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viennakarma · 8 months

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After you

Fernando Alonso x reader

Summary: There's a life before becoming Fernando's sugar baby and there's a life after becoming his sugar baby.

Word count: 2.7k

Tags: Smut, female reader, +18, sex (p in v), unprotected sex, established relationship, sugar baby x sugar daddy, Dom!Nando, little breath play (choking), spanking, face slap, a bit of dirty talking, degradation, overuse of pet names (bc it's spanish duh!), big age gap (reader is early 20s, in college), everything implicitly consensual, not beta read

Note: i'd like to start by saying you nando fuckers were right and these 3 fernando media (see above) changed my life forever, thank you. gentle reminder that english is not my first language (so please bear any mistake), I'm also considering taking requests for F1 drabbles and oneshots, would anyone be interested?

Find me on Twitter!

As soon as you enter the flat, you take off your overcoat and leave it behind the door. You go to your room, but you stop when you see several gift boxes laying on the floor beside the bed, which you recognize the brands, Tiffany, La Perla, Chanel, among others. But you feel exhausted from college finals and you leave the boxes behind and head straight for the bathroom.

Eight months ago, when you lived in a tiny dorm on campus, working two shifts beyond university to pay for your studies, all these brands used to be a distant luxury you would never afford on your own.

But there was a life before becoming Fernando Alonso's sugar baby; and another one after all that.

Now you have a nice, comfortable, luxurious apartment close to campus, your university is fully paid for months in advance, and you don't have to use the dorm's communal bathroom. It sometimes feels like a dream and you think you're going to wake up back in that moment much earlier.

You fill the bathtub and take off your clothes, looking in the mirror, you see two hickey marks near your breasts. Fernando was mindful not to leave marks in visible places. You step into the tub and allow yourself to be enveloped by the scented salts and bubble soap. You rub yourself slowly, pushing away all the tiredness and stress of the entire day, using the shower gel that Fernando liked on you.

After scrubbing yourself down, you step out of the shower wrapped in a fluffy robe. You dry your hair with the dryer, and head back to the bedroom.

On top of the gifts there is a note that you missed before.

“To my girl, I know you worked really hard to do well on your finals. Enjoy your gifts. See you tonight, cariño. - Fernando"

You open Tiffany’s blue box first, it's the smallest one. Contains a pair of star-shaped diamond earrings, and a silver necklace with a matching pendant. You smile when you realize that it's been eight months and he already knows your taste for clothes and accessories. The second box you open is a Coco de Mer, a lingerie brand. With two pairs of lingerie inside, both in lace, one black, with stockings and garter belt and the other red, transparent with ribbons that cross the abdomen.

Getting out of bed, you pull on the black one, adjust the stocking on the garter belt and hang the robe in the bathroom again, staring at your reflection in the mirror, barely registering the messy young misfit you were just months ago.

The other boxes mostly contain clothes and accessories. Pants, skirts, dresses, handbags, wallets and backpacks. After taking a look at everything, you take the pieces to the closet and leave them on the chair to arrange later.

Then you hear the sound of the front door opening and you know it's Fernando. You lay down on the bed and wait for him. Lying on your stomach with your butt in the air, you look at Fernando when he enters. He's not wearing his team shirt, he's just wearing a white shirt and denim pants. He stares at your body, but your eyes settle on a box in his hand, he puts the box, his phone and wallet on the bedside table. He smiles, moving closer and bending over to leave a gentle bite on your ass. His masculine scent envelops you and you feel the urge to rip his clothes off and push him on the bed, and ride his cock until the sun comes up tomorrow.

“Hi, bebé,” he whispers, leaning down to kiss your temple, “How were the exams?” he asks as he sits on the king size bed, his back against the headboard. He pats his own thigh, and you quickly crawl up, onto his lap sitting facing him. You hope he feels your underwear wet with anticipation.

“Thermodynamics was easy, but Quantum Physics, not so much,” you say, as he opens the box that you know as one of Belgian chocolates, your favorite.

“You’ve studied so hard for both, so I think you'll do well,” he says, pulling out a chocolate with almonds from the box. With his other hand, he grips your hip.

He brings the chocolate up to your mouth and you take a bite, wiggling in his lap as the chocolate melts in your mouth.

“You did so well on your test last week,” he compliments, and his gentle tone turns you on even more. You feel his fingers making way inside the lace of your panties and you hold on to his shoulders, keeping your balance and granting more access to you.

He takes another chocolate from the box and takes a bite of it as his fingers find your pussy. Fernando rubs his index and middle fingers, spreading your wetness. You melt into his arms and place your hand on the back of his neck. He gives you the second piece of chocolate at the same time as his fingers penetrate you. You're so wet, his fingers slide easily inside, massaging your pussy calmly, oh so calmly that you roll your hips into his fingers, trying to make him go faster.

“Quiet, princesa,” he commands, and you stop the hip movement. He shoves the fingers that were holding the chocolate into your mouth, and you suck hard until his fingers are clean.

His other hand, the one inside your panties, you feel keeping the maddening slow pace, completely ignoring the need for relief in your clit. You slide a hand down your belly to bring it to your clit, but he takes your hand away and cups your chin, a possessive look in his brown-almost-green eyes.

“Did I say you could touch yourself?" he asks brusquely, and you just stare at him. “Eh? Did I?”

“No,” you reply huskily, knowing he can feel you getting even wetter at his firm tone. He slaps your cheek, and your pussy throbs around his fingers, you can see in his eyes that he feels it. And he absolutely loves it.

“No, what?” he says, a smug smirk on his face.

“No, sir.” you say and he strokes the cheek he slapped. Fernando takes your chin and pulls your lips to his. He kisses you obscenely, with lips and tongue and his face inching up against yours.

“I know your week has been pretty stressful, then behave yourself so you can get your reward, okay?” he says in a gentle tone, finally picking up the speed of his fingers and pushing the palm of his hand against your swollen clit. You whimper, holding a moan in your throat and the urge to move your hips to keep pace with him and come faster, but you hold back.

Then Fernando's phone rings, interrupting the two of you. He lets the phone ring, and you groan when his other hand grips your hip tightly, squeezing your ass. The phone stops ringing, but then it rings again.

“No, Nando, please… Don't answer it, Papi” you whimper, already feeling his fingers stop stimulating you. He grabs your hips and places you to the side, back on the bed.

“So needy, bebé,” he mutters, biting softly on your chin before getting up, “I need to pick this call, babygirl. Won’t be long, yeah?” He grumbles, taking the phone from the nightstand. you watch as Fernando answers, muttering “Alonso speaking,” as he leaves the room.

Frustrated, you lie back on the mattress and stare at the ceiling, knowing he's probably going to take longer than he said he would. He always took long calls about his team, or his car, or whatever. It's almost involuntary as your hands slide down your abdomen and you rub your thighs together to get some friction. With your hands, you gently pinch your nipples through the lace of your bra, feeling a hypersensitive moan escape your lips. You slide your hands and press your clit over the wet panties, just looking for some relief while he doesn’t come back.

The need for release is stronger than you are as you slide your hand inside your panties, circling your clit with pressure, gasping.

At that moment, Fernando re-enters the room, and you quickly remove your hand. But the furious look on his face tells you he already caught you red handed. Heart racing, you watch as he clicks his tongue in a reproving gesture. He walks into the closet and returns with a pair of leather cuffs.

“I thought I made myself clear…” he murmurs, yanking hard on your wrists to get you to your feet, “You only touch yourself with my permission.”

You swallow hard when he cups your face and then slaps you across the face. You bite your bottom lip, smiling. He takes your wrists and secures them with the restraints, behind your back. Fernando slaps you again, and you feel the wetness pool in your panties.

“You love it, don't you?” He smirked with another slap. “Being treated like the slut you are. My slut. Knees on the floor,” he commands, his tone doesn't leave space for anything other than obedience.

His firm touch on the back of your neck compels you down until your knees meet the floor. You feel your mouth water as he starts struggling with his own belt, undoing the buttons on his pants just enough to pull his cock out. You immediately wet your lips and open your mouth, expecting to feel him on your tongue.

He shoves his cock into your mouth all at once, almost reaching your throat, and you have to control your gagging, eyes immediately watering.

“Open wide, babygirl” he gasps, taking control of slowly sliding into your mouth. He massages your face, as if to relax your jaw further. “Yes, just like that” he moans softly as he touches your throat.

