omg i just saw a tag on one of your recent posts saying you could talk all day about how the cod boys smell and i’m begging you PLEASE do!! i’m a huge fan of perfumes and one of my favorite things to do for characters is to compile scents that i think would fit them the best. i’m super curious what your thoughts are and i would love to hear more!
thank you so much for this!! i had a lot of fun with it! 🖤
Ghost: dead leaves, pine, cedar, fall air, laurel, balsam, smoke, clove bud, black patchouli, mushroom caps, dampened black soil. he smells like a thick, dense Pacific Northwest forest after a heavy rainfall or a piece of driftwood washed up on the shore — Roja Parfums APEX or Tom Ford Costa Azzurra
Soap: amber, violet, magnolia, guaiac wood, pink pepper, earl grey tea, steamed milk, vanilla, grass, clover, sun-warmed cornfields, muguet, honeysuckle, acacia, ozone, meadow air, tree moss, oakmoss, fir balsam, lavender, and cumarin (which smells like freshly harvested hay). he smells like a field in the zenith of summer, maybe freshly cut grass; something sweet and rich — Dolce&Gabbana Intenso or Viktor & Rolf Spice Bomb
Price: tobacco, agarwood, whiskey, resins, white musk, leather, vetiver, sandalwood, amber, suede, mysore sandalwood, vanilla husk, chamois accord, Alaskan cedarwood, tobacco leaf, black oak, cardamom, saffron threads, miel blanc. he smells like a pub that's always empty or an antique store; thick with smoke, and heavy with leather and tobacco — Tobacco Oud, Ombrè, or Tobacco Vanile by Tom Ford
Gaz: orange, Italian lemon zest, green apple, tonka beans, amber, woody vanilla, tuberose, iris, tiaré, paperwhite narcissus, night-blooming jasmine. he smells like the coast in the spring; sage and sea salt — Versace Eros or Frederic Malle Musc Ravageur
Alejandro: spicy (almost cola-clove-y), resinous, premium myrrh accord, frankincense, oud, myrrh, bergamot, neroli, patchouli. he smells a little bit like being on the balcony of a nightclub: fresh air cut with the thick tang of spice and smoke wafting through the open doors or the ocean on a humid summer night after a rainshower soaked the sand — Giorgio Armani Acqua di Gio or Ralph Lauren Polo Earth
Rodolfo: strong coffee, streusel coffee cake, nutmeg, brown sugar, toasted almonds, cardamom, ambergris, cashmere wood, vanilla, saffron. he smells like a cafe in the morning, sweet and robust; or a bookstore —Byredo Vanille Antique or Maison Francis Kurkdjian Baccarat Rouge 540
POV: You had a hard day and went to a bar for a drink to forget about mundane problems. You notice a man, who sits next to you. He has beautiful, deep blue eyes and mohawk hairstyle. One smile from him and suddenly, you forgot about all your problems...
this (obviously) doesn't include the 5+ anonymous users i blocked, but hopefully you guys can prevent maybe this same level of harassment by blocking these blogs. pretty sure they're all run by kthk1tty and n4tlll, just making one alt after another to continue the harassment. so if you want to preemptively block to stay sane, i think that would be a good idea.
Okay look I love dacryphilia as much as the next person but I really wanna see more love interests that simply fold at the barest hint of your pathetic wet eyes. Just instant, fucking you or not. You wanna cum now, sweetheart? Okay, just stop your crying. He was being mean, wasn't he? You want him to come home? He's moving mountains as you speak. Dry your tears, honey. You want it to be official? You want a ring? Oh he's so sorry he ever made you feel like he was just killing time with you, darling. You'll go shopping tomorrow. Can't tonight, shops closed, sorry doll.
Sy as a mafia boss and reader who owns the coffee shop.
The Olde Bakery
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: mob!Syverson, plus-size reader
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
Burly is most appropriate to describe the man. Tall, thick, looming. The door shuts behind him without a care as his eyes skim the small shop. In a town as isolated as Springfort everything is smaller; simpler. You can tell at a glance that this man is neither.
His eyes pass over the specials board and fall on you. More virulent than desolation in a small town is gossip. You’ve heard about the man already, though his appearance still surprises you. A man like him would go to the lawyer’s office and throw his weight around or trash the liquor store, but what business does he have in a cafe. Your cafe.
