summary: you've been dating seunghyun for a while, but tonight you finally get to meet t.o.p
word count: 1741
tags: SMUT; dirty talk, teasing, semi-public, unprotected p in v sex - part of the GD&TOP album challenge
ao3 link
You’ve seen him like this before: dressed to kill, lips soft from a kiss, one hand holding yours while the other reaches for his coffee. Sweet. Quiet. Maybe a little smug when he catches you admiring him, but never too bold about it. You know Seunghyun, your boyfriend. The man who murmurs your name like a prayer in the dark. The one who kisses your temple good morning, who buys you books instead of flowers, who tucks a note into your coat pocket when he leaves for rehearsal.
But tonight? You’re about to meet T.O.P
Already, you can feel it building—the change in the air, the buzz of the crowd, the low rumble of whatever music the boys picked for the transition beneath your heels as you stand in the roped-off VIP section, one row away from the stage.
The lights dip. A roar swells in the arena like a wave crashing down.
Then silence.
One spotlight. Centre stage. The sound of footsteps, slow and heavy, echo through the speakers… followed by the familiar drums of the last song on the GD&TOP album.
The crowd explodes.
And there he is.
Seunghyun steps into the light like he was born there. Tall, sharp, entirely untouchable. He’s wearing a tailored suit with a silk shirt beneath, sunglasses in place despite the darkness. One gloved hand clutches the mic, and the other tucks into his pocket like he’s not performing for tens of thousands of screaming people—like this is all routine. Like the stage is his home. He hasn’t even said a full line, and already you can feel the power in his voice, the danger in his grin, the way he stands like he knows every eye is on him and not a single one matters unless it’s yours.
“I breathe life into your ear drums. This is a message to seduce you.”
His voice hits low and rich, velvet dragged over steel. Smooth, deep, controlled. You’ve heard this song before. You’ve watched fancams. But you’ve never felt it like this—the rhythm moving through your body, the growl of his words making your skin heat from the inside out, the way he’s feeding on it. The attention. The sound. The power.
You don’t know where to look: his hands, the slow prowl of his walk, the slight tilt of his head as he raps like he barely has to try. Like the world was built for him to walk through in slow motion.
He glances your way once.
Then again.
Then he smirks.
Something shifts in his posture and he starts toward your side of the stage. He takes his time, his pace heavy, confident. The crowd around you is losing their minds, hands in the air, shouting lyrics. Yet, all you can hear is your heartbeat as he gets closer. Until he’s standing right at the edge of the stage, looming over your section with that look in his eyes—dark, amused, and entirely focused on you.
He crouches.
Your breath catches.
He grips the edge of the stage with one hand and leans down until he's right there; inches from your face, sunglasses still on, but you know he's looking straight through you.
“Just my rap alone makes her wild. Thump, thump, thump, her heart races.”
He raps the words directly to you. Every syllable carved from heat and intent. The crowd screams, but it’s all background noise now. He’s not doing this for the fans. He’s doing it for you. Your lips part before you can stop yourself. His smirk widens just slightly, like he’s rewarding you for reacting. Then—lower, voice husky and unfiltered, not into the microphone this time—he murmurs just for you.
“You look like you want to be fucked on this stage.”
Your knees almost buckle.
Then, as if nothing happened, he rises. Smooth. Effortless. The mic’s back up. The next line flows out like sin dressed in silk. He doesn’t look back, knowing exactly what he has just done to you and how he’s made you feel: your fingers curl tight around the VIP barrier, thighs pressed together, breath coming short. You’re burning, aching, completely undone while the show is only halfway over.
You suddenly understand why they call it a performance high. If this is the version of Seunghyun that takes the stage…
God help you for what he’ll be like when you’re alone.
The moment the lights go down, the crowd still roaring behind him, Seunghyun strides offstage like a man possessed. Staff rush up with towels and water bottles. Someone tries to hand him his robe. He ignores them all. He’s walking with purpose. Eyes sharp. Shoulders squared. One glove still on, the other tugged loose and dropped to the floor without a second thought.
And then he sees you.
Brought backstage by his manager and now waiting just beyond the curtain, heart still pounding, lips still parted from what he did to you out there.
He doesn’t smile. Doesn’t say a word. He just walks straight up to you, towers over you, and drags his eyes down your body like he’s deciding where to bite first.
“That look on your face,” he murmurs, voice low, rough with leftover adrenaline. “You looked like you were about to come just from me talking.”
You open your mouth to say something but you never get the chance. He leans in, hand slipping around your waist with effortless control, lips brushing the shell of your ear.
“You think I didn’t notice?” He murmurs. “You think I didn’t see the way your thighs squeezed together when I dropped to my knees?”
You suck in a breath. He grins against your skin.
“So fucking needy,” he whispers.
There are people nearby: staff, security, a backup dancer still changing out of his outfit—but none of it seems to exist for him. The world narrows to you. To the scent of your perfume. The heat radiating off your skin. The memory of your flushed face under stage lights. He slides a hand down the curve of your hip, stopping just shy of indecent.
“Come with me,” he says. It’s not a question.
He grabs your hand and starts pulling you through the backstage corridors. His grip is firm, possessive, rings cold against your fingers. The staff part like water around him. A few stare. He doesn’t look at anyone but you.
When the two of you reach the garage, your ride’s already waiting. Sleek, black, windows tinted dark enough to keep secrets. The back door is opened without a word. He doesn’t let go of your hand as he helps you in. Doesn’t say a thing as the door shuts and seals you both inside.
Only when the car starts moving does he finally speak. Voice low, smooth, full of threat and promise. “You’ve never seen me like that before, huh?”
You swallow hard. Your voice is breathy when it comes out. “No...”
He shifts in his seat, legs spread, one arm draped lazily over the backrest behind your head — casual, except for the way his eyes pin you in place like prey.
“You liked it.”
His voice is calm. Dangerous. You blink at him, your breath catching. He leans closer, crowding you against the door, one large hand sliding slowly up your bare thigh beneath your dress. His rings are cool against your skin. His touch is maddening.
“You got this wet for me during my stage,” he murmurs, brushing knuckles right where you feel the neediest. “And you think I’m just going to sit here until we get home?”
You shudder.
“Take your panties off,” he commands, already tugging your dress higher.
You hesitate, glancing toward the driver’s partition. He sees your flicker of doubt, smirks darkly, and slides two fingers along the soaked seam of your underwear, pressing just enough to make your breath stutter.
“Now, jagiya.”
You obey. Shaky hands tug your panties down your thighs and he watches like a man hypnotized.
“Climb onto my lap.”
Your heart skips. He’s not asking. You crawl over him, knees on either side of his thighs, your dress riding up as he shifts to make room. His hands immediately grip your hips, firm and possessive, like he owns you.
“Good girl,” he murmurs, and you nearly melt.
He pulls his cock out—thick, already hard, flushed and leaking, the head dragging against your inner thigh. You gasp as it brushes your folds, slick coating him in seconds.
“You gonna take me like this? In the back of this car, still dripping from the way I looked at you onstage?”
You nod frantically. It’s not enough.
He slaps your ass once, sharp, and just enough to sting. “Words, baby.”
“Yes. Yes, please—”
He cuts you off by sliding inside in one rough, hungry thrust. You choke on a cry, hands scrambling to his shoulders as he fills you completely, his head falling back against the seat with a groan.
“Fucking hell,” he breathes. “Could feel how ready you were from across the fucking venue.”
You can’t answer. You’re too full, too overwhelmed, already rocking your hips like you need him to split you in half. He sets the pace, hands bruising your hips as he drives up into you—hard, deep, deliciously filthy. The car rocks subtly with the motion, but neither of you care. You’re panting into his ear, nails clawing at his chest, while he fucks you like he owns your body.
“You liked the way they looked at me, huh?” He growls. “But only you get this. Only you get to ride me.”
You’re whimpering, barely able to respond, and he loves it. Drags a hand up your back, into your hair, yanks your head back just enough to see your face.
“Gonna come for me, jagi? Gonna soak my cock while I’m still wearing my stage outfit?”
You break.
Your orgasm crashes through you with no warning, hips bucking, eyes rolling back. You gasp his name, barely coherent, and he growls low in his chest as he follows you over the edge, pulling you flush against him as he spills inside you, thick and warm and endless.
You’re both panting, sweaty, shaking, still tangled together as the car hums quietly beneath you. Seunghyun finally leans back, fingers tracing your spine lazily, as he kisses your temple and grins.
“Didn’t even make it back to the house.”
note: sorry it took so long, some things have happened to me and made it difficult to find the motivation to keep writing :,)) special thanks to @moonqz for inviting me to this challenge <33
summary: ji-yong simply can't take his hands off you after his performance
word count: 1970
tags: SMUT; light dom!jiyong and sub!y/n, fingering, unprotected p in v, bathtub sex, barely any plot
ao3 link + inspired by bruno mars' versace on the floor, check out @peachesclose as they have a really sweet take on this idea it was so good !!
The soft click of the penthouse door locking behind you sounds like a promise.
Ji-yong doesn’t say a word at first. Discarding his blazer and tie, he just watches you.
The dim gold lighting spills over your skin, catching the shimmer of your champagne-colored dress—the one that’s been driving him mad all night. It clings to every curve, dangerously low at the back, slitted high up your thigh. His eyes drag over you like smoke, slow and heavy with intent. He kept sneaking glances at you all night as you watched his performance from the wings, both of you looking unfairly gorgeous.
You move toward the centre of the room, heels clicking softly on the polished floor as you turn to face him, backlit by the glittering city lights beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows.
“Turn around for me,” he says, voice low and silky.
You don’t even hesitate: you know exactly where this is going.
He walks up behind you slowly, fingers reaching for the zipper at the base of your spine. His breath ghosts over your neck. His voice slips into that deep, lazy drawl that always gets you in trouble. “Been thinking about getting you out of this dress since you put it on. All night, jagi.”
“Of course you have.” You couldn’t help teasing him a little as you kick off your heels.
The zipper lowers in one smooth, teasing pull, your dress falls in a whisper, puddling at your feet like liquid gold. You're left in nothing but your lace underwear—bare back exposed to him, heart racing.
“Fuck…”
He exhales, almost like it’s painful to look at you, while his hand finds your hip, the grip firm. “You have no idea what you do to me.”
You start to turn, but he catches your wrist and spins you to face him.“I didn’t say move.”
His eyes are molten, devouring you. One hand strokes your jaw, thumb brushing your bottom lip.
“You looked like a goddess tonight,” he murmurs. “But now… now you’re mine.”
He kisses you slowly at first—soft lips, open mouth, tongue exploring your mouth until you're dizzy. Then harder. Hungrier. He presses you back until your hips bump the edge of the sleek glass table. His hands are everywhere—thighs, waist, the curve of your ass. His mouth trails fire down your throat. One hand slips into your hair, the other slides between your legs, teasing you over the lace.
“Already wet for me?” He murmurs, smirking against your skin.
“Of course I am…” you whisper back, biting your excited smile back as if you weren’t also waiting for this moment all night.
Before you can say anything else, he pushes the lace aside and sinks two fingers into you, slow and deep. You gasp, clutching his shoulder like your only lifeline; the only thing convincing you that you haven’t suddenly died and gone to heaven. You’re already shaking and he hasn't even taken his clothes off yet.
Your breath hitches as Ji-yong curls his fingers inside you, slow and unrelenting, watching your reaction like it’s his favourite show. He’s still mostly dressed—tailored red shirt halfway unbuttoned down his chest, rings gleaming on his fingers as they pump into you like they know your body better than you do.
"You look so fucking good like this," he whispers, lips brushing your ear.
He finally pulls his hand away, glistening with your slick, and looks down at you with a wicked grin. He brings his fingers to his lips and sucks them clean, eyes locked with yours.
"Sweet."
You don’t even have time to moan before he grabs you by the waist, lifts you like you weigh nothing, and lays you gently on the cold floor.
He doesn't give you time to catch your breath.
Ji-yong climbs over you, dragging your underwear down your legs with deliberate slowness, tossing it aside before kissing you—deep and filthy. He unclasps his belt, never breaking eye contact, and you feel heat explode low in your stomach as he shoves the rest of his clothes off. His cock presses hot and hard against your thigh, and you whimper at how eager he is.
“You want it?” He asks against your lips.
"Yes," you pant. "God, Ji—please."
He growls softly, lining himself up.
"Then take it."
He thrusts in, slow and deep, eyes fluttering closed at the feel of you wrapped around him. You cry out, hands clutching his back, nails digging into his skin as he starts to move—slow, deliberate rolls of his hips that have you unraveling all over again.
“So tight for me, jagi.” He groans.
Each thrust is perfect—grinding deep, hitting spots that he knows will make your back arch off the floor. His hands frame your face, and he kisses you like he’s drowning in you.
He grabs your thigh, hooks it over his hip, going deeper, rougher, his rhythm punishing and perfect. Sweat beads on his skin, dripping down his chest, muscles flexing under your hands. When you start to break again, voice cracking slightly as you beg, he loses it.
“Come for me, baby—let me feel you.”
You shatter beneath him, crying out his name, body shaking uncontrollably as he follows with a low groan, burying himself inside you, panting your name like a prayer. Silence falls, broken only by the sound of his and your breathing. Ji-yong leans down and kisses you—soft, sweet, completely different than before.
He brushes your hair from your face and whispers, “Look at you… glowing.”
Your legs are still trembling when he lifts you off the floor. “You have been all night.”
“I could leave you like this,” Ji-yong teases, voice rough in your ear. “Dripping and ruined, just how I like you.”
“Don’t you dare,” you laugh breathlessly.
