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"WE ARE COMFORTABLE"

pairing : choi seunghyun x f!reader (established marriage).

contents : slightly angsty fluff

synopsis : seunghyun reassures you during your pregnancy.

word count : 1429

a/n : I was inspired by this twitter thread and I just had to get this scenario out of my mind……… pmdd havers (me included) may relate to some of the feelings mentionned so beware!!!!!! also finally having the courage to post something 😭😭

The afternoon light leaked around the edges of the velvet curtains, cutting a sharp, bright line across the floorboards. In the dark, the bedroom just felt stale. It smelled like trapped heat, the bitter dregs of a cold mug of chamomile tea on the nightstand, and the faint, woody bite of Seunghyun’s cologne still trapped in the sheets. You stayed buried under the mountain of duvets, pulled up so high you were probably just a shapeless lump of fabric. Good. If you couldn't see your own body, maybe it didn't exist.

Lately, it hadn't felt like yours anyway.

You’d expected the physical stuff—the books and the weekly tracker apps laid it out clearly enough. But nobody warned you about the mood swings. It wasn't a sudden flash of crying; it was a flat, heavy exhaustion that settled over everything. A quiet conviction that you were just a drain on his life, an anchor dragging down his studio time, his art, everything vibrant about him. You kept your mouth shut, biting the inside of your cheek until it bled, terrified that saying it out loud would make it real.

A sudden, violent wave of nausea rolled through your stomach, instantly followed by a sharp pressure on your bladder.

Great. Again.

The bathroom door was maybe fifteen feet away, but staring at the light under the frame made it feel like a mile of broken glass. Your joints throbbed with a dull, aching resistance, and your skin felt stretched so tight across your stomach it actively itched. Just the thought of throwing off the blankets and swinging your legs over the mattress made your throat tighten up. You couldn't move. You were just stuck there, staring at the floorboards, analyzing every single one of your flaws until the room felt too small.

Downstairs, the low, repetitive thud of a bass line suddenly cut out. For hours, that vibration through the floor had been the only sign of life—proof that Seunghyun was in his studio, giving you the stubborn, angry space you’d demanded earlier.

But he never stayed away long when you went quiet. He had a radar for it.

A moment later, the heavy, unhurried tread of his footsteps sounded on the wood floor. The bedroom door clicked open. The mattress groaned, dipping low as he sat on the edge, bringing the crisp, cool air of the rest of the house into your humid blanket fortress.

He didn’t try to pull the covers down. Instead, his large hand found the curve of your shoulder through the thick duvet, his thumb digging into the tight muscle there, kneading it with slow, heavy pressure.

"You've been under there since noon," his voice rumbled, low and gravelly from hours of working. "Are you breathing, or did you finally turn to stone? I was about to call a sculptor."

You pulled the blanket tighter, burying your nose in the fabric. "Don't look at me, Seunghyun. Go back downstairs. Finish the track."

He let out a soft huff—half a laugh, half a weary sigh—and leaned closer. In the dim light, the sharp, intimidating angles of his face softened completely. "Why would I do that? It's boring downstairs. The music sounds flat without you complaining about the bass."

"I’m a mess," you whispered. The words caught in your throat, and your eyes stung instantly. You hated how easily you cried now, how a single kind word completely broke your defenses. "I'm huge. I feel disgusting. I’ve been throwing up all morning, my face is swollen, and I just... I can't look at myself. Don't look at me."

Seunghyun didn’t offer any empty platitudes. He didn't tell you that you looked like a magazine model. Instead, he reached for the edge of the duvet and firmly, deliberately pulled it down past your shoulders. The cool air made you shiver, and you reached out to grab the fabric, but his hands caught your wrists first.

They were large and warm, completely swallowing yours. He didn't squeeze, but he held them steady against the mattress until you stopped resisting. Then, he just looked. His eyes traveled slowly, taking in the dark circles under your eyes, the wild mess of your hair, and the way your oversized shirt stretched unevenly across your stomach. There wasn't any pity in his face—just that quiet, intense focus he gave to things he cared about.

"You think because your body is changing, it's losing its value?" he murmured. "You think I only care about clean lines? You're overthinking again. Your brain runs too fast."

He let go of your wrists, his thumb tracing a rough line down your cheek to wipe away a tear before his palm came to rest flat against your bare belly. It was warm and solid.

"Look at the art I buy," he said, his voice dropping into that serious, academic tone he used when he was genuinely passionate about something. "Think about the oil paintings I keep on my phone, the ones I talk about until your ears bleed. The massive, heavy brushstrokes. The raw flesh. The canvas showing the actual strain and weight of being alive. Society wants everything filtered through a tiny, perfect lens. It's a prison."

You blinked, listening to him drift. "Seunghyun, are you lecturing me on contemporary art theory right now?"

He paused, his dark eyebrows twitching as he realized he’d gotten carried away. He let out a deadpan huff. "Stop talking. I'm trying to be romantic."

A tiny smile actually managed to pull at your lips.

"What I mean," he continued, his palm pressing a little warmer against your stomach, "is that those paintings are beautiful because they take up space. They demand to be seen. You're growing a person. Of course it’s heavy. Of course it changes. That’s what makes it real. I’ve never cared about things being perfect anyway."

