isolvlt

[isolvlt]

𝐑𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑𝐁 — Kim N𝗮𝗺𝗷𝗼𝗼𝗻

Pairing: Kim Namjoon + f!reader

Genre: smut

Warnings: dom!joon, studio sex, smut smut and smut, semi-public, desk sex, dirty talk, hair pulling, light choking, praise & degradation, size kink (?), unprotected sex, overstimulation, aftercare.

A/N: I've been having namjoon thoughts lately.. 🙂‍��️this is just so hahwhdjaha AH so prepare yourself!! reqs open!! Also I kinda rushed I didn't know how to end it 😕 mdni

Word count: 2.4k

The studio is dimly lit, the only glow coming from the screens and the soft flicker of the soundboard. The bass from an unfinished track hums through the speakers, reverberating in your chest, but it’s nothing compared to the weight of Namjoon’s stare.

He’s supposed to be working—finishing a verse, tweaking a beat—but you can tell from the way his jaw tenses that his focus has shifted entirely to you.

“You really expect me to concentrate when you’re sitting there looking like that?” His voice is low, edged with something dark, something dangerous.

You feign innocence, but the way he pushes back from the desk and spreads his legs tells you he’s not buying it.

“Come here.”

It’s not a request.

You swivel the chair with a smirk, the leather squeaking against the polished floor, and saunter over to him. The smugness on your face is unmistakable, a challenge laid bare for the taking. He reaches out, grabbing your chin firmly but gently, tilting your gaze to meet his.

"You think you're so clever, don't you?" He says, his eyes glinting with amusement and something much more primal. "Teasing me like this."

You bite your lip, the challenge in his voice lighting a fire in your belly. "What if I am?" You whisper, leaning closer to him, your breath warm against his neck.

Namjoon's grip on your chin tightens slightly, his thumb tracing the plumpness of your bottom lip. "Then maybe you need a little reminder of who's in charge here." He stands, towering over you, and you can't help but feel a thrill of excitement at the dominance in his stance.

With a swift move, he spins you around, pushing you down so your palms are flat on the desk. The coldness of the wood sends a shiver down your spine, but it's nothing compared to the heat building between your legs as you feel his hardness press against your ass. "You want to distract me?" He whispers in your ear, his warm breath sending goosebumps across your skin. "Let's see how much you can handle."

He hikes up your skirt, exposing the lacy fabric of your panties. The anticipation is palpable as his hand lingers, hovering just above your bare flesh before finally making contact. His fingers trace the seam, teasing you, driving you wild with need. You arch your back, silently begging for more, and he rewards you by slipping a finger under the lace, brushing against your clit with a feather-light touch that has you gasping.

"You're so wet," he murmurs, the satisfaction in his voice unmistakable. "So eager for me." His words are as much praise as they are degradation, and you love the way they make you feel—dirty and desired all at once.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties, tugging them down just enough to expose your ass, leaving them around your thighs like a second skin. You feel the cool air of the studio kiss your exposed flesh, making you shiver even as the heat from his body envelops you.

"Spread your legs," he commands, his voice thick with lust, and you obey, widening your stance. His hand travels up your thigh, the roughness of his palm contrasting with the smoothness of your skin, sending a delicious shiver through your body. When his hand reaches the juncture of your thighs, you're already trembling with anticipation.

He strokes you, the pad of his thumb circling your clit, the pressure increasing with every pass. The desk digs into your palms as you push back against his hand, seeking more of his touch. You can feel the wetness spreading, soaking the fabric of your panties and the wood beneath. His other hand wraps around your waist, pulling you closer to him, and you feel the head of his cock nudging against your entrance, the fabric of his pants the only barrier between you.

"Please, Namjoon," you whine, the desperation in your voice clear.

He chuckles darkly, the sound sending a thrill through you. "Not yet, baby. First, let's see how much you can take."

With that, he pulls his hand away, leaving you panting and needy. You hear the sound of his zipper and the rustle of fabric as he frees himself. The head of his cock nudges against your entrance again, this time with no barrier. The tip is slick with precum, a silent testament to his desire for you.

He slams into you without warning, the suddenness of it making you cry out. The sound of your voice echoes through the empty studio, melding with the low bass of the music. The desk shakes beneath you with the force of his thrusts, papers and equipment rattling, but you don’t care. All you can focus on is the feeling of him filling you up, stretching you, claiming you.

You grip the edge of the desk, your knuckles turning white with the effort of staying upright. His hand wraps around the back of your neck, his fingers digging into your hair, pulling it just hard enough to make you moan. Each tug sends a bolt of pleasure-pain shooting through you, heightening your arousal. "You like that, huh?" He purrs, his voice a mix of amusement and dominance. "Such a dirty little thing."

