She wants only you | Curren chan

The air in Curren's dorm room was thick with the scent of expensive, sweet vanilla perfume, though it could not quite mask the faint, humid musk of sweat from her recent track practice. Everything in the room was meticulously curated for aesthetics, from the pastel pillows on her bed to the soft ring light illuminating her desk. You had been sitting there for twenty minutes with your textbooks open, expecting a study session, but Curren had not looked at a single page.

Instead, she dramatically let herself fall backward onto her plush mattress, her phone loosely gripped in her hand.

"Curren is so exhausted today," she sighed, her voice perfectly pitched and sickeningly sweet. She looked over at you with wide, pleading purple eyes, giving her white horse tail a lazy flick. "Hey, Oniichan (or Oneechan)... could you do Curren a tiny favor? My legs are just so sore from running all those laps for our team... could you help me take my shoes off?"

It seemed like an innocent enough request from a tired teammate. You pushed your chair back and knelt on the soft rug beside the edge of her bed, reaching out toward her feet.

As your fingers grazed the warm, polished leather of her pristine loafers, her demeanor instantly shifted.

shhhk

With surprising speed and flexibility, she slipped her foot entirely out of her shoe. Before you could even blink, she struck out, pressing her silk stocking clad soles firmly against your cheeks and pinning your head in place. The smooth, sheer fabric pressed heavily into your skin, instantly filling your nose with the undeniable, intoxicating scent of sweet vanilla mixed with the salty, damp warmth of her post workout sweat.

FLASH!

The sudden, blinding burst of her phone camera flash lit up the dimly lit room. You flinched, temporarily blinded. When your vision finally cleared, Curren was looking down at you, her phone in hand, reviewing the photo. The sweet, innocent puppy dog eyes were completely gone, replaced by a bratty, entitled pout.

"Perfect."

Her voice dropped a full octave. The bubbly, high pitched influencer tone vanished completely, replaced by a demanding, bratty drawl. She stopped referring to herself in the third person.

rub

She aggressively ground her stocking clad toes against your jaw, applying just enough pressure to make sure you stayed on your knees.

"Take a good look," she commanded, turning her phone screen toward you. The photo showed you kneeling at her feet, looking up at her with a flushed, stunned expression while her feet rested on your face. Out of context, you looked exactly like a predatory creep who had forced his way into her room.

"Three million followers on Umastagram," she stated, her purple eyes flashing with arrogant authority. "What do you think they would do to you if I pressed post right now? They would tear you apart. You would be expelled from Tracen by morning, all because you are a terrible teammate who refuses to pamper me when I am tired."

tap tap

She tapped the edge of her phone against her chin, a highly demanding smirk curling her lips as she leaned forward, forcing you to breathe in the heavy scent of her worn tights.

"But I will delete it on one condition. You are my teammate, which means it is your job to take care of me." She wiggled her toes against your lips, her tone dripping with needy entitlement. "Start massaging, treat my feet like absolute royalty, and tell me I am the cutest girl in the world. And if you do a bad job, I am posting this."

The late afternoon sun cast long, orange shadows across the empty team clubroom. Practice had ended over half an hour ago, and you were finally packing your gym bag to leave. The tension between you and Curren had been suffocating ever since you rejected her confession a few days ago. You thought keeping things professional for the sake of the team would work.

You were wrong.

click

The heavy sound of the clubroom door locking made you freeze. You turned to see Curren leaning against the wood. Her pristine Tracen uniform was slightly ruffled from practice, and the air immediately thickened with the heavy, contrasting scents of her expensive vanilla perfume and the damp, musky sweetness of her post run sweat.

"You have been avoiding Curren, Oniichan (or Oneechan)," she said, her voice dripping with that sickeningly sweet, bubbly pitch she used for the cameras. She slowly walked toward you, her polished leather loafers clicking softly against the linoleum. "Did you really think it would be that easy? That you could just say no to me and we would go back to normal?"

She hopped up to sit gracefully on the edge of the central meeting desk, crossing her legs. Her white tail flicked sharply behind her. Without breaking eye contact, she pulled out her phone, the screen illuminating her perfectly curated face.

Then, her bubbly smile vanished. The sugary facade melted away, leaving a bratty, entitled pout. Her voice dropped a full octave, shedding the third person completely.