He leaned down, resting his forehead against yours, completely ignoring the messy tear tracks and the sweat dampening your hairline.

"We are comfortable, so we get fat," he muttered against your skin, quoting his old lyrics in that low, singsong rasp. The corners of his eyes crinkled. "Remember? I wrote it down. It’s in a song, so it’s law. It means we're safe. We don't have to hide behind the lenses anymore. We can just exist."

A ragged, half-strangled laugh caught in your throat, turning into a small, tearful sob. Leave it to him to bring up an old music video lyric when you were sweating and miserable under a pile of blankets. The dark cloud didn't magically clear out of the room, but the solid weight of him leaning against you stopped the walls from closing in.

"I need to use the bathroom," you admitted softly, shifting uncomfortably as your bladder twinged again. "But everything hurts. My knees feel like lead."

"Okay," he said, shifting back. "Let's go."

He didn't ask if you could manage. He just slid one long arm under your back and the other beneath your knees, pausing for a brief second to get his footing before lifting you off the mattress. You buried your face straight into the crook of his neck, holding onto his shoulders tight. His steps were heavy and deliberate, the floorboards groaning under his feet, but he felt entirely steady.

"You're not heavy," he murmured into your hair, as if reading the exact worry crossing your mind. "You feel like nothing."

When he set you down in the bathroom, he didn't just let go. He kept his large hands firmly clamped onto your waist, waiting until your aching joints locked and you actually had your balance on the cool tile. He reached up, gently brushing a stray lock of hair behind your ear, making sure your legs weren't going to buckle.

"Take your time," he said, pressing a brief kiss to the top of your head.

He stepped back just enough to give you privacy, but he didn't close the door entirely. Instead, his broad back stayed planted firmly against the wooden doorframe, his shadow stretching across the floor. He crossed his arms, staring out into the dim hallway.

"I’m not going anywhere," his voice drifted in, steady and quiet. "I’ll carry you back when you’re ready."

Sitting there, listening to the quiet, rhythmic sound of his breathing just outside the door, the tight feeling in your chest finally began to loosen. For the first time in weeks, the noise in your brain went quiet. You closed your eyes, let out a long breath, and just breathed.

#choi seunghyun #t.o.p #choi seunghyun x reader #t.o.p x reader #fanfic #bigbang #angst #fluff

megs-orbittt

one of the most genuine smiles i’ve ever seen. he’s glowing and i love it

moonishdragon

T.O.P leaving the fanmeet, July 9th, 2026

credits @/encore365

megs-orbittt

this is what i like to see thank you computah

Can you guys post more seunghyun fics please thangkya

desperatop

ancient T.O.P pictures of the day: FROM TOP Pictorial Records Photobook (these are my own scans, i did not remove any credits. multple different people have shared scans of these but i wanted my own for better quality. this is also just a selection of my favorites and not the whole book.)

chaot1c-b1tch

PERFECT PROP - T.O.P X YN

PAIRING: Choi Seunghyun (T.O.P) x Female Reader (Y/N) Era: Bae Bae Music Video Era (2015)

WORDS: 4183

WARNINGS: Established Relationship, Dirty Talking, Praise,Mild Dominance/Control, Object/Prop Play, Clothed/Unclothed Contrast, Multiple Orgasms, Oral (fem receiving)

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

The music video set was a chaotic kaleidoscope of neon lights, towering artificial orchids, and staff rushing back and forth with light reflectors. But for you, the entire room was eclipsed by the man standing in the center of the stage.

Seunghyun was currently filming his solo scene for "Bae Bae".

God, he looked entirely, completely unfair.

He was wearing a sharply tailored blue suit with a contrasting vest that hugged his broad shoulders, his dark hair styled up into those eccentric, sharp spikes. In his hands, he held that slender, white, gold-capped cane, moving it with a dramatic, oozing confidence that made your throat dry.

Every time he smirked at the camera lens, your heart did a violent flip.

You let out a heavy, frustrated sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other as you watched from behind the director's monitor.

Almost instantly, Seunghyun’s sharp eyes flicked away from the camera, cutting through the crowded room until they locked onto you. His brow furrowed in immediate concern. He paused his movements, lowering the cane slightly.

"You okay?" he asks with just his eyes.

You quickly forced a soft, reassuring smile, waving your hand dismissively to get him to look back at the director. "Yes," you mouthed silently, tilting your head toward the camera. "Just focus on working."

He didn't look entirely convinced, his dark eyes lingering on you for a beat too long before the director called for another take, forcing him back into character. But you could tell by the slight tightening of his jaw that he was thinking about you now.

The moment the director finally called, "Cut! That's a wrap on this scene, wardrobe change!"

Seunghyun began walking off the set. But before he could even hand the white cane to a waiting prop assistant, you stepped forward.

You didn't say a word. You caught him by the crook of his elbow, your fingers gripping the rich fabric of his suit sleeve, and firmly guided him past the busy crew members.

Seunghyun let out a surprised, low grunt but didn't resist, his tall frame easily following your lead down the dim, quiet hallway.

You pushed open the door to his private dressing room, yanked him inside by his lapels, and shut the door behind you, clicking the lock into place with a sharp snap.

