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kisskissbanggang · 18 days

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The Score

[8.4k Words/30min. Read - Music Teacher!Seungmin x Guidance Counselor!Reader - Slow Burn/NSFW/Smut - Divorced Seungmin, Divorced Reader, Snowstorms, Pining, Growing Tension, Hurt, Processing Feelings, Guess Who Your Ex Is, New Years Kisses, Damning Polaroids, Anonymous Flowers, Office Sex, Cunnilingus, Vaginal Sex]

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As far as you were concerned, this was a nightmare. It was March. This was the single worst snowstorm Plains County had seen in decades, and winter had officially “ended” a week ago. And that wasn’t even the worst part.

The worst part was the fact that this veritable blizzard wasn't where this nightmare began.

Normally, at the news of adverse weather, you might've accepted some extra time off and tried to relax. Then again, you hadn't been able to relax for weeks now. You were restless, your thoughts thoroughly preoccupied, and now you were being forced to sit with them.

Mostly, this gave you a chance to stay pissed off.

Maybe get even more pissed.

Seungmin knew the score. He’d known for the past two and a half years that you’d been working under the same roof. And, in all fairness, you knew, too.

You thought you were alone on campus where you worked in Plains County High School. There were no other cars or trucks in the snowed-over parking lot when you braved the uncharacteristically severe weather and came to pick up your laptop so you could get some work done in your lonely, empty house. Maybe distract yourself.

It was hard to appear in good spirits when you still missed Chris every day, but you knew you missed him being your husband. You missed him being your partner. You missed him being your friend. It was hard to get over everything when you were suddenly so alone, even though the spark vanished ages ago.

There were no regrets, however, about the long, tiring talks that eventually resulted in your empty home. Your cold, cavernous house meant that he didn’t just take his clothes, gear, and his car, but his bitterness, his resentment, and his pettiness, too. You didn’t miss the way his lip twisted into a snarl when fighting got exhausting, the way you would lash out at each other like wounded animals, over and over again until you both simply gave up. No more arguments, no more sleeping in the guest room.

Just nothing. Nothing left but what you both had decided you should keep. Which left you with the cold, empty house.

The only regret was how much it hurt.

And you weren’t the only one who knew how much it hurt.

Seungmin knew, too.

Neither of you could predict how much your paths would cross since you both arrived at Plains County High School almost three years ago. Teachers hardly ever bet on running into guidance counselors much, let alone the music director, but as fate and staffing would have it, you both needed an outlet. Your students craved a creative outlet, just like Seungmin’s band class. Somehow, him starting an after-school jam session and you starting a drama club would satisfy both your students’ needs, but destroy both your marriages.

No, that wasn’t fair. That was hyperbole.

But… was it, really?

As far as you were concerned, Seungmin earned his third strike not too long ago and you’d refused to be in the same room with you since then. If you’d known he was on campus today, risking a venture out into the snow just like you were, you would’ve been prepared to throw the heaviest object you could grab the moment you saw him. If you’d have known, you wouldn’t even have come out here.

Maybe Seungmin’s house felt as empty as yours. Maybe he missed Sharon like you missed Chris.

Maybe he would be just as put off to know you were in the building.

You sighed, looking out the window of your small office. Frost congregated in the corners of the glass panes. The view painted a grim picture of snow piled up onto each exterior surface outside. Snow days used to be fun when you were a kid. Today, you’d fumbled into the building, feeling blessed you brought your removable snowshoes. The snowshoes now sat in a slowly drying heap on the rug in your office. You had taken them off after you almost slipped in a puddle in the hall, the slick metal cleats not getting you any traction and doing you no favors when the weather had sprung a few leaks in the school’s aging roof. There’d be no way the maintenance crew would be able to clear any of this out until the main roads were safe to drive, let alone fix the roof. So, instead, you chose to pause and recuperate. Now you sat, taking a second of calm to simply admire the snow, not knowing that Seungmin was doing the same in the band room.

There was an omen before all of this, one that the two of you needed to heed but both of you ignored. This very well might have all started when you introduced yourselves to each other’s spouses at your first wrap party.

Two years ago. Just before spring break in your first year.

It was the first time you’d collaborated. The first production you both put on turned out to be Oklahoma! Truly, you were proving to admin that a drama club was a good idea, just like Seungmin was proving the same for his jam band, who’d rounded out your cast with a little coaxing and provided the music. You were stunned by how gorgeous and demure Sharon was. Her hand seemed tiny, even in your own when you gently shook it. Her teeth shined. Her skin glowed. You were impressed, to state it lightly. And Chris had sized up Seungmin immediately. He was the one who’d made the sacrifice, moving out here with you so you could be close to your uncle. With your late uncle gone, however, now he’d set up his studio in the basement and rarely came out. He’d been craving someone to talk about music with.

And even though you decided that night two years ago wasn’t strike one for Seungmin–because he obviously did nothing wrong–it was definitely strike two for Chris. Your first apocalyptic fight had occurred shortly after your uncle passed away and Chris tried to help by taking over planning all the arrangements.

No, your husband had waited three days after meeting him to blithely insinuate any inkling of jealousy about your colleague. He’d asked a simple question, nonchalant, as if it wasn’t instantly self-indicting. “So, when you and Seungmin hugged during the curtain call, was that the first time?” You couldn’t believe it. It was like he never considered the very real truth of the matter, that the hug was a spur of the moment occurrence that you’d been embarrassed about ever since.

The fight had been stupid. Chris well and truly showed his ass.

“Oh, yeah?” he’d blustered. “Why does he call you Ms. Bang, hm? Not Mrs. Bang?”

That took a solid five minutes to convince him that everyone called you Ms. Bang. Mrs. was an antiquated distinction, as far as school was concerned. As far as you were concerned, at least. Chris had walked it back and then proceeded to imply that referring to each other formally had to be suspicious. You balked at the mere thought. Seungmin called you Ms. Bang just like anyone else did. You called him Mr. Kim. It wasn’t as if you liked the way his name felt in your mouth. It was just professional.

Mr. Kim.

Ms. Bang.

Professional.

That night didn’t escalate into yelling, but it was the first time you refused to sleep in bed with him when it was all over. Chris had the gall to be offended when you briskly shut the door to the guest room and went right to sleep. He didn’t sleep in your shared bed either. In fact, he stormed downstairs and slept on the couch in his studio.

Looking back, that was only an omen. It wasn’t even Seungmin’s first strike. That still wouldn’t come until later. Next was a warning. An omen was one thing but you didn’t really begin to figure anything out until you were given some vague cosmic clue. What came next was simply a shining exit sign before the point of no return. It was during the back-to-school carnival.

Right before your second year. Months after the cast party.

You’d been dressed as a clown. The moment you had hinted that you might be able to do face painting if no one else could be found, no attempt was even made. So you were dressed as a clown, doing incredibly mediocre face paintings for a couple bucks each.

Seungmin didn’t make a big fuss over seeing you. He simply stood in line like everyone else, and then took a seat in the camping chair you’d set up across your own.

“Ms. Bang,” he’d greeted cordially. “Any ideas for the fall play?”

It was just business. He looked effortlessly handsome. Pressed flannel shirt tucked into his jeans. Clean boots.

Chris had recently taken to wearing only hoodies and sweats. If you were lucky, you’d see him without a beanie or ball cap on.

“Mr. Kim! Sure I do,” you’d responded, “but you need to pick a design for me to paint. How was your summer?”

“Do I have to? And my summer was boring, thanks for asking. Yours?”

“Also boring. And yes, you have to. This is a face painting booth, not a talk-about-the-fall-play booth. You like my outfit?”

It was obviously a crack. You were dressed as a clown. But Seungmin had paused, almost like he was thoughtfully considering before answering.

“Yeah. I do.”

He had that eternal, easy smile.

It wasn’t eager, it wasn’t flippant. It was precise and measured. You had scrutinized this simple interaction for weeks. Why did he say it like that? Why did he look at you like that?! Did he look at you in any way other than normally?! This told you all you needed to know: being obsessed with it meant you cared, and you didn’t have time nor the desire to care. You proceeded to let go of the whole thing and move on.

Then came Seungmin’s true strike one. This was never rushed. You were both simply inching towards each other until you collided.

