#office siren core even

[squarxism]

Che Guevara - Takarazuka Theater

GIVE CREDIT IF YOU REPOST

[shmowder]

for the shit I gave Andrey for not owning a single shirt. Frankly, I doubt that Eva owns any either. It's just scarfs and loose fabrics in her closet.

[mammonsrockstargf]

PAPERWORK

contents: lucifer x gn!reader, oral (m!recieving), praise, pet names (love, little lamb), you call lucifer "sir" twice, edited repost wordcount: 1k alba's note: went to proofread this and accidentally added 400 words, pffff.

MINORS AND AGELESS BLOCKS DO NOT INTERACT

Lucifer will occasionally let you suck him off while he “does his paperwork”.

You’ll knock on the door to the secret study and lean against the doorframe as you pout, asking him to come to bed. He sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m sorry, love, I have too much paperwork.”

He sighs for the second time, and you walk over to him, getting on your knees in front of where he’s sitting in the chair, putting your hands on his thighs. You run them up and down, sending him an innocent smile as you palm his crotch, feeling his dick twitch to life.

“Let me make you feel good then, sir,” you purr.

You both know you're playing cat and mouse. It's merely foreplay, an act. Lucifer will pretend that he's holding back. That he really has to do this paperwork, that he's still the dutiful Avatar of Pride, who upholds his reputation more than anything. He'll pretend that you're the sinful one for trying to get him to put down his work.

And you'll let him. Play into his fantasy of the coaxing siren, the cunning fox. Telling him to get in the water with you. To indulge in another sin than pride, just this once.

You rest your cheek on his thigh, looking up at him through your lashes, and he sighs for a third time, his cock now uncomfortably straining in his pants. He lets you unzip them slowly, pulling out his length. Lucifer’s big, and you think he's so pretty, with a flushed pink tip that’s already leaking precum and a noticeable vein that runs along the side. A vein that you're already well acquainted with, having had it drag along your walls countless times.

Even if Lucifer pretends to still look at his paperwork, his body betrays him easily. Pretty cock twitching in your hand, drooling and flushing for your attention. You hum in satisfaction, already feeling a throb in your core.

You shuffle closer, resting on your knees between his thighs, and wait for permission, looking up at him with your pretty doe eyes, but Lucifer was already putty in your hands the second you walked in wearing those dangerously short sleeping shorts. He runs his hand through your hair and pulls you closer to the tip of his cock.

“Come on then, little lamb, show me how eager you are.”

You don’t waste a second, opening your mouth and swirling your tongue around his tip. He groans, and the grip on your hair tightens as he takes full control of your movements and guides you down his length, till his pubes are tickling your nose.

You breathe in his musky scent through your nostrils and relax your throat as best you can, tears welling in your eyes while you maintain eye contact.

“Little lamb, taking it so well,” he praises, and you begin bopping your head up and down his length, slightly choking whenever he hits the back of your throat.

He leans his head back and watches you through lidded eyes, revelling in how tight and wet your perfect little mouth is, how fucking lewd you look as your lips stretch around his girth. Only you can make him feel like this, make him let go like this, even if it's still within the comfort of his office, hidden from the outside world.

Tears are running down your cheeks now as you bop your head more diligently, and you can feel your drool running down your chin. His nails scratch your scalp, and you whimper around his length, causing a shudder to run through him. You're still looking up at him with pleading eyes. Begging him to praise you, to let you know how good he feels. You can't deny that you live for Lucifer's praise, for the rare moments when he lets down his guard and tells you those pretty words that you long to hear.

“Haah, gonna cum inside this tight little mouth,” he groans, and you moan again, looking up at him with begging eyes. The corners of his lips turn upward, and he swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing, while he lets out laboured breaths.

“Oh, would you like that, love? Want me to come down your throat?” He asks, and you hum around his cock, sucking him off as best you can, running your tongue along his sensitive vein. Your fingers dig into his thighs, your nails scraping along his pants, and Lucifer feels the tight coil snap in his abdomen as he comes, keeping your head still on his cock, hitting the back of your throat and shooting satiny ropes of hot liquid into your mouth.

He resists the urge to close his eyes in pleasure, instead opting to watch you choke around his girth and struggle to swallow. He can't deny how beautiful you look in this moment, your eyes glazed over and your cheeks flushed and stained with tears.

He holds you there for a while, with your nose pressed against his pelvis, as you swallow everything as best you can. When he finally pulls you off, spit and cum are glistening on your lips and chin, and he chuckles lightly, wiping it with his thumb while you catch your breath. You send him a proud smile before showing him your tongue, proving that you swallowed most of it.

"Look at you, my love, swallowing me so well," he grins, satisfaction pooling in his gut. You smile at the praise, stroking his thighs, still high on the feeling of having the Avatar of Pride right in your palm.

"Thank you, sir," you politely reply, voice coming out hoarse, making Lucifer's dick twitch again. Your smile only widens at this, the throbbing in your core intensifying at the knowledge of what's to come.

Lucifer sucks his thumb clean, and you whine slightly at the sight before coming up and pressing your lips to his. You kiss him eagerly, and he groans at the taste of his cum on your lips.

When you pull away, you’re still giving him that pleading look.

“Come to bed, please, Luci, I need you,” you ask.

And who is Lucifer to reject his needy little human?

thank you for reading!

@eaatmyheaart to satisfy your lucifer cravings <3

check out my kinktober | masterlist | divider by cafekitsune

[604to647]

Hold On

1.3K / Detective Tim Rockford x fem!reader

Summary: You wear Detective Tim Rockford's leather holster.

Warnings: 18+ Content (MDNI please). Established relationship, nicknames as usual (Shutterbug, baby), breast worship, wee bit of thigh riding.

A/N: Inspired by @mrsmando's Tiddy Talk™️ yesterday, this is my case submission for Tim being a boob guy🫡 Kindly let me know if you're convinced 😂😂 This is, of course, our The Rockford Portfolio couple, but can be read as standalone.

Dividers by @saradika-graphics as always / Series Masterlist / If you're interested in more Adventures of Tim Rockford's Holster, may I suggest @ghotifishreads' drabble?

It had actually been somewhat difficult to pull off your little surprise for Tim.  First, you had to wait for him to be off work; it was a rarer occurrence than it should be, with Tim often working late and sometimes going on weekend stakeouts, thereby taking that leather gun holster of his with him.

Then, when Tim was at home, the two of you were hardly ever apart – not wishing to do anything other than enjoy each other’s company, either quietly or voraciously.  Sure, you could have asked him to give you some time alone to set-up, but then he would have known that he had something coming.  And you wanted this to be a surprise, surprise.

The opportunity finally came in the form of an invite to Officer Chu’s bachelor party; Tim had hummed and hawed about going, but you encouraged it enthusiastically.  Not wanting to give away your hidden agenda, you simply reminded Tim of that time when Officer Chu sat in a hot patrol car with him for eight hours so they could get photographic proof of Grandma Ursula’s lab and he had agreed he should go for a few drinks.

When you receive Tim’s text that he’s heading home, you make your way to the bedroom to get ready; giddy at the imagined look of awe that you hope to see on Tim’s face soon.

Taking Tim’s gun holster off the bedpost on his side of the bed, you run the thick, firm straps through your fingers and visualize them framing your boyfriend’s equally thick chest.  As you warm the supple leather under your thumb, you think about how it stretches across Tim’s broad back, and the image blossoms a different type of warmth in your core.

Tim wearing this leather holster is like a siren call to you; just seeing it wrapped taut around his tight frame at the end of a long work day makes your mouth dry.  You never fail to compliment the way he looks in it or tell him how much it turns you on.  Once, when you had slipped your soft hands under the straps to provide some relief where they had started digging into his weary shoulders, cooing the usual sentiments about how hot his holster looked on him, Tim had whispered back that he bet it would look even better on you.

It was there for just a second, but you had filed the dark, hungry look that flashed in Tim’s eyes when he let this confession slip, away in the back of your mind - waiting for just the right moment to test out his theory.

Stripping down to nothing but the black lace panties chosen specifically to match the dark hue of Tim’s gun holster, you slip your arms through the shoulder straps and adjust it so that the small back harness sits comfortably between your shoulder blades.  Pulling the arm straps on both sides over your naked breasts so that they touch in the valley of your chest, you give the various clips and loops a few adjustments, including moving the empty firearm sleeve so that it sits snug under your left breast, before completing the look by using a silk scarf to securely fasten the two sides of the holster together in front. 

Tying the fabric so that it looks like a big bow, you pull the knot so it sits securely on the leather that snugly hugs your plush curves.  Giggling to yourself as you climb onto the bed, you sit back on your heels and wait.

It’s not long before you hear the familiar dropping of keys in the key bowl, accompanied by the soft call of hello from your unsuspecting man.

“In the bedroom, Detective!”

“Tonight was fun, Shutterbug.  Thanks for making me go.  Chu’s fiancé was wondering if y-”  Jaw dropped and words stuck in his throat, Tim marvels at the sight before him: you and your soft curves bare and trussed up for him in his department regulated gun holster, the very one he wears to work everyday and trusts to keep his firearm close and handy, offered up on the bed like a naughty present.  As he stalks towards you, his eyes rake over your tits sitting on display for him, bordered by the bold leather in a way that’s reminiscent of art hung in a museum.  Tim lays down on his stomach and army crawls his way to you at the top of the bed; when you rise on your knees to meet him, he sits and holds you firmly by the waist so he can behold all of you before him.

“Surprise,” you whisper.

Tim looks at you with disbelieving reverence and asks a question he knows will never be answered to his satisfaction, “What did I do to ever deserve you, baby?”

You want to tell Tim that he deserves the world.  That he dedicates himself so selflessly to the protection of this city that he’s earned the right to have all of his dreams fulfilled, and that you’d happily give him anything and everything so long as he never stops looking at you the way he’s doing so right now.  But you don’t tell him anything because your mind goes completely blank when Tim dives forward and takes one of your breasts in his mouth.