Seunghyun blinked, looking down at you with a mixture of amusement and sudden, dark curiosity. He was still holding the cane in one hand, leaning his weight onto it as a slow, knowing smirk began to spread across his handsome face.

"Well," he murmured, his deep voice vibrating in the small room. "Someone's impatient today. What's wrong, jagi? Couldn't wait until we got home?"

You didn't answer with words. Instead, you reached up, your hands immediately gripping his lapels again, pulling his face down to yours as you took his lips in a deep, desperate kiss.

Seunghyun responds to the kiss instantly, a low, pleased groan rumbling deep in his chest. His large hand clamps around your hip, fingers digging in firmly to pull your pelvis flush against his. His other hand still tightly grips the cane, the smooth, solid wood pressing right against the side of your thigh as he crowds you against the locked door.

The kiss is heavy, messy, and filled with a frantic energy that leaves you completely breathless. Your hands slide up his chest, feeling the thick, high-quality fabric of his blazer before your fingers tangle deep into the hair at the nape of his neck, pulling him down even closer.

Feeling the temperature in the small dressing room skyrocket, Seunghyun breaks the kiss for a fraction of a second. He pants against your lips, his free hand instinctively moving down to his throat to loosen his tie and start unbuttoning his vest to get some relief from the heat.

But you catch his wrist. Your grip is firm, deliberately pulling his hand away from his shirt.

Seunghyun freezes. He looks down at your hand holding his wrist, then looks up at you, his dark eyes flashing with immediate amusement. A slow, wicked smirk spreads across his lips.

"Oh?" he rumbles, his deep baritone vibrating right against your chest. "We like this on?"

"I love the suit," you admit, your voice a breathless, desperate whisper as you look him up and down. "And the hair. And the cane. Everything. Don't take any of it off."

His smirk widens, confident pride flaring up instantly. He loves being admired, and knowing that his ridiculous, high-fashion music video look is driving you this crazy is a massive ego stroke.

He leans down, his lips brushing against your ear as his hand on your hip squeezes tight. "Is that so, jagi? You want me just like this?"

To prove his point, he deliberately grinds his hips forward, letting you feel the thick, rigid length already straining against his tailored trousers. You let out a soft whine, your hands gripping his shoulders.

"Then I guess I'm keeping it all on," he murmurs, his eyes dark and heavy with promise. He pulls back just enough to look you in the eyes, tapping the gold cap of the cane against the floor. "I'm telling the stylists I'm taking this entire outfit home tonight. The suit, the cane, everything. But you're going to have to wait until we get to the apartment. Let's see how long you can last."

The thirty-minute car ride back to his apartment is pure torture. Seunghyun sits in the passenger seat next to you, completely silent, looking like a devastatingly handsome villain straight out of a movie. He keeps his gloved hands resting on the gold handle of the cane, occasionally shifting his gaze to you with a slow, tormenting wink.

Every time the car hits a bump, your mind races with what he's going to do to you with that exact prop the second you walk through his front door.

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

The moment the apartment door clicks shut, the playful restraint vanishes.

Seunghyun turns around, his heavy coat swirling. He doesn't drop the cane. Instead, he uses the curved, golden handle to hook around your waist, pulling you roughly against him. The contrast is instant—the cool, smooth surface of the prop pressing against your lower back, while his fully clothed chest radiates absolute heat.

"Now," Seunghyun whispers, his voice dropping an octave as he backs you toward the bedroom. "Rules, jagi. You're not allowed to touch the suit. You're not allowed to unbutton a single thing. You just get to look at me while I ruin you."

You bite your lip, giving him a breathless nod. The sheer anticipation is making your knees weak.

Seunghyun’s expression softens for just a fraction of a second, a genuinely affectionate smile breaking through his cocky facade as he leans down to press a tender, lingering kiss against your flushed cheek.

"So pretty," he murmurs, his deep voice dropping into a low, rumbling hum that vibrates right against your skin. "Tell me if it gets to be too much, okay?"

You nod again, your heart hammering against your ribs.

The contrast between his protective sweetness and the dark promise in his eyes is dizzying. As he takes your hand, leading you down the dimly lit hallway toward the bedroom, the heavy tension breaks just a little.

A nervous, thrilled giggle slips from your lips, and Seunghyun echoes it with a low, rumbling chuckle of his own. You're both practically vibrating with excitement, the shared secret of what's about to happen making the air between you feel electric.

The moment your boots hit the bedroom floor, the playful giggling stops. The mood shifts, turning thick and heavy with desire.

Seunghyun steps into the center of the room, standing under the soft, warm glow of the overhead light. He adjusts the lapels of his sharp purple suit, running a gloved hand down his contrasting vest to smooth out the fabric. He looks exactly like the chaotic, devastatingly handsome man from the MV, his dark, spiked hair still perfectly intact. He lifts the sleek, white cane, twirling it once with effortless, theatrical grace before resting the gold cap against the floorboards.

"On the bed, jagi," he commands softly, his dark eyes locked onto yours.

You scramble onto the mattress, sitting back on your heels, your chest heaving as you watch him. True to your agreement, you don't reach out to touch his clothes. You just watch, completely captivated, as he approaches the edge of the bed.