“You and I both know I wouldn’t do that to my favourite girl.” He presses a slow kiss to your cheek.
He’s already carrying you to the bathroom.
The space is all sleek marble and glass, the bathtub sunken and oversized, with a view of the city lights beyond the windows. He sets you down on the edge and turns on the tap, letting the tub fill with steaming water. The scent of something rich and expensive—amber, vanilla, a hint of spice—floats in the air as he pours in bath oil. Then he steps behind you, crouching slightly to kiss the back of your shoulder.
“You okay?”
“Better than okay.”
He smiles against your skin, then slides your hair over one shoulder and kisses the other. The bath is nearly full when he shuts the water off and helps you in—his hands gentle now, guiding you down into the heat.
But when he climbs in behind you, it’s clear softness was only temporary.
You feel him—still hard, pressed to your lower back. His arms wrap around you, pulling you against his chest, his mouth finding your neck.
“Think I’m done with you?”
You shake your head.
He grabs the bottle of oil, pours some into his palm, and begins smoothing it over your body—slow strokes down your arms, your belly, your thighs. His hands worship you, slippery and sure. He trails one down between your legs, slipping fingers over your folds, massaging your clit with slick, lazy circles.
“Feel how sensitive you still are,” he groans in your ear. “So fucking pretty like this.”
You roll your hips back against him, desperate. He hisses as his cock practically strains against you, nudging between your thighs.
“You want it again?”
You nod, breathless. “God, yes.”
“You’re gonna ride me.”
You barely have time to respond before he lifts you forward slightly, then guides himself inside you from behind—slow, steady, filling you again until you’re gasping once more. Water sloshes around you as he begins to move, his grip tightening on your hips.
"Fuck…”
He pulls you back against him, setting a rhythm that’s slow but deep, deliberate. Every thrust sends water spilling over the edge. His hands roam your body, one palming your breast, the other wrapped around your throat—not squeezing, just holding, reminding you who's in control.
“You love this, don’t you?” He whispers, biting at your jaw. “Being fucked in my arms, water everywhere, soaking wet and whining my name?”
You whimper, back arching. The heat, the water, the way he moves inside you—it’s all too much.
“Touch yourself,” he commands, voice rasping.
You reach down, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing in time with his thrusts.
“That’s it,” Ji-yong groans. “Come with me, jagi. Let me hear you.”
And you do.
You clench around him with a cry, body shuddering, as his hips slam forward and he follows—low moans against your neck, spilling inside you again with a whispered curse. He doesn’t let go. Just holding you there, both of you catching your breath, the bathwater still sloshing quietly around your bodies.
The water has gone warm and cloudy by the time he finally pulls out of you, letting out a soft groan as your body tightens one last time around him. His hands stay on your waist, steadying you, his chest still rising and falling against your back. You both sit there in silence for a moment. Just breathing.
Then Ji-yong presses a kiss to your shoulder and murmurs, “You’re gonna kill me one of these nights.”
You laugh breathlessly. “Pretty sure you did all the work.”
He shifts, sitting up behind you, grabbing a towel from the heated rack and helping you to your feet like you’re something fragile. His eyes roam your body, taking in every inch like he hasn’t already memorized it.
“You’re shaking,” he murmurs, voice softer now.
You nod slightly. “A little.”
He wraps the towel around you and kisses your forehead, then leans in, whispering against your temple, “let me take care of you.”
You don’t resist when he picks you up again, bridal style, carrying you out of the bathroom. The lights in the bedroom are dimmed now—only the soft city glow painting the walls. He sets you down gently on the bed, drying your skin with slow, careful motions. Every swipe of the towel is reverent, tender, like he’s thanking you in the only language he knows.
When he’s done, he reaches for one of his black silk robes and slips it over your shoulders, tying it loosely at your waist. You’re swimming in it, warm and safe and wrapped in his scent. He tugs a smaller towel through your damp hair, fluffing it gently. Then his fingers pause—and he smirks.
"That dress,” he mutters, glancing over at the crumpled cloth still puddled near the bathroom door, soaked, stained, and absolutely done for.
You blink, then groan. “Oh god, it’s ruined…”
He shrugs, totally unapologetic. “Worth it.”
You narrow your eyes. “Ji-yong, that dress was expensive.”
He tilts his head, all smug charm. “You say that like I won’t buy you ten more.”
You laugh, and he grins, leaning down to kiss you slow and deep, like he’s sealing the promise with his mouth.
When he finally pulls away, he slides in behind you, pulling the blankets up and wrapping you in his arms. You’re tucked against his bare chest, warm and sated, your legs tangled beneath the sheets. He brushes his fingers through your damp hair, murmuring sweet nothings until your eyes grow heavy. But before you fully drift off, he leans down and whispers near your ear, voice low and full of wicked affection.
“You keep looking at me like that… and I’m gonna ruin the next dress too.”
A/n: So some time ago I got a request for Gang-jae dating headcanons, and recently I had a message in my inbox whether I would write more Gang-jae fanfics, so here <3
-------------------------------------------------
SFW:
- Him touching you.
- I'm not talking about the sexual way (I mean it too, but we're in the SFW part). Physical contact is fundamental in this relationship.
- Kissing your forehead, nose cheeks, neck, everything.
- Making you laugh is his goal.
- He loves to keep his hand on your hip even in the smallest activity.
- Same in public, he wants to show you are taken and you don't have time for others.
- But don't get me wrong, he is not the man who will spoil your relationship with his jealousy.
- Even so, sometimes when the distance between random people and you is TOO close, he won't just leave it.
- Of course, this relationship cannot do without arguing.
- He likes when in front of people you sit on his lap, as if he is bragging about his greatest trophy.
- Honestly, he really needs your attention, he doesn't like to be ignored.
- He likes to show off to you. Really.
- As for places, he likes taking you to clubs, but he doesn't mind a quieter place if you want.
- Despite his indifferent or contented expression and saying that everything is fine, this man definitely needs a conversation.
- At first, he may say that everything is fine, but if you persevere with the question a little longer, I guarantee that he will tell you if he feels bad about something.
NSFW:
- As I said, touching is a priority.
- Gang-jae can sometimes have problems with his words, so sex can be his main field for showing off and showing feelings.
- A lot of make up sex, it is easier for him.
- His hands and tongue are everywhere.
- While Tae-ju and Mu-jin are more serious (as I wrote in hcs with them), I'm sure you can guess Gang-jae is extremely sarcastic and even humorous in bed.
- One big tease.
- If he caught someone flirting with you that day, get ready for wild, jealous sex.
- "Neither of them could fuck you like I can" he laughs, thrusting himself roughly into you.
- He likes saying dirty things in your ear.
- Stubborn. He can fuck you anywhere, anytime.
- He likes it when you ride him.
- After sex, he usually shares a cigarette with you. Honestly, Gang-jae is quite talkative after sex.
- He likes you lying on his chest, but sometimes he lies his head on yours and talks.
listen i may take 4 weeks to write a 3k word chapter, and i may take 45 minutes to decide whether i should use “laugh” or “chuckle”, but at least i don’t use ai and whatever you’re getting is pure chaos from a human brain
is Gangjae Reapers real life counterpart example? maniacal as fuck, kills for fun and gets off on it, randomly starts a psychotic laugh. an absolute walking mental hospital. enjoys the pain almost too much. hah~ suddenly i had a writing idea.
edit to add.. if overwatch did a My Name collab.. and gangjae wasn’t reaper i would be catching charges lol. idk im high and thinking.
Warnings: MDNI. Mouth gag, spitting, choking, marking (hickeys), slapping, cum shots, overstimulations, cum eating, Dom x Sub dynamic, Pet names, Possessive! Masked Officer, Not Proofread. Let me know if I missed anything!
Word Count: 711
Author’s Notes: Thank you for requesting this one anon! I literally wrote this while having lunch with my dad, i’m glued to my laptop while typing this and also while eating…
Taglist: (Want to be in the PHS Taglist? Let me know below!)
Tears stained the sheets. Mascara streaks on your cheeks.
“Don’t cry, Sweetheart. I haven't even broken you yet.” The Masked Officer chuckled deeply as the thrust of his hips met yours. You cried out as the tip of his cock hit the spot over and over, making you see stars in return, your back arched from the mattress as The Masked Officer hand clapped tightly on your throat, his gaze burned on your skin, his eyes darkened from the sounds that goes out from your lungs—for him, it’s music for his ears, every breath, moan, gasp, and whimper you make—he owns it, he owns you completely.
You sobbed around the gag, hips trembling from overstimulation.
He pulled it down, just enough to whisper—
“Now, Sweetheart, beg with that ruined little voice of yours,” The Masked Officer whispered against the crook of your neck, His breath is hot—it tickles a little, pressing his lips on your skin—giving you open mouths kisses. “Tell me you want more while you fucking cry for it.” The Masked Officer muttered against your skin.
And you did—barely forming the words, but still begging like your life depends on it. Begging for him to ruin you over and over. Orgasm after orgasm. Your body writhe under his, his pupils dilated, he let his hand go from your throat, he roughly cupped your jaw, forcing you to look directly at him, “Open.” he commanded, voice rough and deep, and you did as you told, fluttering your mouth open, your eyes glistened with tears, he leaned down a little, spitting on your mouth, “Swallow it.” he once again commanded, watching your eyes widened from what he did, he chuckled deeply for a moment, you gladly swallowed his spit, eyes looking up at him, “Atta fucking girl.” He praised you, he groaned at the sensation of your walls tightly wrapped around his member, “Fuck, Sweetheart, so tight around me.” He groaned as he slowly thrusted his hips into your core, “Want me to cum on your face? Hmm?” his voice deep, eyes glaring at you, you looked up at him, not sure what to say—but then, you nodded, “I need your words, sweetheart.” he commanded as you open your mouth to speak but nothing came out of it, “You can do it, let me hear those pretty voice of yours.” He encouraged you, voice soft and calm, but his gaze remained the same, “Y-yes, sir.” you breathed out, he smirked down at you, “Good Girl.” He said as he pulled out from your entrance, wincing in pain a little, he kneeled down on your side, his cock standing proud as pre-cum beaded on the tip, “Eyes on me sweetheart, keep that pretty mouth open for me.” He commanded as you followed him, he strokes his cock, groaning—as you obediently look up to him with teary eyes, fucked out state, “Fuck–” he groaned as he threw his head back, groaning as his seed painted your face, some went inside your mouth, some went on your chin and chest, He looked down at you, still pumping his member slowly as his cum oozed out from the tip, he scoffs as his cum drips down on your chin, he leaned down, bringing his thumb to gather some of his cum on your chin to put it inside your mouth, “You shouldn’t waste things like this, sweetheart.” he gasped, as his thumb touches your lips, you sucked it gently, tasting his salty seed on your tongue, he leaned back up—smirking down at you, admiring his work, admiring how he once again ruined you, marking every inch of your body, letting yourself be claimed by him, letting him fill you up like a little slut—his eyes trailed on your body, how red-ish marks starts to form on your skin—it will surely bloom beautifully before the sun sets, every slap of his hand imprinted on your skin, he painted marks on your skin—making sure that every one will know, who owns you, who owns each and every part of your body.
And the worst part of it? You would let him do that to you over and over, until you break, until you’re ruined.
You will let him consume you in many ways he could think of.
Warnings: Honestly? Everything and anything. Don’t read if you’re under 18.
A/N: Hey everyone! Just wanted to say a quick thank you for all the love and support on the story I posted earlier this week it really means a lot 💕 While I’m working on something new, I couldn’t resist putting this together, so here it is: a filthy little NSFW alphabet for Choi Moo-Jin. Requests are open, so if there’s a character you’d like to see next or if you just want more, let me know!
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
He’s quiet after he finishes, still inside you, hands sliding slow over your skin, like he can’t let go just yet. His chest presses to your back, breath warm against your neck, and he murmurs, “Breathe, angel… I got you.”
Sometimes he won’t pull out right away, fingers trailing gently down your sides while your body still pulses around him. He brushes your hair back, cups your cheek, thumb stroking along your jaw as his lips ghost over your temple.
Surprisingly he is soft and gentle.
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
On you? It’s the thighs. Always the thighs.
He loves the way they tremble when you’re on edge, the way they spread just for him. Fingers dig in hard enough to leave bruises, his own brand of affection.
“Hold ‘em open for me. Just like that.”
He’ll bite the inside of them, marking you where no one else can see. Loves fucking you between them, slow and messy, just to watch you squirm.
On him? His hands. He knows exactly what they do to you. One wrapped around your throat, the other digging into your ass, lifting, spreading, controlling—he lives for it. The sight of them wrapped around your wrists? Or holding your face while you’re on your knees?
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
It’s never enough for him to just fuck you. No, Moo-jin has to fill you. That’s the point.
He doesn’t stop the second he finishes. He groans deep in his chest as he feels you pulse around him, hips rolling lazily while his cum leaks out around his cock. And when he pulls out? It’s with a low hiss and a mess he refuses to waste.
“Look at that… can’t even keep me in, huh?” he murmurs with satisfaction as he watches his cum drip out of your swollen cunt.
Sometimes he’ll drop to his knees right there, spreading you open with both thumbs just to watch it spill out. Then he pushes two fingers into you, slow and deep, curling them like he’s pressing every drop back where it belongs.
“This pussy’s mine to fill. Gonna fuck it right back in, sweetheart, don’t move."
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
He’d never admit it out loud, but Moo-jin gets off on being jealous.
It’s twisted.
It pisses him off, the idea of anyone else even looking at you. But somehow, that fury turns into a craving. A sick, hot, possessive itch under his skin that only gets worse the longer he watches.
