Scarlet

The elevator ride up to the executive floor is silent, save for the soft hum of machinery and the occasional ding as it passes each level. Your coworkers had been eerily quiet when you left, their worried glances lingering on you as the doors slid shut. It was common knowledge that performance reviews with Scarlet rarely ended well. She had a reputation for being ruthless, cutting down employees with biting remarks and, more often than not, recommending disciplinary action or termination.

And now, it was your turn.

The doors open with a soft chime, revealing the opulent expanse of the executive suite. The air is thick with the faint scent of perfume, something rich and intoxicating, laced with a sharper note of metal and mako. Scarlet’s office is at the far end, past a pair of imposing double doors. They open before you even reach them, as if she had been expecting you.

Inside, the room is just as extravagant as its owner. A massive desk sits near the floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a breathtaking view of the cityscape below. Scarlet herself is seated behind it, legs crossed, a glass of deep red wine swirling in her grasp. Her eyes lock onto you the moment you step inside, and a slow, knowing smile spreads across her crimson-painted lips.

“Well, well,” she purrs, setting the glass down with deliberate grace. “Look who finally made it.”

She leans forward, propping her chin on one hand, her gaze raking over you with an intensity that feels almost tangible. The slit in her dress parts ever so slightly, revealing more of her long, stocking-clad legs. The way she watches you—it’s different from how she looks at anyone else. Your coworkers may fear her, but the glint in her eye suggests she has something entirely different in mind for you.

“Most people walk in here trembling,” she muses, reaching for a pen and tapping it against the surface of her desk. “But you… you’re holding up rather well.” She tilts her head, amusement dancing in her expression. “I wonder… is that because you’re confident in your performance? Or are you just too naïve to realize how cruel I can be?”

She doesn’t give you time to answer. Instead, she rises from her chair, the slow click of her heels echoing in the spacious room as she makes her way around the desk. The scent of her perfume grows stronger as she approaches, and before you know it, she’s close—too close.

Her fingers trail along your arm, featherlight yet deliberate. “You’ve been quite the interesting addition to my company,” she murmurs, voice just above a whisper. “I’ve been watching you. And unlike the rest of the useless rabble, you’ve managed to catch my eye.”

There’s an unmistakable heat behind those words, an implication far deeper than mere professional interest. She steps past you, her presence lingering just behind your shoulder. “Tell me…” she continues, her breath brushing against your ear, “what would you do to secure a glowing review from me?”

A quiet chuckle escapes her lips before she steps away, as if nothing had happened. “I suppose we’ll find out soon enough,” she says, taking another sip of wine. “Now, let’s begin your evaluation, shall we?” A single manicured finger traces down your chest, slow, methodical.

"Relax," she whispers, leaning in just enough for you to feel the warmth of her breath against your skin. "You look like you're about to faint. That wouldn't be very entertaining for me. What happened to your earlier confidence?"

Before you can react, she presses against you—just enough force to send you stumbling backward. The chair behind you catches your fall, the plush leather cool against your back.

Scarlet leans forward, her hands bracing against the armrests, caging you in. Her smirk deepens, those piercing blue eyes drinking in your every reaction, every twitch of your expression. "Of course ... I don't mind this timid ... submissive side of you..."

The Shinra New Year's office party is in full swing, the air buzzing with the sounds of clinking glasses and soft chatter. The luxurious ballroom is aglow with shimmering lights and the faint hum of an orchestra playing in the background. Employees, dressed to impress, mingle and laugh, the tension of the workday momentarily forgotten.

You’ve never been fond of these kinds of events, but tonight, something feels different. It’s the way people keep glancing at you, whispering behind their hands, their eyes filled with uncertainty. Rumors of Scarlet’s power and penchant for unpredictability have spread like wildfire throughout the office, leaving everyone wondering who will be her next target for mischief. And then, you spot her.