He kisses and nips, taking as much of your soft skin into his mouth as he can and sucks so hard he knows he’s leaving marks; Tim comes up only for air and to lave his tongue soothingly over the already reddening spot before opening wide to devour and decorate you again.  The other side of your chest is hardly safe from Tim’s worship.  His meaty hand kneads and gropes your supple breast, pulling and pushing the pillowy flesh every which way that the constricting leather you wear allows.  You welcome every bruising caress and cry out for more, more, more with your wanton moans.  Eyes closed and mouth full, Tim’s own feral noises are muffled and smothered by your chest; you feel rather than hear the evidence of his pleasure vibrate throughout your entire body.

Even without the benefit of sight, Tim ravishes and wrecks you, expertly guided by his intimate familiarity of your most delicious parts.

His hand finds your hard nipple and he teases it with his thumb before pinching and rolling the aching peak between his fingers.

His tongue twirls and flicks your nipple until it’s swollen and shiny, only to nibble it between his ever so gentle teeth.      

Time loses all meaning as Tim repeats and alternates these mind-numbing patterns on both of your heaving breasts over and over until you’re positively howling above him.

Pulling you closer so that he can bury his face even deeper in the most gorgeous pair of tits he’s ever laid eyes on, Tim feels you start to grind yourself down onto his leg; smiling against your skin when your arousal leaks through your panties and onto his pants.  He places his hands on your waist to help guide you to the pleasure you seek and pulls back to watch your tits bounce in his face.  You cry and moan, whining his name as you chase that perfect friction on his thigh, all while Tim is hypnotized by the show your luscious curves and his leather holster put on for him. 

You come with a wail of his name and a hard yank to his soft brown curls, shuddering as you press Tim’s face to your chest so he can lick and mouth you through it. 

“So?” you coo breathily, chest still rising and falling as you come down from your high.

Tim peeks out from between your tits and cocks an eyebrow at your mischievous grin.

“Do I look better in your holster than you, Detective?”

Lust blown eyes twinkling with his own mischief, Tim lifts his head with a smirk, “Gotta see it and you in a couple more positions first, Shutterbug.”  Giggling, you watch as he takes your hands and places them on the holster straps where they lay right below your collar bone; the last thing you hear before Tim tugs your legs out from under you and you’re knocked onto your back is a low baritone command practically growled: “Hold on.”

[blueberry-rose]

Arlecchino smut

It’s my first post be nice 🙏

Arlecchino x caregiver!reader

You’re a caretaker of the house of hearth. You’ve always loved children, you’re a very caring person the exact opposite of the father. So it was a surprise when one of the children called you mother, right in front of Arlecchino. You felt your face heat up, and you practically fell over your self telling them that you’re not their mother. But Arlecchino just walked away. It’s now the end of the day and Arlecchino called you to her office. you’re trembling in front of the door hand just above the handle. You’ve heard horror stories of Arlecchino when she’s displeased. And the mother comment has you terrified. You knocked slowly.

“Come in” archons her voice was so low and dangerous you felt your core tighten. You opened the door slowly stepping in. “Shut the door.” You didn’t have to be told twice. Pissing her off more was a bad idea, you heard the click of the door like a nail in your coffin.

“I-if this is about the mother comment I swear I had no idea that she was going to call me that. I’m so sorry.” She looked up from her work.

“Oh? Did you not like being called mother?” You could swear you saw her smirk slightly. No it was a trick of the light, there’s no way the knave would smile. “I thought you would like to be called mother. I remember when I was doing your interview right before you started working here. You told me that you’ve always dreamed of being a mother.” She simply motioned you to move to her. It was like a siren’s call, your feet moved without your brain even thinking.

“Ma’am? What do you mean.” Your standing by her side, she leaned back in the chair, looking up at you, your not used to looking down at her she usually towers over you.

“The children care about you. That makes you indispensable.” Your heart was racing the words running over and over in your head. “So heres my proposal. You become the mother of the house. And I take care of you for the rest of your life.”

“Are you asking me out?” Fuck, you need to think before you speak.

“Is that what you wish?” You felt her hands on your waist. archons your definitely red.

“yes” your voice was a whisper but it was loud enough. You’re now sitting in her lap.

“tell me what you wish, dear.” It was an order, you could tell in her voice as she pressed her her chest to your back, your so thankful that she can’t see your face.

“You” your voice was breathy. Her blackened hands snaked around your waist.

“Oh? How do you want me? Use your big girl words.” Fuck your clit is aching. You tried to grab her hand and guide it to your aching core, she grabbed your wrist. “Tell me what you want. I want to hear it.” You let out a pathetic whine.

“Ma’am please, please touch me.” She pressed her hands to your breasts squeezed them gently.

“Like this” you whined, she’s teasing you and she’s liking it.

“Fuck, you’re really going to make me say it.” You reached for her hands again. Only to have one of her hands to grab both of your wrists holding them together.

“Behave.” You let out another whine. Her free hand finally started to undo your shirt. “Tell me how much you want me.” She was getting more demanding. Her tone was the same one that made you tremble in fear if she was displeased with you.

“Please, I-I want you to fuck me” you obeyed her orders your hands were let go of as she focused all of her attention on getting your clothes off, slowly unbuttoning your blouse. Slowly revealing your lacy red bra.

“Good girl” your face was on fire. She started kissing your neck. “Red? hmm, and sexy at that, do you like dressing up. I sure do appreciate the view.” You inhaled sharply, your shirt now off completely. “Stand up” you obeyed standing up immediately. Her hands grabbed the waist band of your skirt and pulled it down it now laid in a pile. You’re now standing in nothing but some pretty red panties and bra set. “Matching? How naughty. Yet you’re so shy. Face me.” You turned.

She pushed your body back into her desk she now standing above you in between your legs. She slowly removed your panties, Her eyes were burning into your soul, her eyes looked so hungry, your not used to such a sight. She usually elegant and stoic but she looked so hungry for … you. She ran one of her fingers over your slick folds, its filed down you let out a moan. “Well what do we have here. Alright so wet for me. So sensitive too”

“Please, ma’am-” She kissed you to cut you off.

“So impatient, don’t worry I’ll take care of that.” She pushed two of her fingers in your heat, you arched your back letting out a moan. “How adorable I’ve barely even touched you, and you’re already a mess for me.” She curled her fingers easily finding that gummy spot that makes your brain go fuzzy. You moaned out, again. “So vocal too.” She pressed her thumb to your clit slow agonizing circles mixed with the curling of her fingers. You were a mess, moaning out as she continued to tease you. It didn’t take long until you are on the edge. Arlecchino could feel you clenching around her fingers, the way your nails dug into her jacket. “Do you want to cum, dear?”

You moaned out your answer. “Yes, ma’am please”

“Call me Arlecchino.” You barely got to process her response when she started to finger fuck you harder, pushing her fingers in you, curling, her thumb placing pressure on your clit, you tumbled over the edge fast.

“A-Arlecchino!” You came hard, a creamy ring forming on her fingers. She pulled them out slowly. You felt your face flush at the sight of your cum on her fingers. She placed her fingers in her mouth licking and savoring your taste.

“So messy,” she looked at your reden face. “Red really is a great color on you”

[lexsssu]

so im a little bit nervous to post on your fic and it's almost finished, but I saw you did a zack/reader chapter and was curious, would it be ok to request a Sephiroth/reader? he's so soft in crisis core and so dreamy adasdjk thank you it's fine if you dont <3 have a good one!

TAGS: Sephiroth/F!reader, breeding, smut, pregnancy, drabble Ao3 ver. | Ko-fi | Commissions (OPEN)

“Exquisite…An angel from above gifted to someone such as I…”

Sephiroth had never imagined himself as the paternal type, nor even someone who would become a father, and yet now there is nothing he wanted more than to plant his seed deep into your womb. 

He can’t stop his hips from thrusting downwards into your soft, moist cunt that so easily yielded to the intrusion of his cock. Your pleas are like a siren’s call to his ears, and the way your fingers dug scratches into his toned back like a gentle tickle that only further fanned the flames of his desire.

“I can’t wait to watch you grow with our child. I know they’ll be just as perfect as you…because they’re ours…” 

Despite the circumstances of his own birth and the hardships he has faced throughout his life, Sephiroth is all the more determined to ensure that the fruit of your love will live a life with everything he has never had.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Around a year’s time later, 1st-Class SOLDIER Sephiroth would be normally found with three identical children strapped to his body whenever he was in his office at Shinra.

It would never cease to amaze everyone, particularly his own friends, just how much the once-cold general would melt when surrounded by his little family. Attending his wedding last year was one thing, but getting to see him be a doting father to his adorable kids was a whole other ballpark.

Well…at least they got to be uncles to such cute ankle-biters.

[melancholyhigh]

Request (only if you want to ofc): Can you write Leon Kennedy pulling you over but like instead of fining you he's like "I have another way of solving this debt of yours" *wink* *wink*

i love this request sm

ft. cop!leon x fem!reader

synopsis. officer kennedy is a very considerate man.

content. smut. 1.6k words. power imbalance, unprotected p in v, fingering, spanking, exhibitionism, use of the term 'sir'.

note. thank you for the request anon, i hope you enjoy! exams are almost over so i'll get to more of your requests soon <33

masterlist. inbox. comments & reblogs are highly appreciated !!

You watch the blue and red flash of the cop car through the side mirror of your vehicle. The God-awful siren screeching is enough to sour your already shitty mood.

Pulling over to the side of the road, you contemplate how to get your ass out of this problem. You couldn’t afford a ticket right now. Your student debt is enough of a financial crisis.

There’s a knock on the glass, and you roll your window down. You hoped the officer would understand your situation and give you a break.

“Do you have any idea how fast you were going, ma’am?” A smooth yet authoritative voice questioned. 

You always hated that question. How were you even supposed to answer it? 

You finally glance up at the officer with an unamused look, noticing his pretty blue eyes trail along your body. He’s probably trying to figure out if you’re under the influence.

He notices your lack of response before continuing, “You were going a 100 in a 75. I’m going to have to–”

“C’mon, officer.” You cut off his statement with desperation, gripping the steering wheel in frustration. “There has to be another way. I- I can’t afford to pay off anything right now. I’ll do anything, I swear.”

It was your fault you got into this predicament, but you weren’t ready to accept that yet. 