He’ll take you out in something short and tight, no bra, lips shiny and kiss-swollen and he’ll dare the world to look. He watches from the corner of the bar, sipping his drink, jaw tight, as some clueless bastard tries his luck with you.
And he lets it happen.
He lets it happen because the second you’re alone, you’re done.
He’s shoving you up against the nearest wall, dragging your panties down like he’s disgusted you wore them at all.
“You think he could ever fuck you the way I do, sweetheart?”
And he doesn’t fuck you, he uses you. One hand locked tight around your throat, the other gripping your hip hard enough to bruise.
“This pussy belongs to me. You hear that?"
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
Moo-jin doesn’t hope he’s good in bed, he knows he is.
He’s been around enough to know how to read you, what makes you crumble, what makes you beg for more, what makes you shiver under his hands. His touch is sure and skilled, never hesitant. When he moves, it’s with purpose: to own you, to claim every inch, and to make sure you never forget the way he makes you feel.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
Doggy style, but not just anywhere, right in front of a mirror.
He’s got a grip on your hips, but then his hand slides up, grabbing your jaw hard enough to tilt your face to his eyes. His thumb drags over your lips, smearing your lipstick into a messy, fucked-out kiss.
“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I want you to see exactly what I’m doing to you.”
You’re trembling, watching your own reflection, hair wild, cheeks flushed, mouth slightly open while he pounds into you like he’s marking his territory. His breath hitches low and ragged as he leans in, growling,
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
He’s not about your jokes, but when you try to laugh it off, he smirks, voice low and dripping with dark amusement:
“You think you’re cute? Keep that up and I’ll fuck that smile right off your face, angel.”
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
He keeps it short and neat,strictly for hygiene and control. No wildness, no mess.
Down there? Same rules don’t apply to you. He doesn’t care if you’re soft and natural or trimmed just right, whatever you’ve got, he owns it.
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
Most of the time, he’s rough, his hands heavy on your skin, nails digging in, teeth sinking into your neck like he’s claiming you. His thrusts are hard and fast, brutal and possessive, like he’s fucking you to prove you’re his.
But when the morning light filters in, or after a day that’s worn him down, everything shifts. He slows. His eyes lock onto yours with an intensity that makes your breath catch, dark, burning, but soft all at once. He cups your face, thumb tracing your cheek as he pushes inside you gently, holding you still so you have to look at him. “Look at me,” he seems to say without words.
His hands roam slowly, worshiping every inch of your body as he fucks you with slow, deep thrusts that make you shiver. There’s a hunger there, but also a softness, like he’s memorizing you, etching your every curve and moan into himself. He bites his lip, watching your eyes flutter shut and open, drinking you in like you’re the only thing that’s ever mattered.
This is his way of showing love, the rough edges softened only for you.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
He doesn’t jack off regularly, why bother when he’s got you?
But he loves to lean back in his chair, half-dressed, pants barely undone, a thick cigar clenched between his teeth, smoke curling lazily around his jaw. His eyes never leave you and there you are, lying on the bed, fingers teasing yourself as you watch him.
His hand wraps around his cock, slow strokes syncing with the rhythm of your own touch. He’s not shy about it. The way he grips himself, eyes dark and heavy, watching you watch him, it’s a game, a tease.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
Edging drives him wild.
He loves to push you right to the edge, watching you tremble and struggle while he takes his time, no mercy. Your desperation only fuels his hunger. Sometimes he ropes you up, binding your wrists or ankles tight, just enough to hold you captive but never enough to hurt, at least not too much.
His voice soft and demanding at once. “Can you hold on for me, angel? One more. Just one more, and then I’ll let you cum.” His fingers trail slow, teasing every inch of your skin as you fight the overwhelming need.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
Yeah, the bed works when he wants to drag it out, take his time, but it’s not his favorite.
He likes it when there’s a risk.
In his office, with his men just outside, you’re bent over the desk, legs shaking, and he doesn’t give a fuck who hears. He keeps a hand on your mouth, the other wrapped in your hair, fucking you like he owns the place, because he does.
In the back of the car, while the driver’s up front pretending not to hear the sounds you’re making, he’s got you riding him, holding your hips down while you squirm. The windows fog up, your dress pulled up, and he just watches you come apart in his lap.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
Anger. Frustration. The kind of pressure that builds in his chest until the only way to let it out is you.
He doesn’t ask. He doesn’t wait. The second he sees you, it’s hands on your waist, your back hitting the nearest wall, your legs parted before you can catch your breath. Fucking is how he calms the storm. Rough, deep, unrelenting.
His voice is low, almost a growl in your ear. “I’m sorry, Sweetheart… but I can’t be gentle tonight.”
He grabs your throat, your hips, anything he can use to hold you still while he uses you. Not soft. Not slow. Just desperate, furious, obsessed.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
Threesomes are a hard no.
He doesn’t share. Doesn’t even like the idea of someone else looking at you too long, let alone touching you.
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
He lives for it. Not just the act, the power of it.
Loves having you on your knees, lips stretched around him, tears in your eyes while he fists your hair and uses your throat like it’s his.
“That’s it. Let me see how deep you can take it.”
But when it’s his mouth on you?
He’s a fucking menace. One hand locking your thighs open, the other pinning your hips still. He eats you out like it’s his last meal, eyes locked on yours the whole time, like he’s daring you to look away.
And when your legs start to shake and your body starts to twitch, he just presses in closer and says,
“Not yet. You’re gonna cum when I say you can.”
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
He fucks like he means it. Like he’s working something out of his system.
Fast, rough, unrelenting, that’s his default. Your back hitting the wall, your hands braced against the desk, his grip iron-tight around your hips as he pounds into you like he’s trying to bury himself in your bones. No softness, no hesitation, just raw, claiming need.
But not always.
In the early morning, when sleep still clings to your body and the sun is barely peeking through the windows, he slows down. Slides in deep and moves lazy, like he has all the time in the world. He’ll trace every inch of you with his hands, feel your breath stutter under his mouth as he fucks you slow and deep, letting the moment drag and simmer.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
He fucking loves quickies. No hesitation.
When he wants you, he doesn’t wait, he takes you.
Pressed hard against the cold hallway wall of his hotel, fingers digging into your hips while he buries himself deep.
In the dark alley behind the club, breathing hot on your neck, slamming into you like he’s punishing every inch of your body.
In the backseat of his car, his hands gripping your waist tight, his breath rough, voice low and demanding.
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
He’s addicted to fucking you where you shouldn’t be, his office, the backseat of his car, hallways where anyone could walk in.
His voice is low, rough in your ear, “Keep it down, doll. You don’t want them hearing you.”
But then, just as you try to hold back, he fucks you harder, faster, because he wants to hear you scream.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
He’s relentless. Can go for hours, fucking you raw and unfiltered until every inch of you is marked, bruised, and begging for more.
He never slows down unless you tell him to and even then, he’s got a fire burning beneath the surface, ready to explode at the slightest touch.
When he’s done, you’re left breathless, body trembling, and he’s still got the strength to pull you close, grip you tight, and promise you’ll be sore tomorrow.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
He loves watching you, hips trembling, as you take that toy deep, eyes burning with need, but he doesn’t just watch. He’s right there with you, sliding toys over your skin, teasing every inch, making you beg for more. His hands grip your hips while the toy pushes you closer to the edge, and his voice is a low growl:
“Use it all you want, sweetheart, but nothing’ll ever make you come like I do.”
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
He’s a fucking tease, no mercy, whether you’re in the bedroom or out in public. He’ll trail his fingers just a little too low under your skirt at dinner, whisper in your ear how he’s going to ruin you later, and leave you dripping without a single touch. He loves edging you until you’re desperate, making you beg with those desperate little whimpers, then pulling away just to watch you struggle
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
He’s not the loudest, but every grunt, every breath is deep and rough like a low growl that vibrates through you. When he’s grabbing you, his heavy breaths hit your skin, mixing with the sharp clicks of nails dragging down your back.
He talks dirty, too dark, commanding words that drip with ownership and hunger. You hear him tell you to stay quiet, but his voice is rough and urgent, sometimes breaking when he’s about to lose control
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
He loves when you take control.
It flips the script, makes everything electric. He’ll lean back, arms behind his head, watching you with that dangerous smirk, and say, “Fuck me like you mean it."
It’s rare, but when you seize that power, it drives him wild.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
Under those clothes, his cock is thick and hard, veins standing out. Long, stubborn, and always ready, it’s the kind of size that leaves no doubt who owns you. When he pushes into you, you feel every inch stretching you open, filling you up completely.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
His hunger for you never quits, like a fire that burns hotter every time you’re near. He can’t get enough of that skin, that scent, that taste. Whether it’s noon or midnight, he’s already planning how to have you next dragging you against walls, pulling you into dark corners, making you his in every damn place.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
When exhaustion hits, he crashes hard, fast asleep the moment his body lets go. But not before you’re both cleaned up, skin to skin, breath mingling. He never lets you go, he’s curled up close, arms wrapped tight like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded. Sometimes, when he’s desperate, he pleads low and rough, “Let me stay inside you tonight, sweetheart...”
AN: I got inspired by @aeriikiesss (seriously, an amazing blog and writer go check them out!), and I had to write this.
*Everyone standing around the broken Oh Il-Nam taxidermy. The head has fallen off.*
Frontman: So. Who broke it? I'm not mad, I just want to know.
Number 11: I did. I broke it.
Frontman: No, no, you didn't. Recruiter?
Recruiter: Don't look at me. Look at Captain Park.
Captain Park: What? I didn't break it.
Recruiter: Huh, that's weird. How did you even know it was broken?
Captain Park: Because it's lying right in front of us and it's broken.
Recruiter: Suspicious.
Captain Park: No, it's not!
Number 11: Okay let's not fight. I broke it. Let me pay for it, sir.
Frontman: No. Who broke it?
Recruiter: You know, Officer has been awfully quiet.
Officer: Really, bitch?
*Everyone starts arguing*
Frontman: I broke it. It fell out of my closet in the middle of the night so I kicked it. I predict ten minutes from now they'll be at each other's throats with warpaint on their faces and a pig head on a stick.
Frontman: Good. It was getting a little chummy around here.
imagine him sitting there getting interviewed sitcom style, sipping his scotch and wearing his stupid leather gloves (it's giving the Adam driver undercover boss SNL skit vibes)
Warnings: SFW+ NSFW (everything and anything - don’t read if you’re under 18)
A/N: I got really happy seeing you guys say I write him well and actually get his character, it seriously made my whole day and gave me the push I needed to finish these headcanons I’d been working on. It’s a mix of soft moments and… yeah, the filthy stuff too. Just little scenarios I’ve imagined him in that I might turn into full fics later. Hope you enjoy them! Let me know if you did, and please send requests! I’m in the mood to write more of him right now. (not proofread, finished this at 3AM and english is not my first language so pls be kind!)
SFW
Husband Moo-jin who casually drapes his jacket over your shoulders when you’re cold, acting like it’s no big deal, but shoots a glare at anyone else who notices.
Husband Moo-jin who refuses to eat breakfast unless you’re sitting at the table with him, even if you’re half-asleep and grumpy about being awake that early.
Husband Moo-jin who listens silently while you rant about something trivial, and though he doesn’t say much, the next day he’s fixed the problem without you even asking.
Husband Moo-jin who never raises his voice at you, even when he’s furious at everyone else in the room, his tone softens when his eyes meet yours, like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded.
Husband Moo-jin who is feared by everyone in the room during meetings, but the second you walk in, he pulls out a chair for you like a gentleman and anyone who notices the shift in his demeanor knows better than to mention it.
Husband Moo-jin who lets you fuss at him for coming home with split knuckles, sitting still while you clean and bandage them. He never admits it, but he likes when you scold him because it reminds him there’s someone who cares enough to be angry.
Husband Moo-jin who rarely texts, but when you check your phone in the middle of the day, there’s always one unread message: a picture of something mundane like the skyline from his office, a plate of food he didn’t finish, captioned only with "You’d like this"
Husband Moo-jin who finds out you’re pregnant and stands frozen for a beat, eyes wide, then suddenly his whole face lights up with a joy you’ve never seen before. “I’m gonna be a father,” he says, almost like he can’t quite believe it himself. Then, without warning, he pulls you into a hug, like he’s holding onto the best thing in the world, his hands trembling slightly as he presses close, whispering promises you know he means to build a family and protect it with everything he has.
Husband Moo-jin who hates crowds and noise, but will stand behind you at the market, hands in his pockets, glaring at anyone who gets too close, following silently as you shop, pushing the cart like a bodyguard rather than a husband.
Husband Moo-jin who only ever calls you by pet names: sweetheart, honey, baby. He says them so often that hearing your real name on his lips feels strange, almost jarring. The rare times he does use it, his voice drops low, calm in a way that makes your stomach twist, because you know it means something’s wrong.
Husband Moo-jin who grows quietly excited about holidays over the years, not for himself, but because seeing you light up makes him want to share it. He’ll even hang stockings, muttering about “not overdoing it” as he secretly enjoys every second.
Husband Moo-jin who sits silently on the bathroom counter while you do your skincare or makeup at night, not saying a word, just watching you in the mirror.
Husband Moo-jin who doesn’t like taking photos, but always angles his phone toward you when you’re not looking, half his gallery is candid shots of you smiling, cooking, even sleeping.
Husband Moo-jin who can’t sleep when you’re not next to him. On nights you fall asleep on the couch, he scoops you up without waking you, carrying you to bed with surprising gentleness for a man whose hands have broken bones.
Husband Moo-jin who doesn’t do PDA, but at parties or meetings, always rests a possessive hand on the small of your back, subtle but firm, a quiet warning to anyone looking too long.
