FGO Kinktober (2025) Day 5 - Perfume (Constantine XI x GN!Reader)
Words: 791
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Scent kink, Accidental Voyeurism
Note: Sorry if Constantine is too out of character, I still don’t know much about him but when I asked a friend to suggest me characters she mentioned him so apologies in advance. Still, I hope you enjoy it.
This one is shorter than the previous ones, I'm trying to alternate between shorter and longer fics.
Constantine kept staring at the handkerchief, sometimes folding it, then unfolding it; uneasy yet carefully, as if it would shatter like glass if it dropped. He couldn’t remember why you lent it to him; he was a little distracted at that moment, it was so unlike him. You’ve been occupying Constantine’s thoughts as of late, it was becoming quite troublesome. Usually calm and composed, the servant was fighting against himself, a battle he wasn’t sure he could win.
It all started with that perfume.
On an ordinary day, just like any other, you knocked on his room to invite him to have tea with Johanna and Mash. It hit him as soon as you entered, a fragrance like no other he had ever breathed in before. He must have looked really surprised, because you instantly asked if anything was wrong. He was just curious about your choice of perfume, so you gladly explained it was a present from the Queen of Sheba (unusual coming from her). You showed him the small bottle and even offered to try it, which he kindly accepted. However, when you splashed a small amount on his wrist, he couldn’t feel the same smell that came from you.
From that moment, each time you wore it he felt himself gravitate towards you, like you were a magnet. It was inexplicable why he felt so attracted to that smell on your skin. Sometimes he would catch himself being close to you just to inhale your essence; the woody scent, those floral hints he couldn’t properly identify… It was so foreign yet so comforting. He didn’t understand why it felt so intoxicating, but he did know it was dangerous.
Constantine admired you as a master, that he was certain of, so why did he feel like his perception of you was changing? Could he perhaps be misconceiving his perception of admiration with something else? Love, maybe? You were endearing, that’s for sure. His heart however didn’t react the same way as it did with Johanna; even if he knew love comes in many ways, shapes and forms, that couldn’t be it. Or maybe, it wasn’t just love, it could be mixed with something else, hence why it was so difficult to identify that feeling.
He brought the handkerchief close to his nose, then stopped midway, as if he was committing some kind of sinful act. Was your fragrance making him act this way or was this always a part of him that had somehow awakened. He prayed that, whatever the reason was, it would be over soon; he could not bear with that feeling that burned from inside of his chest, the foreign sensation that sank deep in his lower stomach.
Then it clicked, the answer clear from the beginning. He was just lying to himself to feel better, to avoid the truth.
Physical attraction, desire, lust. Those were common human feelings, yet they felt so sinful, so improper, so embarrassing. You would be ashamed of your servant if you found out, he was sure of it. How could he make it stop, how could these thoughts go away?
A sudden idea popped in his mind, one he was not proud of; maybe if he indulged himself in this sinful act all these thoughts would stop. It was crazy, but at this point he was desperate.
He covered his nose with the handkerchief, taking a deep breath as his free hand moved swiftly under his pants. The aroma of your perfume still lingered on the cloth, not as intense as before. He closed his eyes as he tried to picture you, stroking his cock with short movement. It was so shameful, so wrong, what would you think if you saw him like this? You would probably be disgusted… Wouldn’t you? It was your handkerchief after all, it was impossible that you enjoyed the idea of him masturbating to the thought of you. So why, why was he increasing the pace of his strokes, why was he taking his time massaging his tip, why would he imagine yourself whispering to him with your honeyed voice.
He finished quickly, like a shock, eyes still closed as he tried to catch his breath. The post orgasm guilt affected him quickly, what has he done? How could he look at you from now on? He slowly opened his eyes to adjust them to the light, regretting it in an instant as he looked in shock and horror at your form resting on the door frame.