For as much as you’ve heard about the mysterious and mercurial newcomer, you know better than to ask that. Instead, you recite the usual. The boring daily routines are what make Springfort safe. Or did.
“Hello, what can I get you today?” You ask as he nears the counter. You move to face him over the small till.
There’s not much to the space; enough for you to work. Espresso machine, frother, blender, toaster oven, percolator... the basics and a little more. There’s the display case of your hand-crafted baked goods and not much else. It’s the only place in town beside the diner for locals to sit down, though there are only four tables inside.
The man doesn’t answer. He stares back at you. You can’t read his expressions. His blues fall to your hands as you place them on either side of the till.
He wears a quarter-zip with the tab pulled down. The collar folds over as chest hair peaks out unabashedly. His black cargo pants have a military cut to them and his fingerless gloves are a final peculiar accessory. He sports a thick beard but a shaved scalp, and his blunt brows give him a naturally angry affect.
“Sir? We have a new butterscotch mocha as today’s special,” you suggest.
“You.” He speaks at last.
You blink and hold your calm smile. You try to process his question. You point to your name tag an introduce yourself.
“No, you asked me what you can get me.”
You nod but don’t understand.
“I can help you, sir. Sure. What would you like?”
He looks you up and down and plants his hands on the counter. As he does that, you pull yours offer and fold them over your apron. He leans in and licks his lips.
“I would like...” he gives a crooked grin, “you.”
“I...” You open your mouth dumbly. “I don’t...” your voice is brittle. Your throat tightens and you choke on a disbelieving laugh.
“You laughing at me?” He challenges.
You gulp and snap your mouth shut, “no, sir. Sorry, I’m just... confused.”
“What’s confusing?” He bends until he’s leaning on his elbows and twines his fingers together. His knuckles bulge and whiten. You lean back on your heel, resisting the urge to flee.
“I don’t know,” you murmur. The look in his eyes fills you with icy fear.
“So, I put my order in...” he drawls.
“Um. I can’t... I... this is my...” you sputter and recall Sonia’s recount of Osborne and Meyers sacking. The older law partner ended up in emerge though his exact malady varied according the source. “I own the cafe so--”
“You go on and lock that door,” he says. “Since you’re the boss, you can take a break, can’t ya?” You sway on your feet and stare back at him. He untangles his fingers and brings a hand up to pull at a tuft of his beard. “I don’t know, I was told the service here was speedy.” He sucks his teeth. “But you’re here dragging your feet, wasting my time.”
You wince and take a cautious step back. He watches you, unmoving, though you brace yourself for him to lunge. You slowly come out around the counter and cross to the door. You twist the lock and flip the sign.
His footsteps scuff as he grunts into a long groan. You face him reluctantly as he drags one of the chairs from the table and puts it in front of the counter. His attention hangs on the seat as he considers it. You stand where you are, frightened.
“Come here,” he beckons with two fingers, his other hand on the back of the chair.
You approach and stop a foot away. He tilts his head to look at you. The gleam in his irises swells over you like frigid water. He lets go of the chair and turns to you fully. He steps closer and you wince as he reaches for you.
He loops his arms around you and tugs at the knot of the apron. It slackens and he brings his hands up to unhook the strap from around your neck. He pulls it away and drops it on the floor.
“Sir, I... what did I do?”
“Chh, chh, chh,” he tuts between his teeth.
You seal your lips and peer up at him. Your eyes meet again. He brings his large hands to cradle your face and tilts your head. He gives you an appraising look over.
“You just worry about what you need to do, sweetheart,” he growls.
His hands drift down to the top of your blouse. You shiver as he plucks open the buttons one at a time. As he does, gritty noises rise in his throat. He pushes the fabric away from your shoulders and down your arms. The blouse falls to your feet.
You turn your head away as he tugs at the knotted belt of your high-waisted pants. He unties it and stretches the elastic waistband, guiding it past your hips. You sniff as you focus on staying upright. Your pants pool at your feet, heaping over your round-toed flats.
You gasp as he cups your chest with his large hands. Your nipples harden and poke him through your bra. He purrs and gropes you harder. You shudder and waver with his force. He lifts your tits, jiggling them, and pushes them together.
“I was told you sell sweets,” he says, “but I wasn’t expecting these.”
Sy as a mafia boss and reader who owns the coffee shop.
The Olde Bakery
Warnings: non/dubcon, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.
Characters: mob!Syverson, plus-size reader
My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.