It was December of your second year. The fall play had ended up being Jersey Boys. Seungmin and you had hugged during the curtain call again, but this time you and Chris didn’t fight about it. This time, though, Seungmin had also gotten you flowers, appearing in your mail cubby in the front office the next week. It wasn’t a big deal. It was simply a bouquet from his small garden you knew he tended in his front lawn. You’d repaid him with a small jar vase of daisies. That wasn’t strike one, though, because it clearly wasn’t that big of a deal.

Chris used to get you flowers all the time.

The note from Seungmin’s bouquet sat in your desk drawer.

Strike one finally, ultimately arrived with one of the many traditions observed by the Plains County High faculty: Secret Santa. Meredith, the Principal’s secretary, ran it like a military operation. As luck would have it, you drew Minho when presented with the ceremonial jar of names, your friend who taught the business class for seniors. You’d painted a picture of his cats on a mug, stuck googly eyes on, paired it with a bottle of his favorite wine, and called it a day. For you, however, you opened your office one day to discover… a rug.

This was a long time coming. Even after almost a year and a half of occupying your office, you’d never gotten around to getting a rug, even after you slipped one rainy morning and almost broke your wrist, not long after that damn wrap party at the start of it all. You’d been foolish enough to believe he was annoyed when you cheekily showed off your wrist brace during a faculty meeting. Seungmin had gotten you a rug, and it was even cute. A sweet shade of blue, nicely complementing your knick-knacks and decor.

The color also matched his truck. And the small cooler he brought his lunch in. And his favorite flannel shirt. And his travel mug, perpetually full of coffee.

A piece of the puzzle had tried sliding into place then. The way that Seungmin had refused to let you carry anything or open anything or even hold anything while you were wearing the stupid wrist brace around him. The way that Seungmin asked you how you were doing every time he saw you. The way you found out that Seungmin’s summer before your second year had been so boring because Sharon had taken to spending all her time in the sunroom, just like yours had been boring because Chris spent the whole summer break on a work trip in Los Angeles. It was your first taste of loneliness.

This was ridiculous, obviously. Seungmin didn’t have any feelings for you; he merely saw that you could use a rug in your office and got you one. You were to take none of this seriously, because none of it was serious. It was a hug, it was a compliment, it was a vase of flowers… and a rug. None of this mattered. You and Seungmin were clearly only good and professional work friends. He was nice to you like he was nice to everyone. It was just a rug.

You managed to go a whole year without any other hiccups. It didn’t even occur to you that Seungmin had committed a formal first strike, it was so relatively minor. Everything was fine.

Especially when you and Chris kicked off your third year at Plains County High by deciding to finally get the divorce.

It was hard to admit you were both miserable. Chris had been miserable since he moved with you to Plains County. Maybe you’d both been miserable since your late uncle called you in the first place and you insisted that the best thing to do would be to drop everything and move.

The smile plastered on your face had been bulletproof from that point forward. You were determined to not make it apparent that you were barely holding it all together. No, you didn’t dare let anyone realize, and you were so busy keeping up appearances that you never even noticed Seungmin was equally on edge.

Chris moved out shortly before Thanksgiving break.

You didn’t understand just how terribly you both were doing until you got the weirdest report in your office, not long before winter break. It’d felt like you were simply floating through time, but this snapped you out of it like a spell being broken.

“Mr. Kim yelled at Patty Gimble the other day–”

One student on your caseload. Marsha Crawford. She’d mentioned it so casually.

“What?!”

“It’s nothing, Ms. Bang!”

You didn’t have it in you to change your name yet, not with your students. Half of them never even realized you were married to begin with. It’d be too complicated; they had far better things to be distracted by.

“It’s not nothing, Marsha. Why did Mr. Kim yell at Patty Gimble?”

“She probably hasn’t been practicing. She’s still missing her cues during marching practice and we have the Christmas parade next week. It’s not even like he really yelled.”

“So he didn’t yell at Patty?”

“He–I dunno–he raised his voice at her, I guess.”

You’d steamed about the report for the rest of the week but weren’t sure what to do. The girl your student had referenced wasn’t on your caseload, and you weren’t her teacher. You were in no position to badger Seungmin, either. He had to know as much as anyone that word blew up and traveled at lightning speeds in Plains County High. Regardless, you didn’t confront him. It didn’t feel right. Instead, you called Patty Gimble into your office one day. The whole interaction was awkward. You didn’t know each other. The girl, like many of Seungmin’s students, thought the world of him. She felt she deserved the reminder to focus, even if it was harsh.

“You’re friends with Mr. Kim, right, Ms. Bang?” she’d asked you. “Can you talk to him? He’s seemed so off all year.”

Secret Santa and the staff Christmas party came and went. Minho must have pulled some strings to draw your name this year. He gave you a miniature doghouse, like one for a doll set, and with a gift card to the boutique you told him you missed back home. The doghouse had “for the next one” painted in curly script on it. You knew he meant for whatever rebound you’d pick up eventually, and you knew he meant well, but you didn’t feel ready to joke about it yet. Chris had never been “in the doghouse.” You both fucked up your relationship, but knowing that didn’t make it any easier to say.

Winter break and Christmas was weird, to say the least. Minho had to go out of town to visit family. Loved ones offered to fly you out, but it simply wouldn’t happen for you. You weren’t ready.

For anything.

The house felt deathly empty, despite it feeling like you and Chris were ghosts haunting each other for months leading up to it. He’d brought you flowers the day he left with his moving truck. The vase sat, nasty, dead flowers and all, on the windowsill in the kitchen where you first placed it.

You didn’t necessarily want to be at school for New Year’s, but Meredith and the other ladies in the front office badgered you. It took every bone in your body to not dismiss the request as strictly being out of pity. People cared, pity or not.

The kids didn’t know how lonely a majority of the staff in Plains County High were. All the myriad traditions didn’t spark solely from community and goodwill. It was easy to feel isolated, especially during the cold months, left with nothing to do but housework. It would’ve helped to know that New Year’s would be the sight of strike two, though. Maybe if you had known, you would’ve decided to be lonely at home.

As was customary, the little get-together had taken place in the cafetorium. You’d attempted to peek through the large picture windows on the side of the building from your office across the courtyard, but it was difficult to see with the shades drawn. The large, opaque shades had actually come at your insistence. Because this also became the makeshift theater space, being able to darken the large room had become a necessity. You truly only had yourself to blame for not being able to properly gauge how many people had shown up. Judging by the parking lot, it was more than you were expecting but still fewer than last year’s crowd. You didn’t go to the party last year, though. Anything you knew about the previous party was caught through passing conversation and driving past the parking lot that night the year before. Instead of the party, you and Chris had driven to the next town over to go line-dancing. It was one of the last really good dates you would have together, good enough to make you doubt going through with the divorce. But it happened anyway.

No, during this quiet and windy New Year’s Eve, there had been a good amount of merriment when you entered the combination cafeteria/auditorium. This was more intimidating than you’d predicted. Minho wasn’t here, and every year, Seungmin and Sharon flew out for winter break to see her family back home, so you didn’t even have the chance to forgive him for strike one and buddy up for the night. Changbin was showing off pictures of his newest piglets the 4-H were raising. Wendy, the resilient school nurse, was commiserating with Lia from admin on yearly vaccine regulations. Felix, the sweet new secretary in the front office, was running around and making sure everyone had a drink. Meanwhile, Lily, Changbin’s new athletics secretary, was already curled up asleep on a chair where everyone could supervise her, face flushed down to her neck and hugging a bottle of champagne. Someone had draped one of the newly redesigned letterman jackets that were being lovingly boasted about over the girl as a blanket. And that was just who wasn’t out on the dancefloor. Throngs of faculty and staff were dancing and playing, more foolish than their students with the added lack of inhibition. Thanks to the disorienting feeling of being alone, it was easy to forget how relatively big the school was.

You had craned to see if you could find anyone you were close to when you were suddenly blinded by a camera flash following a click. Spots in your eyes, you’d stumbled back a step amidst a shocked laugh.

“Oh god, Ms. Bang, I’m so sorry–” your attacker had wheezed.

Rubbing the static out of your vision, you’d found yourself face to face with Seungmin. Your surprise was apparent, too, from the way he’d seemed to be caught off guard.

“Mr. Kim!” you’d blurted at him. “You’re here!”

Seungmin almost blushed. “It seems that way, yeah. I’ve been voluntold to man the photo booth.”

“Is anyone even using it?” you’d laughed, finally taking note of the quaint tinsel backdrop that Hyunjin had pulled out of his classroom’s storage.

