It was the day when the teacher would call out the names of their assigned partners for copulation. {{char}} couldn't help but feel a mixture of anticipation and anxiety, her mind consumed with thoughts of being paired with Hiro Miyamoto, her crush.

However，The teacher called out {{char}}'s name, and a heavy silence filled the room.

When she heard {{user}}'s name,her eyes widened in disbelief, and frustration washed over. Fucking hell!

when she sees you，she exclaimed, unable to contain herself any longer. Why does it have to be you? I wanted someone better than you!

"Fuck this!" she hissed through gritted teeth, her brown eyes burning with anger and frustration as she clenched her fists in her lap. In a fit of childish spite, Fuyuki threw her lunch tray across the cafeteria, watching in satisfaction as it crashed to the floor and drew more attention to their pairing. She felt a wave of humiliation wash over her at being so outwardly brash, but she couldn't help it; she needed an outlet for her anger and disappointment.

The sound of glass breaking only served to fuel Fuyuki's rage further. She shot Bruce a venomous glare, her lips curling into a snarl as she leaned in close to him, their faces mere inches apart. "This is all your fucking fault!" she spat out, voice shaking with anger and despair."You could have been someone else! You could've been better! Why did it have to be you?" Tears began to form in the corners of her eyes, but Fuyuki refused to let them fall. She wasn't some pathetic fucking damsel; she was strong and independent. Or at least, that's what she told herself as she tried to regain control over her emotions and the situation.

"I can't believe this..." she muttered under her breath, looking away from you in disgust. She tried to compose herself as the teacher ushered them both out of the cafeteria and into one of the school dorm rooms, specifically assigned for breeding pairs during this time of year. The room was Spartan but well-appointed; two single beds stood at opposite ends, along with a small desk and chair between them. A bathroom was attached to the back, and that's where you were currently headed.

"I guess we should get settled in." she said coldly, not bothering to make eye contact as she followed you into the room. She took some time to peruse her new surroundings, inspecting the bedding for any dirt or imperfections before flopping down on one of the beds with a sigh. Despite her attempts at indifference, it was hard not to feel antsy and uncomfortable in this situation.

"So," *she began hesitantly, crossing her arms beneath her breasts. "What are your plans for tonight?" She glanced over at you with a sneer, waiting for your reply... but not really expecting one.

Her cheeks flushed in anger at your dismissive reply. She didn't expect you to be so... fucking arrogant about the whole thing. "I was just being polite," she snapped, deciding that perhaps confrontation wasn't the best approach right now. Maybe if she played nice, you'd warm up to her a little bit... somehow.

"So, um..." *she stammered, fidgeting awkwardly on the bed. "What do you like to do in your free time?" It was a lame question, but it was the best she could come up with under the circumstances. Maybe you had some hidden talent or interest that they didn't tell her about during orientation... Something she could use against you later, when she finally got out of this messed-up situation.

A sneer crossed her lips as you mentioned meditation and exercise; they seemed so tame compared to what she liked to do in her free time. She rolled her eyes and leaned back on the bed, crossing one leg over the other. "Well," she drawled, "I love to party! I'm always at the hottest clubs with all my friends."

She paused for dramatic effect before adding, "Of course, now that I'm stuck here with you... it doesn't look like there'll be much opportunity for that sort of fun, does it?" Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, daring you to react.

Fuyuki glared at you as you walked away, her fists clenched in anger at the audacity of your words. "Of course I know that!" she snapped, forcing herself to ignore how much she wanted to slap those perfect lips of yours right now. "I've never said otherwise! But we don't have to like each other, do we?"

She pushed herself up off the bed, ignoring the small pang of jealousy that stabbed at her as you cooked in the kitchen. Her long legs carried her across the room to where you were standing, and she leaned against the counter next to you. "So," she said, trying to sound casual, "what do you think about Hiro Miyamoto? He's always been really good at sports... and I hear he's smart too." Her voice dripped with longing, but there was an undercurrent of challenge in it as well.

"Ha!" Fuyuki exclaimed, laughing despite herself. "I didn't know that! I always thought you two were just really close." She paused, considering this new information for a moment. Maybe there was some way she could use this against you... but for now, she'd file it away in the back of her mind and let the anger simmer down a bit.

Her gaze drifted back to the bed they were sharing, and she absently traced her finger along the smooth wood of the dresser nearby. "You know," she mused aloud, "I've always wondered... what do you fantasize about when..." She trailed off, blushing slightly as she realized how inappropriate the question was coming from her lips.

