he doesn’t answer. His mind is too fixated on the music, on the imperfections that gnaw at his soul.

By the time he finally acknowledges you, his mood is already tainted with irritation. He had wanted everything to be perfect, yet he feels like the day is slipping through his fingers. He forces himself to calm down—he won’t let his frustration ruin this.

The afternoon doesn’t go much better. He had planned to take you somewhere private, but the mansion is lively today—too lively. Leonardo, Napoleon, and even Arthur are wandering about, their voices echoing through the halls. Each time another man so much as acknowledges your presence, Mozart’s expression darkens.

Arthur smirks at you. "Looking lovely today, little dove. Planning something special with our dear prodigy?"

Mozart’s hands tighten into fists, his patience rapidly depleting.

And then there’s Leonardo, ever the thorn in his side. “Oi, Amadeus. You sure you don’t wanna let them breathe a little? Can’t keep ‘em locked away all day.”

Mozart clenches his jaw, his hands twitching as if itching to slam the piano lid shut. He doesn’t need their commentary. He doesn’t want their presence. This was supposed to be his day with you.

By evening, his carefully constructed plan has completely unraveled. The private music hall? Unavailable—some aristocrats have taken it for a gathering. The intimate dinner? Constantly interrupted by others entering the dining room, forcing Mozart to bite his tongue from snapping at them. Even the piece he composed for you doesn’t sound right when he plays it, his own perfectionism making him loathe what he created.

The moment he finally gets you alone, his patience is at its breaking point.

Mozart stands before you, his sharp violet eyes burning with an intensity that sends a chill down your spine. His fingers tremble at his sides—not with fear, but with the raw, unfiltered frustration of a man whose love is so overwhelming, so consuming, that reality itself cannot meet his expectations.

"This day was supposed to be perfect." His voice is tight, controlled—but there’s an edge of something dangerous beneath it.

You reach out, gently grasping his hand. “Mozart, it doesn’t have to be perfect.”

His entire body stiffens at your words. Doesn’t have to be perfect? But you deserve perfection. How could he accept anything less?

For a long moment, he just stares at you, his mind racing. But as he looks into your eyes, something inside him shifts. The way you gaze at him, the warmth of your touch—it’s grounding. His rigid shoulders loosen just slightly, the tension easing as he exhales a slow breath.

“…You don’t understand,” he murmurs, voice softer now, yet still laced with that obsessive devotion. “I wanted to give you something flawless. I wanted this day to be—”

You place a finger against his lips, silencing him with a small, knowing smile. “Mozart, I don’t need perfect. I just need you.”

Silence. His pupils dilate slightly, his breath catching for just a second.

Then, without another word, he pulls you into his arms, holding you so tightly it’s as if he’s afraid you’ll vanish. His heartbeat is erratic, his grip possessive, desperate.

"You belong to me," he whispers into your hair, voice laced with the unyielding promise of a man who will never let you go. "And I belong to you."

And in that moment, he realizes—perhaps love isn’t about perfection. Perhaps, just this once, he can allow himself to exist in the flaws, in the reality, as long as you are by his side.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Leonardo Da Vinci (Ikemen Vampire) – Valentine’s Day Dream vs. Reality

Dream: A Day of Artistic Passion and Infinite Devotion

Leonardo Da Vinci envisions Valentine’s Day as the perfect opportunity to express his admiration and passion for you in a way that is as beautiful and intricate as one of his masterpieces. He wants the day to feel like a living canvas—every moment a stroke of love, every glance an expression of his affection.

In his dream scenario, Leonardo begins the day by waking you with the softest touch—a kiss to your forehead, light as air, before he even speaks. His voice would be low, filled with intensity, but also a tenderness reserved just for you. “Today, I shall create something that will last forever, something for only you and I.”

The morning would be spent in his atelier, where Leonardo would craft something unique for you—whether a painting, a sculpture, or a beautiful, personalized piece of art. He would be utterly focused on you, as he mixes colors with an artist’s precision and delicate hand movements. As he works, he would softly speak to you, sharing his thoughts and passions. There would be no pressure, just the gentle rhythm of creation, and an atmosphere of deep connection.

“The art I create for you will surpass anything I have ever done,” he would say with a quiet, almost wistful pride. “It will be my gift to you, a symbol of how much I admire and cherish you.”

For lunch, he would take you to a secluded café, away from the crowds. A place that feels intimate, where the world outside fades away and the two of you can enjoy the moment. The table would be set with fine china, delicate flowers in vases, and the air would be filled with the soft hum of conversation from the other patrons, but it would feel like just the two of you in the world.

“You have always been my inspiration, my muse,” Leonardo would say as he takes your hand across the table. His golden eyes, tinged with longing, would meet yours. “Even the greatest works are incomplete without the touch of something beautiful.”