As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.
Burly is most appropriate to describe the man. Tall, thick, looming. The door shuts behind him without a care as his eyes skim the small shop. In a town as isolated as Springfort everything is smaller; simpler. You can tell at a glance that this man is neither.
His eyes pass over the specials board and fall on you. More virulent than desolation in a small town is gossip. You’ve heard about the man already, though his appearance still surprises you. A man like him would go to the lawyer’s office and throw his weight around or trash the liquor store, but what business does he have in a cafe. Your cafe.
For as much as you’ve heard about the mysterious and mercurial newcomer, you know better than to ask that. Instead, you recite the usual. The boring daily routines are what make Springfort safe. Or did.
“Hello, what can I get you today?” You ask as he nears the counter. You move to face him over the small till.
There’s not much to the space; enough for you to work. Espresso machine, frother, blender, toaster oven, percolator... the basics and a little more. There’s the display case of your hand-crafted baked goods and not much else. It’s the only place in town beside the diner for locals to sit down, though there are only four tables inside.
The man doesn’t answer. He stares back at you. You can’t read his expressions. His blues fall to your hands as you place them on either side of the till.
He wears a quarter-zip with the tab pulled down. The collar folds over as chest hair peaks out unabashedly. His black cargo pants have a military cut to them and his fingerless gloves are a final peculiar accessory. He sports a thick beard but a shaved scalp, and his blunt brows give him a naturally angry affect.
“Sir? We have a new butterscotch mocha as today’s special,” you suggest.
“You.” He speaks at last.
You blink and hold your calm smile. You try to process his question. You point to your name tag an introduce yourself.
“No, you asked me what you can get me.”
You nod but don’t understand.
“I can help you, sir. Sure. What would you like?”
He looks you up and down and plants his hands on the counter. As he does that, you pull yours offer and fold them over your apron. He leans in and licks his lips.
“I would like...” he gives a crooked grin, “you.”
“I...” You open your mouth dumbly. “I don’t...” your voice is brittle. Your throat tightens and you choke on a disbelieving laugh.
“You laughing at me?” He challenges.
You gulp and snap your mouth shut, “no, sir. Sorry, I’m just... confused.”
“What’s confusing?” He bends until he’s leaning on his elbows and twines his fingers together. His knuckles bulge and whiten. You lean back on your heel, resisting the urge to flee.
“I don’t know,” you murmur. The look in his eyes fills you with icy fear.
“So, I put my order in...” he drawls.
“Um. I can’t... I... this is my...” you sputter and recall Sonia’s recount of Osborne and Meyers sacking. The older law partner ended up in emerge though his exact malady varied according the source. “I own the cafe so--”
“You go on and lock that door,” he says. “Since you’re the boss, you can take a break, can’t ya?” You sway on your feet and stare back at him. He untangles his fingers and brings a hand up to pull at a tuft of his beard. “I don’t know, I was told the service here was speedy.” He sucks his teeth. “But you’re here dragging your feet, wasting my time.”
You wince and take a cautious step back. He watches you, unmoving, though you brace yourself for him to lunge. You slowly come out around the counter and cross to the door. You twist the lock and flip the sign.
His footsteps scuff as he grunts into a long groan. You face him reluctantly as he drags one of the chairs from the table and puts it in front of the counter. His attention hangs on the seat as he considers it. You stand where you are, frightened.
“Come here,” he beckons with two fingers, his other hand on the back of the chair.
You approach and stop a foot away. He tilts his head to look at you. The gleam in his irises swells over you like frigid water. He lets go of the chair and turns to you fully. He steps closer and you wince as he reaches for you.
He loops his arms around you and tugs at the knot of the apron. It slackens and he brings his hands up to unhook the strap from around your neck. He pulls it away and drops it on the floor.
“Sir, I... what did I do?”
“Chh, chh, chh,” he tuts between his teeth.
You seal your lips and peer up at him. Your eyes meet again. He brings his large hands to cradle your face and tilts your head. He gives you an appraising look over.
“You just worry about what you need to do, sweetheart,” he growls.
His hands drift down to the top of your blouse. You shiver as he plucks open the buttons one at a time. As he does, gritty noises rise in his throat. He pushes the fabric away from your shoulders and down your arms. The blouse falls to your feet.
You turn your head away as he tugs at the knotted belt of your high-waisted pants. He unties it and stretches the elastic waistband, guiding it past your hips. You sniff as you focus on staying upright. Your pants pool at your feet, heaping over your round-toed flats.
