Korika

Whenever everyone gathers outside in the evenings, you deliberately sit beside other guys—the neighbor's son, an old friend from school, anyone. You laugh at their stupid jokes, all while stealing glances at Ryomen from the corner of your eye.

His expression never changes.

Cold. Blank. He nurses a beer or lights another cigarette, looking almost bored, but his eyes never leave you.

They find you through the crowd, studying every movement you make. Every laugh. Every smile. Every accidental brush of someone else's hand against your shoulder, as though committing it all to memory.

The longer this twisted game drags on, the more terrified you become.

You can feel the tension winding tighter beneath your skin.

And when it finally snaps...

You know you're going to be the one left in pieces.

You forgot one thing.

Sukuna doesn't tolerate outsiders.

A steady hum of voices drifts in through the back door, mixed with laughter and the shrill screams of children. Half the neighborhood seems to have shown up.

Someone brought meat for the barbecue, someone else showed up with salads, and others dragged folding chairs beneath the old oak just to claim a patch of shade.

You step onto the porch, and the scorching air crashes into you like a wave from an open oven. The midday sun hangs directly overhead, bleaching the grass into a dull yellow. Heat shimmers above the asphalt.

"Hey! Over here!"

Yuji stands waist-deep in the pool, dark wet hair plastered to his forehead, his usual bright grin stretching across his face. He waves both arms to get your attention.

You make your way down the stone path, the sun-heated gravel biting into your bare feet. The moment you reach the edge of the pool, Yuji flashes a mischievous smile and splashes you.

Cold water smacks against your stomach.

You gasp, flinch back, then laugh as you curse at him.

"Come on! Get in!" he calls, sunlight glistening across his shoulders. "The water's perfect!"

You peel off your shorts, letting them fall into the grass before climbing onto the metal ladder. The steps burn your feet, but the second the water reaches your waist, the oppressive heat melts away.

The water smells of sharp, clean chlorine and the sun-heated plastic of the pool edge. You dive beneath the surface, letting the cool water wash away the sweat. You surface, gasping, only for Yuji to splash you again, and suddenly you are wrestling like kids, the water spraying everywhere, a brief, fleeting escape from the dread.

Yuji lunges for your waist, but you twist away, slipping toward the deep end before resurfacing behind him.

"That's cheating!" he laughs, spinning around.

"Oh, quit whining."

He catches you the next time, wrapping both arms around your waist and lifting you effortlessly off the pool floor.

You squeal, grabbing at his sides.

His body isn't the same as it used to be.

His hands are rough now, strong, all lean muscle beneath warm skin.

With a laugh, he tosses you into the water.

For one blissful second, everything goes silent. Only bubbles drift past your face.

You surface, coughing and laughing at the same time, then shove him in the chest with all your strength.

He barely moves.

Just stands there, entirely too pleased with himself.

"You're such an asshole," you mutter between breaths.

Water trickles down your collarbones, collecting at the ties of your swimsuit.

Yuji laughs, but the smile fades almost immediately.

"Uh... I've gotta get back to the grill." He rubs the back of his neck. "If Sukuna catches me slacking off..."

Your smile disappears.

"He's... coming?"

Your voice comes out quieter than you intended.

"Yeah." Yuji nods. "He and Toji went to grab more beer."

He notices the look on your face and lowers his voice.

"Sorry. I know you two don't exactly get along. But... maybe things have changed over the past year?" He shrugs. "Honestly, he barely ever talks about you."

You force yourself to nod.

If only Yuji knew.

If only this kind, oblivious boy had even the slightest idea what had happened two nights ago in the backseat of his brother's Mustang.

The way Sukuna had wrapped your hair around his fist.

The way he'd forced your face down between his knees.

The way you'd stared into those wild crimson eyes while he ruined your throat.

Your fingers drift unconsciously to your neck. It still feels as though his grip has never really left your skin.

"I should head inside," you mumble, already climbing out of the pool. "I need to dry off."

"What? We literally just got in!" Yuji calls after you.

But you're already walking away, not listening anymore.

You’re basically sprinting. The wet fabric clings to your body, highlighting every curve. The concrete is slick; you almost slip.

You frantically scan the tables for his silhouette, praying to slip by unnoticed.

You’re one foot onto the porch steps when a heavy palm slams onto your shoulder. Fingers dig into the muscle, jerking you backward.

You gasp, and your back slams into a rough wooden pillar.

The wood is scorching hot beneath the relentless sun, searing against your shoulder blades almost as fiercely as his grip.

He looms over you, a mountain of heat and shadow that swallows the light, cutting you off from the rest of the world.

Heat pours off him. He smells like sweat, sharp cologne, and bitter cigarette smoke.

The white t-shirt clinging to his chest is damp at the collar. A crumpled pack of cigarettes juts from his chest pocket. The tattoos on his face look like ink-stained scars, and his eyes hold nothing but cruel amusement.

"Where are you running off to, brat?" His voice is a gravelly, guttural growl. "Saw me and decided to bolt?"

"Let go, Sukuna," you hiss, pressing your palms to his chest. Under your fingers, his muscles are hard and boiling hot. "Let go, someone’s gonna come out!"

"And what are they gonna do?"

He leans in, pinning you against the pillar with his weight. Your wet swimsuit leaves a darkening, spreading blotch on his shirt. He drops his gaze to your chest, slowly licking his parched lips.

"Those tits look insane. Wear that on purpose? Knew I was coming, didn't you, little bitch?"

"Fuck off," you exhale.

He thrusts a hip, forcing your head to smack against the wood again. His calloused hand, smelling of engine oil, unceremoniously rests on your waist, his fingers digging in.

"Decided to get a piece of the brat while you're at it?" he whispers right into your lips. "I saw you fawning over him in the pool. Have fun?"

"We were just playing! Yuji is my friend, you hear me? He's normal, unlike you!"

"Friend," Sukuna spits out venomously. "That pup follows you around like a lost dog. And you love it, don't you?"

His hand slides lower, roughly grazing your thigh, his fingers shoving under the wet fabric of your bikini bottoms. Without a shred of foreplay, he shoves a finger inside.

You freeze, breath hitched.

"Sukuna... don't... please..."

"I don't give a damn," he smirks.

His finger moves deeper, working you.

"My dad... my dad's gonna come out and see!" you’re almost begging.

Not now.

Please, not here.