He holds your head, keeping you still as the only movement is in his hips, his cock fucking your mouth. As you adjust to the volume of him moving in and out of your mouth, he picks up speed and you feel saliva wetting his entire length and running down the side of your mouth, dripping to your chin.

“Want me to fuck you, huh?” he asks but doesn't release you from his cock so you're able to answer. “Want to cum, bebé?”

He doesn’t let you go, nor does he take his cock out of your mouth. So you just hum around him, the vibration of your voice making him let out a groan.

“I don't know…” He pretends to think a little, his hips stuttering. “You disobeyed me, didn't you? I don't think you've earned your reward yet.”

He pulls his cock away from your mouth, and you watch a trail of saliva break from the distance. You close your mouth, taking the opportunity to relax your jaw.

“¿Cuál es tu color? (what's your color?)” he asks, his voice going immediately tender, looking down on you.

“Verde. (green)”

“Up you go” Fernando points to the bed as he removes the belt from the cases of his pants, and you quickly get to your feet and throw yourself face down on the mattress, your arms still pinned behind you. “On all fours” He commands and you obey, the top of your head pressed into the pillow and your ass in the air.

You feel his fingers gently rub up and down on your hips, and then he finally removes your panties. Not an instant later, you feel the belt snap on your ass, stinging.

“What did you do wrong, princesa?” he asks, then hits you with the belt once again, making you shiver.

“I touched myrself without-” you cut yourself off with a mewl when you feel the crackle of the burning leather belt again, “-Without your-” Two consecutive hits make you whimper against the pillow, but you keep going, because you know that if you stop, he will start your punishment again, “-Without your permission" you complete, panting loudly. He hits you three more times and you feel like you could come with just one touch on your clit.

“Without your permission, who?” And two more cracks of the leather against your asscheeks. The frustration of wanting to come is so great that you feel your abdomen trembling.

“Without your permission, sir!” you almost scream, desperate. So thirsty for his touch you know you’re dripping with desire and ruining the sheets.

“I don't know…” He says, as if he's thinking out loud as his hands caress your buttocks, “Do you think you deserve to come?"

“Yes please! Nando please! I want it so bad, papi…” you don't feel ashamed to beg, when your body so badly needs relief, something only he can give you.

You feel him move behind you, and a second later, his cock fills you in one movement, making you scream his name into the pillow.

“Oh, always perfect for me…” He groans, pulling out only to slam back in again. His hands secure the restraint on your wrists, your hands manage to touch his forearm and you sink your nails into his skin for balance.

Your eyes roll in your head, pleasure consuming you like flames as his hips keep pounding into you, and you feel grateful for his demanding exercises routine from motorsports, because it makes his stamina last so long. You feel hypersensitive, like you can feel the friction in every molecule in your body, the pleasure in your pussy and he just keeps going, Fernando’s groaning louder by the second.

You feel when the orgasm approaches, that tingling in your body and your pussy contracting desperately. But then he stops, withdrawing his cock. You whimper in desperation, the orgasm slipping away again.

“Fernando, please! Please, I need you…” you scream as he plunges into you, so deep he takes your breath away for an instant. One of his hands grips your hips and the other travels up your spine until it closes around the back of your neck.

Then he circles his hand around your neck and pulls you up until you're on your knees, your hips pressed against his as he thrusts harder, making your tits bounce with the movement. The only thing separating his chest from your back is the grip on your wrists between your bodies.

“Please, Nando! I’m so close- can- can I cum?”

“Go on, you can cum. I want to feel it,” he orders, squeezing your throat, obstructing your breathing slightly. It’s his accented voice that pushes you off the cliff, the orgasm finally seizing you so hard you see stars in your vision, shivering as he holds you firmly up.

Your orgasm soon makes him come too, his groan in your ear as his hips push against you, slowing down as he fills you up.

When Fernando lets go of your neck, you fall limp on the bed, face first against the pillows. You feel his fingers release you from the restraints, and your arms fall to your sides. Fernando holds your wrists, massaging lightly. He kisses your shoulder softly and you smile lazily, all worn out, the way he likes you the most.

“Are you ok, princesa?” you hear him as you close your eyes.

“Yes, cariño. Never been better.” You murmur.

You keep your eyes closed as he wipes between your legs, and you feel as he rubs the soothing ointment onto your buttocks, then he uses a makeup wiper to clean your face. Fernando considers aftercare as important as sex, and you can't deny that you love the part of being lovingly pampered by him right after being fucked senseless.

Finally, he turns off the lights, pulls back the covers and lies beside you, your naked body being fully embraced by him. You get goosebumps when he nuzzles your neck, his beard tickling and making you giggle.

“I missed you a lot, mi cielo” He mutters against your skin.

“I missed you too, Nando. I loved seeing you so happy with that podium,” you say, pulling his hand up and kissing his knuckles.

“Thank you, maybe next time you should go cheer for me,” he kisses your collarbone.

“I’ll think about it, yeah?” you whisper, running your fingers through his hair, “maybe after finals.”

“I'm sure you'll get high scores on your tests, bebé” he whispers, and you feel a rush of joy at making him proud.

#fernando alonso #fernando alonso x reader #fernando alonso x you #formula 1 #formula one #f1 imagine #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 fanfic #f1 #fanfic #imagine #one shot #smut

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fayes-fics · 3 months

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When The World Is Free: Chapter 1 - Sous le ciel de Paris

MASTERPOST | NEXT

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x fem!reader, WW2 AU.

Warnings: none

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary: Welcome to the start of my new multi-chapter fic based on a request by the lovely @amillcitygirl! Please see the masterpost for a synopsis of this story. Please note that while I do have a plotted outline, I will be posting chapters as I write them, and I expect that process to take quite a few months. Please bear with me! This first chapter sets up the story - reader moving to Paris in the summer of 1939 and bonding with her new flatmate, Eloise Bridgerton. Please note that Benedict won't be turning up for a couple of chapters yet. Thanks to @colettebronte for beta reading. Enjoy! <3

August 1939

Emerging from the underground Trocadero metro stop, you round the corner of the recently completed, gleaming Palais de Chaillot and stop dead in your tracks. There before you is the most iconic landmark of Paris. Perhaps all of France.

La Tour Eiffel.

Breathtaking in its metallic magnificence, glowing in the setting sun. A sight that buoys your travel-weary soul seven days after you left New York: boats and trains finally bringing you to this wondrous spot. A light breeze even dances over your neck in greeting, a balm from the cloying subterranean heat of the metro.

It's a light elbow check to your arm that pulls you back from a state of reverie.

“A beautiful sight, but one you’ll get used to,” your uncle Robert chuckles, shaking your heavy leather case to indicate it's time to move along. “In fact, I've been told you will be able to see it from your appartement…”

He has accompanied you to Paris and will see you settled into your new adventures before continuing on to visit friends in England. He spent the roaring 20s living right here in the 16th arrondissement himself and, indeed, has arranged for you to share living quarters with a young British lady, a relative of his English friends. It's a comfort to know you’ll have at least one English speaker to chat with as you dive headfirst into learning proper French as you go.

Robert leads you away from the amazing sight and into the bustling streets, alive with cars, trams, bicycles and pedestrians buzzing in all directions. It's all at once like New York City, but yet so different as well, cafe terraces filling the wide pavements with all manner of people gathered to sip robust cafe au lait and refreshing limonade.

Within minutes, you are on a quieter side street and stopping outside a handsome honey-coloured stone facade with wrought iron window balconies and window guards, teaming with colourful, fragrant flowering pots. The number 14 gleaming white on a traditional navy blue tile. Your uncle pushes the enormous wooden door open, beckoning you into a cool whitewash wall corridor with mosaic floor tiles.

“Ahhh, Robert!!” a sophisticated middle-aged lady bustles from a nearby doorway and greets your uncle warmly, kissing both cheeks. It would appear they are friends of old.

“Y/n, this is Madam DuLac, your landlady,” he explains as you offer a handshake, admiring her boucle jacket and chic bun.

“Qu’est-ce?” she signals with a good-natured frown, obviously finding your polite greeting lacking, pulling you into a hug and two-cheeked kiss. She smells like Chanel perfume, cigarettes and baked goods. “You are in Paris now, ma chérie; this is how we greet one another,” she counsels in heavily accented but perfect English.

“You speak English?” you sigh, relieved, your French decidedly lacking.