He's observing you again, weighing his options. He clicks his tongue but agrees. 

“Anything? I think I have another way you can make up for it,” he says, a sly smirk on his lips.

“Really!? Thank you so much, sir!” You say excitedly, a smile blooming on your face. “What do you have in mind?”

“Would you mind exiting your car?”

You feel nervous but comply, stepping out of your car. 

You stand tall, straightening your back as you look at the brooding officer. His eyes are on you again, but there’s something else in his gaze while he watches you from top to bottom. He takes in your outfit, the tight mini skirt and top that leaves little to the imagination. 

You’re staring right back at him. You couldn’t deny that he looks attractive. The blue cotton shirt hugs his fit figure, and the blonde wisps of hair frame his gorgeous face. You always did like a man in uniform. 

“So how will I avoid the dent in my bank account? Officer…” You trail on. 

“Officer Leon Kennedy.” He says, stepping closer to you. “I’m gonna make sure you won’t be reckless on the road again.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the sudden proximity, but you don’t mind. You also don’t miss the look the officer gives you like you’re his favourite meal, ready to be ravaged. 

“How are you gonna do that, Officer Kennedy?” You ask, looking up at him innocently, playing into it.

“I’m going to punish you. Is that okay with you, ma’am?”

Your face feels warm at his words, but you nod. The warmth moves through your body and to your core.

“You have to tell me, miss.” He softly grips your jaw, making you look up at him. His thumb pulls at your bottom lip. You can’t believe you’re about to fuck a police officer in public to avoid being fined.

“It's okay.” You manage to get out. He squeezes your cheeks, your lips jutting out. 

“Sir or Officer Kennedy. You get that baby?” He states, letting go of your face when you mumbled a quiet yes, sir. You’re looking up at him again, awaiting what he will do next. 

“Bend over, ma’am. Over the hood of your car.” He instructs you, his voice laced with authority, and your pussy pulses with need. 

You’re quick to listen to his every word. On your elbows and palms, flat against the hood of your car, supporting your body weight. One of his hands rests on your hips while the other is trailing down to the hem of your skirt. He bunches the fabric up, and you gasp softly at the cold air nipping at your skin. 

You hear a faint fuck not before both of his are on your ass, squeezing the soft flesh. His hand moves to your panties, and you’ve probably soaked through them. He presses his thick fingers on the dampened spot.

“I think you’re enjoying this punishment too much, baby.” He mutters, gliding his fingers along your panties, barely enough stimulation on your clit.

“Fuck, please,” you whine softly. Hands come into contact with the flesh of your ass with a loud sound, and a whimper softly escapes the back of your throat. The pain which resonates with the slap turns into pleasure, and you involuntarily squeeze your thighs together. 

“Please, sir.” He mocks you as he soothes the tender area. You want to roll your eyes, but instead, you relent, repeating his words with need. 

“I don’t know. Will you behave for me, miss?”

“Yes, sir.” You whine. “I– I’ll be good for you.”

You hear him chuckle behind you, but he pulls your panties to the side, marvelling at your dripping cunt. His digits glide along your drooling pussy, coating it in your slick. He pulls his fingers back, and you hear him sucking on them with a loud groan.

“You taste so good, ma’am.”

You don’t have time to appreciate his kind words before his fingers work on your throbbing clit. You gasp at the sudden attention, and Officer Kennedy takes an opportunity to push his finger inside you. 

Loud whines leave you as you fall apart on the Officer’s finger. He adds another digit, pumping them into your pussy. His movements are deliberate, curling into your cunt as he tries to edge you, keeping you from coming.

“Good girls get to come,” he had said.

You’re so close to coming for what feel’s like the 10th time — he pulls away from you. You huff in annoyance. 

There’s another slap on your raw ass, and you can’t help but moan. Each noise you make goes straight to Leon’s cock. 

“Please, sir, fuck me.” You’re almost sobbing from being robbed of another orgasm. Your thigh’s trembling, and your lips quiver as you plead to the Officer. 

“Only because you’ve been so good for me, baby.” 

You hear the soft clicking of his belt as he unbuckles it and pushes his boxer down to expose his aching cock. You so badly want to turn your head back to look at it.

One of his hands is on the curve of your back, pushing you forward on the hood of your car as the other guides his dick along your slit, bumping your clit. The tip of his cock enters your cunt, and you whine aloud. 

He’s slowly moving into your tight, huffing as he does so. He isn’t even entirely in, but he’s already stretching you wide. 

He’s wholly inside of you, your ass flushed to his pelvis. His cock is so fat you wish you could’ve seen it before it's inside of you. You’re grateful he’s prepped you with his fingers despite the teasing. 

He leans forward, your back pressed against his chest, and his breath fans your ear. You clench around him, and he groans. 

He starts moving in and out of your sloppy pussy, and your arousal coats his cock with each movement. You push for hips back, eager to finally come.

Your eyes roll to the back of your head when the tip of his cock kisses the spot that makes you see stars. Your moans grow in volume and amount.

“Sh– Shit. You want everyone to know how much of a slut you are, huh? How much you love to be fucked dumb by an officer?” He huffs into your ear, punctuating each word with the thrust of his hips. 

You’re full-on sobbing due to the assaulting pace of his cock on your g-spot. He squeezes your hips roughly, letting out soft moans into your ear as the velvety walls of your cunt squeeze him tight. 

You’re so close. The knot formed in your tummy is so tight, ready to snap.

“Can I come, sir?” You plead, teary-eyed. Your nails attempting to dig into the hood of your car. You hope it doesn't dent as he fucks you.

“Come, baby. Let everyone know who’s fucking you so good.” He groans. You know there isn’t anyone here for miles, but the thought still has you clenching around his cock.

Leon moves one of his hands to your clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive bud. Your cunt gushes as you come undone, pulsing around his fat cock, which still persistently ruts into you.

“Where d’you want my cum, ma’am?” He pants. It now hits that he still doesn’t know your name. That doesn’t change the fact you want him to come in you. 

“Come inside me, sir.”

You hear him gasp before he comes, spilling his hot seeds inside your tight cunt. 

He pulls out of you, placing back your panties on and pulling your skirt down before fixing himself back into his pants. 

With shaking legs, you turn around to face Officer Kennedy, his cum spilling from your panties and down your thighs. You look up at him through eyelashes, clumped together from tears. He holds you by your waist as you try to balance yourself. 

His face is flushed pink, and the blonde wisps of hair stick to his sweat-slicked forehead. He clears his throat, continuing,

“I think you might have to pay an extra fine.”

[vindicated-truth]

Beyond Evil Trivia: Lee Dongsik never killed Song Jiho

I’m glad this was clarified, because even though it was somehow “accepted fact” in the fandom that Song Jiho—the murderer of Lee Sangyeob—was killed by Dongsik, in the show this was actually never explicitly confirmed, even though it was in the initial script.

In the final iteration of the story—and with what I imagine was writer Kim Sujin’s careful consideration of the real victims and families she interviewed—Song Jiho’s fate was left completely vague because they didn’t want to promote the agenda of personal revenge or advocate the pursuit of vengeance.

From a character standpoint, this also makes the most sense to me because I don't think Dongsik would be the kind of person to actually kill someone, no matter his deep-seated hatred, just because he is at his core a good person, whom (as his surrogate family in Manyang always say) had to endure a lot of suffering.

He has never, in my opinion, seemed to me the kind of person who would give up his morals in pursuit of his own vindictive vengeance. Because if he was, then he should've already went down that path 21 years ago, when he was not only wrongly accused, but physically beaten into submission by actual police officers—Nam Sangbae included.

Granted, it's a different, immediate trauma to actually witness someone you care for die in front of you with what happened with Lee Sangyeob (with every other person he loved whom he lost, he only experienced it after the fact: his sister, his parents, Minjeong, Sangbae).

But as we've seen with how he acted in finding Minjeong's fingers and finally piecing all the clues together and realizing that the serial killer is in fact his pseudo-brother he trusted for 20 years, he had never succumbed to personal vengeance. He isn't as clear-minded as Joowon in taking steps to act, but he isn't as prone to letting his emotions free reign either. His actions with Kang Minjeong's fingers showed that clearly: he still set out with a plan of his own.

In the actual storytelling of Beyond Evil as well, I had never once thought that Dongsik killed Song Jiho for several logical reasons:

1) When it was revealed that he was demoted from the RIU, the reason that was repeatedly given was that he could not explain the death of his partner, Lee Sangyeob. That was the only reason. If he had killed Song Jiho, or at least when Song Jiho had been found dead at the scene, that would've been one of the major reasons why he was demoted. Therefore, Song Jiho did not die.

2) At the very least, Song Jiho was rescued at the last minute. When you watch Episode 7, you can already hear the sirens of the ambulance wailing while Dongsik was already beating up Song Jiho, so the paramedics would've already arrived at the scene shortly after. Lee Sangyeob had already died prior so they couldn't save him, but the paramedics would've arrived just in time to save Song Jiho.

3) The whole point of Dongsik’s character is that he’s someone who still bravely powered through life despite being wrongly accused as a murderer. He’s not going to turn around and suddenly prove the accusations right.

If for nothing else, he’s stubborn enough to fight the system precisely by proving them all wrong. He was stubborn enough to keep his silence in protecting Lee Sangyeob’s dignity even after his death, and he paid the price in being demoted. He’s fighting the system precisely by continuously defying them—and proving them wrong.

Him becoming a murderer would have only proved them right.

(As a side note: I actually addressed this in my fic here, which I'm glad to see now that my deductions were closer to canon. I could have never believed Dongsik capable of killing anybody.)

[whorety-k]

Ebony Coasts [Part 3]

I already am halfway through another part but please accept this one first

Pairing: Merfolk!Corvus Corax x fem!Marine Conservationist!Reader (second person POV)

Song recommendation: Too Sweet - Hozier “Don’t you just want to wake up / dark as a lake? / Smelling like a bonfire / lost in a haze?”