"And what’s your old man gonna do?" Sukuna sneers. "Beat me up? Brat, your daddy worships me."

His thumb grinds down hard on your most sensitive spot. A suffocating, sticky heat floods your lower belly. You hate yourself for how fast your body starts pulsing under his touch.

"I can hear you breathing," Ryomen whispers, biting your earlobe until it draws blood. "You want me to tear this piece of trash off right here and fuck you? Say 'no,' and I'll pull my hand out. Well? Say it."

You open your mouth, trying to choke out that damn "no," but instead, a dirty, drawn-out moan escapes your lips.

"Slut," Sukuna growls.

He jerks his hand away, grabbing your wrist and dragging you toward the kitchen door.

"Get inside. Now." He gives your wrist another rough tug. "Running away, huh?"

You knew he was crazy. A hot-headed, dangerous beast. Once you’re in the dim hallway, he turns, his face inches from yours. His eyes burn with something wild, something deeply wrong.

You never should have gotten close to Sukuna.

You never should have made that deal.

"You get what’s gonna happen if your saint of a father finds out how his little girl sucks dick in parking lots?" he spits.

"It... it wasn't like that..." you sob, tears blinding you.

"Oh yeah? Then what was it? You just naturally learned how to swallow my cock to the hilt? Just swallowed my cum while you were dripping like a bitch?"

You cover your face, choking on a sob. Sukuna waits. Then his grip on your wrist lightens. He lets out a heavy, dirty sigh.

"Go upstairs." His voice is quieter now, but there's still steel beneath it.

He gives you a slight shove toward the stairs.

Your heart pounds in your temples. Your mouth has gone dry. You want to scream, call for Yuji, run back to the people outside—but your feet move anyway.

You run. Faster than if he were dragging you himself. Because the fear and panic inside you are tangled so tightly with the forbidden arousal pulling you under that you can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins.

You’d be lying if you said you didn't want this.

You'd be lying if you said the adrenaline wasn't pulling you toward him.

You rush into your room.

Run.

Move.

Why aren't you moving?

Sukuna follows close behind.

The lock clicks with a dry, terrifying snap.

You stand in the center of the room, gasping.

The window is left slightly ajar, and the boisterous, drunken laughter of your father echoes up from the backyard, mocking your silence. The sunset floods the room in a sickly, golden light.

Sukuna leans his back against the door.

Anyone outside who looks up will see you through the glass. The sheer, reckless audacity of it makes your mind reel with vertigo.

Sukuna takes a step. Then another. He is huge, a dangerous predator filling the space of your clean, quiet bedroom. You back away until your knees hit the mattress.

"Sit," he orders.

You don't move.

Ryomen is enormous, filthy, smelling of the summer heat, beer, and the street. He fills every inch of your quiet bedroom.

"I said, sit."

You drop to the edge, your wet swimsuit leaving a dark, damp stain on the pristine white sheet. He steps in, forcing your knees apart with his legs until you are completely trapped between them.

"So nervous…" A slow grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You have no idea how much that turns me on."

Sukuna looms over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. He doesn't hesitate; he reaches out, slapping your cheek with a casual, stinging disregard before grabbing your chin, forcing your face up to meet his dark, predatory stare.

"Don't be scared, little one," he rasps, his eyes glinting with a savage hunger. "I don't bite. Unless you start begging for it."

His hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers twisting into your damp hair and pulling hard, forcing your cheek against the denim of his crotch. You can feel the heavy, pulsing heat of him—huge and rigid—pressing against your face through the thick fabric.

"I missed you," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

"Sukuna... my dad... he'll come up..." you whimper, your voice breaking.

"Fuck," he growls, his patience fraying. "Quit whining."

His free hand dives under the hem of your top, and with one sharp, violent motion, he yanks the fabric up. Your nipples harden instantly in the cold air.

You instinctively try to cover yourself, but he catches your wrists and pins them firmly to your sides.

He grabs your wrists, pinning them wide, and his fingers squeeze your breast with such punishing intensity that a sharp cry escapes your lips.

He only smirks, reaching behind your neck to jerk the ties of your bikini top free. It falls away, leaving you completely bare before him.

"Come on, brat," he breathes, his eyes darkening to black. "Jerk me off with your tits. Show me you remember how."

His hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head back so you have to look him in the eyes.

"You understand me? Or do I need to knock it into your head?"

Your shaking fingers grab his belt. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pull it down. His cock falls out heavy, the wet tip glistening in the sunset.

"Don't be shy," he sneers. "Remember how you used to lick it. How deep you’d take it."

You swallow, licking your parched lips. Sukuna snorts mockingly.

"Just do it, I'm tired of waiting."

You cup your breasts in your hands, pressing his shaft firmly between them. The skin is slippery from sweat and leftover pool water; the cock moves easily, with a wet, sliding sound. You speed up the pace, squeezing your palms tighter. Under your hands, he becomes even more tense and aroused.

"Yeah... that’s it, slut... Squeeze harder."

He starts moving his hips to meet you, practically fucking your chest with short, sharp, mechanical thrusts. The belt buckle clinks against the button with every movement, and he pushes deeper, faster.

Downstairs, Yuji’s laughter rings out, oblivious, while inside you, everything is melting into a puddle of shame and hunger. You part your lips, sucking the head on every forward thrust.

"Damn... fuck..." Sukuna rasps. "Yeah, like that... More... I’m gonna..."

He cums just as you take the head into your mouth again. Hot, thick spurts splash across your chest, your neck, coating your chin. He stays there for a long time, his whole body shuddering with every release.

Sukuna finally steps back, breathing heavily. He zips up and looks down at you—disheveled, covered in his essence, and trembling.

"Good job," he huffs, a look of satiated, animal triumph in his eyes. "Obedient little slut."

A large drop of his seed falls onto your navel. Your hand, acting on its own, drops down, your fingers pressing through the soaked fabric of your panties. You are aching with a hunger that doesn't end. He sees it, and his smirk widens.

"What, did you like it when I was rough?"

"No, I...—"

"What 'please'?" He leans in, grabbing your hair, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Say it. Out loud."

"I want you to fuck me!"

"I thought so."

He throws you onto your back. The mattress squeaks piteously as he bears down on you, pinning you to the bed with his massive body.

"Lie still and don't you dare twitch."