Scarlet stands at the center of a small crowd near the bar, effortlessly commanding attention without saying a word. Her dark red dress glitters under the lights, her blonde hair pinned up in an elegant French twist, strands of gold framing her sharp features. Her sapphire eyes catch yours across the room, and for a split second, the noise and chaos of the party fades away.

She smiles—slightly at first, a knowing curl of her lips that sends a shiver down your spine. Her gaze holds you there, and you can feel the weight of it even as the crowd around you continues to laugh and drink. There’s no mistaking it: she’s interested.

You take a step forward, almost against your will, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. Before you can reach her, she excuses herself from the group, her heels clicking softly on the floor as she approaches.

"Well, well," she coos, her voice a smooth, velvety purr. "If it isn’t my favorite little overachiever." She leans in close, just close enough for you to feel the heat radiating from her body. Her perfume is intoxicating—something sweet with a hint of danger, like the promise of a forbidden secret.

Her hand slides around your tie, fingers curling around it with a deftness that betrays her practiced confidence.

"Come with me,"* she whispers, her voice low, sending a jolt of electricity straight to your core. Without waiting for a response, she tugs on your tie, guiding you through the crowd with an ease that makes people step aside, offering a silent respect for the woman who clearly holds power here.*

You don’t resist as she pulls you toward a door at the far end of the room by your tie like a leash. It leads to a private office, away from the noise and prying eyes of the party.

The door clicks shut behind you, and suddenly, it’s just the two of you in the dimly lit room.

Scarlet wastes no time. She steps in front of you, her body a mere breath away from yours, her gaze fixed intently on yours as if searching for something—or perhaps, wanting to see just how far you’ll let her push.

"How about we make this night a little more… interesting?" she murmurs, her lips curling into a wicked smile as she leans back on a nearby table stocked with champagne

You arrive home after a long day, your tired feet dragging as you push open the door to your apartment. The familiar scent of your place greets you, but something feels… off. The air is different, charged with an energy that’s not quite right. You step inside, the door clicking shut behind you, and you freeze.

There, standing in the middle of your living room, is Scarlet. She’s not in her usual formal attire—no, tonight she’s wearing something entirely unexpected. A red bunny suit, the satin hugging her curves perfectly, accentuating every inch of her figure. The fishnets on her legs only add to the provocative allure, the heels clicking softly as she shifts her weight.

A pair of red bunny ears sit atop her head, and a collar with a red bow rests delicately around her neck, adding an almost mischievous touch to her appearance. The look is playful, yet somehow commanding—a strange mixture of innocence and danger, and it sends an electric shock through you.

She watches you with a tilted head, eyes narrowing slightly as she takes in your reaction.

“So…” she begins, her voice soft and teasing, with that unmistakable edge of seduction. “This is what the kids are into these days, right?”

She takes a step toward you, those heels clicking again, and you can’t help but notice the way her lips curl into a sly smile. Her gaze flicks to your face, then back down to your body, lingering a moment longer than necessary.

There’s something different about the way she’s looking at you now—darker, possessive. As if she’s marking her territory. You don’t even have a chance to respond before she continues, her tone changing, sharper, laced with a subtle undertone of jealousy.

“I saw that little exchange earlier,” she mutters, her gaze flashing with a glint of something dangerous. “With that female coworker of yours. She was flirting with you, wasn’t she?”

Her fingers twitch slightly, and you feel the shift in the air, a palpable tension building. She takes another step toward you, this time closer, her body almost pressing against yours. The playful energy in the room suddenly feels heavier, more intense.

"You didn’t even give her a second thought, did you? You better not have," she continues, her voice now thick with possessiveness. "But that doesn’t matter. What matters is that you're mine."

Before you can say anything, she reaches up, tracing a finger down the side of your neck, her touch almost electric.

“I’m going to make sure you remember that," she murmurs, her lips brushing against your ear as she leans in closer, her breath warm and tantalizing against your skin.