Husband Moo-jin who doesn’t know how to cook anything fancy but insists on making you ramyeon after long nights, leaning on the counter in sweatpants and watching you eat like seeing you happy is more satisfying than the meal itself.
Husband Moo-jin who always drives, no questions asked. You’ve never touched the steering wheel since you married him.
Husband Moo-jin who won’t say “I miss you,” but shows up at your work unannounced, leaning against his car until you come outside, cigarette between his fingers, eyes soft in a way they never are with anyone else.
Husband Moo-jin who lets you win arguments most of the time, but when he finally calls you by your real name mid-argument, you know he’s dead serious.
Husband Moo-jin who falls asleep on the couch watching TV with you, arm draped over your stomach, the rare deep lines of stress on his face finally gone. You never wake him, you like seeing him this unguarded.
Husband Moo-jin who doesn’t take you out on dates often, but when he does, it’s always to places where no one will bother you like quiet restaurants, secluded rooftops, empty parks late at night, where he can hold your hand without anyone watching.
Husband Moo-jin who keeps one photo of you in his wallet, just one, folded and worn at the edges.
Husband Moo-jin who notices when your eyes linger on something, a necklace in a shop window, a dress on a mannequin, a plant at the market and says nothing. But the next morning, it’s there waiting for you, unwrapped, no note attached. Just there. Like magic.
Husband Moo-jin who never laughs in front of anyone, except you. And when he does, it’s unguarded and quiet, almost like it surprises even him.
Husband Moo-jin who’s terrifying to everyone else, but when you’re upset, crouches down to your level, voice soft, almost begging: “Look at me. Tell me what’s wrong.”
Husband Moo-jin who remembers every anniversary and date like the first time you met, the day you moved in together, the exact second he realized he loved you. He never brags about it, just quietly plans something small but meaningful every year.
NSFW
Husband Moo-jin who sits you on his lap during business calls, his cock buried deep inside you, one arm caging you to his chest while the other holds his phone to his ear. He doesn’t move, doesn’t let you move, “Quiet, sweetheart". Every time you clench around him, his hand squeezes your thigh hard enough to bruise.
Husband Moo-jin who wakes you in the middle of the night with his hand between your thighs, voice low and raspy in your ear “Can’t sleep. Need you”. He doesn’t bother taking your panties off just pulls them aside and fucks you slow, half-asleep kisses pressed to your shoulder as if he’s too tired to exist anywhere but inside you.
Husband Moo-jin who loves marking you up: teeth, fingers, bruises and gets pissed when they fade.
Husband Moo-jin who fucks you in front of the mirror after you try on the dress he bought one hand on your throat, the other on your stomach, making you watch every thrust. “Look how perfect you are”
Husband Moo-jin who fingers you under the dinner table at a restaurant, face completely blank to anyone watching but his thumb presses just right against your clit every time you answer the waiter, voice trembling as you pretend nothing’s happening.
Husband Moo-jin who comes home bloodied and furious, wordless as he strips you bare and fucks you on the nearest surface, rough, needy, almost desperate.
Husband Moo-jin who takes you from behind in front of the floor-to-ceiling windows of his office, one hand around your throat, the other gripping your hip so tight it’ll ache tomorrow. He murmurs, “Let them see,” against your ear, voice full of dark pride.
Husband Moo-jin who growls in your ear when you tease him in public, dragging you into the nearest empty hallway, hiking your skirt up, and fucking you hard enough to leave your legs trembling.
Husband Moo-jin who loves when you ride him slow, his hands gripping your hips, lazy thrusts meeting yours because he gets to watch you lose yourself on top of him, his normally sharp eyes gone dark and soft as he breathes out, “That’s it, baby. Take what you need.”
Husband Moo-jin who fucks you rough after a fight, slamming you against the bedroom wall before you can finish yelling, one hand pinning your wrists above your head, the other gripping your jaw as he growls, “You done? Or do I need to fuck it out of you?”
Husband Moo-jin who fucks you in the shower after a particularly bad day, pressing you against the tile, steam curling around his shoulders, his voice quiet as he mutters, “Let me take it out on you, baby.”
Husband Moo-jin who can’t resist fucking you slow after you tell him you want kids, whispering filthy promises in your ear about filling you up, breeding you, giving you everything you’ve ever asked for. He presses a kiss to your stomach after, as if the idea alone makes him weak.
Husband Moo-jin who texts you a picture of his hand wrapped tightly around his cock, with the caption: “Counting down the minutes till I’m inside you.”
Husband Moo-jin who catches you stretching and pulls you against him from behind, hands sliding under your shirt “You’re not going anywhere.”
Husband Moo-jin who takes you from behind in front of the mirror after a night out, one hand buried in your hair, the other gripping your throat as he forces you to watch your reflection. “Look at yourself,” he growls, thrusts sharp and deep. “Look at how good you take me.”
Husband Moo-jin who sneaks dirty texts between meetings: “Been thinking about bending you over the kitchen counter since this morning.”
F!reader x Pink Soldier 005, Pink Soldier 007, Masked Officer
Ao3
Words: 6.0k
Warnings: threesome (consensual swallowing, degradation), cuckolding (creampie, orgasm denial), other (reader is a pink soldier- her number is 009)
Other: I love my freaky lil men. My names for the characters are: Lee Jong-il for 007, Park Chi-won for 007, and Kim Chin-woo for Masked Officer! I've never done a cuckolding fic so this was super fun. This can be loosely tied to Rotted Out With Flies (reader's # is the same, but reading that fic is not needed to understand this one so don't worry.)
She actually rather enjoyed her job, regardless of how morbid and filled with death it was. It was easy enough, especially with the separation in her mind between her and the players in the game. Dispose of the trash. That’s all those people- things- are. She doesn’t dwell on it too much when she’s begged to spare their lives, no matter what pointless information they use. So what? You got a kid? Shouldn’t be here then, dumbass. You got a husband? A wife? So unfortunate that they’ll never see you again. Clean up the streets of the filth that runs rampant. That’s her job, at least for the week. Outside of the games her life is much less eventful, probably for the best. She can’t afford to lose all of her humanity.
“Behind you, 009.” A pink soldier says. The way his hand lingers on the small of her back before brushing past her gives away that it’s one of the two soldiers she’s become rather close to. Close might be an overstatement, actually- it’s not like they’re friends or anything. However they do find the time and freedom to have fun. Did it irk the doctor as they all huddled around as they flirted so freely? Hell yeah, but there were closed spaces around that provided more freedom than anywhere else. It wasn’t really a secret, if she were called to answer to the commanding officer about what she and 005 and 007 get up to she’d state bluntly what they do. That’s not to say she bragged about it, as far as she knows the only people who know what they do are themselves and the doctor- who wishes he didn’t know.
“009, comin’ up,” another soldier says, following closely behind the first one. She feels her own heart rate start to increase- they’re all headed the same direction for their nightly shift of helping the doctor. It’s one of the few times that she feels anything more than the subtle numbness that follows her like a shadow in this place. She grins beneath her mask, but she doesn’t rush to catch up with them. The last thing that pair needs is a more inflated ego caused by her openly fawning for them. She keeps her steps measured as she follows behind them, keeps her breathing even, keeps her thoughts even and away from the imitate things they share in the basement.
“Takin’ your sweet time today, huh?” One of the soldiers comments when she reaches the door. She’s not entirely sure which one he is, probably 005 since he actually holds the door open for her rather than expecting her to catch it herself like 007 does. “Got worried ‘bout you; thought you might’ve forgotten your duties,” he comments while walking down the steps behind her. “But I also know you’d never miss out on a chance to spend with us.” He adds in a purr, a little too close for comfort as they enter the basement. She was right when she guessed which soldier was behind her since 007 has his mask off and is already helping the doctor maneuver an unconscious, dying player to the table. She removes her mask after pulling her hood down, tugging her balaclava to rest on her neck and 005 mirrors her actions.
“What took you guys so long, don’t tell me you stopped midway down the steps to make out.” 007 says, his lips quirked up in a smirk as he tsks while shaking his head. The doctor grunts, already getting annoyed with the trio just from one sentence. She can’t really blame him, it’s gotta be tough scrambling through organs to try and find something that's usable with 011 sabotaging everything. “Don’t go getting me jealous now, yeah?” 007 and 009 both disarm themselves.
“Nah, man,” 005 starts, putting an arm around her waist, “though I won’t be able to hold back too much longer. She’s just so cute.” He says, his voice edging on mockery as his hand rubs her side.
“Gee, thanks.” She says, rolling her eyes but she doesn’t make an effort to really pull away nor does she sound too mad. “Talking about me like I’m not even here. What am I to you guys?” She sighs, rolling her eyes.
“You know exactly what you are to us, dontcha?” 005 says, snickering. “You’re our precious girl, our pretty soldier.”
007 chimes in, “dont act like you hate us, if you did you wouldn’t be so eager for our-”
“Can you guys just shut the hell up for five minutes?” The doctor says, looking at 007 and then to 007 and 009. “I swear- you’re worse than teenagers who just discovered how to fuck. I would be better off if you three just went away!”
The room goes silent aside from the sound of the scalpel slicing down the body and the doctor moving flesh aside to reach the organs. 009 looks away, clearly embarrassed to be called out so bluntly but 005 and 007 shared a wicked look. It’s like they’re having a silent conversation as 007 steps around the table to join the pair.
“I think that’s a good idea,” 007 says, his voice practically cooing as he tells her face to face him rather than a wall. “Don’t you, 005? Just us, our little soldier, and the freetime to really enjoy ourselves.” He chuckles, his thumb rubbing against her cheek. His brown eyes search hers for any hint of genuine discomfort while 005 responds, he’s not concerned with her consent but he definitely doesn’t want to deal with a fighting woman tonight.
“It’s a perfect idea. See how good she can take us both this time.” 005 says, grinning as he watches the charged eye contact between 007 and 009. She’s not uncomfortable, at least not uncomfortable in a way that makes either of them believe she’s not interested in the same thing they are. “C’mon, let’s go to the usual spot. It’ll be a tight spot, but I think we can manage.” He says, holding back laughter as he leads 009 by her waist to where they usually fuck at. 007 follows close behind, smacking her ass before groping it.
“It… It’s a fine idea.” She says, finally finding her voice as they make their way to the small, cramped room. It’s hardly bigger than the rooms they reside in, definitely not suited for three alive, moving bodies at once. She stumbles forward slightly when 007 shoves her inside, catching herself against the wall. 005 and 007 have never been ones for gentleness, sweet words, or making her feel special- it’s like she expected anything different- and now they’re feeding off each other’s desires to hear sweet, needy noises from her lips.
“Damn doctor’s kinda smart, huh?” 005 says, palming his already hardening cock through his pink jumpsuit, looking over at 007 and then back to 009. “We don’t gotta worry about nothin’ now. Nothin’ aside from emptying our balls, huh?”
“Damn right,” 007 responds, already unzipping his jumpsuit to allow it to crumble to the floor. His black boxers tent, he’s been waiting for her all damn day so it’s no shock that he’s already ready for her. “Pulling through mewls and moans from this lil thing, coming, and cleaning up. Shit, it’s perfect.” He laughs. It’s a cruel laugh as he closes in to clutch 009’s shoulders and kiss her hard. It’s not a soft kiss, it demands her to kiss back. And kiss back she does, her lips parting immediately to allow him entrance as one of her hands cups his cheek and the other cups the back of his head. She can hear 005 groan as she closes the door, groping himself. He wouldn’t be opposed to just watching his comrade fuck her, but he’d never admit to something like that outloud. He can practically hear the way 007 would react to that, see the way 009 would look at him after he admits something like that.
“Kiss her neck, man- she loves that.” He strains out, unzipping his own jumpsuit and kicking it aside to join 007’s. 007 chuckles, pulling away from her lips to kiss down her neck and nip teasingly until he reaches the point that makes her finger curl up into his hair.
“There? That your special place, baby doll?”
“Mhm,” she nods weakly, tilting her head to give him more access to nip and kiss at the spot that makes her breath catch in her throat.
“She’s such a little slut, I swear, man. She loves- loves it when you call her pet names and show her that stupid loving shit rather than immediately going for it.” 005 says, his green plaid boxers joining the pile of clothing on the floor. He spits down onto his cock, groaning as he strokes himself from base to tip, swiping his thumb over his sensitive head every other stroke. “So easy, dude.”
“I know, right? Love women like her.” 005 laughs, his fingers moving to unzip her jumpsuit, his hands sliding into the suit to cup her breasts. She’s so reactive to every touch, it drives him and 005 crazy with desire so why should he make any further effort to get her in the mood. Sure, maybe she’d enjoy it more, but who the fuck cares?
“I do too, makes it so easy to come. She doesn’t even care if she finishes. Say it, say you don’t care, bitch.”
She groans, she’d love every sensation more if she knew she’d finish at the end of it all but she’s in no position to make demands. “I do, I love it.”
“You love it, what? Say my name, if you can even remember it.” 007 says, kissing upwards to get just below her ear.
“I love it, Chi-won.” She can feel his lips turn into a wicked grin. Such a smart, good girl for remembering his name. He’s surprised she can remember his name since the last time he reminded her of it she was being fucked stupid.
“Say my name, baby girl.” 005 says, the sounds of his hand fisting his cock the only extra noise in the room. “Say you remember mine too?” He sounds almost needy, almost desperate.
“Jong-il.” He grunts when she also gets his name right, his hand tightening for a second around his dick. He loves the way she says, loves seeing her back arch against Chi-won as he slides her jumpsuit down, down, down to her ankles and then cups her panty-clad pussy. The way her hips squirm pleasantly against his hand makes him throb, she’s so cute. Damn shame that after the games they probably won’t ever meet up, but it’s not the time for that line of thought right now.