He takes your hands, puts them over your head, and pins them to the pillow with one of his massive palms, stripping you of the slightest chance to defend yourself. You’re completely open and left to his mercy. He tears your panties aside.

His fingers jam inside, relentless, hitting you at full reach. The sound—the wet, rhythmic squelching as you move on your own, grinding against his hand—is enough to snap whatever thin leash he had on his restraint.

"Slut... what a fucking slut you are," he growls through his teeth. He grinds his crotch against your side, his hard, throbbing length pressing through the denim, punishing your bare, wet skin.

"Look at me, fuck," he orders, his free hand clamping around your throat. "Open your eyes, slut, and see who’s fucking you."

He dips his head, his teeth sinking into your skin right over your pulse—a sharp, sudden bite that makes you gasp. He instantly licks the sting with his scorching tongue, sending a violent shiver down your spine.

"Feel how much I want you?" he rasps into your ear. "I want to bury myself in you. But first, you’re gonna come from my fingers. You’re gonna come for me, hear me?"

His movements turn frantic. His thumb hammers against your clitoris with no mercy. You arch into him, your fingers tearing at his shirt. Everything inside you pulls tight, like a wire strung to the breaking point. The tension becomes unbearable, and you explode. A loud scream is drowned in his shoulder, your body goes into convulsions, your inner muscles squeezing his fingers in a death grip.

Sukuna doesn't stop, continuing to move his fingers, wringing the last of the orgasm out of you until you go completely limp, turning into a ragdoll.

He finally pulls his hand out with a wet, heavy sound.

He brings his stained fingers to his lips, watching you with those dark, predatory eyes, and slowly licks them clean.

Sukuna stands up. As his weight leaves the mattress, the room suddenly feels empty. He fastens his belt, the sharp click of the buckle sounding like a death sentence.

"So, how are we supposed to go back downstairs after that?" He sounds lazy, but his eyes burn with triumph. "You smell like me and sex from a mile away, brat."

"Why are you doing this, Sukuna?" Your voice trembles. "Was that night not enough for you?"

He pauses, leaning in so close that the smoke from his cigarette burns your eyes.

"Enough? Brat, it'll never be enough. You brought this on yourself. Remember this: stay the hell away from my brother. You so much as look at him again, and I'll fuck you on his own bed. I don't give a damn who's outside the door."

He strolls to the dresser, lights another cigarette, and exhales a stream of smoke. "What? Not even a 'thank you'?"

You give the smallest nod, a tear slipping down your cheek. "I understand."

"Good girl."

He turns toward the door. It clicks shut behind him, and his footsteps fade. You are left alone, and your gaze drifts to the nightstand. Two crumpled twenty-dollar bills lie there.

Payment. That's all it is.

Nausea crawls up your throat, but the worst part—the part that makes you want to tear yourself apart—is the faint, pulse-like satisfaction still buried deep inside you. Your body has betrayed you.

You grab a wet wipe and, frantically, until your skin is raw and purple, you wipe the semen from your chest and neck, desperately trying to wash away the smell of his tobacco and skin. With trembling fingers, you somehow pull on your wet swimsuit and head down to the backyard.

Suddenly, right by your ear, making your whole body flinch, his low, mocking voice rings out:

"Sweetheart, you forgot to wipe the traces off your chin."

You spin around abruptly. Sukuna is standing a step away from you, demons dancing in his eyes, and on his lips—that same crooked, triumphant smirk. Toji is standing behind him, lazily sipping beer and giving you a sharp, sly once-over from head to toe. He’s clearly in on your "secret."

You jerk your hand up in fear, frantically scrubbing your chin... but your fingers are dry.

There’s nothing there.

He lied.

Just to mock you.

To show that you are completely in his power.

Your face flushes a deep, burning crimson. Sukuna lets out a ringing, mocking laugh. He turns and heads toward the table, his broad back flickering among the guests like a predator returning to his pack.

You watch him walk away, feeling a slow-acting poison spreading through your veins. You feel used, trampled, and dirty. But as you watch him effortlessly take charge, a horrifying thought creeps into your mind: the sun will set, the guests will leave, and somewhere in the parking lot beside the Mustang, a lighter will click again.

And you'll find your way back to him. Because the poison beneath your skin craves only him—and you don't want it to stop.

Whenever everyone gathers outside in the evenings, you deliberately sit beside other guys—the neighbor's son, an old friend from school, anyone. You laugh at their stupid jokes, all while stealing glances at Ryomen from the corner of your eye.

His expression never changes.

Cold. Blank. He nurses a beer or lights another cigarette, looking almost bored, but his eyes never leave you.

They find you through the crowd, studying every movement you make. Every laugh. Every smile. Every accidental brush of someone else's hand against your shoulder, as though committing it all to memory.

The longer this twisted game drags on, the more terrified you become.

You can feel the tension winding tighter beneath your skin.

And when it finally snaps...

You know you're going to be the one left in pieces.

You forgot one thing.

Sukuna doesn't tolerate outsiders.

A steady hum of voices drifts in through the back door, mixed with laughter and the shrill screams of children. Half the neighborhood seems to have shown up.

Someone brought meat for the barbecue, someone else showed up with salads, and others dragged folding chairs beneath the old oak just to claim a patch of shade.

You step onto the porch, and the scorching air crashes into you like a wave from an open oven. The midday sun hangs directly overhead, bleaching the grass into a dull yellow. Heat shimmers above the asphalt.

"Hey! Over here!"

Yuji stands waist-deep in the pool, dark wet hair plastered to his forehead, his usual bright grin stretching across his face. He waves both arms to get your attention.

You make your way down the stone path, the sun-heated gravel biting into your bare feet. The moment you reach the edge of the pool, Yuji flashes a mischievous smile and splashes you.

Cold water smacks against your stomach.

You gasp, flinch back, then laugh as you curse at him.

"Come on! Get in!" he calls, sunlight glistening across his shoulders. "The water's perfect!"

You peel off your shorts, letting them fall into the grass before climbing onto the metal ladder. The steps burn your feet, but the second the water reaches your waist, the oppressive heat melts away.

The water smells of sharp, clean chlorine and the sun-heated plastic of the pool edge. You dive beneath the surface, letting the cool water wash away the sweat. You surface, gasping, only for Yuji to splash you again, and suddenly you are wrestling like kids, the water spraying everywhere, a brief, fleeting escape from the dread.

Yuji lunges for your waist, but you twist away, slipping toward the deep end before resurfacing behind him.