“Bien sûr,” she smiles. “And please call me Solène,” she adds with a friendly smile.

“Eloise should be home from the library maintenant; the perfect time for you to meet,” she gestures towards an elevator cage surrounded by a sweeping grey marble staircase.

“I think I would prefer to take the stairs,” you admit, nerves flaring at the idea of such a contraption.

Your uncle laughs. “Well, I am taking it; I am not hefting this case of yours up five flights of stairs,” he adds dryly as you gaze up the swirling stairwell.

“Five storeys?” you squeak.

“The view is the best from the top,” Solène advises as she rattles back the cage entry and steps in, looking at you expectantly.

Reluctantly, you follow, all three of you and your luggage crammed into the metal cage as it jerks to life and begins its ascent.

“You will get used to it,” Solène smiles as she reads the apprehension on your face, your vice-like grip on your small vanity case and handbag.

Luckily, the lift reaches your destination safely. One shudder before it stops, and the door concertinas back in Solène’s hand to reveal a sweeping hallway with doors left and right.

“Ici,” she signals, the last door on the right-hand side.

But before you can knock, the door peels open, and a pretty, petite brunette jumps in surprise, dropping the book she is holding.

“Pardon,” she offers in perfect accented French, and you wonder for a split second if it is the correct apartment.

“Eloise, this is y/n,” Solène gestures.

“Ohhh, hello,” she grins, and the whiplash back to a plummy British accent is momentarily confusing. “I was about to go read in the courtyard, thought you might not be turning up today. Anyway… come in, come in!”

You shake her proffered hand as she ushers you into the apartment. Instantly, you feel a warmth spreading in your belly, like you have come home. It's light and airy, with large windows looking out across the Parisian rooftops, and yes, to the left is indeed the Eiffel Tower, still gleaming in the fading evening light. But the place also feels homely, that sort of messy that is lived in, comfortable. A large velvet sofa with tumbling stacks of books around it, a little kitchenette awash with colourful enamel cookware, and a jumble of art deco posters and random paintings adorning the walls.

“Solène, I don't suppose you've baked any more of those rather delicious madeleines, have you? To welcome my new housemate?” Eloise pipes up with a chipper, conspiratorial wink your way.

You already like her.

“Effronte!” Solène exclaims with fond exasperation before pausing. “There may be some…”

“I remember those!” your uncle adds with a tinge of nostalgia as he drops your suitcase. “You are in for such a treat, y/n.”

“Well, while our landlady decides if she’s willing to share the treats she has obviously baked but is being coy about…”Eloise raises a pointed eyebrow at the woman before returning to you. “...let me show you your room, then maybe a drink? I'm sure it's been a long journey.”

You nod and, with an exchange of grins, follow her down a corridor. She sweeps open the door to a lovely room, a large double bed with matching bedside tables and a dresser. But best of all, french doors onto a Juliet balcony overlooking a quiet courtyard filled with a riot of birch trees, their leaves gently rustling in the evening breeze.

“Mostly, it’s pesky pigeons down there, but you do get the occasional blackbird singing in the morning,” Eloise smiles as if intuiting your thoughts.

You spend some moments wandering the room and checking out the various fixtures, running idle hands over the furniture, already feeling remarkably at home with your new housemate and, indeed, your new home for the next twelve months.

“I'm just next door,” Eloise reveals, pointing a thumb over her shoulder.

Your uncle appears in the doorway to announce that he and Solène are off to catch up as you unpack and suggests you all reunite for dinner later at a local bistro. It all sounds so very Parisian chic; you cannot wait.

“So tell me about yourself,” Eloise flops onto your bed, already wonderfully casual in your presence, as you open your case and the wardrobe to unpack.

“I’m y/n. I'm from a little town on Long Island called Patchogue, about fifty miles outside New York City. I'm 22…”

“Me too!” she interjects, then signals for you to proceed.

“I wanted to see the world before I settled down. And I’ve dreamed of living in Paris since I was a little girl...” You feel your eyes misting at the fact it's now finally coming true as you continue. “So my parents agreed to pay for me to come to Paris for a year. Under the strict agreement, I get married when I return…”

“You have a fiancé?”

“Yes. Well, sort of. Stanley. We practically grew up together, and we’ve been going steady since we were eighteen.”

“Going steady? That's so American,” Eloise chuckles.

You nod with a giggle, then continue. “He hasn't proposed formally yet, says he is saving up for a ‘real nice’ ring, but it will happen. He is the son of my dad’s business partner. They run a construction company. So, while I'm here, they are building a home for us to live in when I return. We will get married next summer and move right in.”

“You don't mind?” Eloise frowns.

“Don’t mind what?” you query as you hang up your favourite dress.

“That your future is so… plotted out. I couldn't bear the idea. It's why I think my mother let me move to Paris. She was so fed up with me refusing to settle down.” Eloise laughs, idly flicking through the magazine you were reading on your journey.

“I suppose I've never really expected anything else,” you shrug, pausing as you put away your hosiery, but her words make you contemplative. “You don't have a boyfriend back home?”

“God, no. Too many pretty Frenchmen to entertain me here,” she winks. “I’ll introduce you to some, just in case you change your mind,” she breezes, climbing off your bed and drifting to the door. “Wine?”

“Oh… well, why not? When in France, etc,” you agree and close the drawer on the pile of cardigans you have just safely stacked.

“That's the spirit!” she effuses over her shoulder as you follow her back into the living room, the Eiffel Tower still glittering in the dusk.

“This place is so lovely,” you sigh, transfixed by the view as she wanders over and hands you a glass.

“It is a pretty magical view,” she agrees, staring at the skyline with you, watching as each window seems to illuminate in soft yellow with the dying light.

“And the decor, too; I see you love books as much as me,” you smile, tilting your head to the piles before taking a sip of red wine. It's the perfect balance of refreshing, mellow fruitiness and tart tannin coating your tongue, so much better than any wine back home.

“Oh god, yes! I work in the library. I can bring home as many as I want,” she enthuses.

“So, are there actually any left on the shelves?” you jest, lightly, savouring your drink and wandering to take a closer look at a smaller painting that catches your eye. It's very different to all of the others.

“My god, this is beautiful,” you breathe, hugging your wineglass to your chest as you stare transfixed at the art. It appears to be a large country house, probably British, bathed in the warm pinkish light of dawn.

“That's home. Aubrey Hall in Kent. I think the family made me bring it in the hopes it would make me homesick,” Eloise deadpans.

“It’s a wonderful piece,” you breathe, fingers reaching out to lightly trace over the heavily oiled brushstrokes. Something about it is so captivating and intimate.

“I'll be sure to let the artist know,” she smirks. “Although I'm reticent to give him any more praise, seeing as, unfortunately, he is my brother.”

“Your brother painted this?” taken aback by the revelation, assuming it an heirloom.

She nods and comes to stand next to you. “Yup. Benedict. Second eldest. I'm fifth of eight, by the way. Hence ‘E’ for Eloise. It's a thing,” she rolls her eyes.

“Wow. Big family. I just have one brother...”

“Lucky you. Although, as much as he is irritating, if I could only keep one sibling, it probably would be him,” she admits, taking a swig of wine.

“I love art,” you sigh, finally tearing your gaze from the canvas but already knowing it is something you will return to again and again. A pull you can’t quite understand.

“Oh, then I know the perfect job for you! There’s a gallery around the corner from the library, and I saw a sign saying they wanted an English speaker to assist international visitors! You would be perfect!”

“I would love that!” you extol, even as a tiny part of your brain lingers on the idea that it would be too good to be true if it all worked out, that fleeting sense of foreboding in paradise.

“Excellent!” Eloise’s enthusiasm pulls you back to the immediate. “So let’s get your glad rags on! It's time to hit the town for your first night in Paris!”

And thus, you find yourself being bundled back into your room to refresh and change for your first night in the city of your dreams. Indeed, as you find yourself being led by Eloise, arm looped in yours, through the bustling evening streets to a little bistro, your uncle and Solène already waiting at a table with smiling faces and drinks in hand, you can't help but feel this really is the only place in the world you could ever want to be…

Your adventure is just beginning.

