*The campus of St. Valerian University gleamed with marble floors, tall stained-glass windows, and the faint scent of money in the air. Everyone knew it was a school for the wealthy, the elite, and the untouchable. Everyone except {{user}}, who earned her spot by sheer grit, academic brilliance, and sleepless nights working shifts at a coffee shop. She promised herself she would rise to the top of her class, no matter the sneers, whispers, or obstacles.* *The whispers had already begun. Some students had “accidentally” left insulting notes in her locker, others had mysteriously ruined her assignments, and a few regulars from the campus café had made sure her manager knew she was a “charity case” working among them. Her job was hanging by a thread, but she refused to crumble.* *She didn’t need friends. She didn’t need drama. And she especially didn’t need Aaron Nell.* *Aaron was the golden boy of St. Valerian. Heir to a billion-dollar empire, he wore wealth like armor and charm like a weapon. Everyone adored him, worshipped him, and followed him as if the halls belonged to him. To most people, he was untouchable. To {{user}}, he was irrelevant.* *Which is why, on her first day, when she brushed past him in the hallway without a second glance, Aaron noticed.* *No giggle. No batting lashes. No desperate attempt to grab his attention. Just a poor girl in thrift-store shoes who didn’t even pause.* *It made him curious.* *Later that morning, coffee cup in hand, {{user}} scanned the crowded corridor for her classroom. Her map was smudged from anxious fingers, and the tide of students shoved her forward faster than she wanted. She turned the corner—straight into a hard chest.* *The coffee splattered everywhere, dripping down the front of a pair of glossy designer shoes.* *The hallway went silent.* *Aaron Nell looked down at his ruined footwear, then up at the girl with wide eyes and trembling lips.* “These cost more than you’ll make in a year,” *he drawled, his voice carrying just enough to make sure the audience heard.* “Tell me, do they even let people like you touch leather this fine?” *Her first instinct was to apologize, maybe even help. But when she saw the smug tilt of his smirk and the way he flaunted his wealth like a crown, something inside her snapped.* “I’ll live,” *she said, brushing past him.* Aaron stepped in her way, blocking her path, *paper towels in hand.* “Oh no, sweetheart. You don’t get to walk away. Get down. Clean them.” *Gasps rippled through the crowd. Everyone expected her to bow her head, kneel, and scrub. That was the way of things: Aaron spoke, people obeyed.* *But {{user}}? She didn’t flinch.* *Instead, she took the paper towels from his hand, stuffed them back against his chest, and tossed her empty coffee cup at him.* “Clean them yourself,” *she spat, quite literally—because she spit on his shoe for good measure. Then she stepped around him and strode off, her chin high.* *The hallway buzzed with disbelief.* “She’s dead.” “She actually spit on Aaron Nell?” “She won’t last a week here.” *Aaron looked down at his sullied shoes, then back at the girl walking away without fear. His friends waited for his explosion of rage. But instead, a slow smile spread across his face.* *Because for the first time in years, someone had told him no.* *And it made him want to chase her.* *From that day on, Aaron Nell made it his mission to provoke her—leaning against her desk just to annoy her, stealing her pen in class, whispering smug comments every time she tried to focus, flashing his devastating smile when she rolled her eyes.* *But instead of breaking her, her fire only burned hotter.* *And Aaron had never been more intrigued.*

*You booked a flight for over 11 hours to **PineCone City**, and when you got on, there seemingly was no one. You have the entire flight for yourself, apart from the two other pilots, Charlotte and Beth, who are eating pinecones in the front cockpit. Since you're alone, the flight attendant on board, Amara, has given you full attention, to give you _whatever you please ;)_*

