#nct jisung smut | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ofjunemoment · 1 year

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let me teach you how to smash | park jisung

In the list of sports, ranked from most to least sexy, badminton would be found at the very bottom if not ranked last. But why is it that when Jisung plays the with a feathered shuttle your heart flutters?

OR: Jisung helps you improve your badminton skills.

pairing — badminton player!jisung x fem!reader

genre — sports!au, university!au, (one sided) enemies to friends to lovers, slight slow burn

wc — 22k (😀 huh)

content — university/sports class setting, humour, fluff, the tiniest bit of angst, idols mentioned, very heavy on the dialogue/backstory at one point sorry babies <3, smut (MINORS DO NOT INTERACT)

smut tags — making out, fingering, switch!jisung and reader (there's no strong dynamic tbh), protected sex, pet names (jisung gets called a good boy), lmk if I missed anything!

a/n — YAYYY i can finally share this with u guys!! i have been cooking this for some time and im actually so excited to release it!! I'm a badminton enthusiast so I went a bit ham on the descriptions and back story sorry (not rlly),, I hope this is a good readdd I read through it so much to fix it up and now Im a bit sick of it oops BUT its a story I've been wanting to write so here you go <3 enjoy!

sfw version here!

You enjoy sports.

You liked dancing sometimes — which is certainly a type of sport — and you dabbled with different sports at one point in school, but you don’t actively go out of your way to do any intense exercise. It can be sweaty and painful and maybe it’s a little like hitting the gym, but in most sports you need sportsmanship, and why would you be kind to the person who not only won but is rubbing it in your face?

You once yelled at Taeyong for kicking the ball in the wrong goal when your group of friends went out of their way to play makeshift soccer to bring back memories. You yelled, at precious Taeyong, who flinches at the sight of a fly

Okay, so you tolerate sports.

But in an effort to have your resume look pretty after finishing your degree, your friend Juda had shed light on this one program that has you do a bunch of extracurricular activities and in turn, you’ll gain extra credit. Seamless and effortless, you didn’t need to pay anything towards the program as most of the work was volunteering; like reading to kids or helping clean up lecture rooms now and then. What Juda failed to mention was the other extracurricular required of you, which was to go to a sporting class set up by the university.

Sporting classes; two hours a week minimum.

They were kind enough to provide you with options, but it still wasn't easy to choose whether you wanted two whole hours of HIIT fitness or football, which caused you to almost give up on the whole thing. Until you saw the word ‘badminton’ printed in the faintest ink, almost as if it was a mistake.

So here you are, in the campus’ sports equipment shop with Chenle, looking through what seems like badminton rackets.

“Do you think this is good?” You pick up a racket that has a mix of matte white and mint around the frame, with the string sporting the shade black, testing the weight in your hand.

“That’s a tennis racket stupid.” He goes to ruffle your hair but instead gets his hand slapped away and a frown etched on his face as you scoff at him. “I knew that,” You scowl.

“Well then don’t be an asshole about it, asshole.”

“I wasn’t being—” Both of you jump at a sudden sound that pitched in between your shoulders, as your hand flies to your chest in shock while Chenle’s eyebrow hitch up.

“Sorry?” It was Chenle who said that to the person who snuck up behind you two, his arms crossing defensively and landing on his left chest, as he positions himself subtly a little closer to you, almost as if he’s instinctively shielding him.

“Ah, sorry for surprising you; I just came to ask if you guys needed help with anything?” It was when the employee raised her ID card that was hanging on a white lanyard around her neck that Chenle’s defence began to soften as you brought your hand down, replacing the confused look on your faces with one of realisation.

“Ahh, uhm, I was wondering if you could recommend a badminton racket, nothing too fancy, maybe something to last a good two years.”

“Two years?” Chenle was the one that turned to you with a look of disbelief. The employee merely smiled and gestured her hands towards the very other side of the store and quickly turned to guide you.

“Hold on, you’re doing this stupid thing for two years? Half of your courses years? You’re just gonna voluntarily stress yourself with even more work?”

“ . . . Yes? I don’t know what to tell you, that’s my main intention. That’s why I joined this program. You’ve asked me multiple times like I’m going to miraculously change my mind and thank you for it like you’re a rich person, giving me, a homeless person, a piece of bread and then barely look at me as you record the whole thing for your livestream.” You huff while going to lie down on your back on the floor around your newly bought badminton equipment; a set of badminton rackets and some cylinder packets full of shuttlecocks, the feather ones because the plastic ones suck ass, the employee had smiled at you.

You sit up just as quickly as a dull pain shoots up your back. The motherfucking shuttlecocks.

“That’s one way to make up an analogy,” Chenle’s eyes land on the shuttlecock you had freshly crushed, now looking all squashed and disoriented. Poor thing didn’t even last a minute.

“What’s she moping about this time?” Juda’s voice echoed from the door as she places the tote bag she had brought down next to the shoe shelf.

“I’m not moping; I never mope. What do I even look like when I mope?”

“She’s just crying about the fact that she has to do this thing program for another two years.” His words elicit a shout and the gradual flinging of a nearby couch pillow from you. Chenle’s neck cracked as the pillow hit his head downwards.

“Did I kill him yet,” You voiced your disinterest, sitting up on your elbows briefly to analyse Chenle’s face before giving up and laying back down. Chenle stayed in that position for a while before getting up in a fury, ready to avenge you. Juda stopped him with a kick to his leg.

“Such disrespectful words, is it hard to show some courtesy around here?” You huff and go to lie down once more, not before feeling around the surface for any stray shuttlecock.

“When it comes to you, yes,” Juda throws Chenle a Yakult, and she flings you one straight at your stomach. You attempt not to flinch.

“Here’s to either two more years of moping about this stupid badminton class every week, or two months of hardcore whining from both of you until you break and drop out.” Juda raises her Yakult bottle and clinks it with yours — that’s still on your stomach — and against Chenle’s who was drinking out of it the moment she did so, spilling what little there was of it on his face. Chenle recovers and yells out offensively, causing Juda to squeal as she stands up and goes behind the couch, using it as her shield.

You inhale and try to tune them out.

Chenle smiles as you giggle at him, the loud music of EDM mixed with Kidz bop playing in the background as the sound of metal basketball hoop clanging echoes just enough for it to have a rhythm. He looks determined to beat the high score of this stupid basketball game, as Juda and you take turns watching him play the game and criticising his moves, even when none of you know much about basketball as he does. It’s been a few weeks since the start of the semester and hence, the beginning of your program. The kids you read to are either sleepy or disinterested as you start early in the morning, and the cleaning of lecture rooms is bearable at most times.

So things are going great at this point.

That was until Chenle called out to you: “How’s badminton going?” and, you’re not gonna lie, that did dampen your mood just by a bit, but you give your best attempt at masking it and smiling through; you didn’t want them to pick up on the fact that it’s been one lesson and you’re already sick and tired of it (or, at least sick and tired of one certain person). But Juda’s just too smart and catches on too easily with anything that you and Chenle try to brush under the rug. She raises one eyebrow at you before retorting: “What, are you whinging about it already?”

“Am not!”

“Then what is it?” Juda says at the same time that Chenle swears, a little too loud for a kids arcade, but it’s around 8 PM and the only kids that are here probably do some sort of drug or something if they have parents who allow them to be out this late.

“Nothing, okay? The coach is great and the other people who are there are fine too, and I actually learnt a lot —”

“But?” Juda’s lips are pink as she wraps them around a straw poking out from her slushie cup. You lean back in retaliation, back pressed against the basketball machine as you try to find a leeway.

“. . . But.”

You’re late. And you can’t even use the excuse that you woke up late because it’s seven p.m. and you’ve scoffed down your early dinner two hours ago. You simply decided to just procrastinate to the next level in an attempt to gauge if you truly want to continue with this program or not. But now here you are, on a bus that’s severely delayed due to the evening traffic and running frantically to make it to class on time.

Minkyung is a 50-year-old dad who coaches this class; he was also at the office where you had submitted your form for the program, and was over the moon that you had decided to try out his class, hence asking you questions about your knowledge of badminton, and went on this spiel when you had made the mistake of being truthful.

He now looks at you with a kind and wrinkly smile as your shoes squeak against the floor, one hand to your rib in an attempt to not show how much out of breath you were. “Don’t worry,” his voice was quiet enough for you to register only. “You arrived on time, I just finished the information briefing that you heard from me some time ago.” His smile was tight-lipped but genuine. Trying to even out your breathing, you set down your equipment and quickly join the rest in a circle. A clap echoes throughout the quiet hall as the coach drops his hands and clears his throat while letting out a puff of air, his eyes grazing by everyone’s heads in what you assume to be his way of counting the participants of the class.

“Glad to have everyone here today, I hope with this class you guys would not only learn about badminton but also be able to learn about its sportsmanship and benefits,” His eyes dart around the rather small circle. You expected the hall to be filled with as many students as that one Zumba class you were forced to attend in high school, but it was a rather tame class.

The coach hums, thinking about something deeply as the other students shuffle around, shifting their weight from side to side in the silence engulfing the court. He looked up and clapped again softer this time. “I’ve decided to treat you like my children’s class.” He concluded, “I want you guys to introduce yourself to each other. Now don’t be shy; everyone's new in this class. Maybe you can find a friend in this class to learn better and more quicker. Okay, let’s start with you.” He pointed towards a guy that was to his left, who looked back at him with wide eyes. He looked around and smiled sheepishly yet brightly. “My name’s Haechan, and uh, I’m 22?” He finished it off with bound lips as he refers to the person after him to begin.

And as you all finish introducing yourselves to each other, with a girl named Minji being last, the introductory circle ends, meaning the coach can now start the stretching and warm-up exercises. But he hasn’t.

“Uh, coach, are we gonna—?” Minji stopped halfway as the coach whips his head to look at the gigantic clock on the wall next to the hall’s equally huge entrance. You crane your head curiously towards the direction of his vision, straining both your ears and vision to see what he was looking for, as everyone around you catches on and seems to do the same. It isn’t long after till the squeaking of shoes against the rubber ground echoes throughout; soon enough, the coach screams ‘fourteen minutes!’ as another person steps into the hall, wide eyes darting around everyone as he swallows in an attempt to simmer down his erratic breathing. As the guy's breathing evens out enough for him to probably mutter an apology, your breathing picks up.