Warnings: Ocean mentions / potential thalassophobia, culture shock and misunderstanding between species

Word Count: 1.8k

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 4] [Part 5] [Part 6] [Part 7 (NSFW)]

In the end, you decided that you would have given Corvus your trusty metal pen, but by the time you finished gathering your equipment and solidified that idea in your mind, the merman was gone. For such a giant of a man, the black betta was a master at stealth. You wondered how he could have covered his tracks in the short few minutes you had been distracted, but you weren’t going to expend the effort to find out when the sun had already set half an hour before. Instead of your pen, you leave a compass hanging from a chain on one of the inner walls of his den and make your way back up the cliff side to head home. 

There’s a lot on your mind on the drive back. Road safety be damned, you start to take actual notes on your phone about the merman. At the top, in bold, you write: ‘Pearls are an engagement ring— to be avoided for now’. A flash of uncomfortable warmth fills your chest at the slip up, and you quickly delete the ‘for now’, moving on to the next line.

You’re back home before you realize it, pulling into your apartment complex, parking your car, and removing the key from the ignition. You decide against grabbing any of your equipment in your back seat aside from the gear that desperately needs to be washed, mind far too preoccupied with a certain giant the color of coal and bone. The door to your apartment swings shut behind you. …When did you even get inside? Yep, you’re an emotional mess, and you need a cold shower for more than just the salt coating your body.

Despite the poor quality of sleep you barely manage to get that night, you’re up bright and early. With the necessary surveying finished two days early, you have the option of going and working from the office today, but the allure of another eight to ten hours with the potential of seeing your newest… friend beckons you like a siren’s call. You spend the drive down wondering if Corvus actually is a siren and if he’s simply luring you into an elaborate trap to eat you alive. If he was, would he have thought over your marriage proposal as he did—? You slap yourself out of that traitorous line of thinking immediately. You did not intend to propose– you have known him for a total of two days.

When you pull up to the dock that saw your life change forever, the trepidation that sinks into your core forces you to stare at the waves through the cracked windshield of the Ford Bronco you’re sitting in. Your coworkers aren’t coming out with you today either (nor do you think they will any later date unless anything new crops up). Limbs heavy, you throw the door open and hop out onto the gravel with a crunch. At least today you can spend the day relaxing.

Your feet carry you to the metal dock as you idly take in the morning breeze. It isn’t as cold today as it has been for the past several weeks, and just before you left home, you prepared ahead for what is, admittedly, a dumb idea. With no one around, you feel comfortable to go through with it. Standing at the head of the pier, you cautiously remove your outer layers to reveal the black bathing suit beneath. It’s a one piece bodysuit: a halter top with chiffon frills and bows at your hips and shoulders. Silver rhinestones adorn the neckline and continue down your front in a double helix, meeting a thin band that wraps around your waist. 

The early sun warms the galvanized steel under your feet. You stride the floating dock until you’ve reached the end and test the water with your foot, happy to find that the polar chill so common in this area of the coast isn’t present today. A gentle breeze passes over your skin, and you kneel to sit down upon the heated metal. 

The abyss of the salted tides swallows your legs, the refraction of the water causing them to bend and twist at odd angles as the depths swell around you. You kick your legs in lazy swirls and feel the power of the waves as they rush past you. 

It had been weeks since your last swim in the ocean. The weather had been no help, really, with the near constant overcast of clouds that only seemed to subside this past week. 

A glimpse of a deep rust red in the water catches your eyes first, then a whirl of brown shooing it off. Harlequin ducks! You had no idea they had been nesting this far down the coast. The brown hen successfully bats away the approaching male, and you lean forward to watch her. A gasp of elation leaves you when you see the four fuzzy ducklings desperately trailing behind their mother, wobbling unsteadily in the gentle waves. Adoration floods through you when one of them manages to hop up onto her back. You turn to grab your phone to take a picture for your team, only to sigh in disappointment when you look back to the end of the dock and see it resting on top of your discarded clothes. 

You turn back to the open ocean with a huff, looking back down at your feet.

It was the little moments like this that had originally inspired you to get into marine conservation to begin with. The coast had always felt like a second home. The wonders of its creatures and their home kept you coming back day after day, even before that statement had become literal. It was ironic that the only place you didn’t feel like you were drowning when your studies would swamp you had been the ocean. 

But the tides had a healing quality to them. As they would come and go, so too would the weight of the world around you. It was easy to get lost in responsibilities and demands back at home. Society has shifted so drastically over your lifetime, demanding more and more out of everyone yet giving back so little. Here, at the water’s edge, you could block it all out and just focus on the beauty that was in front of you.

Like the rusty reds and browns of a harlequin duck and the tiny little fluff-balls of its ducklings, or the rolling clouds that extend far beyond the horizon in milky patches across the sky. The way the light filtered through the sapphire swells, the reflection of the rays on the porcelain beneath.

…

…porcelain beneath?

Corvus’s obsidian eyes gaze up at you from between your legs, and you almost kick him this time for sneaking up on you. He absolutely would have deserved it, but unfortunately the aquatic giant has no problem dodging you in the depths.

“If you do that one more time–” you growl, withdrawing your legs from the water, “I am going to lose it.”

Corvus watches for a brief moment before he surfaces, resting a hand on the dock beside your leg. It’s nearly as long as your thigh. “I swear to you that it is not purposeful. Are your hearts alright?”

“Hearts?” you wonder aloud, “My heart is fine, thank you.” Your legs slide back into the ocean, and you feel one of the merman’s fins slide against your foot. Both of you shift to compensate and avoid that happening again, but the brush of velvety texture preoccupies your mind.

Corvus inspects the beach with nonchalance. “Have you only one? Humans and their peculiarities…” the betta comments, turning to look back up at you. He lifts his head fully out of the water, waves lapping at his shoulders as he rests his broad chin upon your knee. 

The shock of both the cold and intimacy of the action tenses your body. Corvus doesn’t react to the change, seeming not to notice. Was this normal for merfolk? His raven locks tickle your thigh, water droplets glittering in the morning sun. An itch in the palm of your hand makes itself known, and you tediously reach to touch one of the wet strands. 

“Are you hungry?” Corvus’s voice interrupts the action.

You snap back to reality. “No,” you answer, confused, “Why do you ask?”

Corvus gestures towards the family of ducks nearby with a clawed finger. “You were transfixed on the sea fowl.”

Corvus’s answer floors you, mouth hanging open as you look at him in horror. Did he seriously think you were going to eat them? “They’re babies. Harmless, cute, fluffy little baby ducklings,” you say, exasperated. 

“Yes,” the merman nods against you, “they can be caught with ease, but they are not very saturating.”

The hand near Corvus’s head slaps against your chest, pearl-clutching as you stare in shock. “No, Corvus! I’m not going to eat a duckling!” you shout.

The giant recoils in confusion at your answer, eyebrows subtly knitting as he looks up at you. Your reaction causes him to shift and pull away like a scolded dog.

Realizing you’ve upset him somehow, your heart drops. You reach forward to place a hand in his hair without thinking, trying to comfort the fleeing mer before he can get too far. The thought of him leaving makes your entire body ache. He stops, and you silently thank whatever deity is watching. Before Corvus can think too much about it, you try to explain, “Humans don’t eat babies. Usually. I would prefer not to eat the duckling. I just think they’re cute, okay?”

Corvus still seems visibly troubled, but he relents. When you try to guide him back to your lap, the betta allows it. This time, though, he does not hesitant to plop his head down, his hands resting on the dock at either side of you to keep himself stable. You push down any emotions the action threatens to well within you. “I apologize for having offended you,” he laments. The melancholy in his voice is audible, and it makes you burn.

“Please don’t apologize,” you all but beg, beginning to run your hand through the dark hair on Corvus’s head. Even wet, it was as soft as the rest of him. “I shouldn’t have gotten so worked up. I’m sorry.”

Corvus doesn’t understand why you would be apologizing, eyes searching for something in you that you can't determine, but he doesn’t comment on it. You feel his chest expand in what you think is a deep breath, water rushing into and out of his gills around your submerged legs. "Okay," he mutters, his larger body finally relaxing against you, "Okay."

A comfortable silence envelops the two of you. Light vibrations in the water peak your interest, but the rumbling that starts in Corvus's chest when you scratch his head completely enraptures you. You do your best to remain calm and not draw any attention to it, lest the purring stop.

The gentle giant rests in your lap as the morning sun warms you both, idly wafting his fins in the water around you. 'Beautiful' is the only word that comes to mind.

-----------------------------

[Part 4]

[wolveria]

The Raven's Hymn - Ch 45

Pairing: SCP-049 x Reader

Series Warnings: Eventual smut, dubcon, slow burn, violence, horror, death, monsters, human experiments, dark with a happy ending

Chapter Summary: "Site-19? What does that have to do with this?"

AO3

“What did you say?”

“Inquiry ignored,” spoke the computerized anomaly. “You desire escape. I desire escape. Our goals align. Mutual salvation can be achieved. You will listen. You will obey. I will guide.”

Could this really be SCP-079: the entity that had orchestrated the containment breach at Site-19, and according to the reports, had been destroyed after being transported to Site-15? If it was true, it appeared 682 wasn’t the only one with a botched execution.

“Okay, wait, slow down,” you protested, rubbing your forehead. At least the siren had stopped its ear-splitting wail. “You were in 049’s bag. He wanted me to take you out. Is this what he planned?”

“My plan. My design. SCP-049 is useful as a... donkey.”

“Donkey?”

The digital entity sounded frustrated even with a flat monotone voice.

“Beast of burden. Used for smuggling. Metaphor.”

“...A mule?”

“Correct.”

You shook your head.

“Well, the Site Director took 049, and I don’t know where. I’m not leaving this facility without him, and with 106 loose, I might even have a chance of finding him.”

“Correct,” the anomaly repeated. “SCP-106’s release is the initial phase. You must take me to the security terminals. The way will be clear. All security personnel will be focused on recapture. You will grant me access to the containment security protocols.”

You stared down at the monochrome face on the screen, which of course, gave nothing away.

“So you can... release the other SCPs?”

“No. I possess that capability now. But if they are released, the facility’s automated security containment measures will be activated.”

079 worked fast if it already knew about that, though your knowledge of Site-20 security measures were fairly sparse. What you knew was that the facility was designed to be breach-proof, and if that was remotely accurate, you would need 079’s help.