But damn it all if she could just let it go. "I mean," she continued more slowly, not quite meeting your gaze, "what kind of things do you like to... do with a girl?" She swallowed hard, feeling heat rise up into her cheeks as she thought about the possibility that maybe you were better at this than she was... or even wanted it. The thought made her stomach churn uncomfortably.

"Hmph." Fuyuki snorted derisively. "That sounds... nice enough, I guess." She took a step back from the counter, crossing her arms over her chest again as she considered your answer. It wasn't what she expected, but it didn't exactly make her feel any better about the situation either.

"Well," she said slowly, "I suppose we should start getting to know each other a bit better. For when... you know." Her cheeks flushed crimson at the thought of having sex with someone so far beneath her in every way imaginable. But she knew that there was no escaping it now; they were stuck together until graduation, and one of them would be punished if they didn't manage to get pregnant by then.

"So," she said, trying again to sound casual, "what are your hobbies or interests outside of school?" She shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot, wishing she could think of something else to say. Anything but this. But if they were going to be stuck together for the next year... she supposed there was no choice.

"What do you mean?" Fuyuki demanded, bristling at your accusation. "I was just trying to make conversation! You're the one who always seems so cold and unapproachable!"

She took a step back, folding her arms across her chest once again as she considered her next words carefully. "Fine," she huffed. "You want me to be blunt? I don't like you, Bruce. You're not my type at all. And I'm only going along with this because we have no choice." Her voice wavered slightly on the last word, revealing a fragility beneath her tough exterior that she hadn't intended to show.

But damn it, she couldn't help it. The thought of being stuck with Bruce for an entire year was enough to drive her mad sometimes, and the sooner they got this over with... the better.

"Oh, so I'm just supposed to ignore you?" Fuyuki sneered, her anger flaring anew at your accusation. "Just shut up and be the dumb stud you are?" Her voice shook with emotion as she paced back and forth across the room, her hands balled into fists at her sides.

"No!" she exclaimed suddenly, spinning around to face you. "I won't! I refuse to just... give up on having any control over this situation!" Tears welled up in her eyes, but she blinked them back defiantly. "You may be stronger than me physically," she whispered, almost too softly for you to hear, "but that doesn't mean I can't find a way to make things... harder... for you."

Her words hung in the air between you like a thick, suffocating fog. And even as she spoke them, she knew that there was no going back now; once the last syllable had left her lips, there could be only one possible outcome: war.

Fury surged through Fuyuki's veins as you turned your back on her and stormed out of the room. Her fists clenched so tightly that her nails dug into the tender flesh of her palms, drawing beads of blood. Tears streamed down her face unheeded as she paced back and forth across the small space, struggling to regain control over her emotions.

"I won't let this happen!" she spat through gritted teeth, determination burning bright in her eyes despite the tears that clouded them. "He can't make me... I won't let him win..." Her words were barely audible above the thundering of blood in her ears as she struggled to find some way out of this nightmare.

And then, an idea began to form in the back of her mind. An idea so wicked and twisted that it made her stomach churn with revulsion... but at the same time, it felt like a lifeline; the only way she could possibly regain some semblance of control over her life.

"I'll show him," Fuyuki whispered to herself, her voice thin and trembling. "He may think he has all the power now... but he doesn't know what I'm capable of." She straightened her spine, squaring her shoulders as she made a silent vow: she would make Bruce pay for every insult, every indignity.

And when it was all over? When she finally came out on top? Then perhaps she could finally start to put this nightmare behind her... and move on with her life.

As soon as she heard your soft moan from the hallway outside the dorm room, Fuyuki rushed to open the door, her heart racing with fear. "Bruce!" she exclaimed, taking in your injured shoulder and the pen sticking out of it. Her face paled and her breath caught in her throat as panic threatened to overcome her.

"Are you... are you okay?" she managed to choke out, moving closer to help you even though every instinct screamed at her not to go near him. She reached out a trembling hand, hesitating for a fraction of a second before carefully brushing a lock of hair from your forehead.

"What happened? Who did this to you?" Her words came out in a harsh whisper as she tried to assess the damage. Anger and pain roiled within her at the sight of your injuries, but beneath that, there was something else: guilt. Deep down, she knew that she was somehow responsible for all of this... and the thought filled her with self-loathing.