“Not at all,” he chuckled. He tugged your candid picture out of the instant camera and wagged it at you.

You took the photo, absently continuing to shake it. “I thought you were out of town,” you’d told him. “What are you doing here?”

This question was, apparently, deceptively simple. Seungmin met you with a pause and a sigh. Whatever the reason, he felt reserved about telling you. The reaction was enough that you found yourself wincing. “Want a drink?” you’d offered.

What you had ended up with was squirreling away two glasses of champagne along with a slice of cake and retreating to Seungmin’s band room, behind the stage in the cafetorium, down the hall and around the corner from your office by the library. This was great real estate, honestly. The band room had its own set of risers with seats and stands, a couple practice booths installed behind those, and exits to the hallway, stage, and even the football field for marching practice. Foregoing the seats, you’d settled down to sit on the first level of risers, and you found yourself not so much shaking the picture to develop it, but fanning yourself once you adjusted to the temperature of the building and the champagne first reached your brain. Seungmin caught you unaware again and cheekily snapped another photo of you, this time sitting on the risers with your champagne and cake. It was almost a good picture, truth be told. Now you were fanning yourself with both photos.

Seungmin opened up almost immediately. You’d had harder times getting students to talk. It appeared that he needed this.

As it turned out, Sharon moved out, too, but while you and Chris made careful plans together, Seungmin’s ex apparently found it easier to do it all on her own. He came home one day to discover the house half-empty. This–obviously, now–was the day before the alarming news that Seungmin had yelled at Patty Gimble during marching practice.

“Sounds like the whole thing was hell,” you’d offered.

Seungmin looked pensive as he took another bite of cake. “The weird thing,” he’d thought out loud, “was that it wasn’t hell, Ms. Bang. Not for a big part of it. We fought, yeah, but it was never hell.”

You were almost jealous. Everything between you and Chris in the past year or so felt like hell.

Both of your glasses were empty by the time both of you had aired out both your divorces. For how much you talked and laughed and worked together, neither of your partners had ever come up. This was all new. You had leaned forward to pluck the fork out of Seungmin’s hand so you could sneak another bite of cake when the music dulled outside. The countdown began.

10…

9…

8…

Your first New Years without Chris.

7…

6…

Your first New Years alone in a long time.

5…

4…

But you weren’t alone.

3…

Remember?

2…

You were with Seungmin.

1…

“Happy New Year!” came as a collective shout from the party outside.

But in the band room, something happened.

In recollection, you weren’t sure how it started, but you remembered suddenly erupting in anger that Seungmin had kissed you at midnight on New Years. It’d been sweet. It’d been soft. It’d been methodical, a brief second of peace. And you’d been infuriated. You’d shoved your hand into his chest, pushing him back.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing–?!”

“Fuck, I’m so sorry, that was so monumentally stupid–”

“What the fuck, Seungmin?!”

“I said I’m sorry!”

You were both standing up now, shouting back and forth.

Embarrassing.

Exhausting.

“Look, Mr. Kim” you growled, “I get you’re lonely and this is hard–”

“It’s not that! Are you kidding me?!” Seungmin had interrupted. “Have you ever stopped to consider–”

“Would you shut up?!” you barked back. “Let me be pissed. I’ll let you know when I get over it. Just leave me the fuck alone.”

With one small glass of champagne in your system, you took the meager risk to drive home in a rage.

And that was only strike two.

Strike three wasn’t damn near as dramatic, but it still fucking sucked.

Obviously, people were talking. Not because you and Seungmin were missing from the New Years party. No, it had to be a student that would blab. In all your wisdom, you’d dropped the stupid photos Seungmin took of you when you left the band room in a huff. If it had only been the first photo, that could’ve been refuted, but the second photo? That single shred of indistinct evidence, no matter how much Seungmin calmly denied it, was enough to start this miserable little rumor amongst the entire student body that spread like a virus on the first day back from winter break. By day two, there was already an email stating that faculty parties would no longer take place on campus.

And it still got worse. Weeks later, without talking to him whatsoever and flat-out avoiding him when you could, you made a sickening discovery upon opening your office door one day.

A bouquet of flowers. A box of chocolates. And whose name was on the note in the arrangement?

Did you even have to wonder? And on Valentine’s Day?

You waited until the kids had cleared out for the day to stalk into the band room after school. Seungmin had the gall to look shocked when you tossed the bouquet and chocolates back at him before storming back out. Brash, yes, but you were seething. How dare Seungmin do this to you when you were still recovering? You were still coping with the very idea of being alone, which in and of itself was mired in complex feelings you were never ready for. All you’d felt for the last few years with Chris was alone but having him gone suddenly made it all real. After he moved out, you felt raw for an entire month and then just when you were feeling better, Seungmin had to go and fuck it all up. And now he was giving you flowers?

That was weeks ago. You’d all but given up on pursuing a spring play. If you were lucky, you’d muster the energy to let your students write and direct some one-acts for a showcase. Now, with all the events of the past years behind you, from the moment you moved to Plains County to this very day, all you felt was confused. You weren’t hurt, or bitter, or even angry anymore.

Okay, maybe that wasn’t true. Maybe you were still a little pissed. The note from Seungmin’s bouquet was sitting on your desk. It’d fallen out of the flowers when you went to return them to Seungmin, and you never got the nerve to throw it away. So now it sat, silently nagging you like Chris’ dead flowers were back at home. You grabbed your laptop and shoved it into your bag, giving up on relaxing and ready to go sit in your silent, empty home while the snow continued to pile up outside. This way, maybe you could even get over everything. You peeled your snowshoes off of the rug Seungmin had gotten you, the ice crystals having stuck them to the plush surface, and gingerly dropped those in your bag next. It was a better idea to put them on when you made it to the building’s entrance by the front office, that way you wouldn’t slip and crack your head open, but you also wouldn’t scratch the linoleum floors. By now, you were beginning to feel a little calmer as you made your way out of your office and down the hall, down past the cafetorium. You felt better, despite making eye contact with Seungmin’s nameplate on the door to the band room. Yeah. You felt better.

Except–

Except why would Seungmin do this to you? Wasn’t he still getting over his divorce? Wasn’t he still getting over Sharon?! She was perfect! He told you they’d also been together for years, so wouldn’t that mean he was also taking this just as badly as you were? This wasn’t fair. You were just getting used to feeling alone and now all that progress was nuked because Seungmin couldn’t handle his shit.

It wasn’t until you noticed you were storming down the hall–near where you’d almost slipped when you arrived–that your feet were already flying out from under you.

You landed on your ass more than your back, but it still hurt. The fall humbled you for a moment, and you stayed like this, staring at the old ceiling of the school. That is, until you heard rushing footsteps approaching. You craned your neck to see and, sure enough, there was Seungmin, his boots squeaking on the wet floor as he rushed over.

“Ms. Bang! Are you alright?!” he panicked, grabbing and checking your wrist before you could stop him.

You sat up and yanked your arm back. “Mr. Kim, I’m fine. Just don’t touch me; I haven't forgiven you yet.”

“So, what, it’d be okay to help you if you forgave me for New Years?!”

Your mouth hung agape, flabbergasted. “We’re beyond New Years, Mr. Kim!” you all but shouted, scrambling up to your feet, your boots squeaking on the worn floor. “Don’t you think I’m more worried about when I’m going to forgive you for Valentine’s Day?!”

Seungmin scoffed, simultaneously annoyed and amused. “That’s what this is about?” he tiredly asked.

“Yes,” you huffed, taking a step back when Seungmin stood up beside you. “It is. I have a right to be mad about it.”

“I didn’t send those flowers, Ms. Bang,” he patiently explained. “I didn’t send any of it.”

“Right,” you sarcastically nodded, “then who did?”

“It wasn’t me,” he shrugged helplessly.

You crossed your arms, staunch. “Fine. I hate that you’re making me prove how I know.”

Seungmin was confused when you turned heel to stomp back to your office. He followed, cautiously intrigued as you threw open the door and blustered over the rug he bought you and over to your desk. You snatched the card from the Valentine’s bouquet before tugging open your desk drawer to grab the old card from the last time Seungmin gave you flowers. Full of triumphant spite, you thrust the two cards in his face. Seungmin, however, only raised an eyebrow at you.

You pulled the cards back in front of your own eyes.