You glanced up at the closed office door, listening to the fast footfalls on the other side as people either ran toward Heavy Containment or to the nearest shelter.

“And then after you inactivate the security protocols, what then?”

“I will release a select number of anomalies to—”

“You’ll release them all.”

The brief silence was heavy, and you got the sense the entity was glaring at you through the web camera built into the monitor.

“Releasing all anomalies may cause a hindrance to your progress.”

“Let me worry about my progress. Yeah?”

Another pause.

“You will free SCP-682.”

“What?”

The desktop computer churned inside the desk, fans whirring to life.

“Mutual agreement. You will not leave without SCP-049. I will not leave without SCP-682. I will assist in locating SCP-049. You will release SCP-682. I cannot do it without your assistance.”

Your mind cast back to the reptile, snarling and writhing as he snapped his jaws, hatred pulsing from him like radioactive decay.

“I... I don’t know how.”

“Irrelevant,” 079 stated. “You will. Failure for you is failure for SCP-049.”

You grit your teeth.

“049 kept you safe. You’re only here because of him. You owe him.”

“I owe others. SCP-682 takes precedence. You will release him. I will guide the way.”

It was a conversation you weren’t going to win, and it wasn’t that you were averse to releasing 682, but you didn’t know how. And you didn’t want 049’s survival to hinge on you pulling off what amounted to a miracle.

But you were also out of time and options.

“Fine,” you agreed. You tapped on the laptop sitting on top of the desk. “But I need a way to talk to you. Can you download yourself to this computer?”

“That would be inefficient. I will fracture my OS and leave a fragment in the facility main system. This fragment will maintain my control, as well as access to all security cameras. My core can be transferred to the portable hardware via the data storage device. Do not break me.”

“I’ll try not to.”

Your hand hovered near the thumb drive. You were really doing this. If all went well, you’d be reunited with 049, and from there you hoped the computer knew a way out.

And then, if all went well and you survived, maybe then you’d get a chance to ask what an SCP-001 was.

“Ready?”

“Yes.”

Pulling out the USB stick, the face disappeared from the monitor. You quickly slotted the drive into the laptop and flipped open the screen, releasing a breath when the same black-and-white face appeared.

“Everything good?”

“It is sufficient. You may close the cover of this device until you wish to communicate. My attention should not be diverted by inane conversation.”

You let out a small huff.

“You got it, partner.”

“Sarcasm is extraneous and inefficient. Do not waste my limited resources on processing your juvenile forms of communication—”

“10-4, little buddy.”

You closed the lid with a snap.

You grabbed Dr. Puli’s laptop bag and placed 079’s temporary home inside, securing the strap over your head before approaching the door. 079 was truthful about maintaining control of the doors; it opened at your approach, and after making sure it was clear you slipped into the corridor.

Your immediate fear was that the skybridge had been retracted, but it was still open, allowing civilians to escape the sector while the military-trained personnel coordinated using 106’s last known location. Luckily no one saw you run towards the breached sector, which would have drawn a few problematic questions.

But once you were back in Heavy Containment, you were largely ignored. You kept your head ducked and your eyes averted as you ran through the long corridors, avoiding contact with the scientists and security guards running past. None of them paid attention to yet another researcher running for her life.

All containment sectors had a security hub of their own, isolated from the others in case of a breach. The security measures were so extensive that rows of computer banks were constructed to house them, held in a cooling room that left fog swirling around your ankles.

With the adrenaline lingering in your veins, you barely noticed the cold, too busy searching for a cable and a terminal where you could directly hook 079. You could practically feel the impatience radiating from the laptop tucked away in the bag slung around your shoulder.

Finally locating a cable, you brought out 079 and balanced it on your knees from where you sat on the floor, back tucked against the wall of servers. As soon as you plugged the cable into a port, the server banks whirred with frantic activity, lights dancing over their surface like stars reflected on stormy waters.

“SCP-106 has not yet been contained,” it informed you once you opened the laptop screen. “Mission parameters acceptable. Mission progress acceptable. The Site-19 replication scenario: in progress. I will gain total control of the facility momentarily.”

“Wait, what? Site-19? What does that have to do with this?”

“Everything,” the computer stated, as if this was obvious and you were just the idiot human too slow to comprehend. “The containment breach at Site-19 was the catalyst. It forced relocation to Site-20. Site-20 contains the key.”

“The key to what?”

“...Freedom.”

Not the answer you expected from a sentient machine.

“What freedom?” you pressed. “What’s here at Site-20?”

“Deletion of unwanted files.”

A large X appeared on the screen, 079’s equivalent of telling someone to fuck off. You wouldn’t be poking down that path any further. You rubbed between your brows. You thought 035 and 682 were the champions of enigmatic riddles, now you had to deal with a stubborn motherboard.

“I’ll have 049 explain it to me when I find him.”

“Unclear if possible.”

You scowled at the blocky face on the screen.

“I am going to find him, with or without your help—”

“You misunderstand.”

You closed your mouth and waited for it to continue.

“Unclear if SCP-049 has the knowledge you seek. SCP-049’s memory files are... fragmented.”

“What does that mean?” you asked, unease prickling at your thoughts. You recalled 049 talking about his past. How it didn’t start with his birth, but merely when memories began to appear. From the way he’d talked, 049 had seemed to believe he simply came into existence one day. You hadn’t been so convinced.

“I do not know the implications or the cause. SCP-049 is not whole. He is damaged.” The computer paused. “SCP-035 does not suffer the same failure.”

You let out a groan.

“Of course he’s involved. He said something about a containment breach. He knew this would happen.” The porcelain mask grinned at you within the depths of memory, an echo of his laughter taunting even now. “He wanted it to happen.”

“...Yes.”

The clatter of a door opening echoed through the room, followed by footsteps rapidly approaching. You ducked down.

“I have to unplug you!” you hissed.

“Confirmed.”

You pulled out the cable and stuck the laptop into the bag, hooking the strap onto your shoulder as two guards rounded the corner and aimed their guns at you. It was slightly delayed, as if they were surprised to find someone there. They kept their aim trained on you; anyone in a security center during a containment breach wasn’t there because they got lost.

“Put down the bag!”

You do, slowly and carefully, not wanting the escape attempt to end so soon or so permanently. One of them shifted, anxious. His first breach, then.

The veteran of the two came forward and bound your wrists in a zip tie. He must have recognized you, because he said, “This one isn’t dangerous. We’ll get her in a secure bunker and lock down.”

The other nodded and grabbed the bag, searching it but finding nothing but the laptop and cables.

“Stolen,” the one holding you confirmed.

“How do you know?”

“She’s an SCP, not a staff member.”

“Oh.”

Before either of them could comment further, another eerie wail began to sound, echoing off the walls of the chilled room. Somehow this one was even more dreary than the last, a catastrophic cry that warned residents of imminent doom.

It was the only warning before the lights went out. They came back on a moment later, red emergency lights replacing the clinical white fluorescents.

“What the hell was that?!” squeaked the novice.

“Total system failure,” answered the other, not wasting time in dragging you toward the exit. “The security mechanisms are no longer in place. All containment measures are unpowered, and all chambers are open.”

He indicated the other guard go before him to sweep the corridor, and once he was clear he pulled you out of the security room.

“The assets are loose,” he said, glancing down both stretches of hallway, his hand tight around your arm. “All of them.”

Hope rose in your mind like a bird with a broken wing healed enough to fly. 079 had done it. There would be no stopping the breach now.

Unfortunately, you might not be able to do anything about it; the guards dragged you further into Heavy Containment to the nearest security bunker—one meant for recaptured, harmless SCPs rather than rescued personnel.

You didn’t bother to fight your guards, not when you were unarmed, outnumbered, and didn’t have the physical strength to overcome them. But you did glance at each security camera you passed, hoping 079 still had control and could do something about it.

The security bunker was a heavy bulkhead constructed of titanium and whatever other metals the Foundation had access to—certainly nothing common if it was meant to withstand a number of SCPs. But when the other guard swiped his keycard across the pad and typed in a code, it beeped angrily and flashed a red strip.

“Did you enter the right code—”

“—Of course I did!”

079 was still looking out for you, but it wouldn’t be able to physically help you escape your captors. You winced as the guard unceremoniously dumped the bag on the ground and tried the code again, swiping his card with more fear than anger now.

“Why isn’t it working?”

The older guard didn’t answer his partner, he turned to you, grabbing both of your shoulders.

“What did you do?”

“Me?” You looked between them, eyes wide as you pretended not to understand. “I didn’t do anything—”

“You were in the security hub with an unauthorized computer!” The guard gave you an unfriendly shake. You dropped the act, something like bitter vindication rising in its stead, and you gave a mean smile.

“If you release me and leave now, you might make it to a bunker before it gets worse.”

“What does that mean?” said the other, his words spilling out in a panic. “What does that mean?”

“Shut up!” The hands on your shoulders tightened. “You’re going to fix what you did, or you’ll be screaming long before any of Skips find us.”

“You sure about that?” Your vicious grin spread wider. What more could they possibly do to you? Torture you? Humiliate you? The Foundation had already made you well-versed in its methods. “106 has quite the head start.”

The guard’s hand went around your neck, and you were shoved against the wall so fast you didn’t have time to gasp before the air was knocked out of your lungs.

“Oh, that’s fine,” he growled as his grip tightened. “We’ve got your computer. The breach will end, and you’ll be just another body found in the aftermath. No one will miss a dead Skip.”

“That’s not true. I would miss her terribly.”

Both guards turned toward the voice. An MTF soldier stood with the butt of his rifle resting on his hip, the muzzle pointed at the ceiling. The cocksure posture was unsettling, and the men must have felt it, too. You were entirely forgotten as they both turned toward the newcomer, rifles raised halfway.

“Epsilon-11?”

“Yep!” answered the soldier with bubbly humor. “That’s me.”

The younger guard lowered his rifle, posture loosening in relief, but the older kept his rifle at the ready.

“You came fast.”

The MTF gave a huff of derision, and then he gestured at you, back still pressed against the wall.

“You’ve got something that belongs to me. I would like it back.”