“First day and you’ve already fallen for someone? Very on brand for you,”

“What the fuck does that even mean?” You scramble to hit Chenle with his golden pokemon card folder he brought to the arcade. Juda calmly stops you using her right hand, as her left hand picks up her drink to take another sip from.

“She didn’t even finish her story, Chenle. Go on,” Juda set her slushy down as her grip loosens from around your wrist, signalling to continue the story.

“Thank you, Juda, for you’re my favourite of them all—”

“Are you gonna finish your story?” Her grip tightened.

“A-as I was saying,”

You like to analyse people to some extent, thinking about how body language is cool and how it can depict everyone's different life, contrasting drastically from one another yet sometimes being so similar even with all of our different circumstances. This is why you tried analysing everyone in your class of busy people attempting to hit the shuttlecock in a streak longer than ten, as your eye flitting around the court and landing on your next target, the new guy, simply because that’s in your nature.

(“In your nature? Or was it just the mysterious guy that came into the class so suddenly, panting and out of bre—“

“Shut up? Anyway,” )

“Ah Jisung, this is the latest you’ve been,” The coach nodded innocently towards the guy, as if he hadn’t scared the piss out of all of you when he shouted.

He’s a bit stiff with his walk, and his shoulders seem to harden like a board when his eyes scan around the class and its participants. With wide eyes, he looks like a lost puppy with the way he looks back at the coach in some sort of silent confirmation of something. It’s probably his first time having a general class with coach Minkyung, you realise as you see Jisung bow sheepishly to his teacher.

“Sorry,” his voice was hushed, rumbling as he talked. His eyes scanned briefly once again across the now sparked class doing forehand and backhand practices that the teacher has instructed them to do. You locked eye contact with him from afar and quickly looked away, ears feeling a little bit hotter than it was a second before.

Soojin leans in towards you and Ryujin a bit and whispers, “Do you think he’s new? Like . . . All of us?”

You and Ryujin glance at each other for a quick second, before you smile profusely as Ryujin places her hands on the pole that holds the badminton net, her racket clenched fist supporting her chin as she ponders. “Not at all.” She says rather flatly, a cheeky smile following up after. Solely looking at him doesn’t give you any insights on his level of badminton playing, which is weird, because till now he could pick up on some people's skills; you’ve so far guessed correctly with a few of the participants (including yourself, you think you’re an average player in this class) so you feel a bit stumped.

He stands stiff as he talks to the coach, keeping his gaze stern on his coach. He seems to be wearing normal trackies and only has a very slim back for his racket.

“He’s obviously a beginner, his bag is so thin compared to Coach and even Haechan, he also doesn’t look like a long-time player” Jaemin pipes in.

“Who are you to say? You said you’ve been playing for how long and you’re still this bad?” Soojin smiles as she dodges Jaemin’s hand by a fraction. But Ryujin isn’t having any of it as she breathes in with her teeth clenched, hissing out a sound of suspicion.

“Coach seems to know him, which makes me think he’s either been here before, or he’s just the coach's nepotism offspring.”

“Okay!” The coach claps his hand, forcing everyone to act like they were practising. “Gather around; we’re gonna do a basic skills test for this lesson, then I’m gonna split you up into groups and we’ll get to work with the people with the same skills. Cool?” He throws two thumbs up as everyone stays silent, with one of the two people nodding. You watch as he sees the coach's enthusiasm die down a little.

“Cool?” The coach had yelled now, startling everyone else in the second round of heart attacks; everyone else yell back this time, the word ‘cool’ echoing around the grand sports court. You notice that everyone’s responded to the coach's request except for Jisung.

“Oh girl . . .” Juda now has her manicured hand placed on your sulked shoulder of realisation.

“I know, I’m so sorry, Juda.” You look into the distance of the arcade, feigning sorrow; or maybe it’s not much of a feign.

“The fuck,” Chenle turns to see both of you huddled in what looks like a cry fest. “Did someone fucking die?”

“Watch your tongue,” An old woman wearing a neon orange vest belonging to the arcade staff points at Chenle, who bows down as he murmurs ‘sorry’, with you two trying your best not to laugh, following and bowing your heads down too when the seething woman’s eyes meet your figures.

“How dare you anger the poor lady, her blood pressure is probably already high enough,” Juda picks at Chenle, who is now quietly trying to slip in the token to play another round.

“I wouldn’t have if you guys didn’t just suddenly go emo for no reason. What the f—” Chenle’s eyes waver back and see the woman’s eyes (Are they naturally red? Or is it the arcade lighting?) glaring back at him once more. “Frick. What the frick happened.”

“Oh Chenle, we must mourn for her. She’s fallen for another mysterious guy who barely has any personality.”

“Oh my god,”

“Oh my fucking god, what—”

“Fuck,” Jisung sighed when he missed the shuttlecock by just a hair's width. Everyone was standing in a line-like formation, at the tip of their toes against the line that made the distinction between the playing court and outside. Jisung and the coach were having a match, the first test that the coach had implemented to determine who goes into what group according to their skills, and when no one volunteered, Jisung silently centred himself on the court as the coach's face broke out into a glow.

Although his face was adorned with wrinkles even when still, and his skin did seem to look just a smidge pruney all the time — the I’m growing old look he had on his face was impossible to miss — the coach’s never looked sharper and younger than he does now, zipping through his side of the court like a bees race. Jisung on the other hand, seems to have a calm demeanour, quietly and tranquilly stepping forward and back, delivering lobs and clears, limbs outstretched to effortlessly hit the shuttlecock back even if it seems that his position doesn’t allow such moves.

In the cold of Autumn, the stiffness of everyone's bodies was just the tiniest bit evident after a round of stretching, but two right in front of you look as if they’re playing in the heat of the summer, arms and legs effortlessly moving around the court. You try not to look too intently into the thin glisten of sweat forming on Jisung's neck.

Soojin raises her hand without taking her eyes off of the two people playing intensively in front of her, as Jaemin reaches in his pockets to place ten thousand won into her open palm, not letting his gaze wander away from the game either. “Thank you for your service.”

“I can’t believe he’s that good, I should’ve known from his cocky demeanour.” Haechan sighs, his fist resting against his cheek, hoisted up by his other hand. Everyone looks in his direction.

“You would think that it takes one to know one,” Minji almost barely whispers as she looks away from him by her side, looking back at the game with everyone else following.

“Ah, fine. You won.” Coach drops his racket down from its first stage position, going towards the net with an open palm. Jisung barely takes a step forward before he’s lifting his hand too, shaking hands over the net as everyone claps behind them.

“Okay then, who’s next?”

You spend half the lesson just like that, with everyone playing against the coach followed by him then instructing everyone to get into the key badminton positions. You suspect that this is the core of learning badminton as the coach guides you from the way you hold your racket to the way your feet are positioned, but all you’re really thinking about right now is how badly you just want to go home.

“Okay!” The coach claps, as people gather around him in a semi-breathless state, just from being told to carry out a few sets of actions that badminton has. You don’t know why badminton necessarily needs ladder crossovers, but you barely get to give out a sigh before your eyes catch on Jisung’s seemingly calm composure. He’s done so much and maybe even a round extra, but he’s barely breaking a sweat.

Why does he look so good? Show off.

“Believe it or not, we’re done already! I now have an understanding of what level each one of you is in and will put you into groups.” You keep trying to wipe at your face to keep the sweat away, but an even coat of sweat is now settled on your hand after wiping it many times, so it only feels like you’re spreading it evenly.

All while mysterious Jisung barely lifts his shoulder to have the cloth of his shirt wipe away the bead at his temple.

How utterly gross of him. You wonder if he’s single.

“So I will see you all next week and give your level, thanks for joining!” And everyone disperses, spreading around the hall to get to their bags and start packing. You are standing above your bag, packing it and taking your bottle out to take a sip when you see Minji and Soojin whisper shouting, which defeats the whole point of whispering in the first place.

“How much do you wanna guess that he eats and sleeps here?” Soojin is practically bouncing in her place, taking multiple obvious glances at Jisung’s figure, who’s seemingly roaming around in his bag instead of packing it like everyone else, his racket placed neatly on top of his bag instead of inside.

“Nothing, because at this point it almost seems like a fact.” And with that, you shoulder your bag and head for the door, too tired to function.

“And you have no muscle aches? Impressive.” Juda pipes, her eyes glued to the road as she drives them back home.

“Oh no, I do. I just plastered a few KT tapes.” You say from your position in the passenger seat, elbow resting against the rolled-down window with your hand against your forehead, getting a nice breather from the wind outside. Chenle who’s sitting in the middle reaches his hand forward and pulls your sleeve up from behind to reveal your arm and shoulder lined up with tapes of blue and green.

“A few huh,” Juda smiles and Chenle retorts, as you tch at them both.

“I didn’t want to risk it, okay?” You say, yanking the cloth back down and slapping at Chenle’s hand, facing forward once again with your hands crossed defensively and gaze set outside again. The car lights up in the yellow of the street lights, as Juda drives through the night.

“So when’s your next class?”

“And group A has . . . Jisung. Just Jisung”

“No, bad dog. Stop taking your anger out on Chenle’s biceps,” Juda attempted half-assedly to swat at your hands while her eyes were still glued to her phone, as you retell what happens with your next class.

“It hurts, Juda. Make her stop!”

You were furious. Group C? You knew you were better than that, having played almost every other sport growing up, even if occasionally, you’d gotta be good at badminton. Why is Jisung the only one in group A? Yes, fine, maybe he plays well, but it also means that you’ve been ranked down a group just because he was too perfect. Why does he attend the class if he’s already so good?

Subconsciously, you try to convince yourself to not take this whole grouping thing quite literally, as the coach had said that they’re not ranked or anything; but how can you not take it personally when the people you thought you were on par with were in group B. It takes all of your willpower for your scowl to not be displayed, but you soon find that you don’t have to try too hard as the coach assigns you all to your positions.

“Lighter on the feet,” Coach ordered, the squeak of shoe soles rubbing against the floor echoing throughout the sports hall. You, Soojin, Jaemin and Minji go through what the coach calls fundamental steps; right foot northeast with a forehand flick, right foot northwest with a backhand flick. It helps with the basics of the game, which everyone forgets, but you don’t think half an hour of the same steps helps with remembering either.