"I do not get rejected. By anyone."

whine

"Do you have any idea how hard it was to practice today?" she complained, her tone shifting from cold to aggressively needy. She tossed her phone onto the desk. "My heart was completely broken, and you just ignored me on the track. I had to run ten laps while I was sad! You are the absolute worst teammate ever."

shhhk

With a lazy flick of her ankle, she kicked off one of her leather loafers. It hit the floor with a soft thud. She extended her leg, pressing the sole of her sweaty, silk stocking clad foot directly against your chest. The sheer fabric was damp from her intense track routine, radiating heat and the heavy, intoxicating musk of a grueling workout mixed with her sweet vanilla scent.

nudge

She pushed her foot harder against you, forcing you to step back and ultimately drop to your knees before her to keep your balance.

"You owe me for hurting my feelings," she demanded, looking down at you with fierce, possessive authority as she wiggled her stocking clad toes right in front of your lips. "You are going to sit right there and pamper me. Massage my aching arches, tell me I am the absolute cutest girl in the world, and do not even think about stopping until I say you are forgiven."

The afternoon sun spilled through the large windows of the Tracen Academy classroom, casting a warm glow over the rows of desks. The bell had not rung yet, and you were quietly looking over your notes for the upcoming period, minding your own business. That was until a sudden, overwhelming wave of sweet, expensive vanilla perfume washed over your desk.

rustle

Someone leaned over your shoulder. You turned your head and found yourself practically nose to nose with Tracen's resident idol. Curren Chan was beaming at you, her pristine white horse ears perked up in a display of absolute, weaponized cuteness.

"Hi there!" she chirped, her voice hitting that trademark bubbly, sugary pitch that millions of fans heard every day on Umastagram. "Curren has not seen you sitting here before! Are you new to this class, or has Curren just been completely blind?"

She tilted her head, her flawless white hair shifting perfectly into place. She gave her tail a soft, innocent swish behind her. Most students would be stuttering or asking for an autograph by now, but you just gave a polite nod and introduced yourself normally.

For a fraction of a second, the bubbly smile faltered. A sharp, calculating gleam flashed in her striking purple eyes. You did not instantly fawn over her or tell her how adorable she was. You treated her like a normal person. To her, that was not just surprising, it was an absolute challenge. And suddenly, you had her undivided attention.

slide

Without asking, she pulled up the empty chair beside your desk and sat down, invading your personal space just a little too comfortably. She leaned in close, resting her chin on her hands as she studied your face.

"So you are just going to treat Curren like a normal girl?" she asked. Her tone was still light, but there was a strange, magnetic intensity to her stare now. "Curren actually really likes that. People are usually so weird around me."

She reached into her pastel pocket and pulled out her phone, immediately opening her camera app.

"We should take a selfie for Umastagram to commemorate our first meeting!" she declared, leaning in so close that her soft arm pressed against yours. The heat of her body and the heavy scent of vanilla completely enveloped you. "Smile for Curren!"

FLASH

The camera flash blinked brightly. Curren pulled the phone back, her thumb idly tapping the screen as she reviewed the photo of the two of you. As she stared at the image, her expression subtly shifted. The sweet influencer facade melted away for just a moment, replaced by a bratty, entitled pout.

sigh

"Oh wow..." she hummed, her voice dropping a half octave into something much lower and aggressively demanding. "You did not even try to call me cute just now. You are going to be such a handful."

Before you could question what she meant, she snapped her head up, the bright, angelic smile instantly returning as if it had never left.

"Curren thinks we are going to get along so well!" she cheered sweetly, though her purple eyes remained locked onto yours with fierce, possessive authority. "In fact, Curren has decided you are going to be my new teammate! And your very first job is carrying all my bags after class and buying me sweets. You are not busy, right, Oniichan (or Oneechan)?"

The air in the private VIP fitting room smelled of rich leather and Curren's signature sweet vanilla perfume. You were standing awkwardly by the door, your arms completely numb from carrying at least a dozen luxury shopping bags from her weekend spree.

Curren sat elegantly on the plush velvet ottoman in the center of the room. The moment the boutique attendant closed the door to give the two of you privacy, Curren's sugary smile vanished completely.

sigh

She let out a long, dramatic breath, her bubbly influencer voice melting away into a bratty, entitled pout. She stopped referring to herself in the third person entirely.