He doesn't take off his blazer. He doesn't loosen his tie.

Instead, he leans forward, placing one knee on the mattress between your thighs. He raises the white cane, the cool, smooth shaft contrasting sharply with the heat radiating from his body. With agonizing slowness, he presses the sleek side of the cane against your chin, gently tilting your head up so you have no choice but to look right into his heavy-lidded eyes.

"You really love me in this, don't you?" he whispers, a wicked, knowing smirk pulling at the corner of his lips. He slides the cool wood down your throat, over your collarbone, and down to the hem of your shirt. "Let's see just how much."

"Take this off," he commands softly, his voice a low, raspy purr that sends a shiver straight down your spine.

You don't hesitate. With trembling fingers, you quickly discard your clothes under his intense, heavy gaze, feeling utterly exposed and burning hot under his eyes.

Seunghyun watches every move with a dark, predatory hunger, his chest rising and falling beneath his suit.

Once you are bare, he reaches out, his large hand gently catching your wrist. He guides you backward until you are laying flat on your back against the soft mattress. He looms over you, a striking contrast of sharp, high-fashion tailoring clothing against your flushed, naked skin.

He settles between your thighs, leaning over you so closely you can smell his expensive cologne mixed with the clean scent of the studio.

Slowly, deliberately, he brings his gloved hand down to your skin. The texture of the dark fabric is smooth but thrillingly friction-heavy as he drags his palm down your chest, tracing the curve of your ribs, flattening against your stomach, and making you shudder. He slides lower, his leather-clad fingers parting your thighs further until his gloved fingertips press directly against your aching, drenched clit.

You let out a sharp, breathless gasp, your hips bucking up against his touch. The sensation of the glove—slightly textured, cool yet warming from your own heat—is almost too much to bear.

He circles you slowly, pressing just enough to make you whine, completely smearing your own slickness over your sensitive skin.

He leans down close to your ear, his deep voice vibrating through your entire body as he listens to your ragged breathing.

"...So wet, jagi," he murmurs, his thumb applying a delicious, heavy pressure that makes your toes curl. He pulls his hand back slightly, looking down at the wet sheen coating his gloved fingers, a wicked, brilliant spark suddenly lighting up his dark eyes. "I bet... I bet anything could slide right into you like this."

That’s when his eyes flick over to the side of the bed.

The cane resting against the nightstand, its gold cap gleaming under the dim bedroom lights. A slow, incredibly sinful smirk spreads across Seunghyun’s face as the idea takes hold of him. He reaches out, his long arm easily grabbing the sleek, slender prop.

"Let's see if I'm right," he whispers, bringing the cool, smooth shaft of the cane over your body.

"What?" you ask, your voice a breathless whisper as you look down at the sleek, white prop in his hand.

Seunghyun tilts his head, his dark, spiked hair catching the dim light of the bedroom. A low, rumbling chuckle vibrates in his chest. "Well, you don't want me to take off the suit now, do you?"

You bite your lip hard, your gaze flickering between his intense eyes and the pristine blue fabric of his blazer.

The sheer absurdity of the situation—and how incredibly hot it is—makes your heart hammer against your ribs.

Seeing the sudden flash of uncertainty in your eyes, Seunghyun’s expression softens instantly. The cocky, theatrical persona from `bae bae.jpg` drops for a brief second, replaced by pure warmth. He leans down, pressing a soft, reassuring kiss to your forehead.

"You can tell me to stop whenever, jagi," he murmurs against your skin, his deep voice thick with genuine care. "Anytime."

You swallow hard, looking up at him, completely melted by how gentle he can be even when he's driving you crazy. "I want it," you breathe out, your fingers gripping the bedsheets tightly since you aren't allowed to touch his clothes. "I trust you, Seunghyun. Please."

His eyes darken with a fierce, possessive heat at your words. "Good girl," he growls softly.

He sets the white cane down on the mattress right beside your hip, a teasing reminder of what's to come. But before he uses any props, he wants to prep you properly.

Keeping his sharp blazer and vest completely on, Seunghyun shifts his weight, sliding down your body until he is kneeling right between your spread thighs.

The contrast is breathtaking—his high-fashion, fully dressed form looming over your bare, trembling skin. He hooks his large hands under your knees, pulling your legs wider and shifting you to the very edge of the bed so he has perfect access.

When he leans down, his hot breath hits your drenched core, making your stomach violently flip with anticipation. Then, his tongue meets your clit.

You let out a loud, unbidden sob, your back arching off the mattress.

Seunghyun doesn't hold back. He eats you out with a heavy, deliberate hunger, his tongue swirling over your sensitive skin in long, deep, sodden strokes. The neat angles of his spiked hair brush against your inner thighs with every movement, adding a maddening, tickling sensation to the sheer overload of pleasure.

He uses his fingers to part your folds, drinking in your taste as you writhe beneath him. He sucks your clit into his mouth, his deep baritone letting out a low hum against your skin that vibrates straight through your pelvis.

You're completely helpless, your hands clutching the pillows as your breath hitches in a ragged rhythm, your body slick, sensitive, and completely primed for whatever he does next.

He pulls back just an inch, his lips glistening and his jaw tight with desire as he looks up the length of your body. He reaches blindly to his side, his gloved fingers wrapping around the smooth, cool handle of the cane.