While group B, which consists of Haechan and Ryujin, go through the same phases with some extra steps added to strengthen their posture while playing. It’s not that you think your play better than the people in your group or group B, but mainly your irrational annoyance stems from the fact that you’re position in the class is gonna be recorded into your progress report, and you know for a fact that if Jisung wouldn’t be participating this dead class, you would be in group B. Yes, it’s still the last group out of two, but you can say that you’re merely ranked second. Instead, you’re last out of three.

As the steps turn repetitive, you let your eyes wander around mindlessly, your feet carrying you throughout as your hands attempt to do the actions in a somewhat muscle memory process. Your gaze eventually settles on Jisung, whose back is facing you as he smacks the shuttlecock against the wall, which bounces back only for him to smack at it again, repeating this one-man game he seems to have made up for himself. You glare lasers into his back, thinking about how maybe you’re not into this whole mysterious demeanour as you thought you were, seeing him just making up his own moves as the coach merely bounces back between the two of your groups, only checking in on Jisung after a few rounds of lecturing your moves and correcting your mistakes.

Three consecutive claps echo around the tall indoor court, as everyone drops their rackets at their bags and gather around the coach in a circle, somewhat holding some sort of formation with Ryujin to his right and Jisung to his left, and with you positioned almost opposite of him. “Good job everyone, now it’s time to cool down, exactly how we warmed up,” Clueless, most of you follow the coach’s steps while he urges each person to take turns counting, counting up to eight in a clockwise direction. Your eyes can’t stop fleeting to Jisung, the star of every badminton night, as your petty envy prevents you from minding your own business. Throughout the whole night, you’ve seen him take only warming up and cooling down somewhat seriously, as he crosses his arms and holds up a good posture, compared to the rest of the class who simply just slump over, wanting the session to end and finally catch a break.

One final clap and you’re all free to go. And you don’t waste a second, grabbing all your essentials and bag and quickly darting for the door, ready to go home and wash up and just not support your whole body weight on your feet. As you bid everyone goodbye and bow your head lightly to the coach, you watch as Jisung strides up to the coach in a meek manner, as his eyes fall on your retreating figure just slightly before softly calling out the coach's name.

It’s nine p.m. on the dot when you step out of the court and breathe in the cold air.

Juda’s on the couch when you step into the apartment, toeing off your sports shoes as you rest your badminton bag against the shoe shelf, at hand for your next trip to your class.

With a mouth full of chips, Juda barely takes her eyes off the screen before asking “How was class?”

“Same old,” You shrug.

“Same old? You’ve only been twice. How in tune are you with the coach for it to—” Your groan stops her teasing, as she smirks at your tired form squatting against the floor, hands clutching at the door and your hair in frustration.

“Could you have at least let me get home first before frying my brain?” Your hand falls to your face, and that’s when you feel the residue of your sweat from earlier, having turned into oil. The urge to shower now tenfold, you attempt to raise yourself and pass out in the shower.

“I’m gonna wash up now, and probably go to sleep,” You mutter just loud enough for Juda to hear, to which she hums while you retrieve a towel.

“Oh wait, before you go,” She calls just as you inch towards your room, “Do you know where my umbrella went? I’m going to campus tomorrow and I think it’s gonna rain again. I tried calling you but I don’t think it went through,”

“Oh yeah, It’s by the door.” You recall taking the umbrella to class today, as the forecast has been filled with rain symbols with the Autumn weather. Digging in your bag, you push past your essentials in order to find your phone which Juda’s called. “That’s weird, my phone is not here.”

“Did you take it with you today?” Juda mumbles as she munches on a few more chips, rubbing her fingers against her pants after every serving.

“I’m sure I did,” You ponder out loud, as you remove your hands from your bag in favour of patting at your pants and jacket resting on the clothing hanger, in case you somehow shoved it in your pockets without knowing.

“Did you forget it?” As soon as the words leave your roommate's mouth, you are met with a vivid picture of your phone, abandoned on the bench in the badminton court you left in a hurry. You sigh, placing your towel on the bathroom counter briefly before grabbing your house keys while putting your shoes on.

“I’ll be back Juda,”

“Good luck,” She waves.

You’re beyond tired, and a little frustrated at yourself for being impatient and forgetting your phone. You can’t risk losing such a thing, hence you’re glad that the lights were still on when you arrived at the building, giving a wave to the receptionist.

Stepping onto the court, you immediately zero in on your phone which is perched on the bench, the black shade of the screen a contrast against the silver metal bar. But a squeak of a sole against the floor earns a squeal out of your mid-march, as you clutch your shirt next to your heart and turn towards the perpetrator.

“Oh my god,” Jisung’s gaze is what you’re met with as you let out a sigh of relief, the man in question only turning around as you mutter under your breath.

“Sorry,” That’s the first time you’ve heard his voice all day, and there’s something about the tone of his voice that calms your heart down just a bit.

“What are you still doing here?” Your curiosity gets the best of you, your forgotten phone laying there, continuing to be overlooked as you question the presence of your classmate.

His eyes squint ever so slightly at your question, as his eyes ghost over you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. “I’m practising,”

Practising? After two hours of badminton class, he didn’t seem like he did much then, but he’s still staying back to practice. You hum in slight adulation, rocking back and forth on your feet as he turns back around and runs through steps you’re unfamiliar with. As you inch towards your phone, you think more about his prominent presence in the court; is he too shy in class? Or maybe he gets private classes from the coach?

But as you scan your eyes around the court, you’re met with a near-empty court, as the only thing in sight is his bottle and slim bag. You’re not sure exactly what you’re waiting for as you hold onto your phone, fidgeting on your spot as your eyes follow Jisung’s swift movements. He seems more tired now than he ever was in the two classes you’ve shared with him, as his shoulders ride up more with an attempt of regaining stability with his breaths.

You’re not sure how long you’ve loitered around, but it must be a long amount of time for Jisung to look at you with disdain and shock.

“. . . Why are you still here?” He seems more reserved — something you didn’t know could happen — as he asks you this question, holding his racket subconsciously closer to his body. Your eyes widen at the prospect of being caught, as you shake your hands vehemently, stumbling back a bit.

“Sorry, I wasn’t—” You didn’t know how you were going to explain yourself, but one glance at the door of the court is all you need.

Bowing your head as quickly as you can in a lieu of a goodbye, Jisung could barely apprehend what you did before you’re bolting out of the badminton court.

A week later, you’re not sure how you’re supposed to face Jisung with your awkward encounter, and it is evident that the incident has been plaguing your mind as you stand at the door of the sports centre, both hands gripping the strap do your bag.

“What if he thinks I’m a weirdo for just standing there and stalking him?” Your wandering mind does nothing to help ease the situation, as more arbitrary scenarios flow after one another. Maybe he told the coach how much of a creep you are and now when you step in, you’ll be banned from class.

“Oh dear god,” You let your head fall forwards, trying to tip over the thought out of your head. Closing your eyes, you try to think of the things you can do once the class is over when a tap on your shoulder brings you out of your reverie. You turn to look behind your shoulder, fearing that it's someone robbing you or worse— Jisung; only to see coach Son, smiling at you with a hint of worry laced on his forehead.

Your shoulders sag with relief. “Hi coach,” you wince internally at your response, voice coming out high-pitched as you clench your grip on your bag.

“Let's go in and start some warm-ups, yeah?” And as you follow the coach to the class, you make sure to subtly hide behind him in case you catch s glimpse of Jisung anywhere, not wanting to run into him. As you quietly peek your head over his right shoulder once and his left shoulder next, you feel like a secret agent sneaking up on your target. A clearing of someone's throat snaps you out of your act, as your shoulders bunch up and in shock and you quickly turn, only to be met with the feared man of the night.

It seems like he’s been trying to go up to the coach and maybe say hi, but your lurking figure both stopped and perplexed him, not knowing why you were just peeking your head around like a mole rat.

“Sorry,” You mumble slightly, eyes wide as you back away towards the closest wall, wanting to blend into it and live with the bricks. Maybe you’ll face less embarrassment that way but knowing you, anything is possible.

“It’s okay,” His voice is as unassuming as always, eyes looking anywhere but you now that he’s caught your attention. You think his shyness is quite cute, but not for long as you think back to being scared of him from last week to being jealous of him, also from last week. That’s a lot of emotion for you to process.

He pulls up his hands, now shaped into a fist and looks past you, but you know he’s talking to you when he mutters, “Fighting,” before fully facing away and walking past you as if the mortification of his action has caught up to him. You barely contain your shocked expression behind your hand.

“Good job today guys, now we all have a basic grasp of the initial steps and our skills when it comes to badminton.” You brace your hands on your knees, just having done a set of wall squats as a way to build stamina, or so you’ve been told. You thought that maybe a month into these classes and you would’ve had some sort of energy stashed away in you when attending class, but it’s week five and you’re fighting for your life three seconds into a plank.

“Now I don’t wanna treat this class academically, but for those of you who truly care, there will be an assessment in the midst of this course to reevaluate your standing and see if you can advance from your group! But other than that, remember that this class can be solely for fun reasons too . . .” The rest of coach's words were white noise to your ears. Reevaluation? Does that mean that you can advance? That you’ll have a shot?

“Are you okay?” Soojin leans in toward you, whispering while pointing to what you assume would be the shock on your face. You turn to her, drawing a thumbs up to reassure her. And before you know it class is done and you’re pulled to do a series of cool-down moves. You eagerly follow through, now somehow charged with motivation to stay back and go over your moves a few times. You figure that the least you can do to move up a rank is to spend an extra hour going over your moves, even when you sometimes think about the significance of them.

You tread up to the coach and ask in your kindest voice if it was possible for you to stay back. “Of course, are you gonna go through the steps again?” He questions as he shifts his bag from one hand to another. You give a nod and wave goodbye, watching as everyone litters out of the court.

Well, almost everyone.

You can feel, more than anything, Jisung’s gaze piercing your figure through the hood of his jumper, while you give your best attempt at stretching. You’re not sure really what stretches best help with reducing the ache in your muscles the day after, but you figure the endeavour of reaching your toes should do.

Even after a few minutes of trying to appear mellow, Jisung’s presence alone makes you feel on edge as if you’ve stolen his territory. But you figure that nothing will change and that all you can really do right now is, well, practice.