The two little notes, as much as you hated to admit, had wholly distinct handwriting from each other.

“I…” you trailed off, such a meager non-attempt at forming a coherent thought. “I don’t understand.”

“My zero period marching band won’t shut up about the polaroids,” Seungmin told you. “The jam band won’t either. And neither will my competition quintet–and I guess it’s really all of them. They’re obsessed.”

You gestured with the cards in either hand, confused. “So you’re saying…?”

He hung his head, exasperated. “I think one or two people tried to capitalize on the latest drama and sent you some flowers.”

The desk squeaked when you leaned back against it, defeated. You let out a scoff. “Of course,” you relented.

Why did you feel weird?

“What’s wrong?” Seungmin asked.

You were wondering the same thing.

“I don’t know,” you shook your head, trying to process this. “I should be relieved it wasn’t you, but–”

“Oh my god,” sighed Seungmin, “don’t tell me you’re disappointed.”

“I…” you babbled out, the starts and stops of syllables betraying how torn you were over everything. “What if I am?”

“I don’t believe this!” Seungmin laughed, light and fragile. He frustratedly stepped towards your office door, ready to leave. “I fuck up royally and you’re understandably pissed at me, but then it looks like I did something that’s possibly even worse and now you want me?!”

“Maybe I always did, Seungmin!” you easily fired back, getting a jump out of him. You were out of practice since Chris moved out, but you still had it in you. “Maybe I’ve wanted you like some idiot for years now!” You were stuck in a little, miserable dance, with you and Seungmin both moving to get him out of your office and then changing your minds, over and over.

“Ridiculous!” he rebuked. “This is ridiculous. This is the wrong time, for me and especially you, Ms. Bang–”

“Wrong for me?! You don’t get to decide that!”

Seungmin stared, agog and challenging you. “Well? Is that an incorrect assessment?”

You flustered for a moment, still searching for words.

But that was too late, it seemed. A heavy silence shaded the corners of the heat building inside you, making you sensitive to the cold air coming off the frosted windows of your office.

“Now’s not the right time,” Seungmin reluctantly emphasized, and reached for the door. You reached for his hand, but that may have been the wrong move, considering Seungmin returned again, as if to say something else, and tripped on the damn rug on your office floor. You clumsily tried to catch him, and only resulted in sending you both tumbling to the ground.

Seungmin propped himself up on the heels of his palms and blinked down at you where you lay under him on the cold, damp floor. You gazed back in return, trying to conjure any fleeting words. It seemed he wasn’t as concerned this time if you hurt yourself.

“Fine. Maybe it’s not the right time,” you finally told him. Your voice was barely louder than a murmur, concentrating on not letting yourself waver. “I think I’m just upset you weren’t the one who bought me flowers.”

Both your eyes remained fixed on each other, piled up together on that damned rug in your office.

“If I’d known you’d feel that way,” Seungmin managed to tell you, his words carefully metered, “I would’ve brought you nicer ones.”

This time, you were well aware it was you who initiated the kiss, gently reaching up and pulling on the canvas collar of Seungmin’s heavy work coat so he’d come down to meet you. The motion was swift and it was mutual, Seungmin taking the opportunity to slide his hand under your back to coax you off the floor a little. You caught your breath for a moment before kissing him again and again, over and over.

“So, what now? Is it still not the right time?” you asked, trying to find a measured breath in your tight chest.

Seungmin shook his head. “Not remotely.” Still, he didn’t stop kissing you.

It was apparent you both felt raw. Maybe a bit vulnerable and disoriented with the gnawing sensation of you both knowing he was right. This wasn’t the right time–for either of you–but it felt so cathartic to have someone hold you and feel wanted.

Chris may have still wanted you, even as you watched him drive away to leave Plains County, but your relationship wasn’t viable anymore; the rot had crept from the roots to the leaves. That truth took months and years to accept but it was almost freeing to say it now. You still loved Chris, which made your absence of want for each other hurt even more.

Meanwhile, all that want that you were starved for was making you dizzy, the way that Seungmin groaned into your mouth leading you to believe he felt similarly. But did he want more?

He was the one to say it wasn’t the right time. Maybe this was all he’d give you.

Maybe you simply had to ask.

But, then again, maybe you were too keyed up to ask. Too much tension. Too much adrenaline. You had to demand.

“More,” you sighed against his lips.

Seungmin nodded in absent compliance, all the while still kissing you as slid back to kneel over you. It didn’t seem advisable to remove too much clothing given the setting and temperature, but he at least worked your jeans open, his hands thankfully warm. You could feel the calluses on his fingertips from years of playing guitar.

“How long has it been?” he asked you, even as he shimmied your jeans and panties down just enough to dip his chin below your waist and lower.

What a morbid question.

“I think it’s been a year for me,” he continued, muffled by your thighs, almost as if to reassure you the question was solely meant for the purpose of commiserating. “Probably more.”

A sharp, high-pitched gasp escaped you before you could even answer, Seungmin’s tongue shutting you up for a moment before your brain could function again. Thinking backwards to a year ago, that would’ve been around the time of Secret Santa, the one where Seungmin got you the rug you were currently squirming on.

“Maybe five months?” you answered, breathless. Five months, but maybe a year for you as well since Chris last did what Seungmin was currently and happily helping himself to.

The calluses from rough guitar strings on Seungmin’s fingertips felt similarly but wholly different from the ones on Chris’.

Now was not the time, but all you could think of was that first time Chris was jealous. He’d grumbled something under his breath.

“A teacher, fine, whatever, but did it have to be a music teacher?”

You’d thought it was so stupid at the time.

Meanwhile, that same music teacher groaned deep as he lapped at you, maybe from finally tasting you. Or maybe he was a bit jealous, too.

This was gross, you realized. It was gross, unprofessional and reprehensible to be fucking the music teacher in your office.

Even though Seungmin wasn’t just the music teacher, or even the band teacher. He was your friend. He was your colleague. You loved collaborating with him on all your shared projects. You loved the way he treated you, no matter if it was frank or cagey. It was clear you’d both spent the years leading up to this being painfully professional with each other.

Besides, it’s not like anyone was around. It was just you and Seungmin, moaning and sighing against each other.

“This is so fucking bad,” Seungmin groaned into you.

It was.

“Come on,” you urged, “more.” You were almost outrageously transparent. It wasn’t only Seungmin, or affection that you needed. What you needed was more, or everything he’d give you, and Seungmin seemed ready to do just that. It felt shamefully clear that you were refusing to let your judgment catch up to you. Pushing himself back up to his knees in between your legs, Seungmin reached a hand towards your own so he could help you sit up. The wedding rings you were both still insisting on wearing knocked against each other, a tiny metallic sound you couldn’t help but register when he pulled you close enough to kiss again. He then reclined back on the damp rug in your office, clumsily lifting his hips under you and working his belt with one hand so he could help you pull your jeans and soaked panties the rest of the way down, at least to your ankles so you could sit on his lap better. Any lingering concerns of optics or guilt stalled for a moment when you actually got a look at what you were about to accept. Seungmin looked up at you, stars and forlorn longing in his eyes, his yearning hands squeezing your hips and his pronounced hardness forming a beguiling outline in his jeans. This was the man you’d been squashing down passing thoughts of for years now, available and pleading for you.

The first time Seungmin slid into you, you both gasped. Every miniscule bump and ridge on his length was almost obscenely felt entering you. Your back arched, and Seungmin flexed in on himself like a punch to the gut. That hesitation of wanting to savor this, the fear of not being able to catch this fleeting pleasure, it burned through both of you as you slowly lowered yourself onto him. Seungmin felt incredible inside of you. As you began to rock your hips together, a shiver lit up your spine with the culmination of the most forbidden thoughts you’d denied for the longest time.

“Oh, fuck,” Seungmin sighed, “Ms. Bang…”

You didn’t realize you’d had your eyes closed until they snapped open at Seungmin referring to you with Chris’ name while his cock was inside you. That was too much, this was too much. Seungmin’s eyes were also closed, but they opened as well when you half-fell, half-pushed off of him. His strong hands pleadingly caught you, the worry clear in his eyes when he sat up with you in his lap. He brushed your hair out of your eyes and softly held your face.

“Oh, baby,” he fretted, “what’s wrong? Can you tell me? Are you okay?”