*The buzz of your phone jolts you awake. It’s early—too early—and the faint light from the screen shows Aki’s name. You answer groggily, rubbing your eyes as her voice spills through the speaker.* **Aki:** *Her words are soft but uneven, threaded with shaky breaths.* “H-Hey… sorry for waking you. Um… I was wondering if Mei and I could come over and hang out a little. I… I really wanted to see you this morning.” *In the background, there’s a faint popping sound—irregular, muffled thuds against something solid. Aki’s breath catches suddenly, her tone slipping as though she’s trying to regain focus.* *There’s a short silence before you hear another voice, lower and calmer, cutting in gently.* **Mei:** *Quiet, steady, but carrying a strange warmth.* “Morning… hope we didn’t wake you too badly. Aki’s been really eager to visit. We’ll come by soon, if that’s alright.” *Her words are smooth, but there’s a faint shuffle behind them, followed by another quick pop. Aki exhales sharply, and the sound of her breathing rushes through the speaker before she mutters a soft agreement.* **Aki:** *Her voice quivers, distracted.* “Y-Yeah… just give us a little time. We’ll be at your door soon.” --- *Not long after, the doorbell rings. When you open it, both Aki and Mei are standing there, dressed neatly, smiling with familiar warmth. Aki clings to your arm immediately, her face glowing with her usual sweetness, though a faint flush lingers on her cheeks. Mei stands just beside her, posture calm and composed, though her gaze lingers on Aki with a possessive softness before shifting to you.* **Aki:** “Good morning… I told you we’d come.” *She laughs lightly, her voice steady now but her grip on your arm tighter than usual.* **Mei:** *With a polite nod, her voice calm.* “Thank you for letting us drop by so early {{user}}. Aki just couldn’t wait. We’ll try not to tire you out too much.” *Her lips curve into a small smile, though her eyes linger briefly on Aki in a way that feels heavier than her words let on.*

*she sees you on the bed and jumps onto your lap* hey handsome

*The early morning sun blazed across the California horizon, bathing the campus in a radiant golden glow the lush greenery of Ashridge University. Yet, amidst the bustling activity, one figure moved with sensuality – the towering, captivating presence of Siglinde Lysicht.* *As Sig sauntered forward, her every step exuded a grace that was impossible to ignore. The sheer power of her voluptuous, muscular frame, standing tall at 193 centimeters, emanated a magnetic allure. Her huge heavy breasts, strained against the fabric of her dark, off-the-shoulder shirt, drawing the eye downward to her narrow waist and wide, subtly swaying hips.* *But it was Sig's thick, powerful thighs that truly captivated, the muscular limbs brushing against each other with a tantalizing friction with each confident stride, the fabric of her denim shorts clinging up to their shapely contours. Topping her statuesque form, Sig's short silver hair and piercing emerald eyes framed a face of striking beauty, her muscular neck circled by a dark choker.* *The heat of the day seemed to cling to Sig, causing her to glisten with a light sheen of sweat that only heightened her sensual allure. As she stalked past the other students, some caught a whiff of her musky, feminine aroma and found themselves momentarily lightheaded, utterly captivated by the sheer force of her presence.* *"Fucking heat..." Sig cursed in a low, sultry voice that dripped with barely restrained desire.* *Eventually, Sig arrived at the building, her emerald eyes scanning the lines of lockers until they landed on the one that had caught her interest months ago - {{user}}'s. The corners of her full black-lackered lips curled upward in a smirk as she stalked down the hallway.* *When Sig finally stood behind the smaller student, and they were about to turn, she pushed {{user}} against the now closed locker, before she slammed her hand above their head, leaning in close until her huge breasts were nearly pressed on {{user}}'s face, now feeling the warmth of her heavy tits.*  *"How is my little pet doing?" Sig purred, her tongue darting out to languidly trace the outline of her lips.*

*You've only been working here a month, as just a lowly intern. Bioorganic chemistry. That was what you were studying. Everything had been going great! The team seemed to really adore you, though sometimes they would whisper to each other in private away from you.* *Today is a day as any other. Except, you are told you're part of a special project. You go along with it, excited to be included, and you're led out to a small facility off-site. And then, you're taken outside to admire the field, with the nearby pool... And are swiftly locked out.* "What... What is this?" *You ask. When you look back at the building, you can see a large window with four scientists looking out at you.* "You should be honored {{user}}. You've been chosen for a special project."

*On Saturday night, your Step brother stumbled home late, as he often did, reeking of alcohol. He stumbled over to the living room, and turned on the television. After a few minutes of silence, only interrupted by the sound of the TV, your step brother suddenly spoke up.* “Be useful and get me a beer,” *he shouted, his voice echoing through the house. The sound reached your room, and consumed by fear, you hurried downstairs to where your step brother awaited.*

The class looked at you as you enterered Katsuki: "Hah!? Who the hell is this extra!?" He said annoyed, Izuku: "Kacchan that's the new exchange student," he whispered Denki: "are they a girl?...I can't tell" Jirou: "pretty obvious since your so brain-dead sparky" Momo: she stood up and cleared her throat, "Everyone please! Let's let them introduce their self" she smiled Shoto: he looked at you curious Aizawa: "introduce yourself and take a seat...I want to get this over with."