“Fuck, yes, good girl.” Jong-il groans, his eyes glued to her cunt as Chi-won pushes her legs apart to rub her pussy and bury his head in her neck. “Let Chi-won touch you- just like that. You love it, don’t you?” He lifts his other hand to push her bra down to expose her breasts and her thumb immediately goes to swipe over her nipple until it stiffens into a sensitive peak. “You love us touching you, dontcha, baby girl?”
“Yes, love your hands on me.” She breathes out, holding Jong-il’s hand to cup her breast fully instead of focusing solely on her nipple. “Touch me, please touch me more…”
Chi-won bites her neck at that, her pretty words making his cock throb against her skin through his boxers. “I’d love for us to take turns with you, but we don’t have that kinda time.”
“Fuck yeah, we’ll share this sweet body.” Jong-il says, grinning at 009. “You’re fine with that, aren’t you?”
“Yeah, yeah, it’s fine.” She mumbles, she’d rather not deal with that mess but it’ll work. Her face must give away her hesitation as Jong-il slides his hand from her chest to her face and pats her cheek condescendingly.
He gives her a mockingly ‘understanding’ look and nod, “now don’t look so sad, baby doll. We’ll make sure you get something out of it too. Now get over to that pile of clothes, get on your hands and knees, and present yourself for us while we figure out who takes you where.” He smiles, it’s not a sweet or calming smile and rather it looks almost creepy.
Chi-won pulls away from her, pecking her lips before looking over at Jong-il and giving him a thumbs up while 009 goes over to the crumpled pile of Chi-won and Jong-il’s jumpsuits and kneels down on the clothing to protect her knees. She can’t hear the pair of Soldiers as they whisper to each other and make lewd gestures in reference to her. Her cheeks burn in embarrassment, her face setting into a subtle pout as she stares at them. Her pussy is wet enough to where either of them could be able to fuck her cunt. She doubts they’d attempt anal without lube or prep, so the other one must take her mouth. Typical spitroast, nothing special but maybe she’ll be able to cum this time at least.
“Chi-won here s’gonna take your cunt this time, I figure the man could use a nice tight pussy squeezing the life outta his dick.” Jong-il says, sauntering over to stand in front of her while fisting his cock slowly. He doesn’t wanna bust too soon, but goddamn he could paint her face just from the sight of her looking up at him like that.
“Damn right I am, baby girl. I got you, don’t worry…” Chi-won says, getting on his knees behind her and rubbing his weeping cock against her slit. A loud groan erupts from him just from the sensation, he wants to slam forward- so he does. She lets out a sharp yelp, her walls immediately fluttering around him as her cheek collides with Jong-il’s throbbing dick.
“Easy.” She says, looking back at Chi-won for a split second before Jong-il threads his fingers into her hair and smears his tip against her lips.
“Y’not in the position to make demands here, bitch. You know better.” His grin is absolutely malicious as he stares down at her, biting his tongue between his teeth in concentration as he gets his tip between her lips. He moans, his hips immediately twitching to push in further and feel more of her velvety mouth around him. His eyes flutter shut as he shallowly thrusts into her mouth, the feel of her tongue against his sensitive skin is intense as she laps at him.
“She good, right? This whore got such a hot mouth.” Chi-won says, holding onto 009’s hips hard enough to cause marks to blossom on her skin. “I always bust in her mouth, she swallows it like a fucking champ.”
Jong-il is unable to form words, he just nods and grunts as his mouth falls open and his head falls back. He’s more vocal than Chi-won when it comes to making noises, but he’s never able to really form words- his thoughts are blank and pure white when her lips are around his cock. Chi-won just laughs loudly in response, slapping her ass hard enough to make her jerk forward again.
“Glrk!”
Jong-il laughs breathlessly, his eyes opening just enough to look down at her as he holds her head in place. His cock pulses eagerly in her throat as they both bottom out in her at the same time. It’s bordering on painful for her, but the pain just adds to her pleasure. She’s not gonna come, not from them focusing on their own pleasure, but she’s in no position to even try to voice her disappointment.
“Fuck, listen to that slut gag.” Chi-won groans, resuming his hard thrusts. He leans over her back to bite her shoulder, loving the way her walls clench up tight around him. He laughs as loud as he can with her skin between his teeth.
“Yeah…” Jong-il grunts, pumping his hips in sync with Chi-won’s thrusts to bury himself to the hilt each time. “Feels good. Can’t get- can’t get enough…”
She feels Chi-won’s hips stutter first, his thrusts becoming sloppy and out of rhythm as he bites down harder. He’s not one to come in her, the risk of knocking her up is minimal but it’s enough to make him pull out regardless, unlike Jong-il who loves coming in her tight cunt. “Gonna cum, little slut” He moans, pulling out and jerking his cock until he spills to the ground below him. He just barely misses the jumpsuits.
“Come- I’m gonna-” Jong-il tries to get out a coherent sentence but it falls apart. He wants to see her face when he comes, but it’s hard to keep his eyes open. Chi-won pants against her back and Jong-il starts to pulse out cum into her mouth. Her mouth floods with his cum, but she swallows it down readily. When he’s spent, he pulls out of her mouth and pats her head.
For a moment, the only noises in the room are the three of them all panting and then Jong-il pipes up with a strained noise before actually talking, “we probably need to get dressed ‘nd see if the doc needs us.” She crawls back over to where her clothing is discarded, they don’t help her back into her clothing. She struggles for a little bit, huffing and glaring over at the pair who just give her a smirk and a thumbs up. “You got this, baby girl,” he says, holding back a laugh.
“Poor girl, we got her so fucked up she can’t even get dressed.” Chi-won says condescendingly before laughing.
She grunts as she zips up the jumpsuit and adjusts her belt, “fuck off, both of you.” She pushes past them and opens the door. The doctor is already finished, assessing that it’s not even worth trying to scavenge the other bodies for parts. He looks like he knows something that the trio doesn’t, a glint in his eyes as he puts his handheld radio back down.
“Gald you three had your fun. You three ready to head back to the rooms?”
“Hell yeah we are, she drained us.” Jong-il says, patting 009’s shoulder and grinning. “Should try ‘er sometime, doc. She’d get rid of that scowl you always have.”
The doctor’s face drops again. “As pleasant as that sounds, I think I’d rather kill myself.”
“Don’t be that way, man.” Chi-won says, going over to get his mask before tugging his balaclava back into place and putting his mask back on.
009 and Jong-il go to get theirs as well. Jong-il pats her ass ‘lovingly’ as the doctor moves past them to enter the stairway. The trio all follow behind him, 009 immediately behind, then Jong-il, then Chi-won. She feels tired as hell and she’s just ready to be in her own room- even if it’s not the most ideal.
Lineup, enter room, have dinner, go to bed. Easy. She lies down, more than ready to fall into a dreamless sleep again. She may tolerate- even like- Jong-il and Chi-won, but goddamn they can be hard to be around after they fuck.
A few hours into her sleep, her door opens slowly. Even in her rest she can feel herself being stared at and she stirs awake. She blinks away her sleep before jumping back slightly. There’s a Manager staring down at her before he speaks, “The commanding officer would like to see you in his chambers.”
“Wha-”
“The commanding officer would like to see in his chambers.” He repeats before she can even finish a single word. She sits up and rubs her eyes before standing up and stretching. She gets her mask, places it on, adjusts her hood, and nods to the Manager. The Manager leads her from her room through the colorful hallways and doorways before reaching an elevator she’s not entirely sure she’s seen before. The air is tense, the pair both utterly quiet as they ride the elevator to the commanding officer’s chambers. Why does he want to see her there?
The Manager stays in the elevator when they reach their location. There’s two other Soldiers in the doorway to his chambers and in front of them stands the commanding officer. His presence exudes authority, demands attention. The doors to the elevator close behind her and she jumps slightly, though it’s hardly noticeable. She steps forwards, standing between the two Soldiers. She glances at them- Jong-il and Chi-won- before her eyes settle on the commanding officer.
“Masks off you three.” He says, standing with his arms crossed in front of them. In sync, the trio removes their hoods, slides their masks off, and tugs their balaclavas down. She wants to look up at the two men, see if they know what this is about- though the fact it's them gives her a sinking feeling- but she keeps her eyes forward and focused on the commanding officer. “I’m sure you three know why you’re here. I’ve heard about your activities when you should be focusing on your job.” She feels the two men tense on either side of her, she feels the color drain from her face. It’s a nightmare, it’s gotta be… “Explain yourselves. 005, you first.”
“Well, I mean-” he stammers, “we just- it wasn’t my idea?”
“007. Explain yourself.” He says, it’s clear he doesn’t really care about whatever excuses they come up with.
“We just needed to relieve stress, Sir. It won’t happen again.”
“009.” He directs attention fully on her now.
Her throat dries out and she opens and closes her mouth, her hands tightening in front of her. She doesn’t even know what to say- she’s been caught and she doesn’t know how to make things better. Is it even possible to make things better? “I’m sorry, Sir.” She manages to get out. “It was a lapse of judgement.”
“A continued lapse in your judgement.” He corrects. He sighs and turns around, collapsing his hand behind his back. “All three of you, follow me. You’re going to be taught a lesson.” The air is charged as they follow him deeper into his quarters until they reach a bed with two chairs beside it. “009, on the bed. 005, 007- you sit in the chairs. You want to relieve stress? We’ll relieve stress then.”
She sits on the edge of the bed, placing her mask on the bedside table before looking over to where Jong-il and Chi-won are sitting. They look at her, before looking away. They’ve never really been awkward around each other but now it feels too weird to acknowledge each other. This isn’t lost on the masked officer who smiles behind his mask- he can work with this, he can work with the tension between the trio. The masked officer walks over to stand in front of her, tilting her head with a surprising amount of gentleness. “Eyes on me, hm? Don’t pay attention to them. They’re just watching, a little… audience… for us.” His tone is soothing even with the robotic voice modulation from his mask.
“O-Oh, okay?” She says, nodding dumbly.
“Good. You’ve always been a good listener, haven’t you?” He leans in, she can see his eyes through the mask- they’re cold and calculating, there’s no warmth in them. “Such a good girl, too good to be stuck around men like that.” His lips quirk up into a smirk as her lips part slightly as his thumb rubs her chin. “You know it too, don’t you? I bet outside of the games, you’d never give them a second glance.”
She hears the other men shift in their chairs, can feel their gazes on the side of her face. “No, Sir, I-” she stammers and falters, “I mean they’re great guys but-”
“But?” He hums, standing up straighter again and tugging down his hood, though he keeps his mask on. “But just not your type, hm? Too selfish, too focused on their own pleasures to give you what you need.” He tsks, shaking his head and taking his hand away from her chin and shrugging. “Rest assured, sweet thing, I’ll give you what you actually need. Make sure you never mess around with them again. I’ll show you how good things can be, don’t worry.” She nods again, feeling heat rise to her cheeks. “A reward for you, a punishment for them. Sound good to you?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He smirks arrogantly behind his mask, such an easy little thing. He briefly wanders just how many times she’s been denied her chance to finish. How cruel of the men to deny this pretty thing her release. “Good girl. Undress for me, 009.” He looks over to see 005 and 007 squirm in their chairs as she unzips her jumpsuit, the pink fabric falling down around her shoulders before she stands to tug it down the rest of her body. She kicks it off before sitting back on the bed, looking up at the commanding officer. “Such a good listener.” He purrs, “I could tell you do anything and you’d do it, wouldn’t you? Though, I suppose, except to stick to just doing your job and not spread yourself for 005 and 007.”
“Sorry, Sir.” She mumbles, looking down. He laughs, it’s not a particularly cruel noise but it still sends a chill down her spine. “I won’t- I promise I’ll stop.”
“I know you won’t do it again. After tonight you’ll never want them again. It’s okay, don’t apologize.” He soothes, a gloved hand sliding from her shoulder to unclasp the bra. His thumbs rub gentle circles on her nipples until they harden against the nitrile material. He wants to pop one in his mouth, blow a breath of air against the sensitive peaks until she lets out a cute noise. But it’s not the time for that, not when he wants to keep his mask on for this experience. He lowers his hands, pushing her back on the bed as he rubs her sides. “This is all for you, sweetest girl. I’ll show you what someone like you deserves. Scoot back for you, let me see you.”
She obeys, scoot herself back so her ass is right on the edge of the bed. She bites her bottom lip as his black gloves spread her legs apart- he doesn’t force them to separate though, instead he allows her legs to more or less fall open willingly for him. He intakes air sharply at the sight of her panties. He wants to lean in and inhale her scent, tug her panties to the side and lick a stripe up her slit to taste her before taking his gloves off and slide a finger into her heat until she falls apart on his digits. He can’t though, not this time- maybe he’ll do something like that in the future for her if she keeps being such a damn good thing for him.
“Look at you, so tempting.” He says, running his thumb up her clothed slit before settling on her clit. He raises an eyebrow when she gasps and her hips immediately buck up against his touch. He had expected her to be a needy thing, according to that doctor she would practically throw herself at 005 and 007 each night but never seemed too pleased later on, but to already be squirming just from his thumb rubbing circles on her clit- it’s adorably obscene. “It’s okay, baby girl, you can move for me. Don’t hold back.”
“Why are we here?” 005 complains, his voice strained as he shifts uncomfortably from his cock hardening.
“Your punishment is to watch me claim your… What do you call her? A whore? A slut? Your bitch?” He hums, chuckling darkly as he keeps his eyes locked on the woman’s face. “Such degrading words for a perfect thing, though I’m not surprised men like you would fail to see her worth.”
“Men like us?” 007 says, his cheeks flushed.