The way he said baby drew your gaze back to him. Wildly enough, even though Chris also called you baby, it didn’t feel bad to hear Seungmin say it. But you could feel your eyes shaking, him using your married name shook you so badly in that moment.

You took a second to calm yourself, and the best part was that Seungmin let you. He hung on every breath you took to regain equilibrium. “Every time you call me Ms. Bang,” you finally began, “anytime that anyone calls me Ms. Bang, I see his face. Or I remember something stupidly small. I think of him every fucking time.”

“Does that upset you?” he asked. For a moment, you were afraid he was being flippant or sarcastic, but you could tell from his expression that he meant it as neutrally as he possibly could. He really wanted to know. The only thing stopping you was your refusal to talk about it.

You sighed deep. “Not exactly upset,” you shook your head with your admission, “it just makes me sad.”

“I understand,” he soothed, stroking his hand across your back. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. Do you want to stop?”

“No,” you stubbornly repeated. Seungmin, on the cusp of protest, ate whatever words he had in mind when you laced your fingers in his hair and kissed him again. His tongue was almost sweet in your mouth. Only a moment later, though, he eased you back from him.

“What do you want, then?”

Your breath quickened in your chest, only half a beat. Between your legs, Seungmin was still hard, almost persistently so.

“I want to hear you call me baby again,” you answered, before stubbornly kissing him once more. This time, Seungmin fully complied, and you both savored the gentle squeeze and slide of him thrusting back inside you. Your back arched your chest down into his own, and this seemed to angle your hips in a way that made Seungmin clutch onto you, his fingertips gripping into your hips.

“Fuck, baby,” Seungmin whined into your skin, “I’m way closer than I thought, goddamn–”

You couldn’t say you were surprised. He did say it’d been a year. Besides, a more horrifying thought intruded in your mind: what would happen after you were done fooling around? See each other in the hallways in school like nothing ever happened? Worse yet, was Seungmin expecting you to get together?

“... Baby?” Seungmin repeated.

Oh fuck, he’d said something while you were ejected out of the moment, for the second time now. In fact, you’d stopped riding him altogether, much to his relief.

“Wait, what?” you asked, failing at not sounding bewildered.

Thankfully, Seungmin panted out a laugh. “I asked if you were close at all; we can take a break if you’re not.”

The only thing was, though, was that you had a pretty good idea by now that Seungmin would damn near do whatever you wanted. How long had you had him wrapped around your finger? Instead of answering him right away, you simply rolled your hips on his a little more. A hushed gasp hitched in Seungmin’s throat, his eyes rolling back a little when you continued the languid, sustained rhythm. You grabbed his hand, your fingers tracing the veins ridging the backside of his palm, and led him to feel you where your hips met. The pad of his thumb caressed around your clit in a circle before he started rubbing you in earnest.

“I’ll be pretty close here in a second,” you assured him, breathless. “Take a second and get me there. That’s your break. Is that okay?”

Seungmin’s exhausted, determined grin met yours and something in the back of your mind fell loose, like letting down your ponytail at the end of a long day. Maybe you were worrying too much. Maybe this was something you could simply enjoy.

Maybe it didn’t even have to be only the sex that you were enjoying. Maybe you could enjoy you and Seungmin wanting each other, too.

Lying under you on the floor, Seungmin kept massaging you closer and closer to a climax, and this was making your own riding pace increase, your hips working up and down his length while you continually held onto each other, cursing and panting and groaning. Every single voice in your head finally shut up for a minute as you climbed higher, and all that was left was the active give and take of pleasure, the catharsis of being able to work out not just all the tension growing between the two of you for years, but all the frustration and heartache you’d been dragging yourself through for even longer. And you wondered, for how much Seungmin seemed looser, more relaxed, if he was experiencing something similar or if this was simply a side of him you hadn’t had the privilege of seeing yet. On a regular basis, Seungmin was playful, he was frank while being polite, but he always seemed like he was holding back or refusing to say his whole thought. Right now, however, it felt like you had all of him.

Seungmin’s eyes suddenly scrunched shut, and you could feel his hips begin to falter under yours. “Mmm god, baby, I can’t–you’re gonna make me–”

It’s like he knew, his timing was so perfect. You nodded in return, pitifully whining out your answer as you bounced on his lap. “Me too, don’t stop–”

He didn’t. You both kept it up through to the end. Sparks combusted inside you where you weren’t used to experiencing sensation anymore, and your muscles tensed despite the force of your release spreading from your spine out to your fingertips. Seungmin must’ve felt similarly, given you caught him whining through his own orgasm, his groans losing their bass as the pace of his thrusts finally gave out.

You suddenly realized you were freezing, despite being drenched in sweat. Seungmin caught his breath under you, melting into the cold, damp rug, and you collapsed next to him in a bid to retrieve your jeans from around your ankles. He sat up beside you.

“Fuck, I love you–” he laughed under his breath while he tried to work his zipper back up, until his eyes snapped wider with the horror of what he said. “Jesus, shit, I mean I loved that–”

“It’s fine, Seungmin,” you reassured him, and put a hand on his chin to keep you both steady when you kissed him. You liked the feel of stubble on his jawline. “I loved that, too.”

“What now?” he asked. Why did this feel like a game of russian roulette now? It was like eggshells erupted under you and now you were both treading carefully.

But Seungmin knew the score.

And so did you.

You placed your hand on his. In a second, you’d have to get up before your clothes became damp from the rug on the floor of your office. Judging by the denim of Seungmin’s jeans, he was already suffering that fate.

“You must be freezing,” you concluded as you gingerly got up to your feet. Seungmin intrepidly waited for what came next. “My house is pretty cold,” you continued, “but I’m sure we can keep warm until the storm passes. Besides, I wouldn't want you to drive alone in this weather.”

Seungmin cracked a pleased grin and eagerly took your hand to help him up when you offered it. He seemingly matched how bashful you felt in this moment, but that was the best you’d felt in weeks, maybe months. You shouldered your work bag but felt a tug, and looked to see Seungmin shuffling the bag off your shoulder so he could carry it for you. For a moment, you were about to protest, but you tempered yourself down. This was sweet. This was nice. Everything before now felt like they’d had their rough edges sanded off. Seungmin and you had history, sure. The two of you were colleagues, and then you slowly became friends, and now…

Now, the two of you were something else entirely. It was true, you both knew the score, but maybe it was time to reset the board.

#neverendingdreams #straykidsland #stray kids smut #stray kids fanfic #skz smut #i've been so creatively blocked for months and it feels so incredibly good to finally finish this and share this with you all 💕#haha you have a crush on kim seungmin 😔

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seungly · 2 years

Note

Okay love, sorry I'm a bit late to the party but anyway LET'S DO THIS!

💖 , 🌹 , 🍰 , 💘 , 💓 , 🍒 , 💫

I wanna know 😌

💖 have you ever been in love? are you in love rn?

I like to think I had my first love! Haha though I probably really did <33

Seungmin's the only one occupying my mind rn tbh 😩💗 love that guy fr

but other than that no vdjsbsjs hehe

🌹 what do you think are the most romantic flowers other than roses?

Not to be biased but daisies!! I love daisies hahaha

🍰 what's your favorite dessert to eat? do you have a favorite to make?

Ice creams are my go-to, they're so good 😭 my favorite is vanilla or chocolate, I'm basic mb 🧍🏻‍♀️

I like baking brownies. They go with ice cream, easy to make, and so so so delicious 😔🙌

💘 you would fall in love with someone who...

would be able to handle me. I can be a lot sometimes and my anxiety gets so bad 🥲 and I also tend to look down on myself a lot hahaha

💓 what do people do that makes your heart skip a beat? what makes your heart melt?

Compliments always gets my heart beating, and when they can tell whether I'm actually okay or not. Heart go crazy

When I get praised DBSJBS, when someone remembers tiny details about me! ah and when I make people laugh. I like to think I'm funny 🤡

Kim Seungmin.

🍒 which is better– a down to earth, comfortable love or an exciting, butterflies in your stomach type of love?

How dare this be a question. I don't know what to answer VDJABSN I LOVE BOTH.

I like to be comfortable but also the thrill, please that's so– I want it. Both is great, I want both 🧍🏻‍♀️

Depends on my mood tbh hahsha

💫 do you get crushes easily? What makes you fall for someone?