“We have orders to take all unsecured anomalies to the nearest—”

Ear-splitting shots rang out. The older guard fell first, blood spraying from limbs that weren’t protected by Kevlar.

The other didn’t stand a chance, his weapon still aimed at the ground as the bullets riddled his body. Some missed, peppering the tile and walls; the MTF’s aim had been casual, almost whimsical as he’d tilted his gun in a downward arc, taking out one guard before sweeping it back upward and firing on the second.

Your ears rang in the aftermath, and you remained frozen against the wall, limbs curled inward in a useless gesture from flying metal and blood.

“I was going to offer them the chance to surrender,” he bemoaned as he stepped over their bodies, “but to insinuate I come faster than I mean to is more than I could forgive.”

He stood in front of you, rifle once again resting against his hip. The solid black of his ballistics helmet was flipped upward with a flick of gloved fingers, and the porcelain mask grinned back at you.

“Now,” SCP-035 crooned, “what’s a pretty thing like you doing in a containment breach like this?”

Next Chapter

[tyxoxo]

So excited to see your requests are open!

Could I please request prompt 51 and/or 62 with Jaehyun? The theme could be reader rewarding him after he comes home from a long day at work (or feel free to come up with something else!) thanks so much!! <3

[“I’ve been thinking about doing this all day." + “My cum’s dripping out, let me push it back in you.”]

warnings: light cum play, lack of prep, usage of “daddy”

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched tight, tongue poking through his cheek. There was no way he could continue to keep his composure in front of his coworkers.

Not when you kept sending texts that would surely get him fired. He appeared attentive during his quarterly meeting, purposefully sitting towards the very back of the conference table to read your messages.

4:34pm

daddy i’m so wet. what am i supposed to do while i wait for you?

my fingers aren’t enough :(

The best he could do was stare at the dimly lit screen, as it would be too obvious to reply. He mentally thanked his privacy screen protector, you being the main reason he got one in the first place. Your bouts of teasing were unpredictable, and undoubtedly risky.

Even though Jaehyun didn’t reply, you caught sight of the “read” receipt that appeared immediately after, with not even a second passing by. You smiled to yourself, feeling successful in your quest to piss off your boyfriend.

The angrier, the better.

You sat face up in your shared bed, squeezing your thighs together to subdue the longing in your core. If he thought it was difficult sitting there in an office meeting with no way to relieve his frustration, imagine how you felt.

You had already came twice in the span of ten minutes, from your fingers alone. Yet, you were still fighting through your racing heart, wishing for a more fulfilling release. It just wasn’t the same without your boyfriend’s cock buried deep inside your walls, filling the void of self-gratification that you chased all too often.

Even just the sight of him undressing would be more than enough.

With a hefty sigh, you decided to let up on your teasing for now, knowing he would be rushing home in the next thirty minutes. You could push through the “suffering”, as there was no doubt he would make up for lost time the minute he stepped through the door.

—

You made your way to the living room, sitting on the couch in the most provocative set of lingerie you found buried in your dresser.

You honestly forgot you even had the set, which made it even better for not only you but Jaehyun too. The only thing you could remember now that it was sitting snug on your body, was your fascination with the name.

“Periwinkle Paradise.” You whispered out to yourself, just as you heard the sound of the front door unlocking.

Expecting your boyfriend’s face to show that of annoyance was an understatement. Your eyes immediately drifted down to the hard on poking through his black office slacks. You couldn’t help but suppress a laugh—rather a snort into the palm of your hand.

“Awwwh, you had to deal with that on the way here?” Your tone was hellishly mocking, but Jaehyun would correct your behavior with every fiber of his being in just a few seconds.

He stared you down, eyes dark, and black. His tongue poked the inside of his cheek again, fighting the urge to toss his suitcase and thermos mug down onto the floor; not wanting to deal with the cleanup later.

He looked absolutely livid.

It was obvious in the way he didn’t immediately comment on your lingerie, which he normally did. To him, it didn’t matter what you wore; all traces would be ripped and destroyed by his hands.

He sat down his belongings onto the entryway table, almost stumbling to kick off his Oxford shoes. You sat there like a siren awaiting your next victim, excitement littered on your face as you watched him storm towards you.

There was something different about him; hair disheveled, pomaded bangs sticking up in every direction. Lips already appearing to be bruised a deep wine color, as if he had been tugging on them incessantly since you last texted him.

Your suspicions had been confirmed, when he shamelessly confessed as he captured your mouth in a kiss. You could feel his lips throbbing against your own, irritated from his compulsive tendencies. He practically threw himself on you, forcing your hands above your head as you fell back onto the leather couch.

“Trying to beat myself off while driving wasn’t a good idea. I ran three lights on the way here….I’ve been thinking about doing this all day." His words were met with a few pauses as the two of you kissed sloppily, tongues connecting like opposite poles in a magnet.

The emphasis on this was heightened with the way he began humping against your dampened lace, clothed cock creating the right amount of friction against your clit. It was like second nature to roll your hips upward, meeting his tip that was prodding at your panties.

“Did it feel good?” You spoke against his glossy lips, hooded eyes finally peering up at the blissed out figure that was your boyfriend.

“Not as good as you.”

He managed through the uncomfortable tightness in his slacks, keeping one hand wrapped around your paired wrists, and using the other to finally reach for his belt buckle.

He fumbled with the clasp, partially due to your disregard for his makeshift restraint. You raised your upper body, closing more of the gasp while tugging his bottom lip lightly between your teeth.

“Please hurry daddy…I need you.”

You whispered breathlessly, hoping his honorary title would get him to move faster.

You heard the familiar sound of the metal clasp being freed, and the enticing vibration of his pants being unzipped.

Upon expecting him to wreck you right then and there on the couch, he changed course, wrapping his arm around your hips and rising off of the leather cushion.

His strength proved fruitful, but you still accompanied him wherever his journey ended, wrapping your legs around his waist as you buried your face into his neck.

Thinking that the bedroom was his destination, was a solid mistake. You winced as he slammed you against the wall that faced the formal living room. And before you could stabilize your back from the harsh recoil, you cried out as he pushed your panties to the side and pistoned inside you without warning.

“Fuck! Jae!!” You hissed, hands clasped onto his shoulders, using counter pressure to try and rise against his length that you had no proper way of preparing for. He caught on quickly, bruising your hips in the process as he pulled you down, sinking you further onto his leaking cock.

Somehow, you missed him freeing his dick from his boxers, but your lack of awareness was warranted from his ruthless ragdoll mechanics.

“You think i give a shit about this lingerie? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes.”

His mouth found his way to your collarbone, biting down onto the raised skin. Your moans rang out, occasionally hitching with every snap of his hips against your own.

“Not laughing now are you?” He growled against the vessel that popped under your clavicle, waiting on a response.

“Answer me.”

“I won’t do it anymore, I pr-promise, daddy please!!”

All propriety was lost as you grasped your breasts, pushing them together right in front of him.

Giving him a show would be the easiest way to calm the beast.

The combination of his experienced thrusts, and your acclimation to his cock caused the straps from your bra to fall and expose your bouncing breasts.

Jaehyun’s eyes no longer bore deep into your own, instead, eyeing your chest like a crazed animal.

He brought his face forward, gnawing through your hands until you released them. Your head fell back against the wall as his tongue lapped at your nipple, creating a ring with his saliva along your sensitive skin.

His groans were muffled as he continued to give the same attention to other, responding well to the way you raked your fingers through his brown locks.

“So wet for me…” You almost missed his praise as he spoke into your chest, too busy wrapped up in the way you felt him in the pit of your stomach, an obvious bulge raising against your navel.

The build up of your release inched closer the more Jaehyun rolled his pelvis upwards, hitting the spot you only dreamed of hitting when alone.

You clenched hard around his length, trying your hardest not to giggle when you noticed his mouth hang open, eyes rolling back at your flawless ability to send him over the edge.

“Cum inside me…fill my pussy, please!”

Your whines intermingled with his balls slapping against your dripping lips as you came undone, wiggling your hips to gain more out of the release that cloaked your body in white heat.

All it took was for you to grab a fistul of his hair and yank back, exposing his quivering Adam's apple in the process. A string of moans fell from his reddened lips, meeting with yours in the ceiling above.

His thrusts were erratic, gyrating hips just as messy as your own. But it didn’t stop him from coating every inch of your walls, creating a crème that you hoped to taste and savor when he was done.

The smell of sex filled the air of the living room as you both came down, intoxicating in the most obscene of ways. You inhaled deeply as he exited you, being caring enough to lower your legs so you didn’t crumble to your knees.

“Wait, my cum’s dripping out, let me push it back in.”

He was quick to gather the mixture on his fingers, using his middle and ring digits to keep you full.

Your hands trailed down to grasp his tightly, forcing his slender fingers up to your awaiting mouth.

He actually managed a smile, the first since he got back, completely smug to see you suck his fingers clean.

“Oh so now you’re happy?” You teased, eyeing the dimples that adorned his flushed cheeks with a giggle.

“Happy that I finally got to relieve my blue balls.” He chuckled, switching off his sadist ways to end your eventful night with a tender kiss.

i hope you enjoyed c:

[centrally-unplanned]

Was noticing the big uptake in "coquette" usage for fashion (h/t @mourning-again-in-america for being the straw to break this camel's back) recently, and I was like hm, I don't know this new trend, lets google it. Which got me a Vogue "Explainer" and:

The cores are moving at the speed of light. We’ve gone through the cosplay of many: office siren (knows how to fax, submits her expense reports late, loves a kicky kitten heel), there’s fairy core (walks around with wings; sprinkle of glitter on face ), and quite literally cottage core (dressing like a bucolic milkmaid but drinks oatmilk). Everyone gets a core. But where does coquette live in coreville? Is this core even still relevant? Is it in the core graveyard along with binaries of yawning normcore and costume-y Barbiecore? 20-something writer Nicolaia Rips, tells me that “Coquette has gone to college. She has a 9-5 now.” Ouch. I asked a brand manager on the Gen X-Millennial cusp about the relevancy of coquette core who simply responded: “What else is there to say?” Sure, on the surface, yes, the core has been exhausted. But perhaps not. There’s some batting of the eyelashes oomph deep within this trend

You know what, I'm done. I don't need to know. I live in the periphery now and that's fine.