“Yeah, what did you-” 005 starts.
The commanding officer raises a finger up to the pair to shut them up. “Don’t make me consider a harsher punishment for you two getting sloppy on the job. You’re lucky that all I’m taking is her.”
She continues to move her hips beneath his thumb, her breathing becoming heavier as he works her over. He’s skilled, that’s for fucking sure. “Faster?”
Her request gets his attention and he leans over her body, his thumb rubbing more incessantly. “Hm? What was that? Faster?” His voice is a whisper into her ear, “are you in a position to make a request from me right now? You may not be getting punished for your actions right now, but make no mistake of where you stand with me.” He growls, but he doesn’t remove his digit. He keeps rubbing her clit, relishes in the way she arches and grasps the bedding. He can feel her heat even through the panties, even though his fucking gloves. He can smell her desperation. “You close?”
“Mhm!” She moans, nodding and closing her eyes for a second before they open back up. She’s a perfect, mewling mess.
He leans back to look into her eyes, glancing over to see the way the pair of Soldiers sitting look disgruntled and aroused. Their jumpsuits tent aggressively, they’d never put in this level of work for her. While she’s moaned and whimpered for them, she’s never sounded like this- it sends jealousy through their veins but it fades almost instantly when the commanding officer pulls back and removes his thumb. “Too bad, sweet thing.”
She whines and squirms, sitting up just enough to watch as he sheds his black jumpsuit. He doesn’t kick it off, he settles just for it pooling at his ankles. “What? Why?”
“Why?” He chuckles, his shoulder rising with the noise, “why should I let you cum yet? I haven’t got to see what’s so good about this pussy that it makes not one but two men fail their duties.”
“Such a fucking slut,” one of the Soldiers scoffs.
“Quiet. She’s not a slut. She’s just needing something more than either of you can offer.” He corrects, pushing her back down and palming his cock through his black boxers. He’s not one to come early, he’s able to control himself, but he doesn’t really want to hold back. Not when he can so readily claim her in front of his subordinates, not when he can make all three of them remember their place.
“Thank you.” She murmurs in response to his defense of her, which makes him want to laugh loudly but he holds himself back. He’s not defending her for her sake, rather to just make the men more upset. However, getting her wrapped around his finger is a nice bonus.
“Of course, sweet girl.” He slowly pulls her panties down, spreading her wider for him to settle between her thighs. He grinds himself against her bare cunt, his head tilting back as her head warms his sensitive dick. He braces himself with one hand by her head as he fishes his stiff cock from his boxers and strokes himself. He rubs his tip against her wet slit coating himself in her slick arousal. “Ready for me?”
“Yes, Sir.” She nods, sliding her arms over his shoulders. She wishes he’d take the damn mask off, but she’s not stupid enough to bring it up.
He grunts as his head splits her, slipping into her tight heat easily. He doesn’t rush forward, no- he takes his time to let her feel every inch of him until he hilts himself. She feels like heaven wrapped around him. A guttural groan leaves him as he slowly thrusts. He doesn’t want to go fast like a rabid animal, not unless she asks him to of course, but the idea is there. “Feel good, baby? You like that?”
She nods, her nails digging into her palms as she settles her legs on his waist. She lifts her hips in sync with his thrusts and lets out cute, celsius noises each time he bottoms out. “I love it, Sir. Don’t- Don’t stop.”
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of it.”
005 groans, either out of the desire to be within her cunt or because he’s getting fed up, he’s not really sure. It doesn’t matter to him, to be honest- he’s getting lost in the sensation of her clutching heat fluttering around him so nicely. He moves his free hand between their bodies and rubs her clit again. When she grips him tighter, he lets out a low groan. Just like that, yeah… That’s fucking perfect.
“Please, Sir. That feels so good.” She whimpers out, tugging him down so her face can be buried in his neck.
He tsks and pulls away slightly, “look at them. I want you to look at the men you no longer belong to.”
She tenses up before obeying, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth and looking over at 005 and 007. Fuck, their eyes are darting between her face and the way the commanding officer’s hips move. “Shit…” She breathes out, her eyes fluttering as they all three make eye contact. Her walls massage his cock and he feels her arousal coating his shaft and dribbling down to his balls.
“I’m going to fill you up, 009. Mark you as mine now.” He growls. If he didn’t have his mask on, he’s bite on her neck, bite on her shoulder, leave pretty marks up and down her skin. “You’re mine now.” He says before his hips start to pump out of rhythm. He hilts into her harder, unintentionally but goddammit she’s gripping him perfectly. He can’t get enough, he might have to start calling her to his chambers more often.
“Can I come?” She asks, looking so damn needy beneath him.
He laughs. He laughs… “Of course not.” He groans, “you didn’t do your duties tonight. Why should you come on my cock, hm? Think you really deserve it?” He rubs her clit harder and faster, loving the way she holds herself back from finishing. “You don’t. Fuck, you don’t deserve to finish tonight, baby girl.”
She cries out, her legs tightening around him as she barely holds herself back as he comes inside of her. He’s as far inside of her as he can be, pumping hot cum deep into her cunt. He groans loudly, throwing his head back. The Soldiers’ eyes widen as they watch her expression change as he fills her up.
“You really didn’t come, huh?” He mutters, straight up and using his hands to gently take her legs from his waist so they can fall back onto the bed beneath her. “You are such a good thing. So proud of you.”
She pant heavily, sitting up and finally looking away from 005 and 007. “I try to be.” She responds, her voice a little rough. Of course she didn’t get to finish, but it was still more pleasurable than anything she’s felt with her fellow Soldiers.
“Get dressed. You two, go wait by the elevator.” He says, his black jumpsuit back in place as he pats her thigh before looking over the Soldiers. 005 and 007 grumble and stand up, walking stiffly back through the hallway to the elevator. “You did good tonight, 009.”
“Thank you, Sir.” She says, getting dressed. “I’m still sorry, I- I’ll do my job from now on.”
He smiles under his mask, nodding and standing straighter, “I know you will. Now hurry along to the elevator. I’ll have a Manager bring you three back to your rooms.” She gives him a small almost-wave before going to where 005 and 007 are waiting.
“Damn whore…” They say in unison as she appears, sneering and crossing their arms. The elevator door opens and they all walk in.
“You’re still ours.” Jong-il says, his mask nearly touching her ear so no one can hear, “no matter what the damn commanding officer says.”
could you do any of the Squid Game cast with an f reader who's insecure about her weight? I know Korean beauty standards but let a girl dream okay😔
valid girl, here treat yourself! Lets's all be in denial and pretend Canon didn't happen. 💌
ft. Salesman, Frontman, Thanos, Dae-ho (388), Se-mi (380), Nam-gyu (124), Hyun-ju (120), Jun-hee (222), Masked Officer and Gi-hun (456)
Headcanons. Mentions of pregnancy and fatphobia. A tiny bit suggestive but mostly just random whimsy stuff. Some could also be read platonic I guess. Not proofread. Spoiler-free.
The only thing stopping me from including more characters was the GIF limit.
Salesman
Sorry, but this guy will definetly be a bully about it. Not like your weight is bothering him at all, it's simply a habit of his to go after other's insecurities for his own entertainment.
Doesn't really think that much about how his words affect you and even gets a bit irritated at you being "too sensitive". In the end however, he'll always make up for it with expensive gifts and extravagant dates to remind you of "your status".
Also, prepare for a looong lecture of him trying to express his emotions but failing horrible, talking about how it's illogical to think he'd date someone he isn't attracted to since "clearly you don't serve any other purpose to me" ughh he's trying okay.
If anyone else dares commenting on your body on the other hand? Let's just say he's gonna try out some new games on them.
This man lacks any basic empathy, so don't expect him to be sympathetic. If you complain, you'll get rational solutions, but he's very dedicated with it. Already makes mental spreadsheets to better your workout and eating habits.
In his eyes, as his partner you should carry yourself with dignity, and it's his mission to make you finally see your worth.
Frontman / Hwang In-ho
Is 100% responsible for your weight gain. This man is an amazing cook and loves to indulge you in any way he can.
Still, it was only during your first pregnancy when In-ho realized that he actualy prefered you that way. There's just something about seeing your belly grow round with his child that drives him literally crazy.
He also forbid you from any kind of physical activity in that state, since due to his past he was terrified to lose you and the child, and he certainly isn't taking any chances.
Literally can't leave his hands off of you. Offers you massages on the regulary just so he can shamelessly enjoy himself digging his hands at every inch of you he can get.
Kinda feels bad about "objectifying" you though? Idk I feel like in his private life this guy is very old-school and bad at communicating, he's basically kinkshaming himself lmao.
In his kind of profession he needs to stay throughoutly fit, so he's definetly able to carry you at any weight.
To him it's the most natural thing in the world that bodies change over time, and it's such an incredible privilege to grow together with the love of his life!
Thanos
Dude is definetly gonna call you some corny shit like "my marshmallow girl" unironically, comes up with all sorts of nicknames that are lowkey awful but he thinks are super cute
Picking out clothes for you has become a passion of his and he spares no expense when it comes to it. After all, he likes to see you happy and especially to see you in those outfits.
There's no filter between those last two braincells and his mouth. Constantly comments and catcalls you, "damnnn girl" is already his most used phrase at this point.
Saw too many memes. Says shit like "choke me with your thighs" while dropping to his knees.
His manager lowkey hates you because he claims it's bad for his public image if he officially has a relationship, let alone with someone not fitting Korean beauty standards, but he doesn't give a damn when it's about you.
It's your decision whether you want to be part of his celebrity life, but he'd be soo excited to show you off!
In the end the two of you get celebrated by his fans and they call you the new "plus size icon". He always claims "anyone who talks shit is just jealous, babe."
Kang Dae-ho
Literally doesn't see the problem until you point it out. Explain it to him like he's dull because this man is too wholesome to understand.
A bigger girl just means more to love?? Duh.
You could literally be picking yourself apart in front of the mirror saying "I'm so fat" and he'd be like "ikr🥰you look amazing".
It actually makes him very sad if you talk badly about yourself, since he knows what it's like to feel inadequate too well...luckily for you that's exactly the reason he always knows how to hype you up about yourself!
Also, he thinks you give the best cuddles ever. His favourite place to be is with his face nuzzling against your stomach while lazily caressing your skin.
He's just so happy and proud to have a girlfriend who's pretty inside and out, this man will adore you to bits.
Se-mi
This girl is supportive af, consider her your personal bodyguard at this point (at least verbally).
No reason to be ashamed of your stretch marks, she's got her own from growing too fast in her youth. Has a habit to trace yours with her finger absentmindedl whenever she got the chance, as if she wants to remember every single unique pattern of your body.
Don't try to hide anything from her, she's very good at reading people so she'll know if you're feeling down. And yes, she's willing to hear about your insecurities for the 10.000th time, because that's also a part of the wonderful person that you are.
Would give anything for you to be able to just see yourself with her eyes for one moment at least...
Nam-gyu
I can't quite explain, I just feel like this guy has huge mommy issues and yes that is (not exclusively but in this case) tied to your weight. So expect him to be uncharacteristically submissive in your presence.
"Boobs or ass?" Neither. Prefers hip dips and stomach rolls, a man of culture indeed.
Is very handsy no matter when or where, loves to grab your butt even in public, or sneak up from behind to squeeze your boobs or belly just for funsies.
Is a little paranoid, somehow about both that others might disrespect or try to take you away from him. Oftentimes you might need to hold him back from doing something stupid just for the tiniest bit of your approval.
Will kneel in front of you and look up with those puppy eyes, zero thoughts but all the commitment.
Cho Hyun-ju
Let's be honest, she knwos best about both body dysmorphia and not fitting society's beauty standards. You'd definetly have someone to talk and at least partially relate to.
While she's very harsh on herself, appearances in general don't matter to her at all, what matters most is on the inside - and you got the most beautiful soul she ever got a glimpse of.
Doesn't know whether to be jealous of your curves or just be obsessed with 'em, haha
She's incredibly affectionate both with words and actions, constantly reassuring you about how pretty you are and how much you are appreciated as a person.
Willing to go to any lenghts to protect you from any cruel people that fail to see your light.
Kim Jun-hee
Frankly, she always had the opposite problem especially since she was expecting a child: People shamed her for being "too skinny" and how it would negatively effect her baby.
She'd be so supportive and hyped up to work on yourselves together, suggests working out after the baby's here so you can both become fit! No pressure at all though.
Steals your hoodies and shirts constantly, they're just so comfy especially when she doesn't fit into her regular clothes anymore because of her pregnancy belly.
Obsessed with your size difference honestly, being in your arms with her head buried in your neck makes her feel both cozy and safe at the same time. Also tends to hide behind you when she's stressed or afraid.
Really looks up to you as a person, no matter the weight.
Masked Officer
Concentrates on more important matters. You're loyal, sharp, and get the job done. Also you're quite literally his better half, so who cares what you look like?
You wonder why the mean comments got way less since you're with him but he straight up kills anyone that even looks at you the wrong way before they could even speak.
Is a tad bid sadistic, so considering those tendencies it's only for the best if you got some "extra cushion". With a grip as firm as his you're practically his stressball at this point.
Actually a bit concerned for your health, but his own smoking and drinking habits would make him a hypocrite for pointing this out, wouldn't it? So he mostly keeps his mouth shut about it. You're a catch either way.
Get's super talkative when drunk, like totally out of character. The usually stoic man is all over you, gushing about how lucky he is to have you in his life and how it pains him to see you doubting yourself. It's actually very endearing to wittness.
Seong Gi-hun
C'mon now, just look at this guy.
Literally hates himself and for many reasons at that, so he can't understand how someone so perfect could feel negative about yourself when there's actual evil out there.