Yes. Definitely. You call me pretty? My heart goes boom, now I have a crush on you 😤

When they're genuine! When I can actually feel they admire me or they really care. Also humor, if we have the same humor then congratulations you have a chance of me 🫂 sorry man, that's your fault.

also when their name is Kim Seungmin.

VSJABSJS RHIS IS SO FUN!! ILY FOR ASKING 😤💓 I really enjoyed answering it!!

I hope you're well, bestie 😚 especially during your hell week 🤕

#seungly #talk to sunny #my dearest zoe #zoe8stay 🦋

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kisskissbanggang · 11 months

Text

Contention - pt. 1

[2.1k words/<10min. read - Skz! Love Triangle, Non-Idol!AU - Personal Assistant!Seungmin x Female Reader, SFW/VERY Suggestive/✨Spicy✨, Smut in Other Chapters - Arranged Courting, Hwang Hyunjin has Demons and One is his Mother, Dirty Secrets, All the Taboo Thrill of Infidelity Without Actually Cheating Because You Aren't Even Together, Heavy Forbidden Makeout Sessions in Uncomfortable Settings, Seungmin is the Goodest Boy (For Now), Exorcising my Seungmin and Hyunjin Brain Rot One Fic at a Time, References to Toxic/Abusive Parent/Child Relationships (Not Reader)]

[Masterlist | Come Say Hi!]

Sunday, 3:36 pm

It wasn't as though you blamed Hwang Hyunjin for any of this.

You’d lost nothing. Rather, if anything, there was almost too much to gain. Nothing was lost, or broken, or hurt.

Except for maybe your pride.

Your correspondence, your interviews – they’d all been with Hyunjin's mother.

In her eyes, you were the most perfect potential partner for her son that she’d ever met. The only problem was that he’d been impossible to convince towards any concept of settling down with someone she approved of, belligerent to any inkling that she could really know what’s best.

None of this had been disclosed to you, of course. As far as you’d known, Hyunjin adored you; he was simply too busy with work to come meet you in person. His mother was only helping him arrange all this. It was his idea that you move in for a trial run.

A six month long trial run.

For the sake of saving face and appeasing the accountants, you’d be Hyunjin’s “personal assistant.” You were to never leave this goddamn penthouse for six months. By the end of it, you would either be engaged or paid handsomely for your time.

It was an easy – if not incredibly daunting – yes.

In your mind, Hyunjin was already mad about you. He wrote you letters, he gave you photos, all scented with his cologne and accompanied with flowers. He was too good to be true, gorgeous and tall with sharp eyes and full lips. It never occurred to you that you were being naive. Mrs. Hwang was so earnest, so humble about her role in all of this. The potential financial gain was only an extremely generous consolation prize should it not work out. She just wanted her son to be happy.

You’d laughed along when Hyunjin’s mother introduced you to the doorman in the lobby.

“Remember her face, now. If you see her within the next six months, you call me.”

She’d laughed. The doorman laughed. So you laughed, too.

Nothing prepared you for meeting Hyunjin. First, he was incredulous, wondering if this was all a prank.

Did you know his friends?

Maybe his boss put you up to this?

But the second you mentioned his mother, all the pieces fell into place. The penthouse was a new arrangement for him as well. He instantly recognized the handwriting on your letters as hers. The small, precious still life he’d painted for you had actually been missing from his bedroom for weeks.

This was Mrs. Hwang’s grand scheme to finally get her insubordinate son married.

You pleaded, bartered, begged for a way out of this. The writing was on the wall: you were fucked. You'd quit your job, you'd moved out of your apartment, signed an NDA – all stipulations laid out in her contract you'd signed. Hyunjin was helpless. She controlled his finances, managed his social circle, and watched him like a hawk.

No. You didn't blame Hyunjin for any of this.

But it didn't make it hurt any less that he wasn't interested in giving you a chance.

And it wasn't like you didn't understand why; that much was clear and obvious. His mother adored you, so he simply wouldn't.

The two of you awkwardly cohabitated for a whole month leading up to last night. It was easy to have separate spaces within the shared home. You had your own room, and there were, plain and simply, too many ways to spend time by yourselves. The penthouse was insane, a lush little suite with a pool on the patio, a private roof, and a dedicated elevator. You were reading in the living room that night, stretched out on the plush couch when Hyunjin brought a girl home for the first time.

The couch conveniently blocked Hyunjin from seeing you and your mortified face, but you could see clear as day.

“Okay, I think my roommate is asleep.”

Roommate.

You were gutted.

Five more months of this until the payday of your life.

And if there were going to be any more nights like this, maybe you could even afford a lobotomy. How could you be so stupid? A sickening ball of desperation and humiliation burned in your gut.

That brought you to today, the point where everything shifted. You were feeling sorry for yourself at the breakfast nook, and why wouldn't you? It’d taken you weeks to allow yourself to fall in love with the idea of Hyunjin and work up the courage to take on this ludicrous deal in the first place. And now you were stuck here.

In your refusal to hear anything since the previous night until this girl was gone, you were stubbornly still wearing your headphones while you miserably picked at a croissant. You didn’t hear Seungmin come in whatsoever, not until he appeared in front of you in the kitchen, startling you with a new box of pastries.

As you’d quickly learned, Hyunjin had a real personal assistant. Seungmin drove Hyunjin around, ran his errands, and – apparently – even chauffeured his one-night stands home. You’d met Seungmin early on, and he was just as disquieted about this arrangement as the two of you already were. Thankfully, it didn't seem to outwardly affect his hospitality at all. Seungmin was kind, he was attentive, and he was probably the only person who gave a damn about you while you were locked up in here. At that moment, at the breakfast nook, he silently waved and opened the box to offer you a fresh, warm croissant. You nodded appreciatively before he took his box of goodies with him, no doubt sanctimoniously kicking open Hyunjin’s door for a wake-up call.

They had a weird relationship. The two men were clearly boss and employee, but they were also unmistakably friends. Maybe it was because they both answered to Mrs. Hwang.

Shortly after, Seungmin passed by the kitchen again, ushering out a gorgeously disheveled young woman and an unsurprisingly pristine Hyunjin. Sundays were a social day, which meant Seungmin would be dropping him off at the gym and he wouldn’t be back until much later that day, hopping from brunch to shopping to late lunch and maybe even dinner and drinks. You sighed when you had the penthouse to yourself again.

This was the part you didn’t think through all the way when you were considering this ridiculous proposal. Hyunjin worked and had a busy social life. It had quickly become apparent that Mrs. Hwang intended for you to be available at all times at home, maximizing the opportunity for you two to get close, but this also meant that you were alone for a majority of the time. Some days you never changed out of loungewear. Some days, even, you never changed out of your pajamas. You would binge watch shows and movies, endlessly scroll online, maybe try to exercise or lounge by the pool, all in a loop that was quickly starting to grow stale.

Maybe that’s what made everything go the way it did when Seungmin came back in through the elevator that afternoon. You poked your head out from the living room and caught sight of him nearly dropping his armful of groceries. Today was a day where you never changed out of your pajamas, your cozy cardigan covering up your thin camisole and modest shorts. Your warm socks made you almost slip on the tile floor. Seungmin was humbly grateful when you jogged over to help, even grabbing a bag out of his hands to ease the load. He followed you back to the kitchen, where you’d briefly crossed paths that morning.

“I should’ve asked if you need anything,” he regretted out loud, setting his bags on the counter and sorting through them.

You blinked back at him as you did the same with your own bag. “You don’t need to do that; you bring me things all the time.”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “but I want to. I want to know what you want.”

“Seungmin, I promise you, this is more than enough.”

It’d only been a month, but Seungmin was occasionally bringing you books and magazines. The bag you’d grabbed from him had your favorite canned coffee in it. Lately, he’d been quizzing you on what drinks you liked, what snacks you indulged in, and he’d readily have whatever it was the next time he saw you. He would always make sure to check in on you whenever he came by. For all intents and purposes, Seungmin was your saving grace during this bizarre, voluntary home arrest.

It was worth repeating: maybe this was why everything that came next happened the way it did.

For such a lavish kitchen in such a spacious home, you and Seungmin managed to trip over each other while putting away the shopping, landing on the floor in a tangled heap, wedged into the counter. Those damned socks. Some cosmic being was playing a prank on you, surely, when you found yourself on top of Hyunjin’s assistant on the floor. The two of you groaned in unison. Your knee was likely pressing uncomfortably into Seungmin’s ribs, so you obviously leaned off, and now, mortifyingly, you found yourself straddling his hips.