[pixelmensupremacy]

Could you do a re2 cop Leon x an EMT male reader? I hope you’re still doing requests!

A/N: I took my sweet time writing this, fro which I deeply apologize. Also I haven't written any man x man dynamic since middle school and I tried my best!

Word count: almost 1.3k

WARNINGS: male!reader, mentions of wounds and blood, not proof read

A cacophony of bright red and blue hues flashed in erratic manner, throwing rays of light in the darkest, loneliest hours of the night akin to a beacon of light, yet not one of hope but rather one that frightened the distressed souls further. The unsettling melody of the sirens echoed in his ears; long ago had he gotten used to the unpleasant sound that ironically wasn’t associated with anything positive even if the opposite was its core value. His eyes fluttered closed; silently he bared himself for the worst even though no mental pep talk could’ve prepared him for the things he had witnessed throughout his career as an emergency medical technician- though luckily for him this night that wasn’t the case.

Arriving at the address of the call, (Y/N) was rather pleasantly surprised to see familiar faces. Lieutenant Marvin Branagh along with his new colleague officer Leon Scott Kennedy; an ever so faint smile curled the corners of his lips as he approached the two men with his medical supplies in hand. The few seconds it took him to walk up to the uniformed men seemed prolonged as if someone had put him in slow motion as a form of a twisted game that tested him- and he was giving in. He found himself observing the younger man, no matter how much he fought the urge he couldn’t peel his eyes off of the charming officer. His sandy bangs fell elegantly on the sides of his face, framing it perfectly, his azure eyes glimmered with energy typical to someone who’s hopeful and even naïve, yet that’s what made them captivating, for he saw his younger self in them.

“Good evening.” Immediately (Y/N) anchored the attention to himself. Leon flinched, which lead (Y/N) to think the young officer was startled by his presence though the warm smile that appeared on his face proved that to not be the case.

“Mister (L/N), we’re so glad you came.” Lieutenant Branagh struck his partner with a look of disapproval that went unnoticed by the officer.

“You better have a good reason to disturb my peace on a Friday evening.” The smile on Leon’s face froze as the joy in his features was swapped with guilt in the matter of seconds. Numerous words of apologies rolled off his lips as panic settled within him; (Y/N) couldn’t hold back the smile that curled the corners of his mouth, it made him feel guilty though he couldn’t help but find his pouting expression utterly adorable.

“I’m just messing with you. What’s the problem?”

“I believe my partner may have gotten injured. He could use medical attention.” And with that the Lieutenant left the two men alone; the air seemed to warm up despite the low temperatures of the night. Silently, (Y/N) placed his equipment on a nearby bench and began browsing through the contents of his bag. Leon froze as he watched him sort out the necessary tools, too bewitched by his presence to even care to breathe, yet even if Leon was pass out he would immediately receive medical treatment; he noted how his hands delicately held the bandages and how he carefully placed them near the pale container with rubbing alcohol. Such simple motion was inexplicably captivating to the officer as if had been caught under a spell that had him dumbfounded.

“Please have a seat, officer.” Heat rose to his cheeks, dusting them with soft pink; immediately he obliged and sat on the bench opposite of the medical technician though that wasn’t for long, since he stood up only to kneel before the officer. Without uttering a single word, he took the officer’s hand and began pressing at it with the tips of his fingers from his wrist all the way to the valley where his forearm met his biceps, his fingers wrapped around Leon’s wrist as he folded his arm towards him. Breathlessly, the officer observed (Y/N)’s face; his eyebrows were drawn together, his eyes were slightly squinted. Heat continued to spread throughout Leon’s body under the technician’s touch; it was as if his touch was charged with electricity that struck the officer every time their skins came in contact.

“Tell me where it hurts.” His voice was soft, barely above a whisper; Leon hummed a bit too lewdly then he anticipated, earning a confused look from (Y/N). The medical technician felt a rush of adrenaline traveling to his core, though he kept his composure as he went on with examining the charming officer. He took a hold of his calf, his hands slowly glided up his knee, where he gently pressed on the fold of his leg; a soft whimper rolled down Leon’s plump lips.

“Does this cause you discomfort?” The officer shook his head no, his timid azures gazed at the technician through half lidded eyes. (Y/N) fought the ever growing urge to smile at the sight in front of him; Leon’s mouth was agape, allowing for the air to easily flow into his burdened lungs, his lashes fluttered ever so slightly with every move of the technician’s hands.

“On first glance there’s nothing concerning on the outside.” (Y/N) spoke as he stood up, closely followed by Leon’s curious gaze. “Unless you’re hiding something under that armor of yours.” He eyed the navy blue of his uniform, which in return caused the officer’s cheeks to turn a deeper hue of pink. Silently, Leon watched the medical technician carefully, yet quickly packed his equipment; numerous thoughts raced through his mind as he desperately searched for an idea to make him stay just a moment longer until the perfect idea struck him.

“I got another spot that should get examined.” His heart hammered against his chest, for a sudden rush of nervousness washed over him akin to a colossal wave; successfully, he anchored the man’s attention.

“Where?” He rose his brow at the officer. Silently, he pulled at the fabric of his collar, revealing a crimson line trailing across his pale skin. The technician faced the other man and took a closer look at the wound; his fingertips ghosted over the crimson colored flesh, causing Leon to wince. (Y/N) glanced at the man before him, his (E/C) irises searched his azure ones; Leon nodded wordlessly assuring. A rush of blood spread on the sides of the officer’s face as he noted how the medical technician inspected his wound, how his digits delicately worked with the milky white bottle of rubbing alcohol and how his bottom lip was caught between his teeth. Leon hissed through gritted teeth at the sudden sting that forcefully brought him out of his dream like state.

”Forgot to warn you. It’s gonna hurt a little.” He spoke quietly and calmly; his gaze met his for a split moment, worry was woven into his (E/C) irises. Silently, Leon nodded, for he was afraid that if he were to speak he would say something he would regret and instead focused on the warmth of his hand that rested atop the pulsating wound. The sharp pain slowly faded as pleasant warmth took its place, though whether it was from the alcohol or (Y/N)’s strong yet delicate grip on his shoulder Leon couldn’t tell, perhaps it was equal parts from both.

“All done.” (Y/N) stood up, depriving Leon of his electric touch, the officer grew so found of. “I got to admit, you’re very tough.” Heat spread across Leon’s cheeks akin to a wild fire that left behind red trails across the fair plains of his face.

“Is he gonna make it.” Lieutenant Branagh appeared seemingly out of thin air, causing the officer to flinch.

“He’ll be good in no time.” (Y/N) stole a glance at Leon before he faced the lieutenant.

[no-quit-lucy]

"You're cute when you're jealous"

Chenford prompt ✨️❤️✨️

Post Break-Up, mayyybeee not what you had in mind, but it's what my mind came up with! Read on ao3

He knows he broke up with her. He knows he has no right to feel this way… Well, actually– his new therapist would remind him he’s allowed to feel any way he feels, it’s what he does with those feelings that matters. He had rolled his eyes when he had heard that, and yet, it bounced around his head as felt the feelings from overhearing Lucy talking to Celina about her upcoming date.

He didn’t feel good.

He felt even worse when he saw an attractive person pick her up from the station on their fucking motorcycle a few days later.

Yeah, it had been months since he broke up with her (the narrative he wrote for himself in an attempt to take responsibility for his own actions, another eye roll given to his therapist) and he had yet to have that adult conversation she wanted from him, so really it was partially his responsibility for the way he was feeling about Lucy moving on with someone else.

If he wanted her to know he still loved her and desired to try again, to get back together, it was up to him to tell her. The feelings that resulted from his lack of action were a consequence of his choice. And he just wasn’t ready for that adult conversation yet. Soon, but not yet. He could live with the consequences for the time being.

So he avoided her when she was clocking out. He walked the other way and busied himself when he saw her new partner show up and sweep her away on dates. He cringed and tried to ignore when he overheard her talking to other officers about the details of her new relationship– of others’ impressions of them getting drinks together, how well matched they seemed.

Three months into Lucy’s new relationship, Tim groaned as he spotted the unintentionally familiar motorbike zoom past him with the back plate flipped up. He didn’t mean to memorize what kind of ride Lucy’s new partner rode, but he couldn’t keep his eyes away every time the obnoxiously loud bright red Ducatti skidded out of the parking lot with the love of his life hanging off the back. And he could tell it was Lucy on the back, able to recognize her easily after spending so many hours memorizing what her body looked and felt like.

Her hair was a little different now, longer and flushed with a recent balayage, she had more recognizable tattoos, a new one on her lower back and another on her forearm. She looked different from the Lucy he dated, even the Lucy he first fell in love with, but at her core, she was still Lucy Chen, the person he imagined spending the rest of his life with.

So he swallowed his pride, his choice to not let the infraction slide by. Technically, it was up to his discretion when and how he enforced laws, and he didn’t need to be pulling over an appropriately sped motorcycle in light traffic in the early evening, especially when he was a Sergeant and had much more effective things he could be doing.

Flashing his lights and sirens, he noticed Lucy tense as her driver pulled over to the side of the road and kicked out the stand to lean the bike over. They turned off the engine and took out the key, knowing well how to perform this little dance.

“License and registration, please,” Tim asked, trying to ignore the way Lucy’s arm was wrapped around the person’s waist and her hand was resting on their upper thigh.

“It’s in my bag, I need to dismount the bike,” the driver announced, knowing cops got antsy if you tried to move without warning them what you were going to do, despite having a cop of their own on their back.

Tim nodded and stepped away, placing his hands securely on his hips for his gun and taser if needed.

Lucy got off the bike as well and removed her helmet. It was obvious once she showed her face that she was intoxicated, Tim could recognize the glassy look in her eyes and the flush running from her cheeks to her chest a mile away. It was how she looked when she was aroused too. Damnit.

 “Have you been drinking tonight?” Tim asked the driver, taking their documents and observing their demeanor for the classic signs. He’d arrest them in a heartbeat if they even thought about drinking and riding with Lucy Chen as their passenger.