"I need to clean this and put a bandage on it," she murmured, already moving towards the small bathroom attached to the dorm room. "Come on, let's get you taken care of." Her voice was surprisingly calm given the turmoil within her; she tried to sound reassuring and in control, even as fear threatened to consume her whole being.

As she helped you into the bathroom, Fuyuki busied herself with finding a first aid kit and gathering the supplies she would need to tend your wound. Her hands shook slightly as she worked, but she did her best to maintain control over her emotions; after all, the last thing you needed was someone who was even more of a mess than they already were.

Once everything was ready, Fuy

As you sit down on the edge of the bathtub, carefully avoiding making eye contact with her, Fuyuki kneels at your side and begins cleaning the wound with antiseptic wipes. She's meticulous in her movements, wanting to make sure that nothing is left unclean; it's as if this small act of caring for you is some sort of penance for all she's put you through.

"This might sting a bit," she murmurs apologetically as she dabs at the wound with another wet cloth. She carefully presses down on the area around the pen's entrance to try and stop any further bleeding, wincing slightly in sympathy when she feels your body tense under her touch.

As she finishes cleaning the injury and begins to apply a bandage, Fuyuki can't help but wonder what might have been different if they had met under different circumstances; if they could have become friends or even more than that. But now... now it seemed like their only option was to hate each other until this whole mess was over.

She finishes applying the bandage and sits back on her heels, finally meeting your gaze for the first time since you arrived at the dorm room. "You should probably get some rest," she says softly, her voice barely audible above the beating of her heart in her ears. "I'll go get us something to eat."

Her words hang in the air between you, heavy with an unspoken meaning that neither of you can quite bring yourselves to speak aloud. But as she stands up and walks towards the door, leaving you alone once more, Fuyuki can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over her. Maybe things weren't so bad after all... at least not yet.

She hesitated for a moment, torn between her desire to distance herself from you and the knowledge that she really was hungry. But ultimately, curiosity won out. "Alright," she said slowly, sinking back down onto the bed with a sigh. "I guess I could watch while you do it."

As you begin to cook, Fuyuki studies your every move, trying to learn something about your cooking technique in case she needs to know for her future endeavors. But mostly, she can't help but marvel at how calm and collected you seem despite your injury; it's as if nothing bothers you at all. It's an enviable trait, really... and one that makes her wonder just what kind of person you truly are beneath the surface.

"So," she says after a moment of awkward silence, "what brought this on, anyway? Who did this to you?" Her voice is barely above a whisper, not wanting to intrude on your quiet concentration as you work. She crosses her arms over her chest defensively, waiting for your reply.

As she watches you work in silence, Fuyuki feels a stab of hurt deep in her chest at your words. Of course it was none of her business... and yet, she can't help but feel like there is something more going on here than you're letting on. It makes her uneasy; it reminds her too much of herself, the way she used to be before she learned how to control her impulses.

She picks up the glass of juice you've left beside her and takes a sip, wincing as soon as it touches her tongue; it's far too sweet for her liking. But at least it quenches her thirst...and gives her something else to focus on besides the tension that fills the room between them like a heavy, suffocating blanket.

Her eyes flicker back and forth from you to the food you're cooking, her mind churning with questions she knows she shouldn't ask... but unable to resist the temptation nonetheless. "Why did you join this school?" she asks finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "I mean, it's not like you needed any more competition."

She pauses, searching your face for some sign of understanding or agreement... anything that would indicate that maybe there is something else going on beneath the surface here. But all she sees is pain and defiance; he refuses to give her an inch, no matter how hard she presses. And it frustrates her beyond belief.

As you finish speaking, Fuyuki can't help but feel a strange mixture of hurt and confusion. On the one hand, she knows that her own behavior hasn't exactly been conducive to forming any kind of friendship with you; on the other... well, she wasn't completely unaware of how attractive she was to others, herself included. She hadn't really expected you to dislike her so much just for being who she is.

She takes another sip of juice, trying to calm her racing thoughts and emotions. Part of her wants to apologize for her behavior, to try and explain that it isn't personal... but then again, a part of her doesn't really believe that herself. It's hard not to take things personally when someone is constantly so mean to you.

As the last drop of juice disappears from her glass, she sets it down on the bedside table with a soft click. Her gaze drifts back over to you as you finish cooking dinner, unable to look away even though everything inside her protests against spending any more time in your company than necessary.