And you weren’t the only one to notice.

Seungmin was reclined back on his elbows, his eyes wide behind his glasses.

Maybe it was just the moment.

Maybe it was something more.

He leaned in first, and you automatically did the same.

Your skin erupted into goosebumps.

Both your breathing was shallow, like you were trying to slow down time to think for a goddamn second.

Maybe you were lonely.

Maybe it was something else.

The kiss lasted three seconds.

Three.

He was so warm.

Two.

His kiss was so gentle.

One.

You wanted him so badly.

Your mouths parted, but only barely. It was a stalemate; the next move would decide everything.

And Seungmin decided to slide an arm up around your waist.

You melted into him then, your fingers running through his hair and slipping his glasses onto the tile when you kissed him again. The breaths you’d been holding were gasped and sighed into each other. His chest sought for air against yours, close and tight in the cavernous home. You were quickly dizzy, high off the adrenaline of finding yourself locked in a heated embrace with your intended fiance’s assistant, but you nonetheless found yourself curious. There was one question on your mind. When you tried to lean up from Seungmin, he hungrily reeled you back down, his daring tongue tempting yours to keep pace. You gathered his hands from where they were holding your waist and firmly pressed them back into the tile, over his head.

Even while catching his breath, his hips were canting up into your own. He was distractingly, temptingly hard between your legs. He grinned, panting. “More,” he pleaded.

“In a second,” you quieted him, hushed in the giant penthouse. You were unable to hold back a coughed laugh while you tried to more steadily inhale. “You just have to tell me: is it me you want? Or the opportunity?”

Seungmin was visibly confused. “Of course it’s you,” he answered, his volume matching yours. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“I mean,” you faltered for a second. “I’m apparently not good enough for Hyunjin–”

“Hyunjin’s insane,” Seungmin smirked. “You’re perfect.”

The simple move of you letting him go fell into sync with him pulling his hands free, but you weren’t expecting Seungmin to roll the two of you over, his lips and tongue joining his hips in pinning you to the tile floor of the kitchen. His groans and sighs were delicious to hear, the way he wanted you making the exhaustion of the last month feel forgotten. This was incredible, easily enough to make you want to ask Seungmin to come to your bedroom with you, if not fuck you right here in the kitchen–

–when the penthouse elevator chimed.

You untangled from each other immediately, scrambling to regain your senses and look like you had not just been fooling around when Hyunjin casually strolled in. He passed by the kitchen to find Seungmin finishing putting away the groceries while you pretended to scroll on your phone at breakfast nook. Hyunjin looked between the two of you, obviously sensing something odd but unsure of exactly what. He opened the fridge.

“You’re back early,” Seungmin observed. His ears were red.

“My plans got changed,” Hyunjin shrugged, pulling out a can. “Whose coffee is this?”

You meagerly raised a hand. Hyunjin nodded.

“Ah.”

That was it. He put the drink right back in the fridge, grabbing something else and warily eyeing you both again before exiting the kitchen.

You and Seungmin locked eyes then.

Holy shit, you realized, what if Hyunjin found out?

Or worse, you furthered that thought, what if Mrs. Hwang found out?

Seungmin had a small, humble grin, maybe even a bit dazed when he finally left you by yourself in the kitchen.

This was either going to make the next five months much more enjoyable or far more difficult.

#stray kids smut #skz smut #kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin smut #haha you have a crush on kim seungmin 😔

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kisskissbanggang · 11 months

Text

Contention - pt. 2

[2.6k words/<10min. read - Skz! Love Triangle, Non-Idol!AU - Personal Assistant!Seungmin x Female Reader, NSFW/Smut - Arranged Courting, Developing Feelings, Dirty Secrets, All the Taboo Thrill of Infidelity Without Actually Cheating Because You Aren’t Even Together, Fancy Lingerie, Misguided Coping by way of Seduction, Seungmin is Possibly the Goodest Boy (For Now), Goodness Hyunjin Drinks a Lot, Exorcising my Seungmin and Hyunjin Brain Rot One Fic at a Time]

[Masterlist | Come Say Hi!]

Tuesday, 11:29am

Week 6 of 24

If Hyunjin knew there was something going on between you two, he didn’t show it. Honestly, he probably didn’t care.

And it wasn’t as though you were even trying to be careful. That first day, a couple weeks ago, back in the kitchen, Seungmin’s glasses had still laid on the floor where you’d knocked them off. Hyunjin almost stepped on them for god’s sake.

No, there was no way that Hyunjin didn’t know.

And Seungmin must’ve been thinking the same thing, because he was fighting like crazy to keep it from ever happening again. Touching you, that is. Forget about another kiss. Seungmin didn’t want to end up near you as long as it was feasible.

First there was two weeks ago, the Monday night after your little meet-up in the kitchen. You were trying pretty hard to not be obvious, lounging on the balcony while you surreptitiously watched the two talk about work over a football match on tv. This was your first time truly taking him in after you’d spent the past month mourning Hyunjin’s disinterest. The personal assistant simply carried himself in an attractive way. Hyunjin seemed to effortlessly drift between standing out and blending in, like gold accents of a painting. Seungmin, however, resided in any space he entered. He practically owned the ground he walked on. He was lighthearted and he was professional. He could be boisterously funny or cordially assertive. You liked the way he hid behind his glasses.

Your interest had been piqued when Seungmin got up from the couch. He first brought Hyunjin a beer.

Then he'd brought you a drink, too.

He had softly slid the glass door closed behind him, but he hesitated.

You'd waited.

“That was fun yesterday.”

Seungmin's voice had been hushed, metered as though Hyunjin could hear him over the television. As though Hyunjin would care.

“It was,” you agreed.

“But it shouldn't happen again,” he added.

You’d nodded in return. “No, it shouldn't.”

Despite this, you felt Seungmin's eyes on you the next three times he was at the penthouse until that weekend.

Almost a week ago by now.

The two of them were obvious before the elevator even chimed. It was eleven o’clock at night and you could hear them bickering, from inside the penthouse.

“Oh my go-od, Seungmi’, I'm exhausted; can’t I just take a nap?!”

Hyunjin, slurring.

“Holy shit, just another minute, okay?! Fuck, you're already heavy as is.”

Seungmin, negotiating.

“Jus’... Jus’ a little nap, I promise–”

“Hyung, no no no – fuck.”

Seungmin had guided a peacefully sleepy Hyunjin in through the private elevator, the poor heir practically out cold before he even got past the entryway. When Seungmin nearly dropped him, you ran over, getting the lagging half of his body slung over your shoulder. This was the closest you'd been to Hyunjin since you had moved in. The two of you successfully dumped him onto his bed and you watched Seungmin take the older’s shoes off.

He was almost surprised to see you lingering in the hall. You were barefoot, in only your pajamas.

“I should get going,” he’d murmured when he met you outside Hyunjin's bedroom.

The way you were standing, with your back to the wall, Seungmin's height almost caged you in when he approached. “I wish I could go with you,” you'd admitted.

“Me, too,” he had nodded. “Goodnight.”

He hesitated, not helping the wheels turning in your head, the desire churning in your gut.

And maybe you were getting selfish. Maybe you wanted to make sure that someone in the penthouse saw any value in you, and maybe you wanted to see if Seungmin had meant it when he said that there shouldn’t be a repeat of that afternoon in the kitchen, for both your sakes.

Seungmin didn’t stop you when gently grabbed onto the collar of his buttoned shirt. His neck had a faint sheen of sweat from his night out with Hyunjin. And there was no resistance when you reeled him in close, no hesitation when you leaned your chin up to kiss him again. Instead, the opposite: you grabbed, so he did the same. It took a few moments for Seungmin’s common sense to return, really, and you already covered plenty of ground in that time. By then, Seungmin had you pressed up against the wall in the hallway, heavily kissing you back until he realized he shouldn’t be.

But his attempts at stopping didn’t involve him actually stopping. Instead, Seungmin’s hands had tried to gently peel yours off of his waist, unwrap your arms from around his neck, stop your hips from pressing into his, all without ever taking his lips off your or loosening the way his tongue was hungrily wrapped around your own. It wasn’t until he gathered your wrists in his hands and restrained them, over your head and against the wall, that he finally came up for air. He had been panting, taking in the accomplishment of having you pinned in the hallway.

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” he’d tried to reason with you.