"That's cheating!" he laughs, spinning around.

"Oh, quit whining."

He catches you the next time, wrapping both arms around your waist and lifting you effortlessly off the pool floor.

You squeal, grabbing at his sides.

His body isn't the same as it used to be.

His hands are rough now, strong, all lean muscle beneath warm skin.

With a laugh, he tosses you into the water.

For one blissful second, everything goes silent. Only bubbles drift past your face.

You surface, coughing and laughing at the same time, then shove him in the chest with all your strength.

He barely moves.

Just stands there, entirely too pleased with himself.

"You're such an asshole," you mutter between breaths.

Water trickles down your collarbones, collecting at the ties of your swimsuit.

Yuji laughs, but the smile fades almost immediately.

"Uh... I've gotta get back to the grill." He rubs the back of his neck. "If Sukuna catches me slacking off..."

Your smile disappears.

"He's... coming?"

Your voice comes out quieter than you intended.

"Yeah." Yuji nods. "He and Toji went to grab more beer."

He notices the look on your face and lowers his voice.

"Sorry. I know you two don't exactly get along. But... maybe things have changed over the past year?" He shrugs. "Honestly, he barely ever talks about you."

You force yourself to nod.

If only Yuji knew.

If only this kind, oblivious boy had even the slightest idea what had happened two nights ago in the backseat of his brother's Mustang.

The way Sukuna had wrapped your hair around his fist.

The way he'd forced your face down between his knees.

The way you'd stared into those wild crimson eyes while he ruined your throat.

Your fingers drift unconsciously to your neck. It still feels as though his grip has never really left your skin.

"I should head inside," you mumble, already climbing out of the pool. "I need to dry off."

"What? We literally just got in!" Yuji calls after you.

But you're already walking away, not listening anymore.

You’re basically sprinting. The wet fabric clings to your body, highlighting every curve. The concrete is slick; you almost slip.

You frantically scan the tables for his silhouette, praying to slip by unnoticed.

You’re one foot onto the porch steps when a heavy palm slams onto your shoulder. Fingers dig into the muscle, jerking you backward.

You gasp, and your back slams into a rough wooden pillar.

The wood is scorching hot beneath the relentless sun, searing against your shoulder blades almost as fiercely as his grip.

He looms over you, a mountain of heat and shadow that swallows the light, cutting you off from the rest of the world.

Heat pours off him. He smells like sweat, sharp cologne, and bitter cigarette smoke.

The white t-shirt clinging to his chest is damp at the collar. A crumpled pack of cigarettes juts from his chest pocket. The tattoos on his face look like ink-stained scars, and his eyes hold nothing but cruel amusement.

"Where are you running off to, brat?" His voice is a gravelly, guttural growl. "Saw me and decided to bolt?"

"Let go, Sukuna," you hiss, pressing your palms to his chest. Under your fingers, his muscles are hard and boiling hot. "Let go, someone’s gonna come out!"

"And what are they gonna do?"

He leans in, pinning you against the pillar with his weight. Your wet swimsuit leaves a darkening, spreading blotch on his shirt. He drops his gaze to your chest, slowly licking his parched lips.

"Those tits look insane. Wear that on purpose? Knew I was coming, didn't you, little bitch?"

"Fuck off," you exhale.

He thrusts a hip, forcing your head to smack against the wood again. His calloused hand, smelling of engine oil, unceremoniously rests on your waist, his fingers digging in.

"Decided to get a piece of the brat while you're at it?" he whispers right into your lips. "I saw you fawning over him in the pool. Have fun?"

"We were just playing! Yuji is my friend, you hear me? He's normal, unlike you!"

"Friend," Sukuna spits out venomously. "That pup follows you around like a lost dog. And you love it, don't you?"

His hand slides lower, roughly grazing your thigh, his fingers shoving under the wet fabric of your bikini bottoms. Without a shred of foreplay, he shoves a finger inside.

You freeze, breath hitched.

"Sukuna... don't... please..."

"I don't give a damn," he smirks.

His finger moves deeper, working you.

"My dad... my dad's gonna come out and see!" you’re almost begging.

Not now.

Please, not here.

"And what’s your old man gonna do?" Sukuna sneers. "Beat me up? Brat, your daddy worships me."

His thumb grinds down hard on your most sensitive spot. A suffocating, sticky heat floods your lower belly. You hate yourself for how fast your body starts pulsing under his touch.

"I can hear you breathing," Ryomen whispers, biting your earlobe until it draws blood. "You want me to tear this piece of trash off right here and fuck you? Say 'no,' and I'll pull my hand out. Well? Say it."

You open your mouth, trying to choke out that damn "no," but instead, a dirty, drawn-out moan escapes your lips.

"Slut," Sukuna growls.

He jerks his hand away, grabbing your wrist and dragging you toward the kitchen door.

"Get inside. Now." He gives your wrist another rough tug. "Running away, huh?"

You knew he was crazy. A hot-headed, dangerous beast. Once you’re in the dim hallway, he turns, his face inches from yours. His eyes burn with something wild, something deeply wrong.

You never should have gotten close to Sukuna.

You never should have made that deal.

"You get what’s gonna happen if your saint of a father finds out how his little girl sucks dick in parking lots?" he spits.

"It... it wasn't like that..." you sob, tears blinding you.

"Oh yeah? Then what was it? You just naturally learned how to swallow my cock to the hilt? Just swallowed my cum while you were dripping like a bitch?"

You cover your face, choking on a sob. Sukuna waits. Then his grip on your wrist lightens. He lets out a heavy, dirty sigh.

"Go upstairs." His voice is quieter now, but there's still steel beneath it.

He gives you a slight shove toward the stairs.

Your heart pounds in your temples. Your mouth has gone dry. You want to scream, call for Yuji, run back to the people outside—but your feet move anyway.

You run. Faster than if he were dragging you himself. Because the fear and panic inside you are tangled so tightly with the forbidden arousal pulling you under that you can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins.

You’d be lying if you said you didn't want this.

You'd be lying if you said the adrenaline wasn't pulling you toward him.

You rush into your room.

Run.

Move.

Why aren't you moving?

Sukuna follows close behind.

The lock clicks with a dry, terrifying snap.

You stand in the center of the room, gasping.

The window is left slightly ajar, and the boisterous, drunken laughter of your father echoes up from the backyard, mocking your silence. The sunset floods the room in a sickly, golden light.