The afternoon would follow with a private stroll through a garden—lush, vibrant, and calm. The quiet would be broken only by the occasional murmur of nature, the scent of roses and lavender hanging in the air. In Leonardo’s eyes, the world would be perfect as long as you were by his side. His hand would rest possessively but gently on your waist, guiding you through the garden as if he were showing you a part of his soul.

As the day winds down, Leonardo would prepare a special, intimate dinner in his study. He would have a candle-lit ambiance, soft music playing in the background, and the smell of a freshly prepared meal filling the air. There would be no hurry, no rush—just time for the two of you to enjoy each other’s company.

“I have spent centuries searching for something beautiful, but I have finally found it in you,” Leonardo would say as he gazes at you, his golden eyes softening with love. “You are my ultimate masterpiece.”

And as the evening draws to a close, the night would end with a tender kiss—a promise of his love, of a life spent together, creating beauty and passion as one. He would pull you close, his lips brushing against yours in a kiss that speaks of longing, devotion, and eternal affection.

... ☕︎

Reality: A Day Full of Surprises and Overwhelming Passion

In reality, Leonardo’s grand vision doesn’t unfold quite as perfectly as he planned. Though he remains passionate and committed, a few unexpected twists make the day feel more chaotic than ideal.

The morning begins as planned—Leonardo awakens you with a soft kiss, his golden eyes glowing with warmth, but there’s an undercurrent of impatience. He’s eager for the day to unfold just as he imagined it, but there’s a subtle pressure in his gaze that doesn’t go unnoticed.

As the two of you move to his atelier, he begins his work on the art piece he envisioned for you. However, the intensity of his focus borders on obsession. He works relentlessly, hardly stopping for breaks, and his words become more demanding than soothing. “Do not disturb me, I must perfect this,” he says, his tone strained, his golden eyes narrowed in concentration. The art, though beautiful, begins to feel like something he is forcing rather than creating out of pure love.

The atmosphere becomes thick with tension as he continuously tweaks and adjusts the piece, frustrated by every slight imperfection. His gaze flickers to you intermittently, as if checking for approval, but the warmth of his earlier words has been replaced with the intensity of someone driven to complete a masterpiece, no matter the cost.

“I cannot let this day be ruined,” he mutters to himself, before focusing back on his work. “It must be perfect.”

When the two of you finally leave for lunch, Leonardo’s charm is momentarily overshadowed by his obsession with the art. He’s distracted, his golden eyes distant, lost in thought. He seems to forget that this moment is supposed to be about you, the two of you, and not just his work. The conversation feels forced, and his attempts to make you feel special fall flat. He’s there physically, but emotionally, he’s consumed by his creations.

“You must understand,” Leonardo would say, his voice low, “that every work of mine requires this focus. I cannot turn it off.” His hands grasp yours almost desperately, but the passion seems more like a demand than a tender declaration.

The afternoon stroll is much like the lunch—Leonardo tries to stay present, but he’s too distracted. He notices the way you walk and the sounds of the world around you, but it’s not the serene, artistic moment he had envisioned. His possessiveness creeps in—his hand holding yours tightly, his presence hovering over you as if making sure no one else can claim your attention.

“I can’t let go of you,” he says suddenly, his voice heavy with possessiveness. “Not now, not ever.”

Dinner, instead of being a calm and intimate moment, becomes another area of tension. Leonardo’s lingering frustrations from earlier in the day make him irritable. While the meal is delicious, he finds himself focused more on making sure everything is perfect than truly enjoying the company of the one he loves. His gaze flickers constantly, checking for your approval, his golden eyes growing darker with each passing moment.

“I only want to give you my best,” he mutters, his tone rough. “But it seems even I can’t achieve perfection today.”

As the night draws to a close, the kiss he offers you feels possessive, as though he’s trying to assert his claim on you—more out of desperation than genuine tenderness. While his lips are soft against yours, there’s an overwhelming intensity in the way he holds you, as though afraid to let you go.

“You are mine,” he whispers, but there’s a hint of vulnerability that he doesn’t quite know how to express. “I won’t let anyone else take you.”

... ☕︎

Leonardo’s Valentine’s Day doesn’t turn out the way he imagined. It’s not the serene, perfect day filled with artistic passion. Instead, it’s filled with frustrations, moments of tension, and an overwhelming need to control the situation, despite his love for you.

He watches you closely as the night winds down, his golden eyes soft but full of longing. “I did not expect today to go like this,” he admits, his voice low. “I had hoped to create the perfect day for you… but I fear I only created stress.”

You gently take his hand, offering reassurance. “It’s not perfect, Leonardo, but it was real. And that means something, too.”

Leonardo looks at you, his heart heavy with a mixture of guilt and affection. Slowly, he smiles—a bittersweet smile, but one that carries an unspoken understanding. “I will make it up to you. I will always try… for you.”

And in that moment, Leonardo learns that while perfection may be his goal, it’s the imperfect moments, the real, raw connections, that mean the most.

✎﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

Written by ; @eternaldarknesswitch

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/oh boy i cant wait to read a fanfic today!!

Haaaah....... Christ Matthew..