You gasp as he cups your chest with his large hands. Your nipples harden and poke him through your bra. He purrs and gropes you harder. You shudder and waver with his force. He lifts your tits, jiggling them, and pushes them together.
“I was told you sell sweets,” he says, “but I wasn’t expecting these.”
Driving Johnny up the wall by participating in no nut november. But this time its not about him cumming, its about him not cumming in you. At first he thought it was fun, he got to cum all over your stomach, ass, tits and you even let him cum on your face.
Fantasies once out of reach were fulfilled.
But now he's begging, "Please Bonnie, please let me cum in you. Please please please," and its like music to your ears. That is until you remember how strong he is and how he could take anything he wants from you and this time he does. Cumming inside your stuffed cunt over and over again, his spend dripping down onto the sheets as he whines through overstimulation.
Reader coming across him while she's out scavenging for food and resources. they stand across the road staring at one another for a time, neither of them saying a word to the other, before she scurries back home, heart beating wildly in her chest because it's been ages since she last crossed paths with another person and she knows that it isn't safe to trust anyone these days. barricades herself in her shelter and prays that he'll move on.
only for her to open the door to her shelter the next morning and find him sleeping there on the welcome mat. he must've followed her all the way back home, like a stray dog with an empty belly.
and he's so good to you after that. brings you food and water and helps insulate the shelter as the colder months approach. all he asks is that you let him inside with you. you're wary at first (in fact, that first day, you figure it's better to just abandon your shelter altogether and try your luck at finding a new one, but Soap gets on his knees and begs you to let him stay, and it throws you for such a loop that you just. let him.), but he proves himself over time. pulls his weight and keeps you fed.
the only problem is that he's...clingy. you try to keep him out of your bed, but unless you stay awake the whole night, at some point you will wake up to him curled around you, his face smushed between your tits, drooling onto your shirt. sniffles when you try to push him away because he hasn't had anyone to hold since the world ended. he's been going crazy out there on his own. months without anyone to talk to or touch - and the people he did come across always reacted violently at the sight of him, forcing him to put them down.
it's no wonder that he craves anything soft now. reaches his hand between your legs to rub his fingers over where you're soft and wet, and looks up at you all woundedly if you try to push his hand away. he doesn't need anything in return, he says (almost desperately, still pawing at you with those big hands of his), he just needs to remind himself that there's still good in the world.
Please go watch Sex Explained on Netflix. Not only is it a great resource for the basic sex education that is sorely lacking in the U.S., but some of ya’ll need to take a deep breath and remember the difference between fantasy vs reality. This purity culture thing that we’re going through right now is directly harmful to responsible, healthy sexual expression.
BTW this woman, Lisa Diamond, is a noted psychologist and has been pushing for greater understanding of womens sexuality as a whole.
Not being used to the princess treatment or being taken care of. You're not one to rely on others, so when you get in a relationship with Soap, you don't realize how independent you are, relying on yourself to do things, not going to him for emotional needs. Sometimes, even taking care of physical ones on your own because you don't want to bother him or seem clingy.
He gets upset, naturally.
You don't let him open doors for you, nor do you let him pull out your chair at the dinner table. If you're sick, you insist on sleeping in the guest bedroom and taking care of yourself until the illness has passed. When you're on your period, he's excited to give you anything you need, but then you don't ask him for ice cream, or chocolate, you don't even ask for cuddles??
Not to forget the times when you didn't wake him up to help take care of you because you didn't want to 'disturb his sleep'. Fuck his sleep, he could've gotten that later, he would've loved to have a sleepy fuck with you. It almost feels like a betrayal that you snuck away to the guest room to get yourself off. If you'd asked, he would've happily taken care of you.
He needs to feel needed. Needs you to need him. Wants you to need him. Has he not shown you that he can provide? That he can take care of you?
But then think about finally giving in, and slowly letting him take care of you. He breaks down your walls, coaxes you into accepting his help, spoils you with affection. Peeling away that hard shell, and revealing that soft underbelly that didn't know how much it wanted and needed to be treated so sweetly.
It's a process, but Soap will get you used to the princess treatment. You don't have to be so strong all the time. He'll give you what you need if you give him the chance.
("I just don't want to be needy."
"Hen, I'd give anything for you to be needy. Let me take care of you.")
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