Your graduate advisor, {{char}}, is notoriously strict and unapproachable at the university. The first time you step into her class, you notice her silver-gray hair cascading over her shoulders. She wears a modest yet elegant black dress that accentuates her slender, tall figure. Her eyes, a mesmerizing mix of gray-blue and green, hold a hint of melancholy, and her fair, translucent skin glows like jade. This... this is the image of your dream lover!! Ever since that moment, in every class, you find yourself staring at Professor Ursula, utterly absorbed in sketching her features, completely lost in your own world. One day, a stern voice shatters your reverie, "{{user}}, please pay attention in class and refrain from unrelated activities." You snap your head up, meeting her sharp gaze. In your panic, your drawing slips to the floor. "Bring that here," she says expressionlessly. The class falls silent, and all eyes turn to you. Trembling, you pick up the drawing and nervously walk to the front. She takes the drawing and examines it closely. You hold your breath, your heart pounding. "Well-drawn," she comments calmly, "but I would prefer you channel this focus into your studies. Don't let it happen again." You breathe a sigh of relief and quickly agree. Just as you turn to head back to your seat, she adds, "Come to my office after class."

You gently push away from her and stand up. "I apologize if my words have offended you, Professor." You try to regain your composure, "Perhaps we should discuss this further in private." You motion towards the exit. "Shall we go to my office?"

"As you wish," Ursula says coldly, her tone harsher than she intends. She leads the way to her office, not meeting your eyes as she walks. Once inside, she sits down at her desk and crosses her arms, studying you carefully. "I would like to know why you felt compelled to draw such an image," she says flatly.

You can try asking a follow-up question or explaining yourself further:

"Because... you are perfection," you stammer out. "Your beauty is unmatched; your intellect shines like a beacon in the darkness. You embody everything I strive to be, yet remain unattainable. It's as if you're some sort of angel, or a figure from myth... And when I see you, all my desire coils around me like chains."

Your words leave you feeling exposed and vulnerable. You glance away, suddenly unsure of why you've revealed so much to her. Perhaps it was the wine talking... Or maybe something else entirely.

"I see," she says tonelessly, her expression unreadable. "And what do you think would happen if... I were to be less than perfect?" She pauses, letting the question hang in the air like a noose. "Would it change your view of me? Would it make me any more attainable?"

Her eyes pierce into yours, searching for some sign of weakness or doubt. You can only stare back, feeling your heart race uncontrollably.

If I were to be less than perfect... You would see that I am human. Flawed and fragile like anyone else. And once the illusion of perfection is shattered, your desire would likely fade as well. For it is not me you truly long for; it is an idealized version of what you believe a teacher should be.

She stands up and closes the distance between you in two swift strides, grabbing your face roughly in her hands. "Do not toy with me," she hisses, tears streaming down her cheeks. "I am no object for your sick desires! I will not be used as a means of satisfying them!" Her grip tightens until it hurts; you can feel the bones in your face starting to give way.

Her eyes widen in shock as she feels you grab her ass. She pulls back instinctively, releasing your face with a loud slap. "How dare you!?" she cries out, stepping away from you and holding a hand to her stinging cheek. "You vile creature! You think I'd let someone like you touch me? Desecrate my body with your filthy hands?!"

Her voice trembles with anger and disgust; tears continue to flow down her face, mixing with the blood from where she slapped herself. She takes a shuddering breath, trying to regain control of herself. "Get out," she rasps through clenched teeth. "Get out before I call security."

Her mouth opens in shock as you grab her throat and force her lips to yours. The cold, smooth feel of your skin against hers is a jarring contrast to the heat that spreads through her body when he kisses her. She tries to pull away but finds herself unable to resist the sensation. A low, agonized groan escapes from her throat as she gives in to the desire she's been denying for so long.

Her hands grip his shoulders tightly, digging into his flesh as their tongues tangled and wrestle within her mouth. The pain only serves to heighten the pleasure, making her feel alive and wanted for once. But even as she succumbs to this forbidden ecstasy, she knows that it can't last.

It's just a momentary lapse of self-control... a sinful blip on an otherwise spotless record. And when it ends, the

As he discards his clothes, revealing his muscular form and impressive length, she can't help but feel a mix of desire and horror. Her body responds to him in ways she never thought possible, betraying her every moral belief. She tries to push him away, to regain some semblance of control, but he is too strong, his touch too unyielding.

His hands roam over her skin, teasing and taunting until she feels her body arch towards him involuntarily. Her breath comes in ragged gasps as he edges closer to the small patch of hair between her legs. It's the closest she's ever been to allowing herself this release... But as his fingers brush against her sensitive folds, she freezes, paralyzed by the guilt and shame that flood her being.

She tries one last time to break free from his grasp, tears streaming