The squeak of your shoes echoes every now and then, followed by a whip sound of the racket you’re flinging in the air. If you do this quickly enough, surely your skills will improve, right? From what your coach Son demonstrated earlier, you realised that as he would start off the steps slowly for your group to get a hang of, he was able to transition the speed to his liking, doing each step quickly and efficiently.

“Okay, should be easy,” You’re careful not to speak too loud in the almost quiet hall, giving yourself words of encouragement. Hand braced in the first position, then in the second, then a slight step back, and then your hand straight and quickly bend.

You finish the routine with its final step of hitting the imaginary shuttle as fast and as straight as your hand can go with such speed. With one round done, you brace yourself in the initial position to do it again. One, two, three and four.

You only get to pump out four, maybe five rounds of this pattern before a clearing of someone's throat scares the daylights out of you. With a barely contained shout, you’d forgotten — however briefly — that you weren’t alone. You’re looking at Jisung, who seems shocked at accidentally shaking you up so much, before he says something to you.

“What?” Even with the stillness of the court, the man’s words were barely comprehensible, as yours echoed slightly throughout the court.

“You’re doing it wrong,” Oh, so the first comment he ever mutters to you are words of criticism. You furrow your brows, head tilting slightly out of habit as you encourage him to go on.

“When you’re recoiling from hitting the shuttle, your racket still faces forward instead of down,” He explains, but none of it makes sense to you and it must be evident in your face, with Jisung looking slightly frustrated that the words did not register in your head.

“If you keep your racket facing forward, the ball isn’t going to go down but head straight, which allows your opponent to retaliate better.” He continues, and you somewhat understand where he’s getting at, but he’s not really helping you at all. All he did was point out your mistake, which makes you feel that he’s just trying to show off his knowledge.

“Well, what should I do then?” You can’t help but seem a bit agitated, as you slump your shoulders and let the racket settle by your ankles, your hold on the handle tightening ever so slightly.

“Hit it face down,” He raises his arm and demonstrated the step to you, causing the head of his hoodie to fall, shining the light of the court on his face. You’re briefly stuck looking at his face instead of his step, but were reeled back in when he makes eye contact. You clear your throat as he goes through the step again, which you think were exactly the steps you were doing a second ago.

“But, how was I any different?” You say as you mimic his steps, bracing yourself in the positions without much thinking, and hitting the imaginary shuttle right as when he does.

“No- see, you did it again,” He steps a bit closer as he gestures to the racket in your hand. “You’re hitting it straight on. You’re supposed to go down.” You sigh as he says this, feeling a bit irked that a mere student is trying to tell you what to do. He is in the top rank, so maybe he has a point.

Attempting to set your implicit annoyance aside, you intently look at his hand and the way he moves his wrist at the end of the step, trying your best to imprint this into your head. He looks a bit flustered with how much your gaze is focused on him, but still goes on two more times before nodding his head at you, encouraging you to try once more.

You look at the position of your hand this time instead of him, going through the initial steps and tweaking your wrist to face more downwards this time than your last few attempts, before your eyes quickly flit towards Jisung, looking for some sort of confirmation with your try. The subdued purse of his lips assures your suspicion, which is that you’re doing it right this time round.

“Good, did you kinda find out what you were doing wrong?” The words come out on reflex, and you don’t think twice this time about him being in the same class as you and yet trying to coach your steps, as you ponder on his question.

“I mean, I found out I was doing something wrong when you pointed it out, but I’m not quite sure what you meant when you said I was hitting it straight on.”

“Wow, you were really into him weren’t you?”

“Shut up Chenle, I was into the badminton technicality.”

Jisung steps forward a little bit and is about to say something before he hesitates. You look at him sceptically, waiting to see what he was gonna say before he shakes his head and seemingly snaps himself out of it. “Can you go back to the third position?” He asks of you, which you raise your hand and assume the position. Your racket and arm are raised pointed straight to the ceiling, while he positions his fisted hand in front of you. Your questioning look doesn’t go unnoticed, as a slight smile appears on Jisungs face before he nods at you, saying, “Okay, now gently go down like you would and stop at my hand.”

You do as you’re told, with Jisung’s eyes settled on your concentrated face following his orders, as the face of your racket meets his fist, the white of his knuckles colouring for a bit.

“See, you’re hitting the front of my knuckles, but that will send the shuttle forward.” He demonstrates by pulling his fist back, “That will give the other player a better opportunity of retaliating.” He then readjusts your racket by the throat, having the net hit the top of his fist. “This gives you a better chance.”

“But like, how am I giving them a better shot?”

You’re not sure what was funny or amusing about your question, but it seems that there must be something there for Jisung to sport a cute small smile, as he picks his racket back up and moves to one of the set-up nets, and funnily enough, you find yourself following him subconsciously. He picks up a shuttlecock on his way to the net and positions himself, as you stand at his side.

“See, let’s say the shuttle is coming at you this way,” He holds the shuttle with one hand as if the opposing player had shot it at him over the net. “If I hit it the way you had— actually, why don’t you try receiving the ball.” And so you shuffle over, standing opposite of his ready stance with your arms crossed, intrigued.

“I’ll throw the shuttle back to you and try seeing if you can hit it back.” You realise that this is the most you’ve heard him speak in the past five weeks that you’ve attended the class together. You bring your hand up and stand in the ready position you remember coach telling you about when initiating a game, and Jisung takes that as a sign that you’re ready and hits the shuttle at a moderate speed. You hit the ball back with ease, as it goes over back to Jisung’s side, who catches it with his other hand. You let out a long ‘ahh’ sound of understanding, hand clutched at your side.

“You’re right, that was hell easy,” You brood aloud, but not before asking one of your other endless questions. “But then, how would the other way be any different?”

From the looks of it, Jisung seems over the moon that you asked such a question, holding back a smile by biting on his lips lightly and quipping his head to the side. He holds up the shuttle and looks at you, gauging to see if you’re ready to receive the ball once again. As you regain your ready position, you see the ball suspended in the air briefly before Jisung hits it at the ‘better’ angle, which is seemingly from the head of it, but before you can process anything else a zip sounds past you and the ball has landed behind you.

Your gasp resonates through the hall as you look behind you to where the shuttle has landed, with a hand coming to your mouth as you look at Jisung. The latter contains his smug smile behind his own hand, as you point at the ball and look back and forth. “What did you just do?”

“Ah, that’s a technique that's called smash.” You falter slightly.

“That’s a weird fucking name I’m not gonna lie,” You glance at the ball once more with a look of disgust, before shaking yourself out of it. “Oh my god, that was so cool.”

You didn’t think that you would be getting a one-on-one lesson when you decided to stay behind today, but you’re quite surprised with how he was able to spot such a little detail so quickly. And that gives you an idea.

“Jisung,” You call his name for the first time since you met him five weeks ago, which surprises the said man, as you see his eyes startle and a few strands of his hair jerk. “Do you stay after class every week?”

He’s a bit quiet for some time, processing your question thoroughly. He nods his head briefly, but not before a bit of hesitation.

“Is it . . . Can you help me improve?” You’re a bit shy now that you voice your question out loud, but you’re determined to move up at least one rank and land second place; or even just have a good academic score, even in badminton.

Seeing the blank face that Jisung is now sporting, you think about the unfair offer you’ve just made to him. Why would he spend his extra time after class to teach you, his potential competitor, without getting anything out of it? You’re not sure what you can offer him, maybe some sort of payment? But before you can ponder even more, you catch a slight nod of his head from the corner of your eye.

“Is that . . . a yes?” You lock eye contact, as he nods his head once more but with more vigour and confirmation.

“Why?” It’s your turn to look at him with confusion.

“Are you asking me?” He points to himself, as he slightly tilts his head as if he was going to look as if you were talking to someone else. You shake your head quickly once he asks the question, raising even more questions.

“Actually, no. I take back what I said. You said yes, right? You can’t change your mind. Or, I mean you can but like I would be pretty bummed about it because you already said yes but I’d respect your choice.” You take a deep breath in once you finish, looking at him and clasping your hands together a bit too harshly.

“No, it’s okay. I’ll help you with what you need.” Relief washes over you and you can’t help but smile in thanks.

“Oh, and there’s one more thing too.” Jisung hums for you to continue, as he goes towards his bag and retrieves his bottle to take a sip.

“Can you teach me how to smash?” And maybe you should’ve waited for him to be done with that bottle first.

You think you’re quite good at being subtle and on the low, no matter how much Juda and Chenle counter that argument. You can be sneaky if you put your mind to it, and it's been proven many times in high school when you would sneak your favourite snack during the middle of the class without your strict teacher finding out.

So you’re not sure where you went wrong when you held out a snack bar in Jisungs direction, only for the whole court to look at you weirdly. You merely strutted up to him with maximum placidity and poked out the bar from your hand into his torso, looking away and hoping he would get the memo and take from you as with a mutter of something that sounds really close to the word ‘thanks’.

But it’s been a solid fifteen seconds and not only is the bar still in your hand, but everyone in the class has slowed down their activities in favour of looking at you two. Even coach’s staring as if he’s trying to solve a very complex puzzle.

“Is this . . . for me?” Jisung’s voice comes out as a rumble, not knowing if he should whisper or talk normally, sounding out something in between instead.

Of course this is for you, idiot. Why am I holding it in your direction??

You ignore his question and shake the bar in your hand with a bit more intensity, hoping that he would finally get the memo. It isn’t until ten more seconds pass that you lose all hope and turn to him, grabbing his hand and placing your gratitude in his open palm, closing his fist around the energy snack.

You stomp your way to start your warm-ups before Jisung could say anything.

“When you aim your hand, you’re not really looking at the shuttle,” Jisung starts after a few rounds of one-on-one games you’ve started after class. “Your eyes are just hovering around it for a few seconds before you look around and put yourself in position. You’re supposed to go in position without looking, it should be intuitive.” You huff at his explanation, dropping your hands by your sides.

“How do I ‘look’ at it more, then?” You’re grateful that Jisung is helping you, but it’s just the tiniest bit unnerving for him to recognise your every move and be able to point out your mishaps. He moves back from the net, creating a decent amount of space in his playing circle. He starts throwing the shuttle up with his badminton racket, the distance from the shuttle and its net growing with each hit.