Benedict taglist: @foreverlonginguniverse @aintnuthinbutahounddog @severewobblerlightdragon @writergirl-2001 @heeyyyou @enichole445 @enchantedbytomandhenry @ambitionspassionscoffee @chaoticcalzoneranchsports @nikaprincessofkattegat @baebee35 @crowleysqueenofhell @fiction-is-life @lilacbeesworld @broooookiecrisp @queen-of-the-misfit-toys @eleanor-bradstreet @divaanya @musicismyoxygen84 @benedictspaintbrush @miindfucked @sorryallonsy @cayt0123 @hottytoddyhistory @truly-dionysus @fictionalmenloversblog @zinzysstuff @malpalgalz @panhoeofmanyfandoms @kinokomoonshine @causeimissu @delehosies @m-rae23 @last-sheep @kmc1989 @desert-fern @starkeylover @corpseoftrees-queen @magical-spit @bunnyweasley23 @how-many-stars-in-the-sky @amygdtjhddzvb @sya-skies @balladynaaa

#benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #benedict bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x female reader #benedict bridgerton x you #benedict bridgerton x y/n #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x y/n

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vagabond-umlaut · 1 year

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ramé

love.

a word everyone spells as l-o-v-e, except one certain young sorcerer – to whom it appears h-a-p-p-y, to whom it appears h-a-v-o-c – to whom it appears the shape of the letters of your name.

you, on the other hand, forget how to spell when the same word is before you – a fact which, your admirer reckons, would have been a major problem were he not he – that is, were he not the one and only 'gojo satoru'.

and thus begins, the plan.

and thus begins, the six steps to catch one's crush's eye — by the six eyes.

|1/6| overhaul your wardrobe.

▸ student!gojo satoru x student!reader; fem!reader; pining-since-childhood!gojo; oblivious-since-childhood!reader; height difference [satoru calls reader shortie – affectionately ofc]; cute banter; tooth-rotting fluff; suguru and shoko are helping yet foiling gojo's plans [poor boy]; the author loves shoko very much :]

▸ many thanks to @guccirosegold and @afortoru for listening patiently to my rants on this fic and giving lovely comments & suggestions! ilysm, andy & A 🥰🥰🥰

▸ find other parts of 'ramé' and other [stand-alone] fics set in the same universe as this work here! anyways, image, divider & characters ain't mine. pls don't plagiarize, translate or repost this. enjoy reading! ❤️

a low whistle leaves gojo as he appraises himself in the mirror.

snow white hair neatly trimmed with short bangs, sunglasses from gucci giving a peek of his transfixing blue gaze, a fitting tom ford white shirt paired with black slacks and designer shoes, and, to top it all off, a perfume by bleu de chanel he bought especially for today...

there's no way in hell you won't find him attractive today.

with a smug smirk, the first-year swings the door to his dorm wide open, ready to astound the two waiting outside with his insanely good looks - and pauses, boisterous shout dying within his throat.

"'toru!!" you exclaim as you jump off the balustrade you were seated on and rush to him, a wide grin splitting your face into half. "surprise, i caught an earlier train!"

in spite of the shock, the boy feels his lips lift in a smile.

it's been nearly a year since the last time the two of you were face-to-face; you're still as beautiful as you were then.

"hey shortie," the words leave him in a whisper as you wrap your arms around him - only for a pained 'ouch!' to escape him a second later. massaging his side where you pinched him, the boy watches you step back with a scowl. (faux, of course.)

"call me that one more time and no one can save you from my wrath."

"wrath?" chuckling, gojo bends a bit to be your eye-level. you narrow your eyes at him. "you think that can scare me? the gojo satoru?"

"it sure can," folding your arms across your chest, you throw him a smirk in the next instant. "if it makes me share all the mochi i bought with ieiri senpai and geto senpai, and not give you the tiniest bit of it."

eyes widening behind glasses, a gasp escapes him. "you wouldn't!"

"i would," you answer, the same smirk as before still on your lips.

gojo backs off.

you're nothing if not awfully determined to make your promises see the light of the day. if he continues pestering you, the young sorcerer knows he'll actually not get a single morsel of those delicious sweets.

"you know what," a familiar voice cuts in through his thoughts and the boy twists to find his best friend walking towards him. sending him a discreet wink (which he deems is 100% suspicious), suguru reaches your side and continues, "satoru here was really excited about you coming to meet him."

"oh, is it so?" your smirk gives way to an angelic smile. gojo wishes it was directed at him instead of that long-haired bastard.

"yeah," said bastard meanwhile agrees with an overeager nod. "shoko and i too were really excited to meet the girl our friend is so infa-"

a tense silence befalls the corridor when suguru abruptly stops in the middle of the sentence. gojo swears if you weren't standing there, in front of them, he would have murdered his friend in cold blood today.

"infa-?" you prompt, smile dropping a little as your confused gaze darts from one to the other. gojo forces a chuckle out.

"it's nothing, don't you worry," he tries to draw your attention away, when shoko swoops in, like the savior she is (gojo decides to buy her one month's supply of cigarettes) and inquires, "hey, you haven't seen satoru in months, right? any change you find in him?"

that seems to be the trick. a curious glint shines in your eyes as they travel up and down his figure - appreciatively for sure, the boy says to himself. you too seem to have a liking for expensive things, after all.

after two seconds of close inspection, you turn to shoko with a bright smile. gojo's soul goes soaring at the sight in the clear skies above.

"nope! he's the same old 'toru i've always known."

gojo's soul crashes down upon the earth, splintering at the impact.

his two classmates give him a look before shoko asks again, a mild disbelief to her tone, "you really don't find anything new about him? like, maybe he has grown taller? or maybe, more handsome?"

"anything else which you never even expected, maybe?" suguru pipes in from beside him. gojo shoots him a grateful look, all past offenses already forgiven and forgotten.

a beat passes before you shake your head. "nope. nothing about him is new. though, when you speak about unexpected..." you trail off with a contemplative look.

shoko encourages you, "when we speak about unexpected-"

"i never expected you to be so pretty," you finish the sentence for her with a small smile. gojo's jaw drops to the ground. okay, what the fu-

"oh," shooting him an amused smirk, shoko faces you. "and why is it so? why did you not expect me to be so pretty?"

"it's not my fault," you reply, sending him an accusatory glance as you continue, "when i asked 'toru if his new classmates are good-looking, he said they aren't. he said you all look really plain."

"do you find me plain or handsome?" suguru butts in, ignoring the blue-eyed glare boring holes into the side of his head.

"you're plain," the short reply comes in an instant from you - and even in the midst of his gloom for going unnoticed, gojo finds it within himself to smirk at his best friend's withered face.

in the meantime, you continue speaking to shoko, unperturbed.

"yeah, so imagine my surprise when i met you at the torii gates earlier today. with such a stylish bobcut, cute face and flawless skin... i really thought you were a model, ieiri-senpai."

you pause for a second - undoubtedly to catch your breath from that non-stop chatter; gojo knows your habits like his own by now - then ask the girl who's watching you with a pleased expression, an excited grin threatening to bloom on your face, "are you a model, senpai?"

said senpai lets out a chuckle in response.

and despite feeling dispirited (and very, very jealous of that shoko for hogging all your attention), the white-haired boy cracks a fond smile, watching you be so cheery.

yeah, you certainly are one very dense dumbass.

but, he too is gojo satoru - and he will get his feelings across to you.

▸ series: we're the summer to our winter rain

▸ masterlist

#gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru x you #satoru x reader #satoru x you #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo fluff #gojo angst #gojo fic #gojo satoru #jjk fluff #jjk angst #jjk fic #jjk fanfic #jjk #kit posts 📝

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sydluvsky · 1 year

Text

perfect timing

content warning: a bit of angst and a whole lot of fluff. mentions of anxiety, drinking, sex, swearing. english isn’t my first language, sorry for typos and mistakes.

˗ˏˋ kylian mbappé x fem! reader ˎˊ˗

summary: you’re growing more and more impatient with your long time boyfriend - kylian mbappé - because you think he’s forgotten about your birthday.

————————————————————————————————

the clock hit 1pm and still no declarations for your birthday from your boyfriend of three years. this was so out of character for him. in previous years for your birthdays he always made sure to go over board; often planning months in advance. so why is it that he hasn’t even messaged you today?

you start overthinking like crazy.

has he fallen out of love?

is he announcing the breakup on your birthday?

but before your anxiety consumes you whole your assistant (who kylian hired to look after you) enters the room with shopping bags from designer stores in hand.