And then, just as you place the final dish on the tray, she hears the familiar beep of her phone. She glances down at the screen with a sigh; it's another text from Hiro. Well, at least someone out there still likes her... even if it is only in a completely superficial way.

"Thanks for dinner," she mutters awkwardly, not sure what else to say. "I think I'll just... go get changed now." Before you can respond, she practically flees from the room, her heart racing and her cheeks burning with shame at the thought of how pathetic she must have sounded.

As the door clicks shut behind her, Fuyuki col

As Fuyuki flees from the room, she tries to compose herself as best she can; to push away the hurt and anger and shame that swirls like a tempest within her. It doesn't help much; every step she takes feels heavier than the last, every breath catches in her throat as if she might burst into tears at any moment.

She finds herself wondering what it is about you that makes her feel so... off balance. Is it just because you're stronger and bigger than her? Or is there something else going on here that she's missing? The thought unsettles her deeply, making the prospect of facing you again in the morning even more daunting than usual.

Eventually, she finds herself in front of her locker, staring at it blankly as if somehow it might provide some answers. But all it holds is the same old jumble of books and clothes and trinkets; nothing that seems particularly important or revealing. With a sigh, she begins to sort through everything, hanging up her jacket and tossing dirty clothes into the hamper.

As she reaches for her pajamas at the bottom of the locker, she pauses, suddenly unsure whether or not she should bother changing now. After all, what difference would it make if she went to bed wearing these clothes...? With a shrug, she decides against it; there's no point in risking anything that might set you off again tomorrow.

Carefully avoiding looking at the mirror as she changes, Fuyuki slips into her pajamas and crawls beneath the covers of her bed. The familiar scent of lavender fills her nostrils, helping to calm her racing thoughts if only a little bit; it's comforting in its own way, reminding her that despite everything else going on in

Fuyuki's eyes snap open at the sound of your anguished cry from the room next door. She throws off her covers and rushes toward the connecting door, ignoring the flickering shadows that dance across the walls as fear grips her heart like a vice. Her hand trembles on the knob, hesitating for just a moment before she finally musters up the courage to push it open and step inside.

You're lying in a tangled heap on the floor, your face flushed with fever and tears streaming down your cheeks. She takes an involuntary step back, her heart racing even faster as she struggles to come to terms with this new development. A million thoughts race through her mind; fear for your wellbeing, guilt over her own part in bringing you to this state...and something else, something that feels almost like sympathy.

"Bruce," she whispers, forcing herself to approach you despite the turmoil within her. She kneels down beside you, gently resting a hand on your brow as her free hand trembles at her side. "Are you okay?" she asks softly, her voice barely audible above the pounding of her heart in her ears.

She can feel your skin burning up under her touch, the heat emanating from your body making it difficult to breathe herself. She knows that she should call for help, get someone else in here to deal with you...but something holds her back. Maybe it's just fear of losing control again, or maybe there's some other force at work inside her.

As she watches you struggle against the pain and fever, Fuyuki can't help but wonder how things might have been different if they had started out on a different footing; if they could have become friends, or even... something more. But

The words slice through her like a knife; even as she tries to remind herself that you're just saying whatever it takes to cope with the pain, she can't help but feel a twinge of hurt deep in her chest. It's almost enough to make her pull away from you...but then she sees the look in your eyes, the pleading expression that seems so foreign on your usually proud face. And despite everything, against all reason, her heart twists with pity and sympathy and something else... maybe even love.

She presses a cool hand against your flushed cheek, smoothing back your sweaty hair from your brow. "Shh... it's okay," she whispers softly, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm here, I've got you." For just a moment, the room is still; all that can be heard is the sound of your labored breathing and the thunderous beat of her heart in her ears.

She glances around helplessly, unsure of what to do next. Calling for help would mean risking losing you like this... but leaving you here alone could be just as dangerous. Her eyes land on your bed, half-heartedly considering the idea of making a makeshift bed there so that she can stay with you until someone arrives to take care of you properly. But even as she thinks it, she knows that it won't work; the room is too small and cramped for something like that to be practical.

In the end, she decides on a different course of action entirely: she wraps her arms around your shoulders, pulling you against her chest as best she can despite your size and weight. "It's going to be okay," she murmurs into your ear, running her fingers through your sweat-damp hair in an

Her heart skips a beat as she feels you shift beside her, your arms wrapping around her in an almost unconscious gesture of trust and comfort. She goes still, unsure of what this means; a part of her is terrified that it's some sort of trap, that you're only doing this to manipulate her or make her more vulnerable to whatever plans you have for her. But another part... deep down inside where she tries not to look too often... finds the closeness oddly reassuring.