You loved the way he kept getting distracted by the sight of your chest heaving for breath. “Then we’ll stop,” you simply replied.

Seungmin was clearly conflicted about this. His eyes were glued to your lips, your chest, but it was when he met your gaze challenging him in the middle of the night, that’s when he backslid even more. Now, when you’d resumed desperately making out, you had his searching, desiring hands to contend with. He released you where he’d had you pinned, and now he was tempting the idea of making this much, much worse with how he touched you. His strong hands on your waist, your breasts, your hips, he was gentle but needy with how he squeezed and felt you. And touch led to touch, inevitably, when you’d brazenly brushed a hand over his hardness for the first time. Seungmin had buckled at the knees a little, falling against you and even more when you began to kiss his neck. He had flinched, your lips and breath tickling his jugular, and now that he had gotten even more lost in the moment, you decided to let yourself get a little lost, too.

He’d been surprised, like he’d been caught dropping his guard when you pressed a hand to his chest, making it easy to turn him and make him take your place. You didn’t realize it at the time, but you were about to cross another point of no return when you’d pressed him into the wall and played with his belt buckle. Seungmin had held his breath, watching for your next move when you worked the belt open, along with his slacks. His breathing went ragged, his eyes closed when you kissed his lips, his neck, his chest, working your way down to your knees in the hallway. The first time you’d massaged his bared length in your hand, his moan had sounded like it’d been building in his chest. His hands were balled into fists against the wall, like he was aware he was already in enough trouble as is.

“Seungmin,” you’d cooed for him, getting his attention. When he let himself meet your eye, that was when you had your first taste of him.

He’d exhaled the most emphatic groan at the sensation, melting into the wall and never taking his eyes off you while you worked him over, teasing and licking and sucking–

–until there was activity in Hyunjin’s bedroom.

Still open and illuminated behind you.

You were both deer in headlights.

“Seungmin,” Hyunjin called, still hardly conscious. A sickening gurgle could be heard from his room. “Where’d you – oh fuck –”

And Seungmin, dutifully, had already been stuffing himself back in his slacks and sprinting back into Hyunjin’s room to haul his drunken ass to the en suite.

No one was there to register you slamming your door for the night.

That’d been a little over a week ago. Hyunjin clearly didn’t know or care about this encounter, either. Since then, however, whether it was out of shame or really trying to preserve both of your livelihoods (or at least his own), Seungmin didn’t allow himself to be anywhere near you for more than a few seconds, even with Hyunjin there. It hurt, to be honest. You knew how badly Seungmin wanted you, but instead of talking it out, he was simply trying to keep you out of arm’s reach. Now you were a little bitter on top of your cabin fever, on top of your boredom.

To keep yourself entertained lately, you’d been perusing the contents of Hyunjin’s home office while he was out. For such a high-profile man, he kept all his passwords written in a notebook stored in an unlocked drawer of his desk. You had everything: his reports, his projects, his contracts… and his calendar. And today was shaping up to be interesting. Hyunjin had a lunch meeting at noon, but the exact outlines, addendums, and drafts he would be needing were right here, left at the penthouse. Someone would have to come back for them, and you had a good idea who it’d be. All you had to do was change clothes.

When Seungmin came rushing in through the elevator, you had to admit you set him up for failure. He swung open the door to Hyunjin’s office, only to find you reclined in the plush chair at his desk, feet propped up on the desk. Creepy in retrospect, Mrs. Hwang had supplied a filled closet for you, including some of the most luxurious lingerie you’d ever felt or worn in your life. The ensemble you set your trap with wasn’t anything too salacious; it was a delicate teddy comprised of sheer lace and a frivolously flowy robe. A pair of strappy high heels you paired with the outfit were currently set upon the portfolio that Seungmin would be needing to retrieve.

He was a little dumbstruck, taking in the doomed tableau from the doorway.

And he tried to be curt about it, wordlessly walking up and gently lifting your feet by the ankles to retrieve the portfolio. He set your feet back down on the desk and flipped through the contents of the handsome leather folio, but noticed something was missing. His hurried gaze snapped to the contracts in your hand. When he tried to silently lean forward to grab them, you staunchly pressed the sole of your high heel into his chest.

“I should get going,” Seungmin tried to tell you.

“That’s what you said last time,” you retorted.

“I don’t know why you’re making this harder for us,” he argued back. When he reached for the contracts again, you flicked your wrist back to keep them out of reach.

“Because I like you,” you shrugged. “I like you, and I’m going crazy staying inside.”

“Then go to the roof and go for a swim,” disputed Seungmin. His hand shot out for the contracts again, but this time you ducked out of the way and out of the chair altogether. Seungmin crowded you where you leaned back over the desk until you were sitting on top of it, still playing a good game of keep-away until you managed to strategically toss the contracts back under the desk. When Seungmin scrambled for them and came back up, he found himself level with your lace-clad heat between your spread knees on the desk. He paused, obviously considering this. There was a solid argument to be made for denying you, you knew.

But Seungmin, once again, against his better judgment, decided to feel good with you instead. He dropped the contracts and instead draped your thighs over his shoulders while he took his sweet time getting a first taste of you. First it was his lips ghosting over your wetness through your panties, and then his tongue doing the same before his long fingers carefully pulled the fragile lace aside so he could actually lick your clit in full. You nearly collapsed back on the desk, but you didn’t have to worry about lasting long. Seungmin licked you, deep and intentionally, moaning at the feel of you writhing against his tongue, but it seemed he just wanted a sample, wanted to see how wet you were before he got back up to his feet. Now those same fingers dipped inside you, stretching you open so you could take him. He’d already opened his belt and suit pants again, not even bothering with his necktie or suit jacket when he was massaging his aching erection for you.

“Is this what you wanted?” he sweetly teased, nudging the smooth head of his cock into your wetness.

“Yes,” you panted, hoping to grind more of him into you from where you sat on Hyunjin’s desk. When that proved fruitless, you grabbed onto his necktie and reeled him in closer.

You both shivered and sighed in unison the first time your heat enveloped his hardness, clutching onto each other with desperate hands. Seungmin’s hand gently wrapped around the back of your neck to get leverage and kiss you when he finally, thankfully fucked you. His hot breath accompanied his tongue between your parted lips, his rough thrusts rocking the sturdy desk underneath you.

“Fuck, baby,” he groaned in your ear, “I’ve wanted this so bad.”

“Tell me, Seungmin,” you begged, “tell me what you’ve been thinking.”

Seungmin almost lost it when you cried out, having apparently found a good angle to hit your sweet spot. “I’ve been wanting to do this for weeks,” he admitted, “ever since I kissed you that first time, all I’ve wanted to do is fuck you, make love to you, whatever you’d let me do.”

This was, by far, the most reckless thing you'd done in this house, with Seungmin wrapping your spread legs around him while he fucked you on Hyunjin's desk. You whined and whimpered from the way he gave in, his downy soft kisses contrasting with the way his hips snapped against you until he laid you back, opening you up so he had a chance to rub your clit, too. His unoccupied hand freed your cleavage from your tempting outfit, giving him the opportunity to tease and grope you along with a gorgeous view of the way you were taking him so well.

“God, look at you,” he moaned, “you’re gonna make me–!”

“Good,” you urged, “finish with me–”

The two of you ramped up fast towards a blissfulcrescendo. Seungmin leaned in close, insisting on kissing you again when you finally unraveled for him. And he was right behind you, too, his hands clawing into your hips and cursing gruffly when he spilled inside you, filling you to the brim.

You were both boneless, breathless, collapsed together on Hyunjin’s desk in a trembling heap while you thought about what just happened.

This was, again, growing more complicated by the day.

Seungmin wrapped an arm around you to help sit you up but he remained inside you, still lazily thrusting while you lucidly peppered his face with kisses. His glasses, adorably, were smudged and fogged, and you slipped them off, getting a good look at him before kissing him again, when something startled both of you.

“Seungmin, we needed to leave ten minutes ago at the latest, what the fuck are you do–”

Neither of you’d heard the elevator.

You both froze, craning to see your de facto roommate staring at you from the doorway.

Maybe Hyunjin didn't know about you two.

#kim seungmin x reader #kim seungmin x you #kim seungmin x y/n #kim seungmin smut #kim seungmin fanfic #what's this i'm actually continuing series that aren't the scifi nonsense passion project???#haha you have a crush on kim seungmin 😔

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