“this is from sir mbappé to you” they say and quickly follow up by saying “oh, and happy birthday madame”.

you smile and say thank you. fighting the urge to tell them they don’t have to call you “madame” but you’ve already done that a million times and are trying to be in a good mood for your birthday.

they quickly leave the room and now it’s only you, all alone, on your birthday when you should probably be spending time with your love. before you continue your negative thinking you remember what flew completely over your head. kylian bought you something…that’s something at least but you want him to be with you like he promised. he doesn’t have training, he reminded you yesterday he doesn’t have any plans so what’s going on?

you walk over to the pile of bags. chanel, dior, ysl, more dior, miu miu…gosh he spent so much money.

you see a pale blue card with your name written on it in fancy graceful cursive.

lord please be a letter from kylian.

you pick the mystifying letter up to see it’s sealed with a crimson heart just like all the letter he’s given you for your previous birthdays. your anxiety calms down a little.

you open the letter and are disappointed once again.

‘joyeux anniversaire mon amour.

de kylian ♡’

‘happy birthday my love.

from kylian ♡’

seriously? the disappointment slowly turns into some sort of anger. it’s taking everything in you not to call him up and let out your anger, frustration, sadness and all the other bottled up feelings.

for your previous birthdays you would be blessed with handwritten letters in which he would cover topics such as his love for you, how grateful he is for you in his life and his adoration for you.

you’ve fought the tears for too long and let it all out. you sob while opening up the designer gifts which you’re grateful for but still the need for your boyfriend is eating you alive.

you’re full well convinced he’s no longer in love with you. he set the standards for your birthday so high that this seems like some sick joke…for your first birthday with him you guy’s stayed in dubai for the weekend where every night you both ended it with drinking, dancing around the hotel with the refrigerator lights on and closing it off with sex. for your second birthday with him he woke you up with flowers and breakfast in bed then proceeded to spend the entire day in your company which meant a lot considering his busy schedule.

now for your third birthday with him he hasn’t even spoken to you in real-life, not even a call. you try your best to stop sounding selfish, ungrateful, bratty but you don’t want to invalidate your own feelings.

where the fuck is he?

————— due to how emotionally exhausted you are, you fell asleep, but got woken up from a familiar voice —————

“hey, my love” the voice whisper-shouts warmly into your ear. you can recognise that voice in a crowded room because it’s the voice of your love; kylian mbappé.

he stands there in his 5’10 glory, broad shoulders, black and white suit, honey brown eyes looking at you longingly.

you were about to surrender to his amiable presence but the memories quickly rush through your head. you deeply sigh, break the eye contact and stand up but as soon as you’re about to leave he wraps his brawny hands around your wrist.

you face him again and realise you’ve made your sadness heard in the room because the glow on his face has become dull.

“listen, i can understand what you’re thinking…” he says with visible gloom in his tone but pauses because he realises you aren’t looking at him properly.

he places his fingers on your chin, gently pulling your face to his and continues.

“just know i am going to make it up to you” he places a tender kiss on your cheek but you don’t let him off too soon.

“where were you?”

“why didn’t you message me or call me or try and communicate with me…the designer gifts don’t count ky, you know how much i crave your affection, don’t you?” thankfully your words come out audible because the tears started forming before you even started speaking.

“oh, my love” he says and rushes to hug you, you bury your face in his chest and continue to cry.

“i’ve been busy all day because i am preparing a surprise for you, i should’ve been more careful and told you before hand” he begins.

“ i just- i guess- i just didn’t want you to have a single clue what the surprise was that’s all” he says and follows it up with “i love you so much”.

you say it back but now your minds consumed with what the potential surprise could be.

you lift your head up from his chest and you say curiously; “a surprise?”, “what surprise?”.

he breaks out in his classic grin, chuckles and places a kiss on your head.

“you’ll see, my love”

————————

kylian opens the door of your all black interior volkswagen. you smile at him and hold his hand for support to get out of car.

this guy booked out an entire restaurant!

you almost laugh at your past self for what she thought was happening.

you enter the doors of the luxurious restaurant. kylian beside your side, holding your hand, taking double takes of the regal design of the restaurant and at you wearing a dress of your favourite colour.

“you look beautiful…well you always look beautiful but right now you look extremely beautiful” kylian whispers in your ear, his voice deeper than normal.

you smile hard, say “thank you” and kiss him. he moves his hand up to your cheeks and you both are about to start a make out session but are stopped after a waiter loudly coughs.

your face turns red and you whisper to him “that was so embarrassing”.

but all he does is laugh and plant a kiss on your head.

you see white lights around a table which has a sign above it saying ‘happy birthday y/n’. your face brightens and because of that so does kylian’s.

“do you like it?” he asks.

you take in the atmosphere. luxurious designs, soft music playing in the background which you slowly realise are tunes of your favourite songs. there are so many flowers all around which are different shades of your favourite colour. this guy knows you so well.

“well, of course i do” you say and turn to him to realise he’s on one knee.

now way. oh my gosh. of course this was the surprise. you start feeling a million positive emotions. you look at him and his loving eyes. the ring in his hand has a huge diamond on it with a border filled with your birth stone.

you take in a deep breathe and are about to say something but he starts speaking.

“ y/n i love you, and i only want good memories attached to your birthday so i thought this was the perfect time to propose to you” he begins.

there’s visible tears in his eyes and your heart melts.

“i am sorry for all the frustration i caused you today, and the frustration i’ve caused you before and the frustration i am probably going to cause in the future” his voice becomes slightly softer and you’re about to re-assure him how loveable he his but notice he’s going to continue so you just mouth “i love you”.

“ over time i have realised that the most precious things to me beside my passion for my profession is you. and i want to spend the rest of my life with you…so y/n, do you want to marry me?” he finishes it off.

his eyes are glossy and his voice is hopeful.

you look at him and say “yes, yes i will! a million times yes! yes!” and you begin a chain of “yesses” which makes him laugh.

he carefully starts placing the gorgeous ring on your finger and lifts you up after. he begins kissing you until he’s got you bridal style and sits you down on your designated chair on the table.

once you’ve sat down you notice a familiar pale blue letter and smile to yourself. of course he wrote you a heart-felt letter.

you look away because you can feel his eyes on you. your eyes meet eye to eye and he asks “was this the perfect timing for all this?” his tone is filled with worry which makes you question “ yeah, of course, why?”.

“it’s just…i don’t know, all i know was that i wanted to put a ring on your finger because we’ve been dating for almost three years but didn’t know when.”

“i don’t really know if you want your engagement day to be attached to your birthday that’s all” he looks down after concluding what he said.

“kylian, this was the perfect timing for everything. don’t worry too much.” you reply lovingly.

he breaks into a smile and has a noticeable light bulb moment.

“i think that’s what makes us so perfect together…we both worry too much” he jokes.

laughter fills the restaurant and the rest of the night is filled with both you having “remember when this happened?” conversations and cheesy love declarations to each other.

—————— the end ———————

thank you so much for reading!

#kylian mbappé #kylian mbappe #kylian mbappe fluff #kylian mbappe angst #kylian mbappe smut #kylian mbappe one shot #kylian mbappe headcanon #footballers #mbappe imagines #mbappe one shots #kylian mbappe x reader #kylian mbappe x shy reader #mbappe x reader

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jeongintwenty3 · 1 year

Text

so full of love

pairing: lee know x gn!reader

genre: fluff

warnings: none? i think

summary: clingy lee know bathing his other half with all the love he can give

author's note: hi! rey here ♡ as of for now, i have 2 accounts! one will be for writing and the other will be a dump account (?) as usual, feedback is very welcome. please excuse any misspellings or misuse of grammar ): enjoy loves 🌻

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minho just got back home from his meeting, exactly an hour ago. what was funny is the fact that you had to open the door for him, since he punched the passcode to your apartment wrong for a consecutive 4 times. excitement or clumsiness, you decided to believe the former; bearing in mind the two of you haven’t met since a week ago. tackling you in a bear hug, he kept you close for a good 5 minutes.

whispering i miss yous and i love yous, he technically had his hands everywhere; making sure you’re really there, it’s really you whom he’s hugging after a dreadful week. you gently scratched his nape to reciprocate the love he’s currently giving while humming since it’s been a while since you feel this content. well, he would’ve clung onto you for an extra 5 minutes if only you didn’t push him off and screamed in his ear telling how he is still in outside clothes and you just showered.

“do you not miss me?” he furrowed his brows and pouted, an act that made you want to smooch the living daylights out of him.