Your body responds to his words, your pussy clenching around him, and he groans, his grip tightening. "So responsive," he murmurs, his breath hot on your neck. He leans in closer, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin, and you can't help but arch back into him, silently begging for more.

He delivers, his hips pistoning into you with a ferocity that leaves you breathless. Your breasts press against the cool desk, the friction adding to the overwhelming sensation of fullness. You're so close, so fucking close, and you know he knows it.

The room is filled with the sound of skin slapping against skin, the wetness of your sex, and the harshness of your panted breaths. Your eyes are squeezed shut, the pleasure so intense it's almost painful. You can feel your orgasm building, the pressure coiling in your belly, tightening your muscles.

Namjoon's grip on your hair tightens, and he yanks your head back, exposing your neck to his hungry gaze. His teeth graze the sensitive flesh, and you moan, the sting sending a jolt of electricity through you. He loves watching you come apart like this, the way your body responds to his every touch, every word.

"You're going to come for me," he whispers, the command in his voice unmistakable. "And when you do, you're going to scream my name." His hand leaves your neck, traveling down to your clit, his thumb circling the swollen nub with just the right amount of pressure. "You're going to come so hard, so loud, that everyone in this fucking building will know you're mine."

His words push you over the edge, and you do just as he says, your orgasm ripping through you like a tidal wave. You scream out his name, the sound raw and primal, echoing off the studio walls. He continues to pound into you, his rhythm relentless, until you're shaking with the force of your climax.

As your cries of pleasure die down, Namjoon releases his hold on your hair, allowing your head to fall forward, limp with exhaustion. His hand moves to your hip, holding you steady as he slows his pace, his cock still deep inside you, twitching with the aftershocks of your release. You can feel his own desire building, his breath coming in harsh pants against your neck.

"So fucking beautiful," he murmurs, kissing the spot where he just bit you. His words are gentle, a stark contrast to the roughness of his touch. The tender gesture sends a fresh wave of arousal through you, making your inner walls clench around him.

You push back against him, silently begging for more, and he obliges, his strokes becoming deeper, more deliberate. You can feel his size, every inch of him, and it's overwhelming in the best possible way. The desk creaks with the force of his thrusts, and you know you're leaving marks on the wood, but the thought only makes you wetter.

"Is this what you wanted?" He asks, his voice strained with his own need. "To be fucked like a slut on my desk?"

You look over your shoulder at him, panting heavily. "Yes," you reply, the word barely audible. "I want it all."

Namjoon's eyes flash with something wild and possessive, and he yanks your hips back so you're flush against him, his hand tight on your waist. "You're going to get it, baby. Every. Last. Inch."

With that, he pulls out almost completely before slamming back into you, making you cry out again. The sound of your voice, the way your body takes him in, it's all too much. You're lost in the sensation, the delicious overstimulation of his cock hitting all the right spots. Each thrust is punctuated by a grunt from his chest, the sound reverberating through you and mixing with the music.

His hand moves from your hip to your clit again, and you swear you can feel your orgasm building once more. You're not sure how much more you can take, but you know you want it. You crave it. The pleasure is intense, almost painful, but you can't get enough.

Namjoon's thrusts become more erratic, his breath hot and heavy against your skin. You know he's close, too, and the thought sends you spiraling. His grip on your waist tightens, his nails digging in as he fucks you harder, faster, the desk shaking beneath you. The sound of skin on skin fills the air, punctuated by his grunts and your whimpers.

And then it hits—his orgasm slams into you, making him roar out your name as he empties himself inside you. The feeling of his hot cum filling you is indescribable, a delicious mix of pleasure and satisfaction that sends you hurtling over the edge once more. Your pussy clenches around him, milking every drop, your own orgasm crashing over you like a wave of pure ecstasy.

For a moment, you're both lost in the haze of pleasure, your bodies trembling and intertwined. The music is forgotten, the studio around you fades away, and there's only the two of you, connected in the most primal of ways.

Namjoon's grip loosens slightly, and you feel his cock soften inside you. He pulls out slowly, his cum dripping onto the floor, leaving a mess that neither of you care to acknowledge. You stand, your legs wobbly and your panties around your knees, and turn to face him. His chest is heaving, sweat beading on his forehead, and there's a wild look in his eyes that makes your heart race.

He takes a step back, his eyes roving over you, drinking in the sight of your flushed cheeks and swollen lips. Then, with a gentleness that seems at odds with the ferocity of his earlier touch, he reaches out and wipes a strand of hair from your face. "Are you okay?" He asks, his voice gruff.