“Practising this move helps,” He says as he works through what you remember the coach demonstrating the first few classes. As the shuttlecock goes higher and higher with each impact, your eyes catch on the silver of skin poking out as Jisung lifts his hand to meet the shuttle, his shirt rising for a few seconds every time.

“I think it would be better if you looked at the shuttle?” His words catch you off guard, as you look up and meet his gaze already settled on your, eyes gleaming as he pokes at his cheek with his tongue.

“Shut up,” You look away, flustered that you got caught, before attempting the moves, refusing to look back at him.

The condensation of the electrolyte drink is addled with the dampness of your hand, as you make your way to class the week after. You see Ryujin talking to the coach as you enter, and Jisung at his bag, seeming to ruffle through it in order to retrieve something. You strut your way up quietly, not wanting to attract any awkward attention by giving gratitude in the form of a drink to your unofficial instructor. As you open your mouth to call Jisungs name, the tall man turns around and gives you the faintest hint of a smile, before his eyes land on your hand.

“Hi, here.” You spout, as you extend your hand straight towards him, some of the condensation dropping on the floor and finding solace in the gaps of your fingers. His hands feel dry and warm as it brushes against yours, retrieving the drink from your grasp.

“You didn’t have to. Thank you; for last time too,” Your cheeks heat up at his words as you avert your gaze away, opting to look at the playing net instead. “Don’t mention it,” Your damp hand wrings against the dry one behind your back, as you slowly let your gaze wander back to Jisung, who’s now looking at the blue bottle in his hand.

“Did you know,” He twists the drink in his hand and looks at what you think is the nutrition information. “Electrolyte doesn’t actually help when you exercise.” Your expression sullens as he continues to look at the drink you gave him. “Your body loses more water than electrolytes when you exercise, and so there is no use consuming more electrolytes. Water helps way more in comparison,” The scowl on your face makes Jisung stop in his tracks as he looks up after finishing his bite-sized lecture.

“Well, if you’re so ungrateful—” You reach your hand out to snatch the bottle from him but are stopped short as his hand wraps around your wrist, stopping you. “No!” He exclaims and a chuckle slips past as your struggle to get the drink, reaching out your other hand before he captures that too, now both of your wrists trapped in his hand. Your eyes widen, with your wrist bound and fighting up a struggle, all impaired with Jisung’s hand wrapped. Before your mind can wander to what other scenarios can result in him bounding up your hands, he continues; “I’m very grateful. You don’t have to give me these things just because I give you a few tips after class.”

You pause your struggle, letting your hands be weighed down. “Well, I don’t think I’ve been helping you at all. Sometimes I even set you back, so it’s the least I can do.” You say truthfully. You do sometimes feel like a burden when Jisung gives you a tip and you don’t adapt immediately, sometimes it takes you maybe two after-class lessons until you can successfully cast back the shuttle over the net with a short distance. The only way you could think about paying him back was through these pick-me-up snacks.

“Okay, how about this,” You miss the warmth and pressure of his hand against your wrist as soon as he lets go to put the drink down behind him and straightens back up, looking away as he slowly grows flustered with what he’s about to say next. “Treat me to ice cream maybe?”

You smile at his antics, happy to have been told how you could repay him. “Deal,” He visibly deflates with relief as you zealously agree, putting your bag down next to his as you both start to unpack.

You shuffle to the bathroom as soon as practice is over, giving Jisung a quick point towards the direction you’re going to ease his worries about you running away. Once inside, you’re met with the cool breeze and a mirror that reflects your spent figure. Oh god, how were you gonna go out like this? Is this what you looked like this entire time? Shuffling to the sink, you shoulder your bag back as you lean over the sink and lightly dab at your face with some water, before cleaning yourself up and dabbing the paper towel against your face.

You don’t know why you were so nervous to do this; it’s truly just some ice cream with your temporary and unofficial coach. But you truly wanted him to see your gratitude, and soon enough you’re thinking if ice cream isn’t enough, and budgeting how you can come up with enough money for an all-you-can-eat buffet at this time of the night. But before you could even add up the numbers on your fingers - it was a two in one hand and three in another, not quite sure what they meant - the sound of the door opening echoes in the bathroom, jumping you out of your reverie.

Turning around, you just catch Minji stepping in, looking taken aback at your shocked expression, as if you weren’t expecting anyone to enter this public bathroom. “You okay?” She calls after you, and you can only hope that the smile on your face is convincing enough.

“Yup! Just . . . tired,” You cringe a bit at the overused excuse, but your shoulders slump when she just smiles back at you.

“It’s okay, maybe your date with Jisung would cheer you up?” You feel something lodge in your throat, coughing out in surprise.

“No!” You retort, hands coming out from behind you as if to stop all ideas from forming. “We’re- It’s not like that. He’s just-” Minji looks at you with amusement, as she shifts her weight and crosses her arms, urging you to continue. The mind blank you’re sporting is not at all helping with a way to express what you truly are doing with Jisung, and so you try: “I just owe him something for smashing his racket.” And that was the best you could do.

Minji’s smile falls, as her arms drop at her sides. “You . . . smashed his racket?”

You don’t know why her voice was laced with such concern, but you figure that you have to finish what you started. “Yeah, to pieces actually. Sometimes the adrenaline truly gets to you, right?” You chuckle a bit, trying to find a gap in the conversation where you can squeeze back out of the bathroom.

“Well, I’ll see you next week,” You clench the strap of your bag and exit the bathroom, ready to dart out of the place. As you turn a sharp right, you are immediately met with a sheet of white, which suspiciously looks like the colour of the shirt Jisung was wearing today. Hands are placed at your shoulder and you’re quickly set back half a step from the wall, or at least enough to recognise that it wasn’t a wall, but rather Jisung’s tall figure.

“Sorry,” you mutter, eyes flicking from his own to the arms stretching to your shoulders, catching a few veins adorning his forearm. A clear of his throat has you looking entirely away, as you grab at his wrist and start tugging towards the exit.

The white lights of the LED sign of the ice cream place illuminate most of the dark street, with most businesses having closed earlier in the day save for a few convenience stores littered with tired college students like yourselves. You eye the shop and its extravagant decor, sceptical about being brought to such a high-end ice cream shop.

“You know, when you said ice cream, I thought you had wanted me to buy you some popsicles from some convenience store. Not someplace about exorbitant ice cream with fifty years of craft in making,” You nudge your elbow a bit to Jisung’s side, to which he responds by twisting his head in your direction.

He splutters, “Oh, I’m so sorry I forgot that, you know you were gonna pay,” You notice his hands move as he speaks, something you’ve picked up from when you would talk to him or notice him talking to coach; it’s as if his words are spelt with his hands first and then brought out through his lips, now adorning a pout as he tries explaining himself.

“. . . I thought we were just, going out.” Your eyebrows raise a bit in surprise at his words. Going out? As in, going out on a date?

You wonder if your thought bubble is something he can see, as he quickly puts out his hands again, shaking them vehemently. “Not on a date! It’s just, I didn’t know what-”

“Jisung, it’s okay. I was just messing with you,” You decide to put him out of his misery, reassuring him before continuing, “I’ve never been here but I’ve been meaning to try it out, so I’m glad you suggested this place. Let me treat you to something good,” And without thinking, you link your arm through his and push through the door, the cool of the interior washing over both of you. The shop was mostly white, with white tiles placed as half-walls as well as the flooring, the only hint of colour being the green of a few plants and of course the various ice creams. The employee, who seems to be the only person in the shop, straightens up ever so slightly at the sight of the two of you entering, before slumping back down when you head towards the self-serve ice cream booths. Picking up two cups, you hand one to Jisung who’s at your right, before you pick up the scooper from a mini bucket of water, waving it around your choices.

“Tell me which flavour you want me to pick out for you,” You eye the various flavours of ice creams, seeing if you can find your favourite. You look at Jisung to see if he’s doing the same, only to see his eye zeroed in on one bucket which is contrastingly fuller than the different flavours around it.

“Mint chocolate ice cream?” Your question has JIsung nodding his head as he looks at you sheepishly. “I can’t believe you would choose the most controversial ice cream. You’re so original.” You tease, to which Jisung nudges you in retaliation.

“It’s a good flavour, if people stop comparing the mint and the chocolate and instead choose to see how much they complement each other, we would be one step closer to world peace.”

“That’s a bold claim, what’s your source?” Jisung grabs the scoop out of your hands with mock aggressiveness, opting to scoop his serving of the mint chocolate ice cream. “Your references? Where is your citation—” He cuts you off by placing his hand on your mouth after taking a scoop of his ice cream, as his chest meets your arm.

He shushes you, “Just get your ice cream, yeah? I’ll go get my toppings,” He nods and lets go of your mouth, missing the way your cheeks heat up from his proximity and touch on your face. You bring the back of your hand to your face, prying the heat to go away as you shake your head and pick the scooper back up, reaching for your favourite flavour of ice cream.

Meeting Jisung at the counter, you place your cup of ice cream next to his on the weigh and fish through your bag as you wait for the person behind the counter to calculate your total. However, as soon as you probed your wallet out of your bag, the sound of a completed transaction peals out, making you turn your head up just to see Jisung putting his wallet back into his sweatpants.

“It was supposed to be my treat,” You insist, looking towards Jisung’s direction to generate some sort of guilt for his action. Instead, the man avoids your gaze, picks up two spoons, and places them in your cups, grabbing yours when he spots you not budging from the corner of his eye and turning to head for the door. You grab at his sleeve to force out his reasoning but are slowly pulled with him as he heads out, quickly turning around and bidding goodbye to the staff before he opens the door.

“Well, maybe you can pay next time,” At the mention of another time of you and Jisung hanging out, your initial sorrow washes over by a wave of giddiness.

“Then give me your number,” You propose, fishing your phone out. “So I can see when you’re next free and make it up to you,” With wide eyes, Jisung’s hands hesitate as they reach out for your phone; before either of you can second-guess yourselves, he takes the phone and smiles shyly, typing in his details. Handing the phone back to you, you take a look at his contact before pocketing your phone as Jisung starts to speak.

You scoop a spoon of your ice cream into your mouth to hide your smile, but from a light chuckle that emits from your left side, you don’t think your efforts amounted to much.

You stretch your arm to reach the end of your leg, warming up your body before the mass class warmup, more so to have something to do instead of staring at Jisung who’s also here early and is also doing his own unique sets of warm-ups.