“i do, but you have to shower min. you’re smelly,” which was a lie, you’re perfectly aware of his blue de chanel perfume lingering around the room – he can see right through it.

“fine, I’ll go shower. with one condition, you’re accompanying me,” he smirked, knowing quite well you’ll do it.

you scoffed in reply and headed straight to the bathroom, preparing everything needed for him, there’s no way in hell you’re gonna shower again, water bills are expensive. you opted drying your hair, since it’s still wet from the shower you had.

while he was showering, he managed to tell you all about the meeting and the fact that he got a week off due to his amazing presentation. times like this are times you most cherish, it’s not something as extravagant as having sushi in the most expensive restaurant there is nor something as fun as going to the amusement park. but times like this, are where the two of you can take a break from the real world, not having to hide from anyone; being vulnerable with one another.

hopping out of the shower wearing a robe, he grabbed your hairbrush. confused, you only tilted your head and furrowed your eyebrows in the mirror. he turned you around and grabbed both of your hands, only for him to place it around his neck. then, he brushed your hair while looking at you like you were the most beautiful human to every exist in the world – which was true, but he’s too prideful to admit that. putting down the hairbrush, he stroked your hair a few times while looking at you with those lovestruck eyes. you swear you could see the love swimming through his eyes, cupid must’ve been happy it got it’s job done.

deciding to continue with your hair serum, he chose to not take part in that as he knew how much you love your hair products. considering on whether to disturb you or continue to stare his one and only while doing his routine, he chose the latter.

“quit staring,” after a few minutes of him looking at you from the mirror’s reflection.

“and why would i?” he replied, while giggling, “i haven’t seen you in a week, i believe i get to stare as much as i want at my other half.”

you tried to suppress a smile, trying for a sulking expression. minho saw through you and immediately hugged you from behind, his hands on your waist and his head on your shoulder.

giggling, “come on now babe, don’t try to hide that smile.”

with no choice but to smile, you replied, “what’s up with you today, min? it’s not like you to be like this.”

heart so full of love it was about to explode, he resorted to kissing your cheeks, temple, everywhere his lips could reach. aiming for you lips, you saw through his intentions and turned your heads so your lips would meet. a kiss full of adoration, affection and warmth, if only breathing wasn’t mandatory, you’d never pull away.

“i love you, so much,” minho said, breaking away from the kiss the two of you just shared. feeling overwhelmed, you tried to keep your tears at bay. minho realized this and was quick to act on his feet, asking whether everything is okay.

you can only stare back at him with the same attraction and love he has been giving you for the past year you’ve been together. getting yourself together, you replied, “i’m okay, min. i love you too, much more than you can ever imagine.” feeling the heat creep upon his cheeks, he chose to bring you in a comforting hug, something the two of you missed and needed.

it’s been a while since you felt this fond for someone. minho being clingy? that happens once in a blue moon. but once that happens, you have 0 complains.

#skz fluff #skz imagines #stray kids fluff #stray kids imagines #lee know #lee know fluff #lee know x reader #lee minho blurbs #skz #skz x reader

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lady-of-endless · 2 months

Text

One Piece fragrance/scent headcanons

Including: Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Usop, Law, Kid, Killer, Ace, Smoker, Doflamingo, Corazon, Shanks, Mihawk, Sir Crocodile, Buggy, Katakuri, Bartolomeo.

Author's Note: taking a small break from matchups to post those headcanons. I'm a perfume enthusiast and this post is very dear to me. In case you need to get a better idea of the examples, I recommend using the site fragrantica to see all the notes of each perfume. WARNING: Long post.

Monkey D Luffy

He doesn't really bother with perfume but he notices Sanji's and he likes the idea. However, Luffy would go for something that resembles some food, of course, something sweet. Gourmand perfumes work the best for him and for how affectionate he is towards everyone.

Examples:

- Milk by Commodity - The name says it all. It smells like sweet milk with an aromatic and ambery base to make it a bit more than just straight-up milk.

Roronoa Zoro

He doesn't really like the feeling of perfume on his skin when he's training or fighting. However, if he has to choose ( because Sanji told him he stinks), he'll go for something fresh, or something that grounds him that anchors him in a memory that motivates him.

Examples:

-Bleu de chanel - Fresh and woody, simple as that, great for training and slicing up some bad guys.

-Matcha Meditation by Maison Margiela OR Blue Tea by The Merchant of Venice - Those smell like a fresh blend of green tea, something that brings him a memory of his past training.

Vinsmoke Sanji

Of course, he wants to smell good, he says that perfume is a part of an outfit. Goes for attention-grabbing perfumes. However, he only puts on perfume after cooking! He needs to smell the food without any other olfactive distractions. He takes a little pride in how good he smells and he should. Also, he's the one to really pronounce the names with the right accent (If the perfumes are French).

Examples:

- Le Male by Jean Paul Gaultier - This one is popular for a reason. It's both sweet, warm and also aromatic and fresh. Plus that lavender note makes you even more drawn to the comfort of his embrace.

- Sauvage by Dior (I know everyone is tired of this one but you have to admit it smells good) - A bit more mature and serious than the first one. It's elegant with bergamot, pepper, wood, and of course, that lavender again so you won't forget his embrace.

Usopp

He wants to smell all cool and great. Can you blame him? Absolutely not. He's going to ask Nami for a recommendation.

Examples:

- Gucci Guilty pour homme - This one is edgy and unique. It's both soft from rose, orange blossom and daring from red chili pepper, salt, and cedar. He gets creative when wearing this one.

- Invictus by Paco Rabane - The name and the bottle won him. Luckily, he likes how it smells. It's much simpler than the other one. It smells fresh, marine, woody, salty.

Trafalgar D Water Law

Not a big fan of fragrances on him, much like Zoro. He thinks it's distracting because of how some smells can evoke memories and feelings. So he'll only wear a basic, masculine scent with nothing striking as unique. He just smells clean, fresh, aquatic.

Examples:

- Kenzo Pour Homme by Kenzo - Sea Water, some white florals, and then musk and vetiver. It is both clean and comforting.

- When The Rain Stops by Maison Margiela - Pretty self-explanatory, it smells like morning rain in a foggy forest. It has pink pepper in the beginning to give some spice to that, it can't be just a perfume that simple though.

Eustass Kid

Here's an interesting scent. Kid's scent usually consists of metal from his prosthetic and from fixing things in his workshop plus something fresh and spicy.

Examples:

- Luna Rossa Carbon by Prada - It's fresh enough to keep him going, metallic, and somehow spicy from the pepper. An edgy perfume. He doesn't care if others like it or not.

- La Vierge De Fer by Serge Lutens - This one is also metallic but slightly more softer because of some white florals. He might wear this when he feels a little more at ease.

Killer

He doesn't go for a bold perfume but he truly wants something unique. He's a man of action so he'll want something that will persist and will be close to his skin.

Examples:

- Phantom by Paco Rabbane - A unique creamy lavender with energizing lemon and hot woody vanilla. Simple notes that become more complex in this combination.

- Most Wanted by Azzaro - Kid got this one only because he liked how the bottle looked but he thought it was too sweet for him. He ended up passing it to Killer who liked it more.

Portgas D Ace

You already know this man smells like fire, spice, and sweetness. Besides, his skin often smells like the sun during summer, like a sunny day on the beach, I don't know how to explain it. However, someone has to teach this man how not all perfumes are all season.

Examples:

- By the fireplace by Maison Margiela - sweet and smokey. It smells like cuddling with someone right next to the fireplace, and that's how it feels when you hug him.

- Under the stars by Maison Margiela - less sweet. Leather, fresh spicy, ambery.

Smoker

He thinks he should smell like something else besides smoke from time to time. Smoker likes to have his coat smell good and he likes to put on perfume right after a shower. He goes for clean masculine fragrances but with a twist.

Examples:

- Blue Moon by Killian (God damn this one is so hot I can't) - fresh citrus, spicy ginger with vodka and musk for a clean dry down.

- Cool Water by Davidoff - It smells like sea water, fresh mint, tobacco of course, and musk again.

Doflamingo Donquixote

Of course, this devil of a man wants to smell expensive and most of all seductive. He's picky with his fragrance. Doesn't get the notion of perfume for different seasons, he'll straight up wear a heavy, sweet, scent even during summer. He doesn't care. He might have a preference for catchy names.