"You're so sweet," he pants, his voice a gravelly, dark whisper. "Let's see how this feels inside you now."

He aligns the smooth, rounded gold cap of the cane right against your drenched entrance. The moment the cool metal touches your blazing hot skin, you let out a sharp, breathless gasp, your hips instinctively jerking.

"Shh, look at me, jagi," Seunghyun commands, his deep baritone dripping with dark authority.

He leans his upper body forward, resting his weight on one elbow right beside your head so he can look directly into your eyes. His suit jacket brushes against your bare shoulder, the rich, expensive fabric tickling your skin.

Slowly, with agonizing precision, he pushes forward.

The gold-capped end of the cane slides into your slick core. Because he spent so much time eating you out, your body accepts it with a wet, heavy sigh, stretching open around the rigid, unyielding material.

It’s a completely surreal sensation—cool, perfectly smooth, and completely unforgiving compared to his warm skin.

"Ah! Seunghyun—" you sob, your eyes flying wide as you feel the depth of it. Your hands fly up, instinctively wanting to grip his shoulders, but you freeze, remembering the rule. You grip the bedsheets instead, your knuckles turning white.

"Good girl," he growls, a wicked, triumphant smirk breaking across his handsome face as he sees how beautifully you're taking it. "Look at how well you fit around this. You're squeezing it so tight."

He begins to move it. He slides the sleek shaft of the cane in and out, establishing a slow, deliberate, rhythmic pace that mimics his confident swagger from the music video.

With every thrust, the smooth wood frictionally rubs against your internal sweet spots, sending waves of intense, electric pleasure straight to your brain.

"You like it?" he murmurs, his heavy-lidded eyes tracking the raw pleasure on your face. He accelerates the pace just a fraction, the wet, slick sounds of the cane sliding inside you filling the quiet bedroom. "Tell me how it feels to get ruined by this."

"It's... it's too much, it feels so good," you wail, your head thrashing against the pillows as a powerful wave of an orgasm begins to build deep in your lower stomach. Your heels dig into the mattress, your hips bucking up to meet every rhythmic stroke of the white cane.

"Hold on for me," Seunghyun whispers, his voice dropping into a gravelly, breathless register. He can see you're right on the edge. With one final, deep, agonizingly perfect push, he twists the handle slightly, hitting your sweet spot dead on.

Your vision goes completely white. A loud, fractured cry escapes your lips as your walls contract violently around the smooth prop, your entire body trembling as a devastating orgasm ripples through you.

Seunghyun watches you unravel with pure, possessive satisfaction. The moment your ripples begin to fade into breathless whimpers, he pulls the cane out with a soft, wet sound and lets it drop carelessly to the floorboards.

He doesn't waste a single second. He quickly unzips his trousers, keeping his blazer and vest perfectly intact, and positions his thick, burning length right against your drenched, over-sensitized core.

"My turn," he growls darkly, and with one heavy, commanding thrust, he sinks all the way inside you, filling you completely and driving you right back into the madness.

He is buries deeply inside you, a heavy, solid weight that feels like it’s anchoring you to the mattress. He freezes for a moment, his eyes squeezed shut as he lets out a jagged, ragged breath, savoring the way you’re already milking him.

He leans down, his lips crashing against yours in a kiss that tastes like desperation and pure, unfiltered hunger. It isn't the teasing, cool-headed Seunghyun from before; this is raw, possessive, and completely undone.

Your hands are still death-gripped to the bedsheets, knuckles white, holding onto the restriction he imposed earlier.

Seunghyun senses your restraint, his large hands sliding up from your hips to catch your wrists. He pulls them away from the mattress, ignoring the rules he set, and guides your trembling fingers upward until they are tangled deep into the dark, spiked hair at his nape.

"Touch me," he groans against your lips, his voice thick and vibrating with need. "Touch me, jagi. I don't want you holding back anymore."

The moment your fingertips make contact with the back of his neck, he shudders, a sound of pure relief escaping his throat. He starts to move—slow, agonizingly deep grinds that hit every sensitive point inside you.

You gasp into his mouth, your body instinctively arching up to meet him, your fingers curling into his hair as you pull him closer, wanting him to eradicate the space between you.

He sets a rhythm that is slow, deliberate, and maddeningly thorough. Every time he pulls back, he leaves you aching for the fullness, and every time he thrusts forward, he fills you so completely it leaves you breathless.

As he slides back in for another deep, torturous stroke, he doesn't pull away for air. Instead, he stays pressed firmly against you, his mouth never leaving yours. He lets out a deep, guttural moan that resonates right into your mouth, his tongue sweeping against yours in a frantic, syncopated rhythm with his hips.

"You feel so good," he whispers against your lips, his voice shattered and broken. He begins to move faster, his blazer brushing against your bare chest with every heavy collision, his spiked hair tickling your forehead as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, his moans turning into low, sinful pleas as the friction between you creates an electric, white-hot heat that consumes everything.

"Can you come again for me, jagi? Hm?" Seunghyun mutters against your neck, his voice a ragged, breathless vibration that sends goosebumps cascading down your spine.