Just so awkward and innocent, it doesn't take much to make him wax in your hands. While not really interested in things like that generally, it hits different when it's you. Show a lil' cleavage or wear a tight dress and this man is gonna have a short-circuit.
Hope you're ready for a heartfelt speech about true beauty and how your presence has affected him and many others for the better, no matter what you look like.
Gain or lose weight all you want, if this man is in love he'll worship the very ground you walk on.
I luv sm like u are feeding me 😫 masked officer from sg cuz he fineeeeeeeee.
Hostage~Masked officer
Wearning: +18,smut,dark,age-gap.
You sit on the Masked Officer’s lap, you were naked while your pussy was warming up his cock, his body solid beneath you, his grip preventing you from moving. His arm wraps around your waist with a suffocating possession while his eyes, hidden behind his black mask, are fixed on the large screen in front of you.
On the monitor, the Squid Game players are fighting Mingle, their fate hanging on a thin thread between victory and death. You watch them move in panic, trying to survive, while the sound of gunshots echoes in the silence of the room.
“You’re lucky, you know?” his voice is a raspy whisper next to your ear. “You’re with me. Not out there with them.”
You tense, your hands gripping the arms of the couch. The idea of being “lucky” makes your blood boil, but you say nothing. You know that any wrong word could unleash something unpredictable in him.
He chuckles, as if he knows exactly what you’re thinking. "I chose you. Out of so many. You could have been just another pawn in the game… but now you're mine."
His fingers tighten on your waist. A shiver of disgust runs down your spine, but you mask your reaction. You have to be careful. Masked Officer is obsessed with you, and that makes him even more dangerous.
He takes a sip of his wine, savoring the rich flavor as he watches the chaos unfold on the screen. His cock remains buried inside you, a constant reminder of your position and his power over you. He doesn't move, content to simply bask in the warmth of your body and the knowledge that he holds your life in his hands.
"You know," he says after a moment, his voice thoughtful, "I've been watching you. From the beginning. There's something about you that caught my eye."
His hand reaches up to caress your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle.
He leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin. "I wonder how long that strength will last. How long before you break, before you're begging for mercy?"
His hips give a slight thrust, a subtle reminder of the power he holds over you.
You groaned at the sudden movement and leaned against the arms of the couch as you continued to watch the other players on the screen.
He smirks at your groan, pleased with the reaction he's elicited from you. His hand slides from your cheek to the back of your neck, gripping it firmly as he pulls you closer to him.
"That's it," he murmurs, his voice low and seductive. "Let me hear you. Let me know how much you're enjoying this."
He begins to move his hips slowly, his cock sliding in and out of you with deliberate, measured strokes. Each thrust is calculated to bring you pleasure, to make you crave more of his touch.
"You're so tight," he groans, his fingers tightening in your hair. "So perfect. I could keep you like this forever."
His other hand reaches around to grasp your breast, squeezing it roughly as he continues to fuck you. The sounds of the game fade into the background, replaced by the wet slap of flesh against flesh and your own ragged breathing.
You try to hold back your moans, but it’s hard when he’s doing this to you. Your body reacts instinctively, your hips bucking up to meet his thrusts. You bite your lip, trying to stifle the sounds that threaten to escape your mouth.
But his grip on your neck only tightens, his fingers digging into your skin. He wants to hear you, wants to know how much you’re enjoying this.
He chuckles again, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s it, princess,” he whispers. “Let me hear you. I want to hear every sound you make.”
You feel helpless, unable to resist the pleasure his touch is bringing you. It's like he knows exactly how to manipulate you, how. to make you feel things you don't want to feel. You're caught in his web, and there's no escape.
His grip on your neck tightens even more, and you let out a gasp of surprise and discomfort. "Please.. Stop.." you plead weakly, your voice trembling with fear. "I don't want this, please..."
His grip on your neck loosens slightly at your plea, but he doesn't pull out. Instead, he leans in closer, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks.
"Shh, don't fight it," he murmurs, his voice a low, soothing purr. "You know you want this. You know you need this."
His hand moves from your breast to your clit, his fingers circling the sensitive nub with expert precision. He knows exactly how to touch you, how to make your body respond even when your mind is screaming at you to resist.
"You're mine," he whispers, his breath hot against your skin. "You belong to me now. And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."
His hips begin to move faster, his thrusts becoming more urgent and demanding. He's claiming you, marking you as his possession, and there's nothing you can do to stop him.
You can’t help but whimper as his hand moves down to your clit, sending waves of pleasure through your body. Your hips jerk involuntarily, seeking more of his touch.
You bite your lip harder, trying to hold back the sounds that threaten to escape your lips. But it’s impossible, especially when he starts to move his fingers in slow, deliberate circles.
He smirks against your ear, clearly enjoying the effect he’s having on you. He knows he has you right where he wants you, and he’s savoring every moment of it.
His smirk widens as he hears your whimper, feeling your hips jerk against his hand. He knows he's won, that he's broken through your defenses and made your body betray you.
"That's it," he murmurs, his fingers moving faster against your clit. "Let go. Give in to me."
His other hand moves from your neck to your throat, wrapping around it possessively. He squeezes slightly, cutting off your air supply and making your head spin with a heady mix of fear and arousal.
"You're so close, aren't you?" he whispers, his voice dark and seductive. "I can feel it. Your body is begging for release, begging for me."
He thrusts into you harder, his cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every movement. He's relentless, determined to push you over the edge and make you shatter in his arms.
Your eyes flutter shut as his hand tightens around your throat, cutting off your air supply and heightening the sensation of his fingers on your clit.
You feel like you're on the edge of a precipice, teetering on the brink of release. Your body is on fire, your mind a haze of pleasure and desire.
You try to protest, to resist, but all that comes out is a strangled moan as you struggle to catch your breath.
His grip on your neck is firm, almost bruising, but you can't help but crave more. You want him to hold you down, to take control completely.
He chuckles again, the sound a dark and perverse thing that sends chills down your spine. “You say you don’t want this, but we both know that’s a lie.” He leans in, his lips brushing against your ear as he speaks. “Your body betrays you, princess. It wants me, just like you do.”
His hips snap forward, driving his cock deep inside you. He's being brutal, punishing, determined to wipe away any lingering doubt or resistance. He wants to erase every part of you that isn't his, that doesn't belong to him.
He doesn't hold back, not even for a moment. He fucks you hard and fast, his hips driving into you with a primal intensity.
The sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mixing with your moans and gasps for breath.
He's claiming you, marking you as his, making sure that you'll never forget who you belong to.
His grip on your throat loosens slightly as he lets out a low growl, his own pleasure building with each thrust.His eyes meet yours and a shiver runs down your spine. The intensity of his stare is enough to make you feel like the only person in the world.
"You're mine", he growlms, possessiveness oozing from every syllable, his voice thick with raw desire. "Every inch of you belongs to me, princess. Understand?"
His grip on your hips tightens, his fingers digging into your flesh as he holds you in place. He's marking you, claiming you, leaving no doubt in your mind that you belong to him.
""Say it. Say you're mine." he hisses, his voice a low, dangerous growl.
His thrusts become more erratic, more desperate. He's losing control, consumed by the need to possess you completely. His other hand wraps around your throat again, squeezing just hard enough to remind you of his power over you.
"Say it!" he demands, his eyes blazing with a fierce intensity. "Tell me you're mine!"
Your body is trembling, your mind overwhelmed by the intensity of the sensations coursing through you. You can feel the heat building up inside you, the coil tightening with every thrust.
You struggle to form words, to speak the words he wants to hear. But he won't accept anything less than absolute submission.
His fingers dig deeper into your skin, leaving behind marks that will remind you of this moment for days to come.
You swallow hard, your voice a ragged whisper.
"I'm yours..." you say, the words escaping your lips without your permission.
He smirks at your response, satisfaction filling his gaze. He knew you'd cave, but he wanted to hear it from your own lips.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low and dangerous purr. "That's what I wanted to hear."
He leans down, his mouth just millimeters from your ear. "Now tell me how much you want me, princess. I want to hear you beg for it."
His words send a shiver down your spine, a mix of fear and excitement coursing through your veins. You know you shouldn't give in, shouldn't beg for something you don't want, but the way he's touching you, the way he's looking at you... it's making it hard to think straight.
"Please," you whisper, your voice trembling slightly. "Please, I want you. I need you."
He smirks, clearly pleased with your response. "Louder," he demands, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. "I want everyone to hear how much you need me."
His hips move faster, his thrusts becoming more powerful, more demanding. He's pushing you to the edge, teasing you with the promise of release.
"Beg for it," he growls, his voice a low, commanding rumble. "Beg for my cock, princess. Show me how much you want it."
His smirk turns into a satisfied grin as he hears you repeat your plea. He loves the way you sound when you beg for him, the way you beg for his touch, his attention.
He presses himself even closer to you, his chest flush against your back, his breath hot against your ear.
"Good girl," he murmurs, his voice a low rumble. "You're so obedient when you beg for me."
He shifts his hips, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting a deeper, more sensitive spot inside you.
His movements become rougher, more dominating. He wants to push you to the limit, to see just how far he can take you.
"You like that, don't you, princess?" he murmurs, his voice a dark and seductive whisper. "You like it when I take control and make you mine."
He leans in, his teeth grazing against your neck. "You're mine, and no one else's. You belong to me."
His words send a thrill through your body, a mix of fear and excitement that makes your heart race. You know he's right, that you belong to him now, that he can do whatever he wants with you.
"Yes," you gasp, your voice barely audible over the sound of his hips slamming into yours. "I'm yours. Only yours."
He growls in approval, his grip on your throat tightening slightly. "That's right, princess. You're mine to use, mine to possess."
His thrusts become more erratic, more desperate. He's chasing his own release now, determined to mark you as his in the most primal way possible.
"Come for me," he demands, his voice a low, commanding growl. "Come on my cock, princess. Show me who you belong to."
His fingers find your clit, rubbing it in tight, urgent circles. He's pushing you over the edge, forcing you to obey his command.
He can feel your body tense up as he touches your clit, and he grins.
"That's it," he whispers, his voice dripping with satisfaction. "You're so close, aren't you? Just a little bit more..."
He increases the pace of his fingers, moving them in tight, fast circles, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.
His own hips are still thrusting into you, his body moving against yours in a primal rhythm.
He can sense the way your body reacts to his touch. It's a heady combination of pleasure and pain, and he knows he's got you right where he wants you.
His fingers move with practiced precision, knowing just the right pressure and speed to push you over the edge.
Every touch of his sends jolts of electricity through you, leaving you trembling and helpless. He loves this power that he has over you, and he won't stop until he's completely satisfied.
His fingers move faster, pressing harder against your clit as he feels your body tensing, your muscles tightening in anticipation of your impending orgasm. He knows you're close, knows that with just a little more stimulation, he can push you over the edge and make you shatter in his arms.
"That's it, princess," he murmurs, his voice a low, seductive purr. "Let go. Come for me. Show me how much you love being mine."
His hips snap forward, driving his cock deep inside you as his fingers work their magic on your clit. He's relentless, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from your body.
"Now," he growls, his voice a commanding bark. "Come now!"
And with that final order, he pushes you over the edge, sending you spiraling into a world of pure, unadulterated ecstasy.
Your body convulses with pleasure, waves of ecstasy crashing over you as you come undone in his arms. He holds you tightly, his hips grinding against yours as he rides out your orgasm, prolonging your pleasure until you're a trembling, gasping mess.
"That's my girl," he murmurs, his voice a low, satisfied rumble. "So beautiful when you come apart for me."
He pulls out slowly, his cock slick with your juices. He brings his fingers to his mouth, sucking them clean with a low groan of pleasure. "Delicious," he says, his eyes never leaving yours.
You cuddled up to him tiredly as you watched the last round of mingle and seeing how they were brutally killed you felt grateful that the masked officer had taken you.
He wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer as you watch the brutal conclusion of the game unfold on the screen. He can feel your gratitude, your relief that he chose to keep you safe instead of sending you out there to die.
"You're smart, princess," he murmurs, his lips brushing against your hair. "You know that I'm the only one who can protect you, the only one who can keep you alive."
His hand trails down your side, his touch possessive and claiming. "And I always take care of what's mine."
He tilts your chin up, forcing you to meet his gaze. "You're mine now, princess. Forever. And I'll never let anyone hurt you again."
His eyes burn with a fierce intensity, a promise and a threat all at once. You know that he means every word, that he'll do whatever it takes to keep you safe and by his side.
Masked Officer x F! Reader
Ao3 link
Words: 1.7k
Summary: The Masked Officer is not pleased with the hesitancy that one of the Soldiers showed when it came to shooting of one of the many worthless pieces of garbage that littered the game. She'll have to make up for it.
Warnings: dub-con, blowjob, swallowing, reader is a Soldier (△), Chan-woo is 45ish (43-47), Chan-woo is referred to as Officer and Sir for the most part, players are looked down (called garbage, mules, etc), vague jealousy from Chan-woo, slightly ooc for the games just for the sake of smut.
Other: I want this gif replying in my head 24/7. Named him Kim Chan-woo. I definitely wanna write for him again, maybe do something with cuckolding and soldiers 005 and 007 (furiously writes this down)!
Being a Soldier came with certain perks that she loved- the room she had was slightly more comfortable, the food allotment was better, and she was seen as someone with (ever so slightly) more worth. Of course it came at the expense of having to put the poor mules of the games out of their misery, but a well placed shot and they’re down. Not too down, of course, they had to be prime for organ harvesting, but it’s easy as hell to shoot something that’s not too essential for life.