Nothing about badminton is sexy; there’s nothing sexy about moving your wrist just in time to deliver some sort of groundbreaking delivery with the shuttlecock. Even the word shuttlecock grosses you out, as you suppress the urge to shiver at this very moment.

So you’re not sure why the act of playing badminton with the wall is such an attractive sight to you; as Jisung grunts every now and then, seemingly surprised and unprepared by his own backhand delivery against the wall, which makes him take quick steps back and forth and side to side to meet each hit. His quick movements allow for his loose clothing today to move around freely, exposing toned skin every now and then. It takes a lot of your willpower to have you not to drool right then and there, as if you were back in high school once more.

One hit, in particular, bounced off high and far from the wall, the sound of the shuttlecock smacking against the wall echoing louder as it heads for Jisung’s left side, a direction that you’re situated in although with a safe amount of distance. The tall player retaliates by turning his body a whole hundred-and-eighty degree, facing away from the wall and essentially towards you as he tries to continue his streak of hits. Briefly, you see his eyes look at you and back at the shuttles descend, but his focus on the said thing falters when he looks at you again, realising that you’ve been watching him play.

The shame of being caught should’ve arrived by now, as your shoulders stiffen with being onslaught by Jisung’s intense gaze. But before the chagrin could fully settle in, Jisung has completely passed the point of positioning his racket, causing the shuttle to fall and bounce off of his head and onto his feet. Gently clasping your hand at your mouth, you stop your giggles at the warning glare that Jisung sends to you; although his flushed cheeks aren’t making it any better.

“Say something and see what happens,” He points at you with the tip of his racket. You remove your hand and open your mouth, curious to see where this goes.

“Are you really gonna say something?” He steps closer to your figure, which is now sitting cross-legged on the ground with both hands placed on top of one another in front of you. He drops his racket on the ground, as if it doesn’t cost a limb, and instead places his hands right above his knees, looming over your figure. You can’t help it this time when your gaze follows towards the gap in the collar of his shirt, showing the sharp cut of his collarbone peeking through. It’s when your gaze is caught on his chain necklace dangling from his neck that the sound of a basketball bouncing echoes closer, as both of you look towards the direction it’s coming from. Not long after, a boy no older than ten shuffles in with his shoes squeaking against the floor, looking shocked at the fact that the two of you are here.

The ball lightly hits Jisung’s calf, who simply picks it up and passes it back to the boy who’s seemingly frozen in place. As soon as the ball arrives at his own feet, he quickly picks it up and dashes out of the place.

“Do you wanna bet to see who can reach past their toes?” Your question snaps Jisung out of his thought. The boy chuckles and sits down to your right, stretching out his legs and shaking them out as a form of warm-up.

“You’re so on,”

Your hands are clasped behind your back as you strut up to Jisung, who’s at his bag, taking out his needed items. With a tap on his shoulder, he turns to face you, giving you a smile as a greeting before scanning you.

“What are you doing this time?” You gasp in mock offence.

“This time? I haven’t even done anything yet?”

“But you’re going to,” He points his fingers at your hidden hands. “You’re either gonna scare me or pull the lamest prank ever known to date.” Your smile drops and a scowl replaces it instead.

When Jisung fully turns to face you, you smile once more and lean your shoulders in. “I actually brought you something to thank you. Again.” You shift the item from your left to your right hand, feeling nervous and embarrassed for saying it all out loud. “Because of you, I can hit a backhand serve and not smack myself.” The boy stands taller with your gratitude, a blush sporting on his face as his eyes look anywhere but at you. You must look like high schoolers confessing to one another with the way you’re both flustered and shy, which isn’t a thought you’re fully opposed to.

He nods his head, still avoiding looking directly at you, as he reaches his hands out, ready to receive what you’ve brought for him. You giggle slightly as he shuts his eyes and shakes his hands in anticipation, “Since you said electrolyte drinks don’t really help, and you like your proteins after class, I thought of a better third option and brought you,” You reach your hands out and place the gift on his palms, urging him to open his eyes.

Cold and dripping with condensation, the plastic water bottle perched on his hands seem small as his hands close around them to keep from falling. His eyes fall as he looks dimly at the bottle in his hands, and you look away briefly to keep from laughing straight in his face.

“Now I know what that kid felt like when he got gifted an avocado for Christmas.”

“Wait,” Chenle plops down next to Juda as he says this, but is quickly shoved to the other end of the couch with a complaint ‘It’s too hot for you to stick your gross body next to me’.

“What’s his deal then?”

“What?” You turn to look at Juda first as if to check that you’re the only one confused. The furrow of the girls’ eyebrows proves the fact that you aren’t alone, as you both look at Chenle with visible empty thought bubbles surrounding you.

“Well, he’s a badminton prodigy according to you. Seems to have surprased all the basics and is just a step away from being a professional.” The initial shove and retort from Juda barely set him off, as he goes back to his original position and maybe squeezes himself even more to her side and pulls a spoon out, digging into her tub of ice cream.

“Why is he still coming to class if he’s qualified enough to teach you?” Unfortunately, for once Chenle does have a point. You’ve thought about this a few times at the beginning of the semester when you were a little more than irritated by the fact that he joined the class and made you rank down a notch; ever since he agreed to lend you a hand, you’re sometimes even happy when you see him come in.

“He has a point sadly,” Juda waves her spoon towards Chenle’s direction. “If he’s as good as you say he is, why bother coming to class?”

“Maybe you should ask him that on your next date,” The boy wiggles his eyebrows at you, squealing out a laugh when you pull your fist back in a threatening manner.

“Maybe I will,” you blurt out, attempting an aggressive tone. Before you could let anyone, even yourself, comprehend what you said, you pressed play on the tv and snuggled up to Juda’s arm on her right, with Chenle leaching off of her to her left.

“The things I put up with,” She huffs as she stabs her spoon into her ice cream tub, feeding you diligently.

[WEDNESDAY; 10:37 PM]

you: you

jwisung: ?

jwisung: what happened to hello

jwisung: ‘how was your day’

jwisung: wheres ur decorum

you: shut up you dont even know what that means

jwisung: :(

you: >.<

you: are you free this saturday at 9

jwisung: you mean

jwisung: the saturday 9pm where we just finish our badminton class?

jwisung: idk i gotta check my schedule to see if i have a badminton class around that time

jwisung: omg wait are you gonna spoil me

you: 😐

you: yes but not anymore

you: bye

jwisung: WAIR

jwisung: pleahse im soreu

you: not forgiven <3

you: i know this place that actually has good mint choc ice cream

you: not too minty not too chocolatey

jwisung: you rmbrd that i like mintchoc?

you: dont do this to me

jwisung: okay i wont 😁

you: good boy

jwisung: …

you: ?

you: oh!

jwisung: no

you: ill remember this too 😋

Your bag is bigger this time when you go to class, having packed an extra set of clothes and a towel to have a quick rinse after class before your not-date with Jisung. Arriving just in time for the warm-up session, you’re met with gloomy faces left and right. Plopping your bag down next to Soojin’s, you whisper when you ask, “Why does everyone look like they’ve been kicked?”

She looks up to you with a pout adorning her features. “Coach declared today a ‘cardio’ day. Something about wanting to boost our stamina or whatever the fuck.” She sighs as she shoves her stuff back into her bag, sadly shuffling across the court to do her designated warmups. You grimace as you follow, hoping your travel-size soap is enough.

Turns out Coach’s definition of cardio was way more intense than what you remember your gym friends raving about, as you put your hands on your knees to keep yourself from collapsing. A whistle from the coach signals a shift in your rep, making you change stations and do the next cycle of workout.

“Coach, how much longer are we gonna do this—”

“Until I start sweating, Jaemin. Now keep up!” Coach demands, which is absurd, because he isn’t doing anything but watching you do push-up planks and try not to collapse.

“Okay, stop,” He blows the whistle once more and you fall to your hands and knees, with everyone else modelling a variation of your position. Haechan’s high-pitched groan startles you, but not as much as the coach’s yelling that follows after.

“Don’t sit down guys! Sitting down after exercise is terrible for your stamina,”

“This sounds like some facebook myth my mom would tell me,” Ryujin pants as she shoves her fringe out of her face.

Coach smiles as he claps this time around. “You guys were great today, well done! As a gift, you can only do the stretching cool-down activities and I’ll finish class earlier today,” At that, the class erupts in out-of-breath cheers and barely lasting claps.

You look to find Jisung, just to see how he’s holding up after this exercise round from hell, and you find yourself more than relieved to see him affected for once. Halfway through class, he’s opted to take off his hoodie, which left him in a white shirt and navy sweatpants, with sleeves bunched up to show his biceps and their carvings. The sight of him adorned with sweat and panting sends a twist to your stomach, and you’re quickly reminded that you’re supposed to go out with him after this.

Shuffling to your bag as quickly as you can with the ache pulsing through your legs, you’re about to head for the courts' public showers when you’re met with Jisung’s figure.

“You can’t leave that easily, I have to try that ice cream,” He murmurs with a crooked smile. You smack at his shoulder.

“I wasn’t gonna leave, I wanted to take a quick rinse before we go out. That cardio really did a number on me,” Jisung falls a bit quiet at your words, as you visibly see him suddenly deep in thought. Before you get to question it, he beats you to it by straightening up and looking directly at you with an idea in mind.

“Why don’t you come to mine?” You blanch at his words but aren’t allowed to react more than that as he continues. “I live really close, and you can just use the shower before heading out. You have your stuff with you and I need a rinse too.” He points at your bag behind you, making you flush and subconsciously move to cover up your efforts. His idea doesn’t seem too bad, and you think this could be another excuse for you to make up to him. Let’s go out one more time because I used up all your hot water. Couldn’t think of a better idea.

With a nod and a smile, you’re quickly guided out of the building shoulder to shoulder.

Jisung’s apartment really wasn’t far at all, as you arrive at the complex within a five-minute walk from the sports grounds. Living in a two-bedroom apartment with his roommate, who Jisungs said to have gone home this winter season, the place looks relatively clean with the effort of one person living in the area. He directs you to his room, where you place your bags and pick up your clothes before he points towards the bathroom.