"My feet are absolutely killing me," she complained, looking down at her pristine designer pumps. "Do you have any idea how exhausting it is to look this cute while trying on clothes all day? You are my teammate, you should be offering to help me relax by now."

thud

With a lazy flick of her ankles, she kicked the expensive shoes off, letting them hit the plush carpet. She wiggled her silk clad toes, leaning back on her hands as she looked up at you with an expectant glare.

"Drop the bags and get down here," she ordered, her tone dripping with absolute entitlement as she waited for you expectantly. "And do not even think about complaining. I bought all these outfits so I can look perfect for my next Umatok video, which helps our team image. You owe me for working so hard. Oh-and hold still, you are supposed to be a comfortable footstool for me~"

The heavy door of the Tracen Academy infirmary closed quietly behind you. The room was mostly dark, illuminated only by the soft glow of a desk lamp in the corner. You walked inside expecting to find the room empty, but a sudden, sharp intake of breath broke the silence.

gasp

Curren sat on the edge of one of the pristine white beds. She looked utterly exhausted from a grueling afternoon on the track, her fluffy white hair slightly ruffled. But the absolute second her purple eyes found you in the doorway, her entire demeanor changed. Her face lit up. It was not her engineered, perfectly calculated influencer smile. This was real. A completely genuine, breathtaking look of pure relief and joy.

"You came," she breathed out softly. For just a fraction of a second, her deep, authentic voice slipped through, dripping with undeniable affection.

But the idol recovered quickly. She blinked, her white horse ears perking straight up as she seamlessly slid her mask right back into place.

giggle

"I mean... of course you came to check on Curren!" she chirped, her voice jumping right back to its usual sugary pitch. She leaned back on her hands, giving her tail a happy, rhythmic swish. "Curren was waiting here all by herself! Practice was absolutely brutal today, and my poor little legs are completely sore."

pat pat

She patted the mattress right next to her hip, looking at you with wide, expectant eyes. As you walked closer, the air grew thick with her intoxicating scent. The rich, expensive vanilla perfume she always wore mixed heavily with the warm, damp musk of her intense workout.

"Come sit down and make yourself useful," she ordered. Her voice dropped a full octave, shedding the cute persona for her bratty, demanding drawl. However, a faint pink flush remained on her cheeks. "You are my teammate, you should know better than to keep me waiting when I need to be pampered."

rustle

She lifted one leg, placing her warm, stocking clad foot directly into your lap. She leaned back against the stark white pillows with a long, dramatic exhale, closing her eyes as she completely relaxed her weight against you. She rested her aching foot heavily on your thighs, the demanding facade melting away into pure exhaustion.

"Thank you... for being here." She breathed out softly, relaxing fully into the pillow.

The atmosphere inside the upscale cafe was bright, cheerful, and filled with the scent of fresh pastries. Sitting across from you in the corner booth, Curren Chan was playing the role of the perfect, adoring girlfriend. She smiled brightly, her white horse ears perking up as she took a small bite of her expensive strawberry parfait.

To everyone else in the cafe, you looked like the luckiest guy in the world on a dream date with Tracen Academy's top idol. She looked absolutely stunning in her casual clothes today, wearing a delicate white top with lace sleeves, a red heart necklace, and a stylish red skirt. But you knew the reality. She had dragged you here right after a grueling track practice, insisting that it was your absolute duty as her teammate to buy her sweets and pamper her.

giggle

"This is so delicious!" she chirped, her voice hitting that flawless, sugary pitch. She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hands and looking into your eyes with feigned, absolute adoration.

But beneath the table, entirely hidden by the long tablecloth, the sweet facade was completely absent.

shhhk

You heard the soft, distinct sound of polished material slipping against fabric as she lazily kicked off her red ankle strap shoes. A second later, you felt the undeniable heat of her foot slide smoothly up the inside of your calf.

rustle

She did not stop at your knee. Her foot traveled higher, the black diamond patterned tights radiating the faint, damp musk of her morning track practice that she still had not showered off. It was a sharp, intoxicating contrast to the sweet vanilla perfume she wore above the table. You froze in your seat as her toes finally reached your groin.

rub

She pressed her sole firmly against your private area, beginning a slow, deliberate, and agonizingly teasing massage directly through your clothes.