He grinds his hips hard against yours, his movements turning frantic, heavy, and desperate as he pushes deeper than ever before. "I want to so bad... I want to do it with you."

Hearing his deep voice crack with that level of raw vulnerability—a stark contrast to the confident, untouchable villain from the MV—shatters the last of your restraint.

Your fingers grip the nape of his neck tighter, pulling him down into another deep, messy kiss that tastes like pure heat.

"Yes, Seunghyun, please," you sob into his mouth, your legs wrapping tightly around his waist to lock him in, pulling his heavy, fully clothed body as flush against your bare skin as possible.

The friction is completely overwhelming.

He picks up the pace, his thrusts turning fast, hard, and relentless. The wet, slapping sound of his hips meeting yours echoes in the quiet room, drowning out everything but the sound of your shared breathing.

You can feel the climax building rapidly in your chest, a white-hot tension coiling tight in your lower stomach. Seunghyun senses it too. He pulls back from the kiss, his eyes completely dark, heavy-lidded, and dilated with lust as he looks down at you.

"Look at me," he pants, his jaw clenched, veins standing out on his neck as he drives into you with a brutal, bruising depth. "Watch me, jagi."

You stare up into his eyes, completely captivated by the intensity of his gaze, your breath hitching in your throat. He gives three more heavy, devastatingly deep thrusts, hitting your sweet spot with terrifying precision.

With a loud, broken cry, your body gives out. Your internal walls contract in a violent, rhythmic spasm, clamping down around his thick length as a spectacular orgasm ripples through you.

Seeing your face contort with pure pleasure is the final trigger he needs.

Seunghyun lets out a deep, growl that sounds almost primal, throwing his head back as his own release hits him. He thrusts one last time, burying himself to the absolute hilt, shaking violently as he fills you completely, his expensive suit wrinkling as his entire body goes rigid.

For a long, breathless minute, the only sound in the room is the ragged heaving of your chests. Slowly, his muscles relax, and he collapses forward, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

He lets out a soft, satisfied chuckle, his gloved hand coming up to gently stroke your tangled hair.

"Fucking perfect," he murmurs against your skin, his voice dripping with absolute adoration.

"Shit," you pant, your chest heaving as the aftershocks of the orgasm finally begin to settle. You blindly reach a trembling hand toward the nightstand, your fingers fumbling around for the pack of wet wipes.

Seunghyun lets out a low, breathless chuckle, his deep baritone rumbling pleasantly against your skin. Moving with lazy, satisfied affection, he reaches over your head, his large hand easily grabbing the pack for you.

He pulls out a wipe and begins to gently clean both of you up.

He’s incredibly tender, a complete contrast to the chaotic, dominant energy he possessed just minutes ago. As he wipes away the slickness, he leans down, pressing soft, lingering kisses to your temple, the apple of your cheek, and finally the corner of your mouth.

"You feel good?" he murmurs, his dark eyes warm and heavy with affection as he looks down at you.

"A bit sore, but good," you admit, a small, exhausted smile tugging at your lips as you stretch your legs out on the mattress.

Seunghyun’s grin widens, a flash of that proud, cocky performer slipping back onto his face.

He tosses the used wipes into the small trash can by the bed and collapses down beside you, propping his head up on his hand. The sharp angles of his spiked hair are a little messy now, making him look devastatingly handsome.

"It was so hot," he confesses, shaking his head as a dark, sinful smirk plays on his lips. "When you told me not to take the suit off backstage... God, jagi. I swear, during the drive home, I thought I was going to cum right in my pants just thinking about it."

You let out a weak chuckle, rolling over to bury your face in his clothed chest, your fingers finally allowed to twist into the rich fabric of his vest. He wraps a heavy arm around you, holding you close against the tailored suit, completely content to stay exactly like this for the rest of the night.

kpopdose

(x)

kisseism

undiagnosing myself. there is nothing wrong with me i am #normal

megs-orbittt

admiration

pairing- choi seunghyun x f!reader

contents- yandere, possessiveness, manipulation(?)

synopsis- when you get hired to be in seunghyun's desperado music video, you were excited. and evidently, so is he. when he offers a favor, you don't think much of it. but things take an unexpected turn, and you react in an unexpected way.

word count- 1629

a/n- my sister is a model & actor and i've acted as well, but i still don't know a whole bunch about the industry, so sorry if that portion sounds like it's written by an idiot because it was lmao. i'm not the best at yandere but i tried. enjoy!

admiration part two

You’ve always admired Seunghyun. From afar, obviously. But his music and art has always been interesting to you. So getting hired for one of his new music videos was one of the biggest milestones in your career.

You’ve been modelling since you were very young, and you loved it. The artistry of it always intrigued you—so much more to you than just posing for a camera.

You didn’t even have to audition, or have your agent reach out for you, like you usually do. Seunghyun’s team contacted your agency and asked for you directly. That shocked you.

You’re definitely well known, having been in music videos and ad campaigns for many big names, but you didn’t expect someone like Seunghyun to want you specifically.

But of course, you took the job immediately.

Little did you know, though, he admired you just as much, but not in the same way.

Every commercial you’ve been in is in his camera roll. Every photo on your Instagram, screenshotted. Every music video or variety show episode you’ve been in sits in his watch later playlist on YouTube.