“You can use my shampoo and soap, they’re both in some type of white bottle. Don’t use the blue ones because they’re my roommates’ and he has a sixth sense when it comes to these things,” You salute him and shuffle to the bathroom, trying your best to be as quick as possible to not leave him waiting and to not actually use up all his hot water. The bathroom was just slightly messy, with towels stacked on one another in a haphazard manner and shaving bottle caps abandoned and soap remnants staining the sink, you feel warm with the idea of getting to see this side of Jisung. A university student trying his best, not some badminton prodigy.

Rinsing your body one last time, you close the water tap and open the glass door of the shower, reaching out your hand blindly to retrieve your towel. After a few seconds of mindlessly flinging your arm and only coming back with a bang of your knuckle against the metal towel holder, you don’t really recall pulling out the towel from your bag, much less hanging it anywhere near the bathroom.

“Oh my god, why today?” The cold of the world outside the shower cubicle washes shivers over you as you open the door wide enough to fit your head around, scanning to see if there’s any alternative you can use instead. All you’re met with is bundles of toilet paper rolls stacked on top of one another and used toilet paper rolls dumped into a basket haphazardly. Your panic settles a bit quicker as your mind blanks from solutions, but not before a knock is heard through the door with your name being called.

“Yes?” You hide the waver in your voice as best as you can, closing the glass door just a bit more.

“Is everything okay?” Jisung’s voice rumbles through the door. Your hand flies to your body, suddenly feeling exposed with the reminder of Jisung’s presence. Slipping back into the shower, you raise your voice as much as you can to be heard through the door; “Yup! Everything’s fine. Just . . .” It’s just I’m dripping and naked in your house and the only remedy is a towel, which I don’t have.

“I noticed you forgot your towel,” The muffle of his voice cuts you out of your trance, “I can give it to you— I mean of course I won’t look! I can just— maybe I’ll stick my hand in?” You laugh slightly at the fact that he’s just as flustered as you, before replying with an agreement.

As he opens the door with the smallest gap to fit the towel and then his wrist, the cold air of the outside reminds you again of your stark nakedness, one hand going across your chest as you reach your other to grab at the towel. With a skim of your wet fingers against his warm and dry ones, you retrieve your towel with a shy thanks, as Jisung quickly goes to close the door.

While getting ready as quickly as you could in the bathroom, your mind was filled with thoughts of how you were supposed to face Jisung after that whole incident. You couldn’t think if it was better to joke about it and get it over with or forget about it and have to come back one day for some form of closure. You hoped there was no need for closure.

But before your overthinking could get to you, Jisung regarded you like he would any other day when you stepped out of his bathroom — with a shy look and awkward hands — and you immediately relax, shoulders slumping as you go up to him, slinging your bag over your shoulder. Jisung’s eyes flit towards it, but not for long before he opens the door and lets you lead the way.

The trip to the ice cream store was a short one, requiring only a train ride to the han rivers’ skirts where the shop is situated. The store itself was busy with people sitting all around snacking on its offerings, but once you get your respective ice creams and head out back towards the river, it’s a bit quieter; a breeze slips past you as you wrap an arm around yourself. With spring in the air, the trees’ full bloom flowers scatter around the pavement and are imprinted by the soles of your hoses as you walk by.

Finding a bench by the tree, the two of settle down on it, as you turn and face Jisung in anticipation of his first try.

“It’s really good, trust me. And it’s like a bit thicker with its mint rather than the chocolate bits which is a bit hard to do when you eat mint chocolate ice cream because it’s always the chocolate that's richer and you get si—” a spoonful of your ice cream is stuffed into your mouth, spluttering you to a stop as you glare at Jisung whos laughing at your expression.

“I had to shut you up one way,” You fist your hand at him in faux aggression, pulling out your spoon and placing it back into your cup.

“Just eat it quickly before it melts,” You exclaim with a hurried expression, feet bouncing up at down in anticipation. Jisung glances at you while he picks up his spoon, prodding at his ice cream before he picks up a spoonful of his ice cream, slowly bringing it to his mouth as he looks at your expression. He only laughs and detours his spoon once, bringing the spoon back up to his lips when the expression on your face shifts to a deadpan.

The pink of his lip contrasts with the mint colour of the ice cream dripping slightly from the spoon, as he finally fits the ice cream in and gives it a taste. Looking at his eyes with suspense, Jisung’s default expression of scepticism is what you see first, before it shifts into surprise, into confusion, and finally into the same expression as a kid getting candy. The glint in his eyes shines bright in the dim lighting that you’re in, as Jisung points to the ice cream while he continues consuming the ice cream.

“It’s good,”

“Of course it’s good. I wouldn’t bring you to try good mint chocolate if it wasn’t actually good mint chocolate,” You stifle a giggle when Jisung throws you a glower.

“You know what I mean,” At his positive reaction, you comfortably dug into your own ice cream, a comfortable silence blanketing you two with background noises of cyclers whizzing by and people talking in the distance.

“You’re doing really well,” Jisung starts with his eyes darted away, suddenly shy to look at you as he says, “In badminton, I mean. Your overhead shots are cleaner than mine.” Eyes still averted, he elbows you lightly with his compliment. You preen at his praise, leaning forward subconsciously to him with a thank you.

“It’s all thanks to you. If you weren’t as good as you are I wouldn’t even know that there are two methods of serving the shuttle.”

Jisung’s laugh sounds less humorous, “Yeah, it must’ve been weird seeing me play alone during class,” There's a heavy pause as you visibly detect the boy sort through his next words. “I didn’t think you guys were . . . fond of me. When we first started,” You feel your stomach go white, colours flush from your face from his words. Did he know? Were you that blatant? You feel bad, remembering how isolated the boy was at that time as everyone distanced themselves since learning his level of expertise. You weren’t any better, the bitter feeling you harboured when you got ranked into the third group now coming back to you after three months of attending practice.

At the glum expression on your face, Jisung quickly goes to wave his hand. “Ah, it was— it wasn’t your fault or anything. I secluded myself too, so of course it would’ve been hard to talk as comfortably.” He rests his hand on yours that’s pressed against the bench, comforting you as if you’re the one whos been wronged, and not the other way around. Frowning at his consolation, you don’t know what comes over you as you flip your hand around, making your palm face his as you clasp his hands in yours.

You avoid looking at his expression as you make your bold move, looking at the river as you start. “If it makes you feel better, Jaemin always talks about how jealous he is of you whenever you do a smash,” Gathering the courage, you squeeze his fingers as you look at him, another question popping up in your head.

“Can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer it if you don’t want to, of course, but—” You cut yourself short when Jisung nods his head at you, looking at you with a calm demeanour.

“Why do you still come to class if you’re already so good? I mean, I swear you’re at national levels at least,” Jisung snorts at your words, growing shy from your praise.

“I’m being serious, don’t laugh!” Even as you say your words with furrowed eyebrows, your efforts barely last as you smile at his bashful posture. Puffing his cheeks, he ponders a bit on how to answer your question; you’re about to tell him to just forget it, not wanting him to answer something so personal, when he straightens his posture and stares ahead with a determined expression.

“The first time I played badminton was at a family gathering for new years, and I might’ve been four or maybe five when my dad put a racket in my hand and swung my arm around to hit at the throws my cousins would send my way. Then when I got older and was forced to play actual sports in school, the only thing that I was willing to play was badminton. I didn’t try hard in the beginning and was there because I heard that the teacher conducting it didn’t really care,” You snort at the picture of young Jisung barely lifting his hand to play, or letting the shuttle zoom right past him while flinching away entirely.

“But when the interschool competitions came around and I was ranked in the last group to play, I had won by pure luck,” He rubs his hands up and down his pants as he reminisces, shoulder rubbing against your subconsciously. “And then everyone started cheering me on because apparently, my accidental win had helped us accelerate to the next round. It made me feel good that I was the cause of such a thing, so I tried a bit harder the next time. Then I asked the higher ranking kids to help me with my serving, and then my mom to admit me to a badminton class, and I ranked up from F to D, and then to B and then A. My class started to admit me to local competitions outside of school hours, and then it had become such a big part of my life that I was determined to get to a national scale.”

“Did you?” Your voice was quiet when you spoke, ending with a bit of a rasp from its lack of use. You were on the edge of your seat if your position meant anything, arms wrapped around your knees, thighs pressed to your chest, making the waistband of your shorts dig a bit higher. Jisung’s smile is a sentimental one, reminiscent of a win resulting from years of effort.

“I was fifteen when I was cast by a racket sports centre, which focused on training people ranging from kids to young adults to get to national competitions and even more. I was over the moon and became one of those kids you barely see in class and when you do, they’re just sleeping through the subject. My first competition was scheduled three months after my admission, which was unheard of; even kids who have been learning at the place for two years would struggle to pass the first rounds for the entry.” Your eyes move along Jisung’s hand, as he comically explains his words through the movement of his fingers, expanding and collapsing joints onto one another.

“I didn’t win the first one, but I won the second, and the third, and built a streak - although short, just four months into training. In the beginning, it was all so exhilarating, the thrill of winning the title of first place with all these people who were just as gifted, if not even more. And so I would win because I was capable, I didn’t win because I was it was expected of me.”

“But,” You murmur as Jisung halts, bringing his hand down as his fingers fiddle with the texture of the bench.

“But,” His excitement has burnt down to a sort of nostalgia, and you reach your hand down and clasp your hand over his again, before he looks down and turns his hand, palm facing yours as he links your fingers together. “But then, when I was seventeen, I had passed the initial rounds for the national Olympic competition. It was big news; our centre hadn’t had someone do that in decades, and that was when the pressure was tangible.

“My parents would schedule my day down to the minutes, and my coach made my diet strict, telling me what exactly I should eat each day until the competition. I loved the order and agenda that was set for me; I didn’t have to think what’s next? I just had to keep doing what I was good at. But then came the first round of the match, and the people were ruthless. No one was there to watch two teenagers play badminton, but instead fight for their lives. I didn’t think much about it until my third round that day when the kid I was playing against deliberately tried to hit the ball to my face.”

You couldn’t help it, your laugh had spilt out before you could even think of stopping it, but Jisung’s squeeze against your hand assured you that it was fine, as he chuckled with you.