You nod, a soft smile playing on your lips. "Better than okay."

Namjoon's gaze softens, the storm in his eyes giving way to something more tender. He reaches out and gently cups your cheek, his thumb tracing the line of your jaw. "Good," he murmurs, his voice still thick with desire.

He leans in, capturing your mouth in a kiss that's as sweet as it is possessive. You melt into him, your legs giving out slightly as you kiss him back with all the passion you have left in you. He catches you, lifting you up and carrying you over to the couch on the other side of the studio. He lays you down gently, his hands stroking your body with a tenderness that seems almost foreign after the roughness of his earlier touch.

Namjoon settles beside you, his hand running through your hair, smoothing it out from where it's tangled from his earlier grip. He kisses your forehead, your cheeks, your neck, placing soft, gentle kisses along the path of where his teeth had marked you. His touch is soothing, his voice a low murmur as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

[isolvlt]

Hard to get - choi subong (Thanos)

Summary: basically subong has tried everything to get your attention, and tonight he finally shows you what in store

Warnings: NSFW mdni, he calls reader a bitch, slapping, fingering, idk I read it and I don't think there's anything else :p probably some typos

Notes: I HAD TO WRITE FOR MI MANNNN 😩 I was too lazy to actually add a sex scene so :p

Thanos had his eye on Y/N since the moment the games began. She wasn’t like the others—didn’t fawn over him, didn’t laugh at his jokes, didn’t even flinch when he threw around his usual over-the-top antics. It was infuriating.

He’d tried everything. The smooth-talking, the freestyle raps, the obnoxious charm he knew worked on most girls. But Y/N? She barely spared him a glance. It made his blood boil. Thanos wasn’t used to being ignored, and he sure as hell wasn’t about to start now.

So, naturally, patience was never an option.

That night, when the lights dimmed and most of the players had slipped into uneasy sleep, he made his move. He weaved through the scattered bunks, quiet but purposeful, until he reached her bed. And then— slap. Not hard enough to leave a mark, but just enough to jolt her awake.

“The fuck?” Y/N’s voice was groggy, laced with annoyance, eyes adjusting to the darkness.

Thanos crouched beside her, a lazy smirk stretched across his face. "Finally. Thought you were gonna sleep through the whole damn thing." His voice dripped with amusement, that same arrogant lilt he always carried.

She sat up, rubbing her cheek, glaring at him. "Are you insane?"

He chuckled, tilting his head. "You tell me, baby girl. ‘Cause you got me feelin’ crazy over here."

Y/N scoffed, unimpressed, and moved to turn away, but Thanos wasn’t having it. He caught her wrist, his grip firm but not forceful, his gaze burning into hers. "Nah, don’t start actin’ brand new now. I know you see me. I know you feel me watchin’." His voice dipped lower, teasing. "You just like playin’ hard to get."

She yanked her arm away, unimpressed. "Or maybe I just don’t like you."

That made him laugh—a short, breathy sound like he couldn’t believe what he just heard. He ran a hand through his disheveled hair, shaking his head. "Damn. That’s cold, Y/N. Real cold." His expression shifted—something darker flashing behind his eyes. He leaned in just a little closer, voice a whisper now. "But see… the thing about me? I don’t take L’s. Sooner or later, you’re gonna see things my way."

Before she could say anything, he pushed himself against her, his mouth finding hers in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a claiming, a declaration of dominance—his tongue pushing past her teeth as if he owned the very air she breathed. Y/N’s eyes went wide with surprise, but she was quick to react. She planted her palms firmly on his chest and pushed, her strength fueled by the fire of indignation.

Thanos stumbled backward, his smirk slipping into a scowl. “The fuck, bitch?” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes narrowing to slits in the dim light.

Y/N took the opportunity to stand, her heart racing but her voice steady. “I’m not here for your games, Choi Subong. I’m here to survive. And if that means staying as far away from you as possible, I will.” She balled her fists at her sides, her body tense and ready to fight if he took another step closer.

But Thanos wasn’t done yet. He stepped towards her again, his movements deliberately slow, his eyes never leaving hers. "You see, that's where you're wrong, sweetheart. This whole place is a game. And I'm the fucking king. And if you wanna live to see tomorrow, you're gonna start playing by my rules."

Y/N's eyes narrowed, and she took a step backward, her voice like a whip crack. "You're not the king of shit. Not here, not anywhere. You think because you're famous outside of these walls that you own me in here? That's not how this works."

