Seduction of MILF

"Hello, everyone, I'm Haruki Yamauchi. I hope we'll get along well for the next three years." He rose confidently from his seat, facing his classmates with a bright, cheerful expression as he introduced himself.

Applause echoed through the room as Yamauchi's classmates clapped, impressed by his lively introduction.

Every boy and girl in that room knew exactly who Haruki Yamauchi was.

They had all witnessed him singlehandedly handle that arrogant, blonde jerk who thought he could dominate everyone.

Despite his average build and unassuming height, Yamauchi had stood up to Rokusuke Koenji, an intimidating figure with an almost untouchable air about him, bolstered by his social status and influence in Japan.

If anyone else in the room had been in his shoes, they wouldn't have dared to stand up to Koenji—not with his commanding presence and intimidate look.

In this class, there was probably no one brave enough to challenge him openly. And that's precisely why they admired Yamauchi.

He was the real deal.

A real man.

They respected not only his guts but also the way he managed to handle conflicts without resorting to violence or creating unnecessary drama.

He had a way of diffusing tension that they wanted to emulate, a knack for solving problems with a level head.

Unlike "Yamaincel", "YamaGod" didn't need to flaunt his past achievements as a basketball ace or constantly seek validation to prove his coolness. Being cool wasn't about bragging; it was about effortlessly embodying confidence without the need to put it on display. That was how YamaGod rolled—smooth, laid-back, yet respected.

With his introduction finished, YamaGod returned to his seat, and the class continued with Haruka Hasebe taking her turn to introduce herself.

The introductions rolled on until the spotlight turned to Ayanokouji and Horikita Suzune.

Horikita, however, just scoffed at the entire affair, making it clear that she had no interest in these social games.

She coldly announced her indifference, implying she would rather be left alone than participate in what she saw as shallow socializing.

Her attitude reminded many in the room of a certain red-haired thug who had mocked them earlier, and her aloofness immediately left a sour impression on several of the boys and girls.

Some of them even had the urge to throw a few sarcastic remarks her way, just to put her in her place.

Before the tension could escalate, Hirata, always the peacekeeper, intervened by smoothly prompting Ayanokouji to introduce himself.

Ayanokouji, as usual, remained Ayanokouji—quiet, reserved, and disinterested in attracting any unnecessary attention.

All he wanted was to blend in, just to be another ordinary face in the crowd.

His introduction was so bland and lackluster that Horikita could barely keep her disdain contained.

She scoffed under her breath, casting a dismissive glance his way. In her mind, there was only one person truly worth her attention—YamaGod.

No one else even came close, and certainly not this dull classmate wasting her time.

Out of a basic sense of respect, she chose to restrain herself from openly expressing her annoyance, yet she couldn't help sulking quietly in the corner, feeling increasingly irritated as the class seemed like a complete waste of her time.

Where was the teacher, anyway?

Why hadn't they shown up yet?

Shouldn't they at least have the decency to make efficient use of this time by starting a real lesson instead of letting the class sit around playing this trivial game of introductions and forced friendships?

This lax, almost careless attitude grated on her nerves.

It was ridiculous.

Why did an elite school of this supposed caliber have such a laid-back approach?

The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her.

Horikita Suzune hated this bullshit.

She glanced around the room, her irritation only deepening as she observed her classmates.

Most of them seemed like complete losers, borderline incels with the way they pathetically craved attention.

Did they lack something essential at home, some basic sense of self-worth, that they actually seemed to enjoy wasting precious study time on this pointless talk?

It was as though they had nothing better to do but engage in mindless small talk and awkward introductions.

This whole setup was beneath her, and it disgusted her.

Luckily, the teacher had arrived just in time, preventing Horikita's blood pressure from spiking further due to the pointless, childish friendship banter happening in class.

If she were a man, people would have already labeled her as edgy and intolerable, but since she was a woman?

Well, that rule didn't apply.

The double standards of the world worked differently when it came to women, especially beautiful ones.

As long as someone perceived a woman as attractive and possessing the right physical assets—yes, we're talking about that enticing, inviting hole—people would overlook her flaws.

Even if she was exuding an edgy and unapproachable vibe, no one would dare insult her or use biting sarcasm against her.

This was the undeniable power of a beautiful woman.

When a man plays the role of an edge lord, the Internet's battalion of keyboard warriors is quick to arm themselves, lacing their words with sarcasm and scorn.

But let that same edge come from a strikingly beautiful woman? Oh, the reaction is completely different.

Instead of mockery, thoughts run wild: "Damn, this woman is hot. Look at her. That yandere energy? Hell yeah, that's my type! That gothic, don't-mess-with-me look? God, I love it."

The hypocrisy of society when it comes to beauty was glaringly obvious, and no one could deny it.

Now, let's talk about the teacher. As much as some might begrudge her for her bitchy and aloof demeanor, there was no denying she was an absolute bombshell, the embodiment of a sexy, domineering MILF fantasy that made every boy in the room fantasize uncontrollably.

Let's break down her appearance in excruciating detail.

The way she dressed wasn't just suggestive; it was downright irresistible, practically made to tempt and allure. Whether it was the teacher herself or the school's female population, it was hard to tell if they were here for academics or to send adolescent boys' minds spiraling into a lustful daze.

Her self-assured aura and assertive style of dress exuded a vibe that commanded respect—or arousal—take your pick.

The intimidating gleam in her eyes, that unapproachable yet tantalizing allure, was enough to paralyze even the boldest among them.

Her delicate appearance, paired with that unspoken authority, made it hard not to wonder about dominating her in a degrading, carnal way.

What made her even more irresistible was her long, jet-black hair, tied in a high ponytail that accentuated her sculpted features. Loose strands framed her face, and a stylish hair clip added a hint of softness to her otherwise fierce look.

The mere thought of grabbing that ponytail, gripping it tightly while pounding into her from behind, filled imaginations with unrestrained fantasies.

The idea of taking control, of thrusting deep into her pussy while that hair bounced with every rough motion—how could any red-blooded young man resist the urge to dream about it?

Her black business suit, a blazer that hugged her form and a short skirt that flirted with decency, made her look both undeniably professional and sinfully sexy.

The whole ensemble was topped off with black tights that clung to her flawless legs and a pair of sleek black heels. The way those tights outlined the shape of her thighs and calves left little to the imagination of any adolescent boy who dared to look.

When she stepped into the room, most of the boys' eyes lit up with shock and awe, their stunned expressions betraying their wandering, salacious thoughts.

Even Ken Sudou, who had been fighting off sleep, suddenly snapped wide awake, his attention wholly captured by the teacher's erotic presence.

The boys in the room couldn't help but feel a surge of adrenaline—and something else—an uncontrollable stirring in their pants as the blood rushed south, their little brothers waking up to salute this goddess in disguise.

The teacher, catching sight of the reactions, met their gazes with an icy, amused smile that only seemed to make her more tantalizing.

Her eyes glinted with an awareness of her effect on them, and she relished every second of their attention.

Then, with an air of casual dominance, she began to introduce herself to the class, her voice commanding yet alluring, setting the tone for the lesson in more ways than one.