Sukuna leans his back against the door.

Anyone outside who looks up will see you through the glass. The sheer, reckless audacity of it makes your mind reel with vertigo.

Sukuna takes a step. Then another. He is huge, a dangerous predator filling the space of your clean, quiet bedroom. You back away until your knees hit the mattress.

"Sit," he orders.

You don't move.

Ryomen is enormous, filthy, smelling of the summer heat, beer, and the street. He fills every inch of your quiet bedroom.

"I said, sit."

You drop to the edge, your wet swimsuit leaving a dark, damp stain on the pristine white sheet. He steps in, forcing your knees apart with his legs until you are completely trapped between them.

"So nervous…" A slow grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You have no idea how much that turns me on."

Sukuna looms over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. He doesn't hesitate; he reaches out, slapping your cheek with a casual, stinging disregard before grabbing your chin, forcing your face up to meet his dark, predatory stare.

"Don't be scared, little one," he rasps, his eyes glinting with a savage hunger. "I don't bite. Unless you start begging for it."

His hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers twisting into your damp hair and pulling hard, forcing your cheek against the denim of his crotch. You can feel the heavy, pulsing heat of him—huge and rigid—pressing against your face through the thick fabric.

"I missed you," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

"Sukuna... my dad... he'll come up..." you whimper, your voice breaking.

"Fuck," he growls, his patience fraying. "Quit whining."

His free hand dives under the hem of your top, and with one sharp, violent motion, he yanks the fabric up. Your nipples harden instantly in the cold air.

You instinctively try to cover yourself, but he catches your wrists and pins them firmly to your sides.

He grabs your wrists, pinning them wide, and his fingers squeeze your breast with such punishing intensity that a sharp cry escapes your lips.

He only smirks, reaching behind your neck to jerk the ties of your bikini top free. It falls away, leaving you completely bare before him.

"Come on, brat," he breathes, his eyes darkening to black. "Jerk me off with your tits. Show me you remember how."

His hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head back so you have to look him in the eyes.

"You understand me? Or do I need to knock it into your head?"

Your shaking fingers grab his belt. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pull it down. His cock falls out heavy, the wet tip glistening in the sunset.

"Don't be shy," he sneers. "Remember how you used to lick it. How deep you’d take it."

You swallow, licking your parched lips. Sukuna snorts mockingly.

"Just do it, I'm tired of waiting."

You cup your breasts in your hands, pressing his shaft firmly between them. The skin is slippery from sweat and leftover pool water; the cock moves easily, with a wet, sliding sound. You speed up the pace, squeezing your palms tighter. Under your hands, he becomes even more tense and aroused.

"Yeah... that’s it, slut... Squeeze harder."

He starts moving his hips to meet you, practically fucking your chest with short, sharp, mechanical thrusts. The belt buckle clinks against the button with every movement, and he pushes deeper, faster.

Downstairs, Yuji’s laughter rings out, oblivious, while inside you, everything is melting into a puddle of shame and hunger. You part your lips, sucking the head on every forward thrust.

"Damn... fuck..." Sukuna rasps. "Yeah, like that... More... I’m gonna..."

He cums just as you take the head into your mouth again. Hot, thick spurts splash across your chest, your neck, coating your chin. He stays there for a long time, his whole body shuddering with every release.

Sukuna finally steps back, breathing heavily. He zips up and looks down at you—disheveled, covered in his essence, and trembling.

"Good job," he huffs, a look of satiated, animal triumph in his eyes. "Obedient little slut."

A large drop of his seed falls onto your navel. Your hand, acting on its own, drops down, your fingers pressing through the soaked fabric of your panties. You are aching with a hunger that doesn't end. He sees it, and his smirk widens.

"What, did you like it when I was rough?"

"No, I...—"

"What 'please'?" He leans in, grabbing your hair, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Say it. Out loud."

"I want you to fuck me!"

"I thought so."

He throws you onto your back. The mattress squeaks piteously as he bears down on you, pinning you to the bed with his massive body.

"Lie still and don't you dare twitch."

He takes your hands, puts them over your head, and pins them to the pillow with one of his massive palms, stripping you of the slightest chance to defend yourself. You’re completely open and left to his mercy. He tears your panties aside.

His fingers jam inside, relentless, hitting you at full reach. The sound—the wet, rhythmic squelching as you move on your own, grinding against his hand—is enough to snap whatever thin leash he had on his restraint.

"Slut... what a fucking slut you are," he growls through his teeth. He grinds his crotch against your side, his hard, throbbing length pressing through the denim, punishing your bare, wet skin.

"Look at me, fuck," he orders, his free hand clamping around your throat. "Open your eyes, slut, and see who’s fucking you."

He dips his head, his teeth sinking into your skin right over your pulse—a sharp, sudden bite that makes you gasp. He instantly licks the sting with his scorching tongue, sending a violent shiver down your spine.

"Feel how much I want you?" he rasps into your ear. "I want to bury myself in you. But first, you’re gonna come from my fingers. You’re gonna come for me, hear me?"

His movements turn frantic. His thumb hammers against your clitoris with no mercy. You arch into him, your fingers tearing at his shirt. Everything inside you pulls tight, like a wire strung to the breaking point. The tension becomes unbearable, and you explode. A loud scream is drowned in his shoulder, your body goes into convulsions, your inner muscles squeezing his fingers in a death grip.

Sukuna doesn't stop, continuing to move his fingers, wringing the last of the orgasm out of you until you go completely limp, turning into a ragdoll.

He finally pulls his hand out with a wet, heavy sound.

He brings his stained fingers to his lips, watching you with those dark, predatory eyes, and slowly licks them clean.

Sukuna stands up. As his weight leaves the mattress, the room suddenly feels empty. He fastens his belt, the sharp click of the buckle sounding like a death sentence.

"So, how are we supposed to go back downstairs after that?" He sounds lazy, but his eyes burn with triumph. "You smell like me and sex from a mile away, brat."

"Why are you doing this, Sukuna?" Your voice trembles. "Was that night not enough for you?"

He pauses, leaning in so close that the smoke from his cigarette burns your eyes.

"Enough? Brat, it'll never be enough. You brought this on yourself. Remember this: stay the hell away from my brother. You so much as look at him again, and I'll fuck you on his own bed. I don't give a damn who's outside the door."