As soon as he was ready to start gathering a team for filming his music video, he knew he needed you. Filming was planned to span over about three days. That’s more than enough time than he needed.

You arrive on set the first day, nervous. But as soon as you get there—

“Hi.” His voice is right behind you, it almost startles you. You turn, already smiling.

“Seunghyun, hi. How are you?” You ask, giving a small bow. He returns it, surprising to you.

“Good.” He hands you the coffee he’s holding. “For you.”

You hesitantly take it, a little taken aback. “Oh, I- thank you, that’s very kind.”

“Shaken espresso with two shots of vanilla, right?” He asks, and your eyes widen.

“Uhm, yeah- yes. How did you know that?” You say, laughing a little.

“Saw it on your Instagram story the other day. Thought I’d do something nice.” He shrugs.

“Well, thank you. That’s very kind of you. I didn’t have time to get one myself this morning, actually.” You take a sip of the coffee.

Tastes… better, somehow.

Seunghyun guides you to the forefront of the set. He takes you to the stylists that would be working on you, but he doesn’t leave when they start on your makeup. He lingers.

Not too close, not close enough to draw attention. Not even your attention.

You’re humming along to the music playing low in the background when he slides into the chair next to yours. Stylists touch up his makeup, adjust his suit. But his eyes are fixed on you in the mirror.

Seunghyun is a well known perfectionist, so when you start filming, he’s very particular. He rewatches clips and focuses on tiny details that you never would’ve paid attention to.

But every time he decides to redo a take, he ensures you know that it isn’t your fault. He repeats himself every time.

“It was my mistake.”

“You looked incredible.”

“Keep doing exactly what you’re doing.”

Midday, Seunghyun finds you when you’re on your break. He joins you in the small staff room. “You’re very talented, you know that?” He says, leaning forward and resting his chin in his hand. “I- thank you, that means so much coming from you.” You stutter, flushed.

He laughs low, shaking his head. “When I saw your portfolio, I knew you’d be perfect for this. Anyone could see that.”

You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hide the wide smile that tugs at your lips. Seunghyun catches it.

“Don’t do that. You’ve got a nice smile.” He tilts his head a little.

Your heart almost stops.

Seunghyun feels a heat pool in his stomach at your reaction. He likes it. Likes seeing you blush at his words.

He wants to chase it. He wants to say more and get further under your skin than he already is. But he knows better than that. He has to take it slower than he wants to.

When filming wraps up for the day and you go home, Seunghyun finds himself sitting in his car scrolling through your Instagram.

He overanalyzes every photo, gathering every piece of information he can. Your interests. Your family and friends. Even mapping together a rough layout of your apartment from the mirror photos you’ve posted.

He will get there. He will get you. Eventually, he will.

The next day, he pushes a little farther.

He brings you coffee again, earning that intoxicating smile he’s been thinking about all night. He watches you all day. Watches how you move in front of the camera. How you laugh a little every single time the director calls cut, the facade you hold up while being filmed fading.

He commits you to memory. Every word you speak, every expression on your face.

When you’re in the mirror adjusting the collar of your shirt, he appears behind you.

“Let me help.” He places a hand on your shoulder, turning you towards him.

He reaches out before you can get a word in, fixing your collar. But he lets his fingers linger on your neck. Just for a second, but you catch it.

A small smirk appears on his lips. He stays close, resting his hands on your shoulders, then letting them fall to his sides slowly, dragging his fingers down your arms before they drop.

“There. That’s better.” He nods.

You don’t respond. You don’t think you can.

The look in his eyes is so intoxicating. You’re basically drowning in it.

He narrows his gaze. “Something wrong?”

You shake your head nervously. “N- no. Thank you.”

He smiles, satisfied. Then, walks away.

Like it’s nothing.

Filming goes really well. He showers you with compliments. He asks you if you need anything constantly, and if you do, he ensures you get it personally, and as quickly as possible.

He builds trust. That’s the goal.

On the final day of filming, your car breaks down.

Of course.

You’re forced to call your agency and have them send a driver to you. It makes you a few minutes late.

When you do arrive, Seunghyun is standing on set, checking his watch. As soon as he sees you, something strangely close to relief washes over his face.

“Seunghyun, I’m so sorry, my car broke down, and-”

“Don’t apologize. It’s totally fine. I was a little worried.” He approaches you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “Glad you’re here now.”

His words go straight through you.

Again, he watches you all day. But this time, you notice.

You see him watching you in the mirror. You notice how his gaze lingers on you, even after you finish filming a section of the video.

But you don’t say anything. Because for some reason, you kind of like it.

One of your biggest idols, your biggest inspirations, looking at you like you’re the most important one here.

When filming wraps up, you find yourself gathering your things. Seunghyun appears behind you, pushing past staff that surround him.

“You did great. Thank you.” He says, voice low and dangerously close to your ear.

You turn to him. “Th- thank you. It was a great experience.”

He smiles. Then, an idea.

“Do you need a ride? You mentioned your car broke down.” He offers.

You probably should be a little weary, but his eyes are telling you to trust him. And you just can’t seem to look away from them.

“That would be great, yeah. I- I really appreciate it.” You nod, smiling, nervous.