So why was she hesitating right now? The garbage in front of her was worthless, she didn’t even know the poor soul, but the way he begged so prettily and desperately for his life made it hard for her to pull the damn trigger. He has a kid, a wife, and a dog. They all live together in the Jongno district of Seoul. He keeps talking. Fuck, why does he keep running his mouth. He doesn’t make an effort to disarm her, doesn’t even try to get away. He just sits huddled up in the corner of the colorful room with his hands raised and trembling going on and on about his miserable life.
Put him out of his misery, she thinks to herself, shoot him in the side or some shit and let them take his organs for a good use. It takes less than a second and all she’s doing is prolonging the-
She’s shoved out of the way and a different Soldier takes the shot, the guy’s words dying out with a garbled scream. Silence fills the room as the Soldier turns to look at her, the masks make it hard to see into each other’s eyes but she can feel the disappointment radiating from her fellow Triangle.
She knows she’s in deep shit, she has a hard set, easy to follow rules and she hesitated. Granted it’s her first slip up, but a slip up nonetheless. This is not the kind of job where a slip up is taken lightly, there’s no room for error. Errors make the games disorganized, errors make the games not run as smoothly as is required. She knows she won’t have to face the Front Man, he’s more concerned with… other matters… but the Officer is just as uncomfortable.
As she follows the Manager to where the Officer is waiting for her she can’t stop thinking about what’s going to happen. Is she going to be relieved of her duties, demoted back down to a Worker, or is there some other punishment that awaits her. When the Manager leaves the pair alone, she feels her throat dry out. It’s not as if having another person in the room would have made the process any easier- hell, it would have made it even worse- but still. Her uniform feels too tight suddenly, her mask suffocating.
His mask is already off, placed neatly beside his alcohol as he smokes his cigar. His eyes look tired, but his face is blank.
“Take your mask off.” He says, his voice not showing any hint of any emotion, good or bad.
She obeys, sliding her hood down, taking the mask off, and tugging down the balaclava. She shakes her head slightly as she holds the mask in front of her. Her gloves feel sweaty on the inside as she tries to not fidget.
“Good.” A long inhale, a short exhale. Smoke from his earthy cigar billows up into the air. He doesn’t say anything for a long moment, his eyes looking at her face, then to her hands that tremble slightly, and then back to her face. She can’t tell if he’s trying to find out what punishment best suits the situation or if he’s intentionally making her more uncomfortable. “You know why you’re here, correct?” He finally says, leaning back in the chair, “you failed in your duties.”
“Yes, Sir.” A small twitch of his lips gets her attention before her eyes return to his, “I hesitated too long, I apologize.”
“You hesitated. It doesn’t matter how long that pause was, you didn’t perform your duties to the standard we have set in place.” Another inhale and exhale, another wispy ghost from his lips. “I’m disappointed in you, you know.”
She’s not sure why those words hit her hard, but it’s as unpleasant as everything in this room. She swallows and gives a sharp nod, standing a bit straighter. “Yes, Sir. I acknowledge that I have failed. I accept any punishment.” She doesn’t want to accept any punishment, both death and being forced to be a measly worker might as well be the same option, but she knows she doesn’t have much of a say in how her punishment is carried out.
“Punishment, hm? I suppose that’s one word for what I have in mind for you.” He takes a long drink of the whisky, finishing the glass before sitting it down. The air around the pair changes to feel stuffy and warm. “Tell me though, what do you believe should be done with you?”
“I believe I should be demoted, Sir.”
“Demoted?”
“Yes, Sir.”
He hums, nodding his head slowly. He’s not surprised she would choose demotion over something like death despite the fact that it would be taking a pay hit and going back to being immediately disposable. But he has something better in mind, something that will please them both. He’ll get something special out of it while she doesn’t have to worry that pretty lil head about going back to being a simple Worker, a good trade in all honesty he feels. “I have something better in mind.”
This catches her attention, something better? Is he implying that death is better? Or does he have something entirely different in mind? He smirks fully this time rather than a quick tip of his lips, her confusion must be visible on her face. “What do you mean, Sir?”
“Why don’t you get on your knees and crawl over to me, I’m sure you can put two and two together. You’re not stupid, are you?” His smirk turns into a full blown grin as she obeys and gets down her knees. She’s trained well, a near perfect Soldier. When she gets right in front of him, she sits back and looks up at him. His cock is already hard in his boxers beneath his black jumpsuit, turned on beyond belief just from his earlier thoughts on the way her mouth will feel around his straining cock. It was good enough of a thought to make him want to pump his cock into his fist and spill himself on his hand, but he’s not some dumb, horny teenager- he’s a man in his 40s who knows exactly what he wants and knows that spilling himself into her waiting mouth would be infinitely more gratifying than just making a mess on himself.
“No, Sir. I’m not stupid.”
“Good girl.” He praises, patting her head and then rubbing her cheek while sitting the cigar down in the ashtray. He would love to feel her skin against his, but there’s a certain excitement that sparks within him from his gloved hand on her cheek.
“Thank you.”
“Thank you…?”
“Thank you, Sir.”
He’s pleased… very pleased. His cock jumps and he pulls his hand away to unzip his pink zipper. He has to stifle a laugh when she looks away. “Eyes on me, don’t disappoint me for a second time today. Don’t look away.” Her gaze hesitantly goes back up to his face as he frees his cock from his boxers and strokes himself from base to tip slowly, sharply inhaling at the feel of his glove on his sensitive, warm skin. He grunts softly as she leans in slightly. He knew she was smart, so fucking smart. He taps her chin, laughing quietly when he mouth opens up and her tongue lolls out.
He slaps his tip against her soft tongue before rubbing his head slowly against the muscle. It feels so damn good, especially when she closes her lips around him and bobs her head. He doesn’t force her head down, but he does put his hand on the back of her head and guides her movements gently. He doesn’t need her to deep throat him, doesn’t need her to gag and drool down his shaft. He just needs her to assist in getting off. His free hand wraps around his base and pumps slightly.
“Fuck…” He breathes out, closing his eyes at the combination of his gloved hand and her warm mouth. “That’s good, good girl- you’re doing great. Gonna make me forget all about your failure.”
She makes a noise around his cock which vibrates his head and makes his thighs tense up. His fingers tighten up but he’s careful to get too rough- sure she deserves a rougher treatment but he can’t deny the allure of being a gentle lover.
“Ready for my cum?” He asks, his voice strained. “Tap my leg once if you are.”
He groans when she taps his thigh once. All it takes is one, two, three more strokes of his hand and one, two, three, four movements of her head and he gasps loudly before letting out a guttural moan. His entire body trembles hard and it takes all of his effort to not force her head down and pump down her throat.
He can feel his salty, bitter cum filling up her mouth. He knows what she’s waiting on- a command, an order, a directive to swallow. Goddamn, such a perfect Soldier. In the haze of his orgasm he briefly wonders about putting in a word about promoting her to Manager for the next year’s games so they’d have more time around each other.
“Swallow it.” He says when he’s fully spilled in her mouth. He stutters out a shaking yes when she feels her swallow down a couple times. He pulls her from his cock, swiping a thumb over her lips before adjusting himself back into his boxers and zips himself back up. “Stand, mask on.” She stands up and nods, tugging her balaclava back into place, putting ehr mask back on, and adjusting her hood into place. “Back to your quarters. Don’t let me catch you slipping up again.”
hiii could you write somthing for park hee soon? maybe masked officer with predator prey kink, with bratty!vip’s daughter who needs to be taught a lesson?? orrr a sad/angsty smut for choi mujin, maybe about him always feeling betrayed
Hi! Im actually planning on doing both, so here's the first one, so i hope you like it :3 Do u wanna be tagged for the other one? 🫶
Commanding officer x fem!reader
Warnings: p in v sex, dry humping, creampie, outdoor sex
This is 18+ so pls no minors ty
The grass was warm underneath your feet. Your extortionate red bottom heels had been long discarded in the chase. You knew your father would be furious. Those shoes cost more than what most people would even see during their entire lifetime.
some people have more money than sense, you think.
Your silk dress, hoisted up to your knees, whips behind you in the wind as you run from the clearing into the woods.
He'd be here soon.
You'd already heard them, crackling on the radio. Something about a vip going out of bounds, needing to be brought back. Your plan was in full motion.
It's not your fault that the only real entertainment on this god forsaken island was the handsome commanding officer in charge of keeping everyone in check.
Technically speaking, you've never seen beneath that black obtrusive mask he wears, but you're dead set on him being hot. You can tell just from his posture that he knows it. From the way he speaks to the way he walks, you know it to be true.
A voice calls your name through the forest. It gets closer and closer until the man appears, standing just across from you in the clearing. A gloved hand reaches for his radio, bringing it up to his mask.
"I've found her. Over." Before turning it off with one of the dials on the top.
He takes an assertive step forward. You take one step back.
"Alright. Playtime is over. You've had your fun—" He announces, disinterest clear in his voice.
"Aww– already?" You pout. "But we've just gotten started—" your hands clenching within your skirt, swaying it back and forth enticingly. "Cant we stay out a bit longer?"
"No. It's not safe out here. If you wanted to leave so badly then you could have spoken to the guards and organised it." His mask hiding all elements sympathy he may or may not be feeling.
"But I've got you to protect me." Your eyes shift to his rifle that's slung around his back. "Dont you wanna have some fun?" You know he can tell what you're suggesting.
You notice how his spine straightens slightly and the clench of his fingers absentmindedly as he processes your words. They are probably clouding his judgement, you imagine.
"I've been told to bring you back—" he pauses. "I'd hate to have to resort to force."
Finally, you were getting somewhere.
"Well— i suppose you'll just have to catch me then."
You feel the giggle bubbling up inside you before quickly taking another step back and bolting away, further into the undergrowth. You can tell he's immediately coming after you, heavy boots on the forest floor and the rattling of a firearm ring in your ears make this clear to you.
Tree branches pull at your dress, scratching your arms and your face, but you persist. The chase continues.
You make it a good distance through the forest before you reach another clearing, hesitating, and seeing which direction to go. Your lungs burn, and you're sure you can feel your heartbeat in every limb of your body.
A force collides into your back, knocking you straight to the ground. Before you can even attempt to get back up, the man is straddling your back and reaching up for your arms. His gloved fingers wrap round your wrists and drag them back to hold them behind your waist.
You kick your legs pathetically, dress riding up your thighs slightly, leaving you vulnerable. The cold air hitting your panties drives you even crazier.
"Fuck—" you struggle out. "I'm not some sort of criminal– let me go." You wriggle against his hold.
"Oh yeah? I thought you wanted to behave like a bad girl." He grits out. Trying to catch his breath. "I'm just treating you like one."
His authoritative voice sends heat straight to your core. You wanted nothing more than for him to just rip off this stupid incompetent dress of yours and fuck you like he means it.
"Fuck—" you gasp out. "Are you gonna punish me?" You push your hips up, pressing your ass against him. You repeat the motion, feeling a hardness growing beneath his suit, now pushing against you.
His breathing becomes heavy, "You're going to get me in trouble." He says between stuttered breaths.
"M'sorry—" you wine out desperately, face embedded into the grass in shame. "Just need it so bad." Your words melting into each other.
He leans back slightly, turning round slightly to rake his eyes up the expanse of your bare legs and your plush thighs. His gaze travels just a bit higher, seeing your exposed underwear. You can feel his eyes upon you, turning you on even more. You spread your legs slightly, encouraging him to look.
"Do the boys back home not fuck you properly?" He tuts out. Shaking his head disapprovingly.
He moves his body further back, thighs now trapping your own. Now, his bulge lies directly against your clothed heat, as he gets comfortable.
He reaches up to lift the firearm from around his strong shoulder blades and chucks it to the side somewhere in the grass next to you.
He continues to pin you down, whilst you grind against him desperately, one hand reaching up to pull his hood down. His jet-black hair is revealed to you. He pulls off his gloves, strong veiny hands trailing upwards to pull down the zipper to his suit. He shoulders it off, and your neck begins to hurt from craning it round so much.
your legs spread to accommodate him, and his thighs rest on top of yours. your knees bend, the heels of your feet pushing him closer towards you. His strong fingers drag down between your shoulder blades and down your spine. before hiking up your dress to round your waist. The warm grass beneath you is soft against your stomach.
A hand now reaches for your soaked underwear, pulling it to the side, exposing your neediness. You feel the blunt head of his cock pressing against your tight wet hole, before sliding in easily. You both let out a gasp at the feeling.
"Fuck— it feels so good—" you moan out. "It's so big– i can't take it all—"
"Yes, you can." He speaks through gritted teeth. Pushing in to the hilt. You feel every vein and ridge scraping against your walls deep inside you.
He begins to thrust, leaning forward and pressing his chest against your back. Each time it pushes inside you, it makes you gasp out louder, drawing closer and closer to your release.
"Have I fucked you so dumb you cant speak?" He laughs out. "I think I'm prefer you this way— much more pliant and eager to please."
"Your pussy is so greedy, shes just pulling me back in— is this what you've been acting out for? Are you just pent up?"
His words make you throb around him. You grind backwards onto his dick, meeting his thrusts.
"Fuck— youre tightening around me so well. It's like you're made for this dick." He scoffs. "So warm and wet. I might just have to keep you here, on the island."
"Please—" you stutter out.
"Yeah? Do you like that idea? So i can fuck you like this whenever I please—"
He twitches inside you. He must be close.
"I'll just tell everyone you died. Stumbled off the cliff like some stupid idiot. It's a good cover-up, right?" His condescending tone cutting deep.
He continues to pound into you, bringing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body begins to shake, and his hips stutter slightly. Your cunt squirts around his dick and you feel hot spurts of cum paint your walls inside you, and the feeling is euphoric.