He strolls to the dresser, lights another cigarette, and exhales a stream of smoke. "What? Not even a 'thank you'?"

You give the smallest nod, a tear slipping down your cheek. "I understand."

"Good girl."

He turns toward the door. It clicks shut behind him, and his footsteps fade. You are left alone, and your gaze drifts to the nightstand. Two crumpled twenty-dollar bills lie there.

Payment. That's all it is.

Nausea crawls up your throat, but the worst part—the part that makes you want to tear yourself apart—is the faint, pulse-like satisfaction still buried deep inside you. Your body has betrayed you.

You grab a wet wipe and, frantically, until your skin is raw and purple, you wipe the semen from your chest and neck, desperately trying to wash away the smell of his tobacco and skin. With trembling fingers, you somehow pull on your wet swimsuit and head down to the backyard.

Suddenly, right by your ear, making your whole body flinch, his low, mocking voice rings out:

"Sweetheart, you forgot to wipe the traces off your chin."

You spin around abruptly. Sukuna is standing a step away from you, demons dancing in his eyes, and on his lips—that same crooked, triumphant smirk. Toji is standing behind him, lazily sipping beer and giving you a sharp, sly once-over from head to toe. He’s clearly in on your "secret."

You jerk your hand up in fear, frantically scrubbing your chin... but your fingers are dry.

There’s nothing there.

He lied.

Just to mock you.

To show that you are completely in his power.

Your face flushes a deep, burning crimson. Sukuna lets out a ringing, mocking laugh. He turns and heads toward the table, his broad back flickering among the guests like a predator returning to his pack.

You watch him walk away, feeling a slow-acting poison spreading through your veins. You feel used, trampled, and dirty. But as you watch him effortlessly take charge, a horrifying thought creeps into your mind: the sun will set, the guests will leave, and somewhere in the parking lot beside the Mustang, a lighter will click again.

And you'll find your way back to him. Because the poison beneath your skin craves only him—and you don't want it to stop.

Whenever everyone gathers outside in the evenings, you deliberately sit beside other guys—the neighbor's son, an old friend from school, anyone. You laugh at their stupid jokes, all while stealing glances at Ryomen from the corner of your eye.

His expression never changes.

Cold. Blank. He nurses a beer or lights another cigarette, looking almost bored, but his eyes never leave you.

They find you through the crowd, studying every movement you make. Every laugh. Every smile. Every accidental brush of someone else's hand against your shoulder, as though committing it all to memory.

The longer this twisted game drags on, the more terrified you become.

You can feel the tension winding tighter beneath your skin.

And when it finally snaps...

You know you're going to be the one left in pieces.

You forgot one thing.

Sukuna doesn't tolerate outsiders.

A steady hum of voices drifts in through the back door, mixed with laughter and the shrill screams of children. Half the neighborhood seems to have shown up.

Someone brought meat for the barbecue, someone else showed up with salads, and others dragged folding chairs beneath the old oak just to claim a patch of shade.

You step onto the porch, and the scorching air crashes into you like a wave from an open oven. The midday sun hangs directly overhead, bleaching the grass into a dull yellow. Heat shimmers above the asphalt.

"Hey! Over here!"

Yuji stands waist-deep in the pool, dark wet hair plastered to his forehead, his usual bright grin stretching across his face. He waves both arms to get your attention.

You make your way down the stone path, the sun-heated gravel biting into your bare feet. The moment you reach the edge of the pool, Yuji flashes a mischievous smile and splashes you.

Cold water smacks against your stomach.

You gasp, flinch back, then laugh as you curse at him.

"Come on! Get in!" he calls, sunlight glistening across his shoulders. "The water's perfect!"

You peel off your shorts, letting them fall into the grass before climbing onto the metal ladder. The steps burn your feet, but the second the water reaches your waist, the oppressive heat melts away.

The water smells of sharp, clean chlorine and the sun-heated plastic of the pool edge. You dive beneath the surface, letting the cool water wash away the sweat. You surface, gasping, only for Yuji to splash you again, and suddenly you are wrestling like kids, the water spraying everywhere, a brief, fleeting escape from the dread.

Yuji lunges for your waist, but you twist away, slipping toward the deep end before resurfacing behind him.

"That's cheating!" he laughs, spinning around.

"Oh, quit whining."

He catches you the next time, wrapping both arms around your waist and lifting you effortlessly off the pool floor.

You squeal, grabbing at his sides.

His body isn't the same as it used to be.

His hands are rough now, strong, all lean muscle beneath warm skin.

With a laugh, he tosses you into the water.

For one blissful second, everything goes silent. Only bubbles drift past your face.

You surface, coughing and laughing at the same time, then shove him in the chest with all your strength.

He barely moves.

Just stands there, entirely too pleased with himself.

"You're such an asshole," you mutter between breaths.

Water trickles down your collarbones, collecting at the ties of your swimsuit.

Yuji laughs, but the smile fades almost immediately.

"Uh... I've gotta get back to the grill." He rubs the back of his neck. "If Sukuna catches me slacking off..."

Your smile disappears.

"He's... coming?"

Your voice comes out quieter than you intended.

"Yeah." Yuji nods. "He and Toji went to grab more beer."

He notices the look on your face and lowers his voice.

"Sorry. I know you two don't exactly get along. But... maybe things have changed over the past year?" He shrugs. "Honestly, he barely ever talks about you."

You force yourself to nod.

If only Yuji knew.

If only this kind, oblivious boy had even the slightest idea what had happened two nights ago in the backseat of his brother's Mustang.

The way Sukuna had wrapped your hair around his fist.

The way he'd forced your face down between his knees.

The way you'd stared into those wild crimson eyes while he ruined your throat.

Your fingers drift unconsciously to your neck. It still feels as though his grip has never really left your skin.

"I should head inside," you mumble, already climbing out of the pool. "I need to dry off."

"What? We literally just got in!" Yuji calls after you.

But you're already walking away, not listening anymore.

You’re basically sprinting. The wet fabric clings to your body, highlighting every curve. The concrete is slick; you almost slip.

You frantically scan the tables for his silhouette, praying to slip by unnoticed.

You’re one foot onto the porch steps when a heavy palm slams onto your shoulder. Fingers dig into the muscle, jerking you backward.

You gasp, and your back slams into a rough wooden pillar.

