cw: suggestive
you hear karasu’s footsteps pattering around the bed, floorboards creaking at every motion. wisps of his cologne graze your skin as he examines your form on his bed—kneeling on the mattress with your hands cuffed behind your back, an indigo blindfold over your eyes.
you bite your lip as you hear him chuckle lowly, “what a sight, darlin’.”
“it’s all for you, tabito,” you say softly.
the mattress dips with a familiar weight and you smell his cologne again, this time much stronger as he presses a soft kiss to your lips, his rough and warm hand stroking your cheek.
you squirm under his touch, anticipation brewing. dark blue inks over your vision, hindering karasu from it, but you can only imagine he has his signature smirk on his face.
his cologne fills your nose again—lavender mixed with cashmere wood, a dash of amber pinched in. a scent you’re used to, a scent you’re comforted by. his lips graze your ear suddenly, making your back arch from the ghost of his breath.
“i have somethin’ for ya,” he whispers. “somethin’ new for ya t’play with. be good and wait here, yeah?”
you nod, always on your best behavior for him, excitement stirring in your fluttering stomach. his cologne fades and you hear him exiting the bedroom, the door clicking. perhaps a new toy of sorts? or maybe some new restraints—karasu always liked the sight of you being tied up.
the door clicks open again a moment later, karasu’s familiar adagio of his footsteps reaching your ears and you can smell his cologne again.
but there’s something else. there’s a pair of quieter, yet more quickened footsteps trailing behind him. they’re not as heavy as karasu’s; they’re rather paced and steady—an allegro.
then, you can pick up another scent. another cologne. a mix of jasmine and agarwood, a softer scent in comparison to karasu’s. you feel like you’ve smelled it before.
“sweetness, i thought that we could use ‘nother helpin’ hand for tonight,” karasu states to the right of you, but you feel the mattress dip from your left. “hope ya enjoy.”
the foreign cologne suddenly fills your senses, and a hushed voice reaches your left ear, an intonation that suddenly sounds all the familiar when you reach an epiphany as a thinner, cold hand tucks a piece of hair away from your face.
“what’s up?” otoya murmurs into your ear.