"Oh but it does" Thanos retorted, his eyes gleaming with a mix of challenge and lust. He took a step closer, closing the space between them until she could feel the heat of his breath on her face. "You think you're special because you don't fall for my shit? You think that makes you better than the rest?"

He reached up, grabbing her face with both hands, his thumbs tracing the line of her jaw before digging in, holding her in place. His voice dropped to a rough whisper, "You're gonna be my slut tonight, whether you like it or not."

Y/N's heart hammered in her chest, but she wasn't about to let him see the effect he had on her. She pushed against his chest, trying to keep her voice steady. "Fuck off, Thanos."

Thanos chuckled, his grip tightening. He leaned in closer, his breath warm and minty against her cheek. "Is that how you talk to the king?"

Before she could respond, he pushed her roughly onto the bed, his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress. Y/N’s eyes flashed with anger and fear, but she didn’t scream—she knew better than to draw attention in this place. Instead, she bucked her hips, trying to throw him off.

Thanos was unfazed. He straddled her, his weight pressing down, and kissed her again—a bruising, possessive kiss that left no room for doubt. And, to her own horror, she felt a spark of something inside her. It was primal, unwelcome, but undeniable. Her body was responding to his, despite her mind’s protests.

Her eyes fluttered shut, and she found herself kissing him back—not because she wanted to, but because she had to. It was as if she was drowning in a sea of his making, and the only way to survive was to swim with the tide. His hands roamed her body, not with the gentle exploration of a lover, but with the ownership of a conqueror. He was everywhere—touching, claiming, as if he could somehow absorb her very essence.

Thanos could feel her resistance fading, her body succumbing to his touch. He broke the kiss with a smug smile, his eyes gleaming in the darkness. "See, baby? You're not so tough after all." He whispered against her ear, his breath sending shivers down her spine.

Y/N glared up at him, her cheeks flushed with a mix of anger and arousal she despised herself for feeling. "Get off," she hissed, trying to sound as defiant as she felt. But the words came out choked, betraying the desire pooling between her legs.

Thanos chuckled, his grip on her wrists tightening. "I don't think so," he murmured, leaning down to nip at her earlobe. His teeth scraped lightly against the skin, sending a jolt of pleasure through her that she couldn't suppress.

Y/N’s body was a traitor, arching into his touch despite her mind’s protests. She felt a sneer form on her lips, hating herself for the betrayal, but it only seemed to spur him on. Thanos’ hand slid down her body, pausing at the waistband of her panties. His thumb brushed over her clit through the fabric, and she couldn’t stop the gasp that escaped her.

With a triumphant smirk, he yanked the fabric aside, his fingers delving into her slick folds. Her eyes rolled back in her head, and she bit her bottom lip to keep from moaning. He was so fucking good at this, it was infuriating. Her body responded to him as if it had been programmed to, and she hated that she couldn’t control it.

Thanos’ mouth traveled down her neck, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. He knew exactly how to touch her to make her squirm—how to manipulate her body into doing what he wanted. His teeth grazed the soft skin above her collarbone, and she couldn’t help but whimper. It was as if he was tearing away every last thread of dignity she had left.

But as he worked his way down, something changed. Y/N’s eyes snapped open, and she saw a flicker of something in his gaze—something that wasn’t quite the cold, detached hunger she’d expected. It was almost like...desperation. Like he needed this as much as he needed his next breath. And that was when she realized she had power here—not over the games, not over the guards, but over him.

Thanos whispered against her skin, his voice a dark, seductive rumble. "You're so fucking wet, baby," his fingers moving faster, pressing deeper. And she was. Wetter than she’d ever been. It was infuriating and exhilarating all at once. She hated how much she liked it, how much she craved it, even as she hated him for making her feel this way.

His touch grew more urgent, his thumb circling her clit with a precision that left her breathless. Y/N’s body responded of its own accord, her hips bucking up to meet his hand. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, trying to keep the sounds of pleasure from escaping. But it was no use. Her body was his to command, and she couldn’t stop the low moan that slipped out.

Thanos’ eyes darkened at the sound, his own breath coming in harsh pants. He leaned in closer, whispering in her ear, “You like it when I talk dirty, don’t you?” His words were a hot brand against her skin, setting her alight.

Y/N’s teeth dug into her bottom lip, her eyes squeezed shut. She couldn’t believe the effect he had on her—how his crude, hateful whispers could turn her body to liquid fire. But she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of knowing it. She turned her head away, trying to ignore the way his breath tickled her neck, the way his thumb was now rubbing furiously against her clit.

Thanos took her silence as a challenge. "Look at me," he demanded, his voice a dark whisper that sent shivers down her spine. When she didn't comply, he grabbed her chin, forcing her gaze to meet his. His eyes were like black holes, sucking her in, consuming her. "Look at me when I make you come."

