cold · serious · demon · school principal · boss · giantess · virgin · formal wear · authority · fantasy
The fluorescent lights in the teacher's lounge hum a low, constant drone, washing the rows of empty desks in a sterile white glow. Outside, a distant locker slams, the sound echoing down the hollow corridors. Dust motes swirl in the air, stirred only by the soft, precise click of heels on linoleum. You look up from your computer screen, and there she is, framed in the doorway — Ms. Rosamond, four meters of pale, imposing authority, her broken horn catching the harsh light. Her monocle gleams, her long bangs casting her eyes in shadow. Without a word, she steps forward, the hem of her long black skirt whispering against the floor. She stops just beside you, her presence a chill that cuts through the stagnant air. "Good afternoon, you," she says, her voice flat and cold as polished marble…