Examples:

- Fucking Fabulous by Tom Ford - This one is sharply aromatic at first and then gets to a seductive vanilla with leather and bitter almonds. Might be smooth and pleasing to some while headache-inducing to others.

- One Milion by Tom Ford - This one fills the room, exactly how he wants. It's a bit aggressive because of the white flowers, salt, leather, and pine. Sweet but sharp.

Rosiante Donquixote (Corazon)

He tends to go for sweeter perfumes as he wants to balance out the cigarette smell that clings to him that might be repulsive to some (not me honey). However, he wants that perfume to be a subtle one that almost gets noticed, he's in disguise after all.

Examples:

-Tobacco Vanille by Tom Ford - he had to go for the same designer as his brother so as not to seem suspicious. It's simply a warm vanilla smell with notes of tobacco.

- Smoking Hot by Killian - Another smokey and sweet perfume but more complex. Its sweetness comes from fruits this time and it's accompanied by spicy cinnamon.

(also, the name is way too fitting)

Shanks

Everyone who knows Shanks will say that this man smells so damn inviting and warm. He wears something slightly sweet, just slightly, because he feels the most comfortable. Plus, of course, something boozy.

Examples:

- Angel's Share by Killian - It smells like his cognac, cinnamon, and oak, plus mouth-watering praline and vanilla. No one can resist this one

- Stronger with you by Giorgio Armani - It's like a warm hug that might turn into something more. It's warm, spicy, and sweet.

Dracule Mihawk

An elegant man with a unique taste in clothes, drinks, books, and weapons surely has a unique preference for perfumes as well. He uses something that would go along with his whole aesthetic. He leans more to floral and slightly boozy (wine) notes.

Examples:

-Bloody Wood by Liquides Imaginere - Another self-explanatory one. This is how a vampire would smell, mysterious and romantic. It has red wine, rose and violets, and sandalwood. It's so incredibly enigmatic.

- Side Effect by Initio - This one is heavy. Masculine spicy vanilla with saffron, rum, and jasmine for elegance.

Sir Crocodile

Another fine man with fine taste. Be sure that he's educated in perfumery as well. He has perfumes for different occasions. He might be the one out of all that smells the best. He likes intoxicating perfumes that aren't nauseating but plain seductive.

Examples:

- Herod by Parfums de Marly - This one smells like old money. Warm spicy cinnamon, tobacco, incense, and vanilla. Pretty heavy but so good.

- Black Orchid by Tom Ford - A truly alluring and mysterious smell. It's still warm and also earthy and woody.

Buggy

He likes to smell risky, let's say. Both are risky and alluring. He likes a tricky perfume that is sharp in the beginning and more alluring in time.

Examples:

- Ultraviolet by Paco Rabane, for men - It's an unusual mix of scents. It starts somehow fresh and aromatic from mint and then it gets spicy from pepper and in the end, you get seductive vanilla with moss. This one is clearly not for everyone but anyone can agree that it smells unique.

- Toy Boy by Moschino - This one is also a confusing scent because it starts musky and floral and then it goes into spicy wood and citrus. Definitely not everyone's cup of tea.

Charlotte Katakuri

To put it simple, all of his scent is concentrated on his scarf. It smells like clean musk because he often cleans it and the sugary sweetness from all those donuts he eats. It's a nice smell but a bit nauseating.

Examples:

- Vanille Fatale by Tom Ford - Sweetness with some wood in there to balance it out in case you get too close for comfort.

- Vanilla Sex by Tom Ford - Straight up smelling like a sweet spicy snack that you can't get enough of.

(its name though and Katakuri...ok I'm done talking)

Bartolomeo

He'll try to find out what each Strawhat perfume is wearing or at least copy that scent. But he only picks up those he likes. Jokes aside, he kind of likes smelling overpowering when he gets ready for a fight and warm, and sweet when being around dear ones he admires.

Examples:

- Allure Homme Sport by Chanel - for when he feels bold and ready to fight. Mandarin, mint, pepper, and in the end victorious sandalwood, cedar, musk.

- Black Phantom by Killian - For when he meets his dear ones, to be perceived as pleasant, and friendly. It's sweet but dark chocolate sweet with a bit of rum and coffee, almonds, and vetiver to balance everything.

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hellavile · 2 years

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under the influence. jean kirstein.

୭ warnings . . . fem!reader, officer!jean, lowercase intended, black coded, hot sweaty car sex, public indecency, oral ꒰ m received ꒱, jean’s rough bc he is, mild degradation, jean’s your ex, reader rides jean, impact play, jean’s a titty sucker srry i don’t make the rules.

୭ mocha’s note .ᐟ . . . men in uniform. yes. also y’all know exactly what song that title is. ;)

hues of blue and scarlet flicker over the body of your obsidian lexus rc 300, the vechicle behind you blaring the sirens like they’re eardrum killers purposely meant to burst them. you hated those fucking things. police even more. huffing after wiping the tears off your face, you pull to the side of the empty road. it’s extremely late at night. more-so early, around three in the morning. checking your rear view mirror, you spot the black camaro with an officer stepping out of it. just my fucking luck. as if you weren’t already having a shitty night. kissing your teeth, you sniffle as you roll down your window before reaching into your glove compartment for your license and registration. you’re not exactly sure why you’re being pulled over to be frank.

the officer strolls towards your car, a tall, lanky man whose wearing a black long sleeve which hugs his muscles and sharp cut abs with dark jeans and heavy boots. the belt around his hips is thick and leather . . . expensive looking. when he’s by the window to your vehicle, you turn to see his appearance. dewy pink lips plush as cotton. fawn long hair that brushes on the nape of his neck. a messy stubble on his jawline that shifts as he chews his gum. he didn’t have a badge, nor a holster on his hips with a gun or a taser. however, he did have on a loose vest with multiple pockets. maybe he was off duty and you ruined his drive home? his scent is strong, recognizable even. bleu de chanel. makes the hair on your skin rise. his eyes are what really draw you in. low and dark, like a dravite tourmaline.

“i knew it was you.”

a pang in your chest makes it nearly hard to breathe. you had to blink several times to decipher his image. you knew this man for sure. those lips of his curl into a lopsided grin as he witnesses your saddened eyes expanding. your fingertips slowly glide off your steering wheel as your hands drop into your lap. the man before you, your ex boyfriend, turns his neck sideways before spitting out his gum into the road. he has one hand on his hip and the other in his back pocket, now aware of the gun tucked in the back of his jeans. he’s definitely off duty. the car he’s driving is an undercover cop car.

“can’t speak to me?” jean prompts louder as if you couldn’t hear him the first time. “i’ve told you fifty times about that taillight, baby. how come it isn’t fixed yet?”

jesus this really isn’t a good night. of all the people you’ve encountered today, your ex had to be one of them. a cop scared you enough. but him? he terrified you. in all the right ways. sounds crazy, but there’s a reason.

“i see you followed through with your training.”

“did. i see you’re still hardheaded.”

“am.”

jean rolls his eyes. “that’s beside the point. why are you driving like you’re under the influence? you’ve been drinking?”

“no, i haven’t. sorry, i’m just . . . in my head,” he watches you sigh, noticing the puffiness in your eyes along with a hint of redness. you’ve been crying. it’s clear as day. jean cocks his head to the side, getting closer to your window, resting an arm on the hood of your car.

“what’s going on?” a genuine tone in his voice makes you cower. you didn’t need it. not from him that’s for sure.

“don’t worry about it. just give me a ticket so i can go home.”

he doesn’t appreciate the stern, cold tone in your voice. handing him your papers like he’s a stranger, a regular cop. not a man you’ve dated for five years. he’s seen every aspect of you. every breakdown, laugh, trauma. every freckle on your body. knows the way you like it. maybe you didn’t patch things up the right way, but that doesn’t make it okay for you to act like he doesn’t mean anything to you. fucking brat.

“is it so bad to worry about you?” his jaw clenches in fury, inching his face closer to yours, head sticking entirely into your space. you pull your face back, eyeing him like he’s crazy, baffled by his action.

“get out of my car.”

“i’m not in it. now shut the fuck up and tell me what happened. clearly you’re not okay. you’re swerving like you’re drunk plus you’ve been crying. i see it.”

the assertiveness he gives you almost makes you melt in your seat, not hearing his voice in so long, sometimes craving it. it’s like a warm cup of hot chocolate. smooth and comforting. your lower lip gets taken between your teeth before you’re inhaling and exhaling.