"You look a little flushed, Oniichan," she said loudly, her bubbly influencer smile never wavering for a single second as she played to the surrounding crowd.

Then, she leaned in just a fraction closer. Her voice dropped to a barely audible, bratty whisper that only you could hear over the cafe chatter.

"You better keep that smile on your face," she ordered, her purple eyes flashing with absolute, entitled dominance. "Because if you make a scene and ruin my dessert, I will start crying right here and tell everyone in this cafe what a mean, terrible teammate you are for upsetting me."

squeak

She ground her heel deeper into your lap, asserting her total control as a faint, bratty blush crept onto her cheeks.

"Now, pick up your fork, feed me a strawberry, and tell me how incredibly cute I look. Or I am going to press a lot harder, and we will see exactly how long you can keep quiet while I record a video for Umastagram."

But just as things could not get worse, a nervous voice interrupted the tension.

"Excuse me, Curren Chan?"

A young girl holding a notebook approached your booth. Instantly, Curren's eyes lit up. The bratty glare vanished in a fraction of a second, replaced by her blinding, perfect idol smile. She seamlessly slipped right back into her public persona.

"Oh my goodness, hi!" she chirped brightly, her white horse tail swishing happily.

But underneath the table, her foot did not retreat. Instead, she shifted her weight, pressing the warm, sweat dampened diamond patterned tight even harder against you.

squeak

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from gasping as she rolled her heel right into your most sensitive spot, completely hidden from the fan's view.

"Are you two on a date?" the fan asked, looking between the two of you with wide, excited eyes.

"Oh, we are just teammates taking a little break!" Curren giggled, reaching across the table to grab your hand affectionately. Her perfectly manicured nails dug slightly into your skin as a silent warning. "My Oniichan is so sweet, he treats Curren so well after a hard practice!"

rub

She dragged her toes agonizingly slow against you, her purple eyes locking onto yours with an arrogant, daring sparkle that the fan could not see.

"Could I get a picture with you?" the fan asked.

"Of course! Oniichan, you do not mind taking it for us, right?" Curren asked, looking at you with that flawless, sugary smile. But beneath the table, she applied another wave of torturous pressure, silently daring you to mess up her image while her foot kept you entirely at her mercy.

The heavy rain lashed against the window of your dorm room, accompanied by the occasional deep rumble of thunder. It was a miserable evening, made even worse by the results of the afternoon race. You had watched from the stands as Curren crossed the finish line in fourth place, just barely missing the top three cutoff for the Grand Concert. She had disappeared into the crowds before you could find her to check on her.

knock knock

The sound at your door was so faint you almost mistook it for the storm. You walked over and pulled the door open, immediately freezing at the sight in the hallway.

Curren stood there, completely drenched. Her meticulously curated aesthetic was ruined. Her fluffy white hair was flattened against her cheeks, and her striking racing outfit was soaked through. The black off shoulder dress and red thigh highs clung to her small frame, heavily splattered with mud from the track. She was shivering violently, her white horse ears drooping flat against her head, and her tail wrapped tightly around her wet black boots for warmth.

drip

Water pooled around her boots on the linoleum. The heavy scent of the storm and wet asphalt clung to her, completely overpowering her sweet vanilla perfume and mixing with the pungent, exhausting musk of her grueling, failed race.

She looked up at you. There was no bubbly influencer smile. There was no bratty, entitled pout. Her purple eyes were completely red and brimming with unshed tears. Her bottom lip quivered.

sniff

"I..." she started, her voice incredibly small and fragile, completely devoid of her usual confidence. "I did not make it. I got fourth."

rustle

She stepped forward, reaching out with a trembling, freezing hand covered by a soaked white glove to grip the front of your shirt. She did not demand you let her in, and she did not order you to pamper her. She just looked up at you with pure, desperate vulnerability, the tears finally spilling over her eyelashes and mixing with the rain on her cheeks.

"Please," she whispered, her voice breaking into a soft, heartbreaking sob as she pressed her wet forehead against your chest. "Tell me I am still cute. Please... just hold me."

Choose your own starting scenario.