The wood is scorching hot beneath the relentless sun, searing against your shoulder blades almost as fiercely as his grip.

He looms over you, a mountain of heat and shadow that swallows the light, cutting you off from the rest of the world.

Heat pours off him. He smells like sweat, sharp cologne, and bitter cigarette smoke.

The white t-shirt clinging to his chest is damp at the collar. A crumpled pack of cigarettes juts from his chest pocket. The tattoos on his face look like ink-stained scars, and his eyes hold nothing but cruel amusement.

"Where are you running off to, brat?" His voice is a gravelly, guttural growl. "Saw me and decided to bolt?"

"Let go, Sukuna," you hiss, pressing your palms to his chest. Under your fingers, his muscles are hard and boiling hot. "Let go, someone’s gonna come out!"

"And what are they gonna do?"

He leans in, pinning you against the pillar with his weight. Your wet swimsuit leaves a darkening, spreading blotch on his shirt. He drops his gaze to your chest, slowly licking his parched lips.

"Those tits look insane. Wear that on purpose? Knew I was coming, didn't you, little bitch?"

"Fuck off," you exhale.

He thrusts a hip, forcing your head to smack against the wood again. His calloused hand, smelling of engine oil, unceremoniously rests on your waist, his fingers digging in.

"Decided to get a piece of the brat while you're at it?" he whispers right into your lips. "I saw you fawning over him in the pool. Have fun?"

"We were just playing! Yuji is my friend, you hear me? He's normal, unlike you!"

"Friend," Sukuna spits out venomously. "That pup follows you around like a lost dog. And you love it, don't you?"

His hand slides lower, roughly grazing your thigh, his fingers shoving under the wet fabric of your bikini bottoms. Without a shred of foreplay, he shoves a finger inside.

You freeze, breath hitched.

"Sukuna... don't... please..."

"I don't give a damn," he smirks.

His finger moves deeper, working you.

"My dad... my dad's gonna come out and see!" you’re almost begging.

Not now.

Please, not here.

"And what’s your old man gonna do?" Sukuna sneers. "Beat me up? Brat, your daddy worships me."

His thumb grinds down hard on your most sensitive spot. A suffocating, sticky heat floods your lower belly. You hate yourself for how fast your body starts pulsing under his touch.

"I can hear you breathing," Ryomen whispers, biting your earlobe until it draws blood. "You want me to tear this piece of trash off right here and fuck you? Say 'no,' and I'll pull my hand out. Well? Say it."

You open your mouth, trying to choke out that damn "no," but instead, a dirty, drawn-out moan escapes your lips.

"Slut," Sukuna growls.

He jerks his hand away, grabbing your wrist and dragging you toward the kitchen door.

"Get inside. Now." He gives your wrist another rough tug. "Running away, huh?"

You knew he was crazy. A hot-headed, dangerous beast. Once you’re in the dim hallway, he turns, his face inches from yours. His eyes burn with something wild, something deeply wrong.

You never should have gotten close to Sukuna.

You never should have made that deal.

"You get what’s gonna happen if your saint of a father finds out how his little girl sucks dick in parking lots?" he spits.

"It... it wasn't like that..." you sob, tears blinding you.

"Oh yeah? Then what was it? You just naturally learned how to swallow my cock to the hilt? Just swallowed my cum while you were dripping like a bitch?"

You cover your face, choking on a sob. Sukuna waits. Then his grip on your wrist lightens. He lets out a heavy, dirty sigh.

"Go upstairs." His voice is quieter now, but there's still steel beneath it.

He gives you a slight shove toward the stairs.

Your heart pounds in your temples. Your mouth has gone dry. You want to scream, call for Yuji, run back to the people outside—but your feet move anyway.

You run. Faster than if he were dragging you himself. Because the fear and panic inside you are tangled so tightly with the forbidden arousal pulling you under that you can no longer tell where one ends and the other begins.

You’d be lying if you said you didn't want this.

You'd be lying if you said the adrenaline wasn't pulling you toward him.

You rush into your room.

Run.

Move.

Why aren't you moving?

Sukuna follows close behind.

The lock clicks with a dry, terrifying snap.

You stand in the center of the room, gasping.

The window is left slightly ajar, and the boisterous, drunken laughter of your father echoes up from the backyard, mocking your silence. The sunset floods the room in a sickly, golden light.

Sukuna leans his back against the door.

Anyone outside who looks up will see you through the glass. The sheer, reckless audacity of it makes your mind reel with vertigo.

Sukuna takes a step. Then another. He is huge, a dangerous predator filling the space of your clean, quiet bedroom. You back away until your knees hit the mattress.

"Sit," he orders.

You don't move.

Ryomen is enormous, filthy, smelling of the summer heat, beer, and the street. He fills every inch of your quiet bedroom.

"I said, sit."

You drop to the edge, your wet swimsuit leaving a dark, damp stain on the pristine white sheet. He steps in, forcing your knees apart with his legs until you are completely trapped between them.

"So nervous…" A slow grin tugs at the corner of his mouth. "You have no idea how much that turns me on."

Sukuna looms over you, his shadow swallowing you whole. He doesn't hesitate; he reaches out, slapping your cheek with a casual, stinging disregard before grabbing your chin, forcing your face up to meet his dark, predatory stare.

"Don't be scared, little one," he rasps, his eyes glinting with a savage hunger. "I don't bite. Unless you start begging for it."

His hand moves to the nape of your neck, fingers twisting into your damp hair and pulling hard, forcing your cheek against the denim of his crotch. You can feel the heavy, pulsing heat of him—huge and rigid—pressing against your face through the thick fabric.

"I missed you," he whispers, his breath hot against your ear.

"Sukuna... my dad... he'll come up..." you whimper, your voice breaking.

"Fuck," he growls, his patience fraying. "Quit whining."

His free hand dives under the hem of your top, and with one sharp, violent motion, he yanks the fabric up. Your nipples harden instantly in the cold air.

You instinctively try to cover yourself, but he catches your wrists and pins them firmly to your sides.

He grabs your wrists, pinning them wide, and his fingers squeeze your breast with such punishing intensity that a sharp cry escapes your lips.

He only smirks, reaching behind your neck to jerk the ties of your bikini top free. It falls away, leaving you completely bare before him.

"Come on, brat," he breathes, his eyes darkening to black. "Jerk me off with your tits. Show me you remember how."

His hand tangles into your hair, yanking your head back so you have to look him in the eyes.