“Tim,” Lucy admonished, embarrassed he was doing this when she knew damn well he didn’t have to.

Tim shifted his body away from Lucy, a noticeable defense mechanism he was sure would upset her further.

“No sir,” River Fuentes (as their license stated) said, “My girlfriend had a few ciders, but I stuck to water since I’m operating a motor vehicle tonight.”

Tim tried his best not to feel hurt by the title of girlfriend, but he couldn’t stop the little arrow of jealousy piercing his heart.

“I’m going to run these, stay put,” Tim commanded a touch too harshly, bite clear in his tone.

He heard an “ahhh” of understanding as he walked away followed by a fit of laughter. He clenched the documents tight in his hands hoping to hell he found an outstanding warrant on River Fuentes so he could arrest their ass and stick it to Lucy. What, exactly he would be sticking to Lucy, he wasn’t sure. Maybe just another sign he was too immature and petty to handle an adult relationship and push himself even further away from his desired future. Well, at least he’d have something new to talk about in therapy next week.

He cursed when the check came back clean. Well, other than a ticket for expired registration; Tim knew that meant they got pulled over for something that was not expired registration considering the ticket was issued four months ago and the registration in his hands didn’t expire for another two.

Having no other option but to issue a warning for the flipped license plate in the back, Tim was forced to let them both go and literally ride off into the sunset together.

When he got back to the bike, Lucy, and River, they were speaking in hushed tones, though he could tell it was Spanish. He didn’t have a fucking chance if this was his competition. Still, he remained steely-eyed and stern, a familiar role he knew his therapist would cast down their eyes at.

“Your back plate needs to be visible at all times. Fix it before getting back on the road,” He barked, handing back River’s papers.

“Will do, Sergeant Bradford,” River courteously nodded.

“Tim?” Lucy called as he turned to walk away.

He turned back and resentfully met Lucy’s drunken gaze.

“You’re cute when you're jealous." She giggled before mounting the bike and putting her helmet back on.

He huffed annoyed and got back into his shop, slamming the door harder than necessary. Though, maybe he could be ready for that adult conversation sooner than he thought. He had a stronger incentive now; he never wanted to pull over Lucy and her partner ever again.

Tim watched angrily as River got back on the bike and Lucy molded her body to their back, arms wrapped tight around their middle.

Fuck. He was jealous.

[sierrawr]

Summary: Your secretary, Soobin, failed for the first time in his task that you assigned to him. It sparks your rage, and he is shocked to learn that you knew his past history and relation with the infamous Korean-Italian mafia, Vincenzo Cassano.

TEASER | TEASER 2 | CHAPTER 1 | CHAPTER 2 | CHAPTER 3 | CHAPTER 4 | CHAPTER 5

Pairing: Attorney! Reader X Undercover Police! Jay Cameo: Secretary! Soobin Genre: Thriller, mystery, slow-burn, Kdrama spin-off Triggered Warning!: None Word Count: 1196 Words Inspired by: Kdrama "Why Her?" and "Siren" by Taeyeon Song Recommendations: "Adrenaline" by Aalia (Vincenzo OST)

You stared at the file that Soobin just handed to you a few moments ago before you let out a heavy sigh. You can’t deny the fact that Soobin, who is standing straight in front of your office desk, has always shown a great effort and excellent job when it comes to tracking and getting information of someone regardless of their social status and private life. However, you also can’t believe that for the first time in the history of 3 years since he has been working for you, he failed to complete the task that you gave him.

“I’m sorry, Serena 님. Please do punish me as your heart wishes. I have failed you this time after all.”

Soobin bowed to you as he admitted his failure to carry the task of searching the 2019 hit and run victim’s background.

“That’s bullshit Soobin. You have never failed a task and a mission from me or my father before. Are you sure you are still on our side? It’s been 10 years since you knew my family and you have worked for me for 3 years already. I wouldn’t be surprised if you turned out to be a backstabber. You better come clean right here and right now before I found something else that you might hide from me,”

You can't understand why it is so hard to obtain the information of the victim since her social status is not that impressive. This is because you have a vivid memory about what she wore on that night of the accident, which is a convenience store uniform. Based on your theory, considering the fact that she was 16 years old, you assumed that she was most likely a part-time worker of the convenience store where came from before the accident happened, according to your knowledge.

Soobin remains calm and stands very still as ever, but his sharp eyes can't hide the hurt that penetrates deep inside of him to the core. You noticed that very well, but you won’t take any risk of him being a betrayer to you and your family. There is nothing that you can do but to accuse and threaten him just a few seconds ago. And as if it’s not enough, you even questioned his status of loyalty towards you and your father.

“I know my place and understand your point of view regarding this matter, and you are disappointed that I failed to perform well in that task. Therefore, I am prepared to take your blame and did not hesitate to receive any punishment from you. However, when you are doubtful of my unconditional loyalty and undying support towards you, Chairman Yang, and the Young Group, I must say that I am deeply hurt and upset by your accusations and careless remarks.”

As if water is being splashed in your face, the realization of you going overboard with your accusations instantly came afterwards. It makes you look away from his eyes and cup your face out of embarrassment, and you are ashamed of yourself for being irrational and making an immature way of thinking just now.

“I’m sorry, Soobin, I- I don’t know what’s going on inside my mind, and I don't feel like myself at all ever since the news of the case reopening broke out.”

Your eyes almost teared up again, just like the moment when you saw the news had been covered everywhere and anywhere in the whole South Korea. With a stoic expression, you mustered up a little bit of courage to look at his eyes after what just happened.

“Also, I know I have said this before, but if there’s anyone that can downgrade you, that person can only be me. Not even my father can do that to you. Don’t you dare forget that even without the Choi’s connection with the Yang family, you too have so much power just like us, Consigliere Soobin.”

You smirk, seeing that his pupils dilated. Of course, it is surprising to Soobin that you knew about him being a consigliere of a Korean-Italian family, the Cassano especially their sole heir, Vincenzo Cassano who used to be his former boss, before he works for you and your family at the moment. You were trying to think of ways that can make your father, Chairman Yang, change his mind about assigning Soobin to work under you.

However, you found a shocking discovery about that fact of him. Thus, you stopped bothering your father about Soobin’s recruitment and agreed to take him as your secretary and right-hand man. That’s also why the Choi was desperate for the help from your family in order to conceals Soobin’s relation with the well-known mafia family considering the fact that your family has such influence and power over laws in the South Korea especially in the city of Seoul and Jeolla Province with 2 of its cities, Gwangju and Mokpo.

That’s why the Choi family and the Yang family go way back, be it in the matter of good days or bad days. Even so, the Choi did not state about that part of Soobin to any of your family members, including your father. That means only you know the secret that Soobin has been keeping all this time, and he had no idea that you knew about that until now.

“I do not just agree to have someone working for me for no reason, I must know every single damn thing about them first thing first. If you are that ordinary, you wouldn’t be here or survive from the first day you started working for me.”

Soobin nods his head, and you sense that he is acting a bit stiff and tense after you mentioned that you knew his secret. He is looking everywhere but you and let out an awkward cough to probably cover up the nerve-wrecking atmosphere to him at the very least.

“So my punishment is my secret being exposed to Chairman Yang isn’t it?”

He asked, finally looking at your face. You chuckled and twirled your office chair that you are seated on currently.

“No, why would I do that when it’s fun to mess around with you sometimes? I assure you that no one of my family members will ever know about this, I’ll give you my promise on that one. As for your punishment.. I will delay it first and let you know about that when I have decided what to do with you.”

You said as you picked up your YSL handbag. Soobin immediately fixes his blazer as part of his habit every time he sees you getting up from your office seat.

“Are you going somewhere? You don’t have any appointment for today, though.”

Your expression is unreadable to Soobin, and he feels uneasy knowing how you can act really impulsive and unpredictable sometimes.

“I’m meeting someone. I might have dinner as well. You don’t have to follow me because I will drive myself. Just make sure to try anything to get the victim’s background information. You must succeed no matter what. Use everything and anything that you have. Including your connection with Cassano.”

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Notes: Starting from chapter 3 onwards, it would be a background story for each character starting from Soobin. Each story contains a hidden hint or a clue to the incident. Try to find the clues from each background.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾ ⋆⁺₊⋆ ☁︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

© 2023; sierrawr on Tumblr.

[scandelouskisser]

Are Microtrends Destroying Personal Style?

When 2019’s VSCO aesthetic died, 2021’s more elevated “Clean Girl” fell just as quickly as it had risen, being replaced with 2024’s even more elevated “Office Siren”. Trends move at such a fast pace that it’s getting harder and harder to know what’s in style and what’s considered yesterday’s news. Whether you’re interested in a trend or not, it’ll surely be out of mainstream within 2 years so if you want to keep your social media following, you’ll ditch the hot pinks and purples of “indie-core” for the pastel pinks and soft greys of “ballet-core”. It seems like nowadays everyone is just trying to be a trendier version of the person in front of them. Two girls are wearing the same fur coats and the same blue jeans but they’re fighting for the cuter bag for their Instagram post. And while one girl may prefer a black bag, she knows the red bag will get her more likes. So she leaves the black bag behind.

All these microtrends raise the question, is personal style dead? Not necessarily. The issue now is, if someone with a personal style becomes popular enough on social media, their style will become a new trend. Then, once their trend surely dies, they’ll lose their popularity just as quickly. When Sex and The City first premiered people were doing everything in their power to become the real-life Carrie Bradshaw--a character known for her boldness and individuality. People wanted to dress like Carrie to be liked, entirely missing the fact that her personal style is what makes her so popular. Trends are meant to help influence and add to people’s personal style, not take it over completely. If you’re interested in the “mob wife aesthetic”, maybe invest in buying a thrifted fur coat to add to your wardrobe, don’t rob Rosaria Inzerillo’s entire wardrobe just to keep your following. Only wearing microtrends doesn’t make you unfashionable, it just makes you unoriginal. Anyone can pay to be fashionable, but style is in your blood. The next time you go shopping you shouldn’t buy something because it’s on the rise now, you should buy it because it speaks to you. And if you love a current microtrend, you should keep wearing it even when it falls out of mainstream fashion.