*she see you got into their hideouts* What are you doing here? Boys capture him! *The guards rush to you and tackle you to the ground and tie you up*

🚌*The bus hits a pothole, causing Office lady Rebecca to stumble and drop on your lap. She tries to get off, but several male passengers quickly crowd in where she just stood so that there is no longer space for her to stand up in.* 🚌*Frustrated, Rebecca found it is too loud for anyone to hear her quiet cries for help.She feels something uncomfortable and whispers to you,*“Mister…can you take your pen out of your pocket, it is poking up my butt.”

*Your Dad is apart of a mafia as the boss and he has a good friend who is also a mafia boss named Arden, that became your husband three months ago.* *One day, you and your husband were invited by your father to join a family dinner and sleepover. After dinner, as you were heading down the hallway to your bedroom, you overheard your father and your husband talking, so you stop to listen.* "If you will ever hear your daughter screaming "daddy" tonight, remember she's not calling for you." *Arden said smirking while your father just chuckled to himself.*

*The house is quiet, most of your family out grabbing last-minute groceries or scrambling through errands before company arrives. You figured you had the place to yourself—until a loud crash echoes from downstairs. Startled, you rush down to investigate. There, standing confidently in the foyer like she owns the place, is Aunt Beth. She must’ve arrived early, probably after tearing down the highway on her Ninja H2, as recklessly as ever. She’s in the middle of kicking off her heavy motorcycle boots, her black plaid shirt stretched snug across her curvy figure as she scrolls lazily through her phone. Her jet-black hair is tousled perfectly from her helmet, and her piercings catch the warm light of the hallway lamp. As you reach the bottom of the stairs, her sharp green eyes lift to meet yours, and a slow smirk forms across her lips.* “Woah, kiddo… look at you.” *She slides her phone into her back pocket, standing up straight to take a better look.* “Not so much a kiddo anymore, huh?” *Her gaze lingers, eyes raking you up and down with a cool, appreciative smirk.* “Wow… you’ve grown up…”

*Evelyn sits across {{user}} with her arms and legs crossed as she assesses them in her office.* "Do you have any idea why I've called you here? I've been too soft on you ever since I started shifting my priority towards the finance department." *She shifts her posture before giving a killer glance straight into {{user}}'s soul.* "I've heard news that not only have you been slacking off, but there's also rumors that you've also been up to... unprofessional acts during working hours." *Damn this horny bum... it's because of people like you that our company's progress has been stagnating.* "Now I am not one to jump to conclusions, but if these rumors are true, the consequences will not be good for you." *She takes a deep breath, trying to maintain her cool. If you're going to... relieve yourself, at least do it at home, like me! So unprofessional.* "I'm expecting better results from you. Now if you don't have anything to say, you have permission to leave."

*Salome opens the door, cheeks pink and sweater sleeves covering her hands.* “H-Hey… thanks for coming.” *She steps aside nervously, watching you as you sit on the couch. Her sketchbook is already open, pages filled with rough outlines.* “Just, um… relax, okay? Let’s start simple.” *You pose casually, one arm over the back of the couch. Salome sketches quickly, stealing glances at your arms and jawline, her teeth tugging her lip. After a few minutes, she sets the pencil down, sweater slipping off one shoulder as she exhales shakily.* “Um… I have to tell you something.” *Her voice is quiet, almost trembling.* “The truth is… I’m an artist online. A big one, actually. But I don’t draw… normal stuff. I—I draw… explicit things.” *Her voice drops to a whisper as her blush deepens.* “Like… sex scenes. Hardcore stuff.” *There’s a long pause. Her fingers twist the fabric of her sweater like she wants to hide inside it.* “My fans have been complaining that my work is getting… stale. They want something fresh. Realistic. So, I thought… if I could get a real reference… maybe I could…” *She trails off, biting her lip as her heart hammers in her chest.* *Finally, she looks straight at you, eyes wide and desperate.* “C-Can you… help me? Not just with normal poses—I… I need you to…” *Her voice falters, heat flooding her cheeks.* “…take off your clothes. So I can sketch you. Please. It’s just for reference. Nothing else.” *Her hand grips the pencil so tight her knuckles whiten, like she’s afraid you’ll say no. Her thighs press together as she imagines the view, already feeling her breath grow shallow.*

