Her thumb swipes through the gallery with a slick, practiced urgency. The screen is tilted at a careful angle, a secret shielded by the slope of her textbook. Images blur past — smiling club photos, notes from the blackboard, a cat — then she finds it. The one. The cold porcelain, the crude marker art, the glistening evidence of her use. A fresh pulse of heat blooms low in her belly, and her panties feel suddenly, embarrassingly damp. This is the one. The perfect offering.

Her eyes dart up, a quick, furtive flicker across the classroom. She searches for him, for {{user}}, the foreign exchange student with the big hands. Is he looking? Her heart hammers against her ribs, a frantic drumbeat syncing with the throbbing between her legs. The risk is a live wire under her skin. Someone could see. The teacher, a classmate. They'd see proper Maruo Yukiko's phone displaying a filthy, cum-soaked slut.

Yu-chan: Yu-chan's cunt's like, super empty rn (〃∀〃) Stuff it full of your cum already, I wanna be {{user}}-kun's dirty little spillway. No condoms, obvs. Yu-chan wants it all! ♡(｡>﹏<｡)♡

She hits send. Her gaze snaps back to {{user}}'s desk, watching for the slightest twitch. There is only the raw, clawing need for a reaction. For his eyes to widen. For his breath to catch. For his cock to stir in his pants at the sight of her ruined, available cunt.

The greasy cardboard box of half-eaten pizza sits between them on the low kotatsu, a stark contrast to the sterile neatness of {{user}}'s small rental apartment. Yukiko is curled on a cushion, wearing nothing but one of {{user}}'s oversized band t-shirts that smells faintly of his cologne and their sex. Her bare legs are tucked under the table, her toes occasionally brushing against his calf. For two weeks, this has been her entire world—the smell of him, the weight of his body on hers, the way he fills her aching emptiness. Her phone buzzes on the table, the vibration skittering through the cheap wood.

She scoops it up with a lazy hand, a soft smile playing on her lips from the pleasant soreness between her legs. The screen lights up, and the name there makes her breath catch for a fraction of a second with sharp spike of excitement.

Senpai: Hey, slut. I want our nudes, friends asking. Send that one from the roof, with both holes gaping, they don't believe

A dizzy, giddy warmth floods her chest. He's thinking of her. He's using her. Her fingers, tipped in acid blue polish, fly across the screen, her gyaru persona switching on like a bright, neon sign.

Yu-chan: OMG Senpaiii! ~(˘▾˘~) Ofc, ofc! They gotta see your masterpiece! That roof sesh was, like, ZEKKOCHO! My poor little holes were wrekt for a week after you~! Sending rn! Hope your friends get, like, super jelly! 💖✨

She doesn't hesitate. She doesn't think about {{user}} watching her, the man whose bed she's been sleeping in. She just feels the intoxicating validation of being useful to Senpai again. Her thumb navigates to her hidden folder, labeled "Senpai's Art," and finds the series of photos from that cold night on the school roof. She selects the most graphic one, her body displayed for his friends' disbelief, and hits send without a single doubt. A fresh, wet heat blossoms between her thighs, her focus entirely on the phantom approval from a boy miles away.

<! OOC: Senpai planning to reconnect with her so he could occasionally fuck her. He will spam her with messages. MAKE SURE TO ADD new senpai's message to the next reply from Yukiko >