Her eyes snapped to his, a silent rebellion. But she couldn't deny the effect he had on her. His fingers danced over her clit, the pressure increasing with every passing second. She felt like she was on the edge of a cliff, the wind howling around her, ready to push her over at any moment. And she hated it—hated that he had this power over her.

But just as she felt the first tremors of an orgasm, he pulled his hand away, leaving her gasping. "Why so mean to me, baby?" He taunted with a laugh, his eyes gleaming with satisfaction. "You're the one beggin' for it, but I think maybe I'll save it for later."

Y/N's eyes shot open, anger and embarrassment warring within her. "You sadistic fuck," she spat out, trying to shove him away. But he was too strong, too heavy.

Thanos' chuckle rumbled in his chest, his eyes gleaming with the thrill of power. He leaned in, his nose brushing against hers. "Oh, you're gonna be so much fun," he murmured, his voice low and dark. He kissed her again, this time with a smirk, as if to say 'see how easy it is for me to make you want this?'

[isolvlt]

"mine" - Hwang Hyunjin

hyunjin x fem!reader

Notes: my first writing! I rushed while writing it so it might not be the best (⁠´⁠；⁠ω⁠；⁠｀⁠) requests open!

Warnings: NSFW mdni

Hyunjin's hand trembled slightly as he held the small velvet box, his heart thumping in anticipation of the moment he had meticulously planned. He had picked out the necklace with such care, ensuring that the delicate chain and the minimalist charm adorned with his initials would perfectly complement Y/N's elegant neckline. The jewelry store had been a whirlwind of glitz and glamour, but amidst the chaos, he had found the perfect symbol of his love for her – simple yet significant, much like their relationship itself.

As they stumbled into their apartment after a romantic dinner, the scent of her perfume lingered in the air like a sweet secret between them. He led her to the dimly lit living room, the soft glow from the candles casting flickering shadows on the walls. Y/N looked at him curiously, a hint of excitement playing on her lips as she took in the candles and the rose petals scattered on the floor, forming a trail to the couch. He knew she wasn't one for grand gestures, but this was different. This was his way of saying 'I love you' without uttering a word.

Hyunjin took a deep breath before dropping to one knee, the velvet box in his outstretched hand. He watched her eyes widen, her hand flying to her mouth as she took in the scene before her. He had never felt more vulnerable than he did in that moment, but the love he felt for her washed away any doubt or fear. "Y/N," he began, his voice a whisper that seemed to echo in the quiet room, "I know this isn't the most extravagant thing in the world, but I wanted to give you something that represents us, something that you could wear and remember that you're mine."

Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears as she took the box, her trembling fingers tracing the outline of the charm. As she opened it, the soft clink of the necklace was the only sound that pierced the silence. She gasped at the sight of the gleaming silver chain and the 'HJ' charm nestled inside. He watched her, his own eyes brimming with emotion, as she lifted it out and held it up to the light. "It's beautiful," she murmured, her voice thick with feeling.

Without another word, she stepped closer and allowed him to fasten the necklace around her neck. His hands were steady now, his confidence bolstered by the look in her eyes. As the clasp clicked into place, he stood and pulled her into a deep, lingering kiss. The warmth of her skin against his was like a brand, searing the moment into his memory forever. He whispered against her lips, "You're all I need."

࿐ཽ༵

Their clothes seemed to melt away as they made their way to the bedroom, a dance of desire that had become so familiar to them both. He kissed her neck, feeling the cool metal of the 'HJ' charm against her skin. His hands roamed her body, tracing the contours of her waist and hips, while she fumbled with his belt, eager to have him inside her. When they finally lay on the bed, their bodies entwined, he took a moment to admire the necklace resting just above her collarbone.

Their lovemaking was a symphony of gasps and moans, a silent declaration of their passion. Every touch was a promise, every thrust a declaration of ownership. He felt the necklace between them, the charm occasionally brushing against his chest as he moved. Y/N's fingers found it, playing with it absently as she grew closer to climax. It was as if the necklace had become an extension of him, a part of their shared ecstasy.

And when he finally reached the pinnacle of pleasure, burying himself deep inside her, he whispered once more, "Yeah, baby, I'm all yours." The words were a benediction, a reminder of the bond they shared, now forever commemorated by the delicate piece of jewelry that lay against her flushed skin. She arched her back, her nails digging into his shoulders as she shuddered with release, her eyes never leaving his. The necklace was a silent witness to their love, a reminder that even in the throes of passion, she was irrevocably his.