Molding Suzune Horikita (R-18)

Yamauchi—or as he proudly dubbed himself, YamaGod—grinned wickedly as he allowed his hand to drift lower, brushing Suzune Horikita's skirt before cupping her firm, shapely rear with a possessive squeeze.

His fingers pressed into her soft flesh, pulling a barely suppressed moan from her lips, the sound filled with a vulnerability she couldn't hide.

With each touch, his confidence only grew, a smirk playing on his face as he noticed the way her body involuntarily reacted to his touch.

His hands moved with purpose, trailing down the curve of her thigh, feeling the delicate, silky texture of her black stockings beneath his fingertips.

Every inch of her was like a finely wrapped present, just waiting to be unwrapped by him alone.

Slowly, almost teasingly, he lifted the edge of her white skirt, his eyes fixed on her as his fingers slipped under, reaching for her bare, defenseless ass.

He had no intention of stopping there.

Moving his hand further up, he bypassed her panties, the lace fabric little more than a flimsy barrier that he dismissed without hesitation.

His fingers finally found her soft, heated core, and he began to explore her most moist place with unrestrained boldness.

As his fingers delved into her pussy, testing her warmth, he felt her slick wetness responding to his touch, her body betraying her with each slow, deliberate thrust of his fingers.

Each motion seemed to draw her closer to him, her breathing turning shallow as she tried to hold back her sounds, even though knowing they were in a secluded corner, just out of sight from any prying eyes or cameras.

Her hips bucked slightly, a sign of the effect he had on her, but he held her firmly, controlling every movement, savoring the power he had over her.

Suzune's resistance was non-existent.

Deep in the recesses of her mind, she felt a strange compulsion—a pull that made her believe this was exactly how she should act around him.

It felt right, utterly normal, to treat this man as someone who commanded more respect than even her own brother, someone who she was meant to follow and obey without question.

Despite their initial meeting, which had been less than friendly, and although he was, in many ways, a stranger to her, it felt astonishingly natural for her to submit to him, her body yielding with a sense of reverence.

This was his right, she told herself; this was how everything was supposed to be.

Her actions felt strangely in line with her nature, almost preordained, as though honoring him and responding to his every demand was nothing out of character.

No matter how much of a cold-hearted bitch she was, and no matter how frosty her demeanor, Yamauchi couldn't deny the magnetic beauty of this woman—she was, undeniably, exactly his type.

Her long, flowing hair only amplified her allure, stirring something possessive within him.

But that charm had shattered the moment she cut it short and began to cheat at the protagonist, choosing that thug, Sudou Ken, over protagonist.

The sight of her with someone so unworthy infuriated him, and he had been disgusted ever since.

But now?

Enough was enough.

No more watching her waste herself on cuckold protagonist and weak-willed men.

YamaGod was done with all that bullshit.

If she wanted someone who could truly handle her, then he'd take her for himself, on his terms, without any of the pathetic hesitation that held back lesser men

YamaGod had made up his mind; he would claim Suzune entirely for himself.

He pressed her firmly against the wall, his breath brushing against her skin as he moved in for a kiss that was anything but gentle.

His lips crashed against hers with an urgency that was raw and unapologetically dominant, his tongue prying her mouth open as he deepened the kiss, his movements aggressive yet thrilling.

There was no tenderness here—only pure, unfiltered lust as his hand slid from her face to her waist, pulling her against him.

He lifted one of her legs, wrapping it around his waist, their bodies pressed tightly together, his hands once again roaming her curves, gripping her thigh through the thin barrier of her stockings.

His fingers moved with a kind of reckless abandon, tracing the delicate lines, his thumb grazing the sensitive skin just above her stocking's edge, intensifying the shivers running through her.

Breaking the kiss only for a moment, he let their lips part, their breaths mingling as a thin line of saliva stretched between them, glistening before it broke.

Suzune looked up at him, her gaze clouded with a mixture of reluctance and barely contained lust, as though every fiber of her wanted to keep going, yet something held her back.

Her reverence for him outweighed her own wants—her self-control wavered, yet her respect for him remained steadfast, solidifying her submission.

"Suzune-chan... we'll meet again later in class," he said, his voice a smooth mixture of satisfaction and dominance.

"See you soon."

His words hung in the air like a promise as he pulled back, leaving her there with a flushed face and lingering traces of his touch.

With a smug wave, he turned and walked away, his humming carrying through the empty corridor.

Every step he took back to Class D was filled with the pride of his recent conquest, his mind already racing with plans for the next time they'd meet.

The beginning of Suzune Horikita's fall would start here; not even Jesus could stop it.

YamaGod said so.