Seunghyun gains a look of satisfaction on his face. He goes through the set and thanks staff before guiding you out back to his car. He opens the passenger door side for you, before climbing into the driver's seat.

“You don’t have a driver?” You ask, admiring his car interior.

He shakes his head. “Not usually. I like to drive my own cars.”

You hum, looking out of the window as he starts driving. You tell him your address. He basically ignores it.

Seunghyun keeps the conversation going. He makes it so easy to talk to him. He’s easy to relate to. He brings up your interests and lets you talk about whatever you want.

You’re so invested in the conversation that you don’t notice at first when he turns the opposite way of your street.

After a few minutes, you look out of the window, still laughing at the joke he’d told, when you see scenery you don’t recognize.

“Uhm, Seunghyun?” You furrow a brow, looking for any sign of familiarity, but not finding any. “This isn’t the way to my place.”

He doesn’t take his eyes off the road. “I know. It’s the way to mine.”

Your heart stops. He notices your sudden silence.

“What, you don’t want to come home with me?” He asks, as if it’s funny. As if it’s casual.

You turn to him, seeing that sly smile on his face. “I…”

He laughs low, meeting your eyes, just for a second. And the second he does, you’re mesmerized again.

Those fucking eyes.

“Don’t worry, sweetheart. You’ll have a good time. I’ll make sure of it.” He says, voice low. The hand he was resting on the gear shift slowly inches its way to you, settling on your thigh.

You should be scared. You should call someone, tell him no.

But you don’t. You stay quiet.

Every single time you start to doubt him on the drive, start to get scared, he looks right at you. Gives your thigh a gentle squeeze.

And you hate what it does to you. You hate that you aren’t worried.

You hate that you don’t hate this. Not one bit.

taglist: @ldydeath @seungttttop @minatttozaki @sweetpanda18 @missleezylou @gds-daisy @jiyongsbaby88 @thanosspills @look-attthe-moon @szonyix6277

megs-orbittt

Choi seung hyun x extremely clingy and touch starved reader? like shes a human scarf. she can’t get her hands off him even when hes showering or busy

clingy

pairing- choi seunghyun x f!reader

contents- major fluff

synopsis- you have always been a very clingy girlfriend, but seunghyun loves every minute of it.

word count- 588

The morning light spills through the blinds, painting quiet stripes across the bedroom floor. You are already awake, though “awake” might’ve been generous, since your face is still buried in Seunghyun’s chest, your arms wrapped tightly around him like you might float away if you let go.

He isn’t complaining. Not really.

“…You know,” his deep voice rumbles against your hair, still groggy with sleep, “most people don’t wake up like this.”

You hum, nuzzling closer. “Most people aren’t lucky enough to have you.”

He goes still for a moment. Then he sighs, soft and defeated, his hand finding the small of your back. “You’re impossible.”

You smile into his shirt. “You like impossible.”

“I must,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. His voice is gentle, but there’s a smile hiding in it, the kind that makes your chest feel warm all the way through.

By the time he attempts to get up for his shower, your arms are still looped around him like a koala.

“Jagi,” he says, voice low and patient, “I need to shower.”

“Take me with you,” you mumble, cheek squished against his shoulder.

“You’ll melt.”

“Worth it.”

He laugh under his breath, one of those small, rare sounds that you live for, and gives your forehead a light flick. “You’re ridiculous.”

“You like ridiculous,” you shoot back without missing a beat.

And he does. He really does.

When he disappears into the bathroom, you follow a few seconds later, perching on the closed toilet lid, chatting away through the sound of running water. He doesn’t tell you to leave. He never does.

Sometimes he peeks through the shower curtain, rolling his eyes when he catches you swinging your feet like a child, and throw a towel at you on his way out. Every time, you catch it, beaming like it’s a love letter.

Later, when he sits down at his desk with his laptop, you drape yourself over his shoulders, chin resting on his head.

“Jagi, I can’t work like this,” he mutters, though his hands haven’t moved to push you away.

“You can,” you say, muffled against his hair. “You just don’t want to admit you like me being here.”

He pauses, then tilts his head back slightly, looking up at you with a faint smile. “You’re warm.”

“Human scarf,” you say proudly.

“Best scarf I’ve ever had,” he says simply, turning back to his screen. You watch him type, watch the corners of his lips twitch whenever you brush your fingers through his hair.

It’s quiet. Comfortable. The kind of silence that only existed between two people who’ve found home in each other.

That night, when you’re curled against his chest again, your fingers tracing lazy shapes on his shirt, he finally speaks, the words so soft you almost miss them.

“You know,” he says, “I used to think I didn’t need anyone.”

You lift your head, eyes half-open. “And now?”

“Now,” he murmurs, brushing his thumb along your jaw, “I can’t imagine what the apartment would feel like without you.”

Your throat tightens a little. “Empty?”

He nods. “Too quiet. Too cold.”

You smile, eyes fluttering shut again as he pulls you closer.

“Guess you’re stuck with me then,” you whisper.

“I know,” he says, voice warm with quiet adoration. “Wouldn’t have it any other way.”

And as you drift off, his arms staying around you, gentle, steady, unyielding. The calm to your chaos. The anchor to your clinginess.

Your favorite place in the world.