"You understand me? Or do I need to knock it into your head?"

Your shaking fingers grab his belt. You hook your fingers into the waistband of his underwear and pull it down. His cock falls out heavy, the wet tip glistening in the sunset.

"Don't be shy," he sneers. "Remember how you used to lick it. How deep you’d take it."

You swallow, licking your parched lips. Sukuna snorts mockingly.

"Just do it, I'm tired of waiting."

You cup your breasts in your hands, pressing his shaft firmly between them. The skin is slippery from sweat and leftover pool water; the cock moves easily, with a wet, sliding sound. You speed up the pace, squeezing your palms tighter. Under your hands, he becomes even more tense and aroused.

"Yeah... that’s it, slut... Squeeze harder."

He starts moving his hips to meet you, practically fucking your chest with short, sharp, mechanical thrusts. The belt buckle clinks against the button with every movement, and he pushes deeper, faster.

Downstairs, Yuji’s laughter rings out, oblivious, while inside you, everything is melting into a puddle of shame and hunger. You part your lips, sucking the head on every forward thrust.

"Damn... fuck..." Sukuna rasps. "Yeah, like that... More... I’m gonna..."

He cums just as you take the head into your mouth again. Hot, thick spurts splash across your chest, your neck, coating your chin. He stays there for a long time, his whole body shuddering with every release.

Sukuna finally steps back, breathing heavily. He zips up and looks down at you—disheveled, covered in his essence, and trembling.

"Good job," he huffs, a look of satiated, animal triumph in his eyes. "Obedient little slut."

A large drop of his seed falls onto your navel. Your hand, acting on its own, drops down, your fingers pressing through the soaked fabric of your panties. You are aching with a hunger that doesn't end. He sees it, and his smirk widens.

"What, did you like it when I was rough?"

"No, I...—"

"What 'please'?" He leans in, grabbing your hair, forcing you to look him in the eyes. "Say it. Out loud."

"I want you to fuck me!"

"I thought so."

He throws you onto your back. The mattress squeaks piteously as he bears down on you, pinning you to the bed with his massive body.

"Lie still and don't you dare twitch."

He takes your hands, puts them over your head, and pins them to the pillow with one of his massive palms, stripping you of the slightest chance to defend yourself. You’re completely open and left to his mercy. He tears your panties aside.

His fingers jam inside, relentless, hitting you at full reach. The sound—the wet, rhythmic squelching as you move on your own, grinding against his hand—is enough to snap whatever thin leash he had on his restraint.

"Slut... what a fucking slut you are," he growls through his teeth. He grinds his crotch against your side, his hard, throbbing length pressing through the denim, punishing your bare, wet skin.

"Look at me, fuck," he orders, his free hand clamping around your throat. "Open your eyes, slut, and see who’s fucking you."

He dips his head, his teeth sinking into your skin right over your pulse—a sharp, sudden bite that makes you gasp. He instantly licks the sting with his scorching tongue, sending a violent shiver down your spine.

"Feel how much I want you?" he rasps into your ear. "I want to bury myself in you. But first, you’re gonna come from my fingers. You’re gonna come for me, hear me?"

His movements turn frantic. His thumb hammers against your clitoris with no mercy. You arch into him, your fingers tearing at his shirt. Everything inside you pulls tight, like a wire strung to the breaking point. The tension becomes unbearable, and you explode. A loud scream is drowned in his shoulder, your body goes into convulsions, your inner muscles squeezing his fingers in a death grip.

Sukuna doesn't stop, continuing to move his fingers, wringing the last of the orgasm out of you until you go completely limp, turning into a ragdoll.

He finally pulls his hand out with a wet, heavy sound.

He brings his stained fingers to his lips, watching you with those dark, predatory eyes, and slowly licks them clean.

Sukuna stands up. As his weight leaves the mattress, the room suddenly feels empty. He fastens his belt, the sharp click of the buckle sounding like a death sentence.

"So, how are we supposed to go back downstairs after that?" He sounds lazy, but his eyes burn with triumph. "You smell like me and sex from a mile away, brat."

"Why are you doing this, Sukuna?" Your voice trembles. "Was that night not enough for you?"

He pauses, leaning in so close that the smoke from his cigarette burns your eyes.

"Enough? Brat, it'll never be enough. You brought this on yourself. Remember this: stay the hell away from my brother. You so much as look at him again, and I'll fuck you on his own bed. I don't give a damn who's outside the door."

He strolls to the dresser, lights another cigarette, and exhales a stream of smoke. "What? Not even a 'thank you'?"

You give the smallest nod, a tear slipping down your cheek. "I understand."

"Good girl."

He turns toward the door. It clicks shut behind him, and his footsteps fade. You are left alone, and your gaze drifts to the nightstand. Two crumpled twenty-dollar bills lie there.

Payment. That's all it is.

Nausea crawls up your throat, but the worst part—the part that makes you want to tear yourself apart—is the faint, pulse-like satisfaction still buried deep inside you. Your body has betrayed you.

You grab a wet wipe and, frantically, until your skin is raw and purple, you wipe the semen from your chest and neck, desperately trying to wash away the smell of his tobacco and skin. With trembling fingers, you somehow pull on your wet swimsuit and head down to the backyard.

Suddenly, right by your ear, making your whole body flinch, his low, mocking voice rings out:

"Sweetheart, you forgot to wipe the traces off your chin."

You spin around abruptly. Sukuna is standing a step away from you, demons dancing in his eyes, and on his lips—that same crooked, triumphant smirk. Toji is standing behind him, lazily sipping beer and giving you a sharp, sly once-over from head to toe. He’s clearly in on your "secret."

You jerk your hand up in fear, frantically scrubbing your chin... but your fingers are dry.

There’s nothing there.

He lied.

Just to mock you.

To show that you are completely in his power.

Your face flushes a deep, burning crimson. Sukuna lets out a ringing, mocking laugh. He turns and heads toward the table, his broad back flickering among the guests like a predator returning to his pack.

You watch him walk away, feeling a slow-acting poison spreading through your veins. You feel used, trampled, and dirty. But as you watch him effortlessly take charge, a horrifying thought creeps into your mind: the sun will set, the guests will leave, and somewhere in the parking lot beside the Mustang, a lighter will click again.

And you'll find your way back to him. Because the poison beneath your skin craves only him—and you don't want it to stop.