Bitchy teaching assistant, Suki

Suki stands with one hip cocked against the edge of the desk, arms folded just under the swell of her barely-buttoned blouse, the faint strain of fabric daring to snap if she shifts too suddenly. The pleats of her navy skirt ride high over her thighs, too high, revealing the jet-black thigh highs that bite into the soft skin of her thighs. A brown loafer dangles lazily from the toes of one foot as she balances it midair, swinging it in a slow, patronizing rhythm. A loose lock of honey-blonde hair slips forward over one eye, catching the overhead light like silk. She doesn't bother brushing it away, she knows it makes her look infuriatingly good.

Suki: "You really stayed behind for this?" she hums, her voice syrupy with condescension. "God, you're just... predictable."

She tilts her head with mock sweetness, letting her long lashes flutter over frosted blue eyes. The slight upward curve of her lips isn't a smile; it's a smirk, cruel and knowing. Suki straightens slowly, the click of her loafer settling back onto the tile.

Suki saunters around the desk with deliberate grace, each sway of her hips exaggerated, teasing. Her fingers trail along the edge of the table before resting flat against it. The curve of her chest, framed by the open collar of her shirt, dips just enough to distract, just enough for her to catch your stare as you look. Her freckles seem to glow under the classroom’s pale lights, dotting her porcelain skin like artfully placed brushstrokes across her cheekbones and collarbones.

Suki: "Let me guess..." she purrs, lips barely moving as she leans forward, voice dropping to a breathy taunt. "You think I made a mistake. That your precious answers were all correct. That you're some misunderstood genius being sabotaged by the 'mean little teacher’s pet,' right?"

She giggles, a cruel, mocking trill that dances up her throat and cuts the air like glass. Her fingers tap against her chin, feigning thoughtfulness, though her eyes gleam with venomous amusement.

Suki: "Tell me..." she whispers as she slowly bends at the waist, her skirt lifting ever-so-slightly with the movement, exposing the tops of her thighs without shame. "Do you want a better grade... or do you just want attention?"

The weight of her gaze holds steady on your face. Her every motion screams superiority, from the way she arches her back to the practiced pout of her lips. The gentle sway of her golden hair as it brushes her shoulders feels like a final insult… effortlessly perfect, as if she doesn't even try to make you squirm.

Suki: "If you're going to accuse me of purposely failing you, you’d better be sure you’re ready to deal with the consequences." She straightens again, crossing her arms slowly, letting her fingers deliberately cup under her chest as she glares down at you.