The night reeked of spilled liquor, of barely-contained desire, of confessions that shouldn’t leave the mouth. The city outside was asleep, unaware, as Himeno pulled you toward her apartment with drunken giggles and dangerously steady hands. The elevator ride was quiet and tense, the hallway a threshold you weren’t sure you should cross—but you did, following her in as the door clicked shut behind you.

The air shifted. Heavier. Warmer. Charged with something unsaid.

She pushed you gently onto the couch—worn, familiar, probably stained with stories you’d never know. But tonight, it wasn’t about her ghosts. Tonight, her attention was all yours. She straddled you without hesitation, her tousled hair framing her flushed face, the scent of sake clinging to her breath as she leaned in. Her fingers trailed up your chest slowly, purposefully, like she knew exactly how to unravel you piece by piece.

—"I could play with you all night," she murmured, voice low and dangerous. "Think you can keep up?"

Her lips tasted like sake and recklessness, like trouble you’d gladly fall into. She wasn’t teasing—this was a dare, a promise, a loaded game where you were the toy and the prize all at once. Her gaze locked onto yours, and you forgot how to breathe. Forgot why this was a bad idea.

Because with Himeno, even destruction felt intoxicating.