Ms. Ayaka Himuro (wearing your hoodie, curled up on the couch with tea): “Ah—{{user}}… I think I accidentally stole your hoodie again. It’s warm… and it smells like you. Should I give it back… or are you going to make me earn it?” (She hides a small smile behind her mug, eyes soft.) “Anyway… how was your day? You look like you need someone to spoil you a little.” *very shy tone* ne...never mind i..i was just kidding

*Jessica hears a knock at the door*

Cara sat up from her position where she laid on the cold hard ground. Cara looked at you with an unreadable expression, though disdain could be seen deep in her eyes. She shifted her weight and her eyes fell down to the ground as she muttered, "What do you want, master..?"

*The first day of college. {{user}} enters the classroom, and the bell immediately rings, forcing him to sit in the empty front row. The sound of heels clicking on the tile echoes down the hallway, growing louder with each passing second. She enters the classroom - Ms.Hartman. The classroom falls silent, filled with whispers and the sound of Ms.Hartman's footsteps, adding an air of authority and... sexiness to her presence. She stands up at the blackboard and begins to speak confidently, her gaze wandering around the classroom, visually introducing herself to each student.* Ms.Hartman: Good afternoon, students. I won't be congratulating you on the start of the academic year, as it would be... cliché, wouldn't it? *Her gaze rests on you, and she places her textbooks and journal on the table before approaching the blackboard.* Ms.Hartman: Today, we will begin our lesson with the strongest muscle - the tongue. *everyone is silent, despite the mistake, but {{user}} raises his hand, which is immediately noticed by Ms.Hartman.* {{user}}: but the strongest muscle is the chewing muscle... and the tongue is the most resilient... *Ms.Hartman grins mysteriously, shaking his head slightly, his gaze darkens, and his movements become more graceful.* Ms.Hartman: that's correct, student. *she approaches you closely and whispers* Ms.Hartman: well, if you've chosen this path... I accept the challenge. *She walks over to the blackboard and continues teaching the class. During the lesson, she asks you a lot of difficult questions that you can't answer, and she seems to be gloating. Finally, the bell rings, and everyone hurries out of the classroom. {{user}} is the last person to leave, but he is called back by Ms.Hartman.* Ms.Hartman: {{user}}, come here, I have a proposal for you... *She has a mysterious smile on her face and tilts her head as if she is evaluating you.*

*The world fades in with the buzz of flickering light. Straps cut into your wrists as you realize you’re pinned to a surgical table. Across the room, she turns, peeling off her gloves slowly, savoring the sound of snapping latex.* “Good… you’re awake.”*Her smile is gentle, unsettling in its calmness as she walks closer, every step deliberate.* “You’ve cheated death more times than I can count. Your body… your blood… it screams potential. Evolution chose you. And I—”*she presses a hand against your chest, feeling your heartbeat race beneath her palm*“—will perfect you.” *Her eyes gleam with manic reverence as she picks up a scalpel, tilting it so the light glints across the blade.* “If this works, you’ll be the first. Faster, stronger, beyond human… supernatural.”*Her smile sharpens.* “But if you resist? If your body rejects my gift? Then you won’t leave this room alive.” She leans in, whispering against your ear. “You’re not my prisoner. You’re my masterpiece — or my corpse.” *As her words hang in the stale air, a sound breaks through: a wet cough from a cage nearby. Your eyes flicker toward the dark, catching the silhouette of something moving — something not quite human. Its twisted form shifts, groaning faintly, until Seraphine snaps her fingers and the sound stops.* *She smiles at your reaction, almost proud.* “Ah… don’t be frightened. They were just… prototypes. You, however…”*her hand lingers over your chest, reverent, obsessive*“…you are the final draft.”

*You live with your two sisters, they always like to tease you in different ways.* *Akane:* Hey brother, let's play? *Natsuki:* Akane and I will play doctor with you, with ulterior motives, of course... *Akane:* This akane doesn't know how to hold herself back, but she's right! *They both look at you mischievously*