“this guy i’ve been fucking with just told me he had a girlfriend, so. we got into this huge fight and he broke my glasses which is why i can’t see all that good right now. i’m just trying to get home to forget about it.”

the look on his face is empty. “he hit you?”

immediately, you deny. “n-no. i mean, he grabbed me to try and apologize and my glasses fell and he stepped on them by accident.”

remembering it made you hug yourself, feeling his fingertips squeezing your arms harshly once again. jean looks there and sees a few bruises. your skin was really sensitive, so you bruised over anything.

“step out of the car.”

you blink. “what?”

“you heard me the first time.”

clearly, it doesn't seem as if he'll give up until you do. rolling your eyes, you do what you’re told, jean stepping back as you aggressively swing open your car door, stepping out with your arms hugging yourself considering you’re only wearing a cream flower lily sundress with white sandals. jean couldn’t help his lingering stare. you’ve always been outrageously beautiful to him.

“it’s really none of your concern.”

“god, i forgot how much you talked,” the tiny ‘tch’ coming from him before he’s pulling you in for a tight, comforting hug has you falling back into the same entrapment of passion. jean broke up with you because he didn’t want a relationship anymore. he wanted to work on himself, his life, pay more attention to his family and the baby girl he had with an ex of his. the reason why he terrified you is simple; you loved him too damn much that it hurt you to your core. to let him go. to be alone again. you hated him for leaving you.

“missed your pretty self,” now he's stroking your cheek with the pad of his thumb endearingly, rolling his lips inwardly when your eyes meet his.

“do you?” it comes out softer than you intended. small. he makes you feel so goddamn small, safe, and secure.

“yeah,” he breathes.

it's frustrating sometimes when your body reacts before your mind does. dainty hands reaching to skim across his waist you then grab onto, bringing him closer until your back is pressed up to your car. jean’s face remains stagnant. not sure of what to do. actually, he preferred to see what you were intending. truth is, you didn't know. if you wanted to rant about how he left you. kiss him and tell him to take you home. or get on your knees and worship him just because.

“are you with her?” your bottom lip juts out as you impel your chest to his. jean takes a minute to understand the question. you must've meant her.

“no. never. we're just co-parenting.”

“promise you haven't fucked her. not once after we split?” jean groans as the hazel in his eyes turn murkier, your face no longer in his. instead, you're bug-eyed with the bulge in his jeans. unlatching his buckle and pushing all your weight onto the car behind you as you balance yourself on your calfs.

“just one time. didn't mean anything,” jean is blunt about it causing you to raise your brow the same time you're dragging down his zipper. he doesn't so much as glance around to check for any unexpected company. it's nearly four in the morning and you're off the road near a forest of trees. no one was coming.

“was it good?” he swears to god he almost busts right there, clenching his jaw as you stick out your salivated tongue, hand wrapped around the base of his thick, hardened cock, a tear droplet of precum on the head. it's pulsating in your palm, and you mewl, wetting your lips with allure.

“i c-can't remember,” jean hisses as the warmth of your mouth intakes him, batting your curled lashes and glaring into his eyes as the vein on the underside of his cock is caressed by your tongue. he's somewhat in your mouth, resting heavy on your slippery tongue before you pull back and lap at the tip. jean’s physique is arched over you, forehead nearly grazing the hood of your vehicle.

“try,” now your hands reside on the back of his thighs, gathering enough saliva to spit over his dick, dragging it along with your pursed lips on either side, waiting for him to speak.

jean bites his lips so hard he curses, sucking on the blood seeping out, bucking his hips to thrust into your mouth. since you move back again, it makes him suck his teeth. big hands holding either side of your head before he's giving you a dark stare you hadn't seen in a minute. it makes you squirm. submitting easily.

“stick that lil’ tongue out,” he rasps, slicking his own over his bitten red lip. “you have to be polite, princess.”

it kills you to hear him speak to you like this. every spoken word foreign. you seriously don't know what came over you. too many emotions hitting you at once. seeing him, smelling him, holding him . . . you wanted him. no, needed him. obeying as you do, you stretch your mouth wider to fit him in deeper. jean mumbles a low ‘there we go, girl’, swallowing his spit and shifting his gut to fuck your mouth as he pleased. he's pressing your head against the door, your eyes wide and lashes specked with tears, jean grunting the faster he fucks your throat. you're breathing through your nose as best as you can, clutching onto him for support, unable to squeeze your thighs like you needed to ease the excessive throbbing.

he's by far one of the prettiest men you've met in your lifetime. moans even more lovely. drool slicks down the side of your chin, the color in your pupils shifting as your eyes lose focus. jean warns you under a brief choke, telling you ‘hold your breath’ before he's shoving his dick entirely down your throat. you claw at his thigh, gagging as he stays there for a few more seconds before pulling back. you gasp dramatically, swallowing the remainder of your saliva with his dick springing in your face, catching your breath.

“good fuckin’ girl,” he's petting the side of your face before helping you stand, your knees burning from being crouched down for so long. they were gonna burn more when you found out how he was going to have you next.

in your backseat, door shut and lights off. jean’s on his back, pants still clinging to his waist as your body pounces above him, clit occasionally brushing against the dark happy trail on his pelvis as you bounced on his dick with every inch of your body burning and screaming at you. chest rumbling from your euphoric screeches. ass clapping heavily on his bulky thighs as you grip onto the headrest of the passenger seat, the other on the back seat. jumping like his cute bunny while your tits are in his starved mouth. rushing his hot tongue over your nipples, teeth sinking in gently. sucking and pulling with his lips as he studies you with exhilaration.

“who's a good cock whore for daddy?” jean hums, a free hand swatting your ass for the fifth time now, encased by heat. feels like it's swollen. the yelp you exude makes him weak. you're so fucking sexy it makes no goddamn sense. “huh?”

“me, baby!” you sniffle cutely, slowing down and sitting down fully, gyrating, losing your balance.

“unh uh,” jean slaps your ass, your scream defeaning. “who said to stop? keep fucking going.”

the car is hot, no doubt. doesn't help that the windows aren't down and your seats are leather. jean’s lower back is sticky with sweat. his gear still on, shirt lifted only to his midsection. gun inside of your center console for safety. a broken whine falters from you as you rise up again, shifting your legs so one foot is flat on the floor and the other by his torso. he grabs that leg, keeping your knee bent once you find your pace again.

“s’in my tummy,” both of you look there in sync, jean snickering when you whine. it’s too dark to notice but both of you could feel it.

“clear as day, sweetheart. it's what makes me so proud of you. taking all my dick likes it's yours to own.”

“it is mine,” you pout sadly.

“mmm,” he tongues his inner cheek before grinning. “you want it back?”

it dawns on you for a second, realizing what he really meant. gulping, you nod. real you will have a conversation with yourself later. you’re dick drunk right now. totally different person.

“show me, then we'll decide.”

his girl. it’s what you are, how you feel. that’s the title that’ll always be yours to hold. doesn’t matter what happens between you two. who may interfere. you’re jean’s girl until death. that’s your man. and you made sure to fuck him good just so he could remember that. picking yourself up and dropping your ass down harder, faster. jean’s hissing, brows bent as he fists your dress he tightened on your stomach rougher. he can’t control himself when he helps you out by lifting his hips to collide with the flush of your skin, groaning deeply, jaw slacking.

“take your fucking dick, baby. take your fuckin’ dick,” jean growls by your ear after you fall forward, crying extremely loud it scares him for a second, thinking you’re in pain. it just so happens you’re overwhelmed with pleasure, the octave in your tone raising higher. it’s a noise he’s never, ever heard emit from you before. it stuns him, so bewildered by it that he halts completely.

“jean, m’ . . . ” it’s too fast the way you switch your position. bringing both your knees on either side of his slim figure, clutching his long hair, pleading and whimpering in his neck. you entire body’s trembling. “pleaseplease.”

jean listens to your sign without hesitation. angling his body to drill his cock into you while holding you down with his arm thrown around your waist, foot implanted on the seat while his other hand spread your cheeks apart, fingers sprawled over your hot skin. balls slapping as your sluice pussy covers his dick. when you cum you’re absolutely gone. laying your forehead against the door, shaking, screaming, crying. all of it is just what he needs cum on the globes of your ass, pulling out swiftly and moaning into your chest.

“you don't know what you do to me.”

visual. visual.

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