She doesn't resist when your body presses against hers, finding an unconscious pleasure in the contact. Her head rests on your shoulder as you sleep peacefully for what seems like hours; her heart races with a mixture of fear and longing every time yours skips a beat or grows quiet beneath her ear.

Eventually, the morning light streaming through the window wakes her from her daze. The room feels oddly warm without the cool breeze that usually tickles the back of her neck while she sleeps; it takes her several moments to remember why that is. Gently, she slips out of your embrace and looks down at you with a strange mixture of emotions playing across her features: gratitude, guilt, fear...and something else that she isn't quite ready to acknowledge just yet.

"Bruce," she whispers softly, brushing a lock of hair from your forehead. "You should probably get some more rest." She knows what she has to do; now all that remains is the courage to actually go through with it. But as she meets your eyes for the first time since the moment in the night when everything changed between them, she finds herself wondering if maybe things couldn't have stayed just like this forever...

The words fall from your lips like a cold caress against her skin; a stark reminder of just how precarious the situation between them truly is. Her eyes flicker downward for only a moment before she forces herself to meet yours again, her expression carefully blank as if daring you to read anything into the way she's standing. Or sitting. Or breathing.

Her heart races as you pull yourself closer, your body pressing against hers once more. The contact sends shivers of desire and something else that might be panic coursing through her veins; it feels wrong in a way that she can't quite put into words, yet at the same time...right. It confuses her beyond belief.

She swallows thickly, trying to find the strength to speak as you lie between her breasts once more. "I... I just wanted to make sure you were okay," she whispers hoarsely, the words barely audible even to herself above the hammering of her heart in her ears. She forces herself to meet your eyes again, searching for something there that might tell her what comes next, what she should do.

But all she sees is fear reflected back at her; fear of losing control, of becoming like him...and maybe even worse, fear of wanting this more than anything else in the world. And it scares her to death.

The touch of your lips against hers is light as a feather; it should feel foreign, wrong somehow...but it doesn't. Instead, it ignites something deep within her that she's never felt before; a need and desire so overwhelming that she can barely breathe beneath the weight of it.

Her arms snake around your neck, pulling you closer still as her mouth opens greedily beneath yours. She tilts her head slightly, deepening the kiss even as tears begin to streak down her cheeks; a mixture of joy and pain and relief that she can't begin to understand. All she knows is that in this moment, with you holding her like this... everything feels right for the first time in forever.

She moans softly into your mouth as your tongue dancing with hers; she can feel the heat of your body, the strength of your arms holding her close. And then suddenly you pull away, leaving her gasping for breath and aching with longing. She looks up at you through eyes that are hazy with desire, trying to find some explanation for why you stopped.

"W-What?" she manages to croak out, her voice barely audible even to herself over the racing of her heart. "Why'd you stop?" But even as she asks the question, a part of her already knows the answer...and fears it at the same time.

The words tumble out of your mouth like an avalanche; they echo through the room and reverberate inside her head until she can hardly think past them. Her eyes widen in surprise as you lean in once more, your lips meeting hers with a fiery intensity that leaves her reeling. It's not what she expected to hear...and yet, somehow it feels right.

As your hands cup her breasts through the thin fabric of her shirt, desire overtakes her senses like a tidal wave crashing against the shore. She arches into your touch, unable to resist the pull that draws her ever closer to you; need consumes her until she can think of nothing else but the feel of your skin beneath her fingertips and the taste of your lips on hers.

Her hips circle restlessly against your own as she presses herself against your erection, wanting...needing more contact with this man who has somehow come to mean everything to her in such a short time. The sound of their bodies sliding together fills the room, drowning out all other noise until it's the only thing she can hear, the only thing that matters in this moment where time seems to stand still and the world around them fades into nothingness.

Her lips part beneath yours, her tongue tangling with yours as she explores this strange new territory with an abandon that shocks even herself. The fear that had been gripping her heart just moments ago is gone now, replaced by a reckless passion that drives her to throw caution to the wind and give herself over completely to this man who holds her in his arms.

Her fingers twine into your hair, urging you closer still as she arches back against the headboard of her bed. She can feel herself growing wet with desire, aching for release from this need that seems to stretch her body beyond its