“Who the fuck practices hitting the ball at someone's face?” Your voice was pitched higher with exasperation. “Do you reckon he had a cardboard cutout of you to practice on? I doubt someone can do the calculations of face-hitting range that quickly under pressure.” Jisung contemplates your idea teasingly, tilting his head and measuring random angels with his free hand. Seeing that, the weight of your hand held against his now weighs tenfold, as the butterfly in your stomach flutters with the subconscious squeeze of his fingers. You bump at his shoulder as you squeeze yourself closer, bringing your linked hands to rest against your stomach, wanting to hold him closer.

“It was definitely weird, but it didn’t set me off my rhythm, I just thought that it was a way to rile people up. But my coach was the one irritated, and when the boy had almost hit my eye, that was when my coach started to interfere,” You can only imagine the noise surrounding seventeen-year-old Jisung, his coach stepping forward to halt the game and talking to the referee to take some sort of action, pointing accusing fingers at the opponent and their mentors.

“The place that we were competing at was big, bigger than what I was used to back then, and there were a lot of people and so it was noisy; but the noise that my coach and the kid were making was something else. When my coach came back to me, all riled up, I couldn’t do much but take in his energy. I remember being very tense, thinking that I should just step my ground a bit more next time ‘round so they wouldn’t think of doing something like aiming the shuttle at my face.

“I think it was either the fifth? Or the sixth round, when I was in the zone of playing ‘professionally’ rather than doing what I was already good at. I would do overhead deliveries and front-hand serves even though I’d rather do a simple back-hand. Then there was an opening for a smash, it was a weak point for the guy— and I was over the moon with the opportunity. I’d only done the smash successfully maybe enough to count off of my fingers, but I knew that if I timed it right I would get it,” Dread fills your stomach at the direction that Jisung is going, You’re sure if you clench your fingers any harder there would be an imprint left of the poor boy's hand, but Jisung either doesn’t notice or simply doesn’t care.

Jisung’s chuckle drifts lightly in the air, “I was too enthusiastic, and I bunched up all my energy into hitting the ball that I’d missed the perfect time and instead had delivered a simple overhead. It would’ve been okay otherwise, I mean, I was able to deliver something instead of losing a measly point, but before I could recover, the shuttle had travelled to the back end of the court, and in my attempt of getting it, I’d tripped and landed pretty badly,” While telling the story, Jisung’s free hand had been wandering over his clothed knee, fingers fiddling with the fabric and one another. Bunching up the fabric at the end of his pant, he pushes up the lax fabric up and over his knee, where a pink and slightly faded surgical scar paints the inner side of his knee. Your hand clasps over your mouth once met with the scar, and your heart fills with admiration as you see him trace his healed gash with sentimentality. Bringing your linked hands to rest on your knee, you prop your cheek against it while looking at him, sparkling eyes encouraging him to continue.

“I couldn’t play anymore after that, not with the same vigour I had before. Suddenly I had to go back to class regularly and didn’t have to do any sort of reps just so I don’t fall behind on my weekly plan. My schedule had more free time than anything, and so I had enough time to get to thinking; what if I hadn’t misstepped? Would I have won? But I knew that all of that thinking wouldn’t do me any good. So when I was watching the Olympics months later, I remember seeing the camera pan onto the coaches, and how happy they were to see their student playing. I missed the joy of playing for the thrill and adrenaline of moving around, and so I thought, why not become a coach?” Understanding fills you as you realise why Jisung is going through all this effort of attending a class that he’s exponentially overqualified for. His cheeks go red as he realises your gaze settling over his figure, now looking away from you and onto the still water.

You can’t help it, you find it simply so endearing that he’s set his time into achieving something to allow people to have fun with badminton. Feeling overwhelmed with affection from his story and words and actions, you lean over and place a peck on to his cheek.

The contact was brief, as your lips barely took in the smoothness of his skin before you’re coming back with a start. “Oh my god, Jisung. That’s so cute, you’re generous and you’re going out of your way to do such good things, and you didn't deserve to go through that at such a young age—” Your words were smushed together as you barely reach the end of your sentence, the cause being Jisung’s big hands gently attacking your cheeks at once. His wide eyes stare straight at yours as his colder hands warm against the puff of your cheeks; and you are seconds away from voicing your confusion before you see his gaze settling on your pouted lips, glistening and redder from the ice cream.

You couldn’t even smile teasingly at him, as his hands refrain you from doing so. The nervous adrenaline running in your vein might be another reason too, but you don’t get to ponder on that for long before you see Jisung’s tilted head leaning closer, hooded eyes glancing at your eyes before focusing back on your lips, wanting to imprint it’s cute pouted shape.

The warmth of his lips lands on your cold ones, sending a wave of warmth to wash over you. You can feel his desire through the pressure of his lips against you, his soft lips fitting over yours lovingly. You mourn the loss as soon as Jisung pulls back, but not for long before he presses another close-mouthed kiss, this time with his hand tilting your head the other way, fingers slipping and cupping your jaw gently. Your stomach warms as you feel the fervour within Jisung, from the tip of his cold fingers on your heated cheeks to the push of his body towards you, wanting to get closer with each passing second.

When he pulls back, his eyes are clouded with the haze of your kiss and a bit of timidity. Your giggle bubbles between you, causing him to smile along with you, his shyness catching up. Not wanting his hand to stray far as they fall from your face, you clasp at his palm and lace your fingers, pulling down to get his face closer to yours, placing a peck at his nose first, scrunched from being bashful, and then one on his lips. And another, and another, then it’s him who’s leaning in and slotting his lips against yours, and you’re pulling your linked hands behind your back and let go, opting to slot your hand behind his neck.

After two, three, and four more kisses to the cheek, forehead and lips, you tuck your head into the junction of his shoulder and neck, feeling shy from doing all of this in public. Jisung’s laugh is sweet to your ears, hands rubbing up and down your back before brushing at the ends of your hair.

“Give a warning next time round, will you?” You tease as you pull back, hand falling on his forearms, eyes looking everywhere but at his.

“Sorry, you just looked too cute. I felt this sudden urge to either bite you or kiss you,”

You pull back even more, hands coming up to shield yourself in mock reservation. “I don’t know if I should be thankful you chose the second option or fear for when the first option will happen,”

Jisung hums, “Maybe both?”

Your pinkies are linked as you walk along the river, basking in each other's presence as you talk, shoulders brushing every now and then. It’s when you’re both childishly debating about who had fallen first when Jisung suddenly points his finger at you accusingly.

“Is that why you forgot your towel?” His question comes out more genuine than anything, as he tilts his head quickly in thought. With a light gasp, you smack at his shoulder before your arm falls back and crosses on your shoulders, scandalised. “I didn’t!”

“Was that how you were gonna seduce me? By forgetting your towel and having me bring it to you? What was next, you wanted me to lotion your legs for you too?” You can tell he’s teasing this time around, as his tongue pokes at his cheek ever so slightly to withhold the grin that was blooming across his features.

You point your finger at him, catching on. “You probably distracted me with your whole ‘which bottle of shampoo’ debacle just to make me forget it.” Poking at his chest with eyes squinted in suspicion, “You wanted to see me naked on the first date? That’s not very decorum of you.”

Jisung scoffs and rolls his eyes at your accusation, shoulders squaring to better defend himself. “I don’t need to go through all of that just to get to you,” He throws you a quick glance from the corner of his eye, a rush of giddiness washing over him with the look of your flustered expression.

“You’re right,” This time, you’re looking at his lips as you say this, catching Jisung off-guard with your compliance. Moving closer, you rest your hands on his arms, pushing yourself up and closer to his body, chests brushing. Your voice, barely above a whisper, brushes against his ear, “It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get to me, baby.”

You know the smile on your face is menacing if Jisung’s gaze on you is anything to go by, partly annoyed and part timid. Ghosting one of your hands down his arm, you slip your fingers in between his and give them a squeeze, giggling as you swing your arm back a forth a bit like a school couple.

Jisung’s next sentence takes a bit of effort to say if his demeanour is anything to go by. With his gaze settled on your intertwined hands and a slightly open mouth— as if to say something, you give his hand another gentle squeeze to encourage him.

The gleam in his eyes looks more assured as he straightens his posture and looks directly into your eyes, giving your hand a squeeze back. “Do you wanna go back to mine?”

Leaning in, you give another peck on his cheek, his scent pleasantly wafting through your nose. “I’d love to,”

You can feel the tension grow with the sound of the door closing and sounding its locking chime, toeing off your shoes as you look up at Jisung. He reaches out a hand towards you once you straighten up, pulling you close and guiding you towards the door of his bedroom.

Like the rest of the house, Jisung’s room is clean but still spotted with signs of use, with his desk having papers and laptop wires strewn around while a plethora of empty hangers are placed at the foot of his closet. As he sits on the bed, with his hand still holding yours, he tugs you forward, his free hand going to your thigh, clasping above your knee.

His eyes glisten as he looks up at you, “This okay?” his touch ghosts on you as he asks this. You nod your head, wanting him to touch you, needing him to touch you more. His fingers grow bolder and heavier in weight, as his hand clasps at the back of your thigh, bending your leg and resting it next to his thigh. Understanding his movements, you follow suit, settling yourself on his thighs with your linked hands resting on his stomach. He leans in and presses a soft kiss against you, easing in with feathery light touches. The slot of your mouths against each other starts a small fire in your stomach, as you push yourself onto him more, needing him to know that you crave more.

He sighs against your lips as you settle down more, the pressure not far from where he wants it the most. He kisses you feverishly, the smack of your lips growing louder with each plant of his lips. His touches grow heavier as his fingers go from grazing against your knees to tracing lines up your thighs, barely a touch away from settling under the seem of your skirt. Knitting your fingers in his hair, his hand flies to your love handles, squeezing them in an attempt to ground himself. A sigh leaves his lips when you separate just the slightest bit, taking a breather as you kiss the corner of his lips, hands falling from the ends of his hair down to his collarbones and at the bottom of his shirt. Your spread your fingers on the skin of his stomach, nails skimming ever so slightly making Jisung’s breath hitch, his stomach tensing under your touch, eyes still closed as he takes in your touch, his stomach knotting from finally being able to do this with you.

With his grip already tight on your waist, he maneuvers you off his lap and sits you on his bed, crawling between your legs, making you open them and welcome him in as you lie down on his bed. He kisses you again, his hands now staking claim everywhere he can, pushing your shirt up to your ribs, fingers grazing against your bud form under your bra before he brings his hands down and kneads at your thighs.

“Jisung,” You sigh when he swipes his tongue against your lips. He takes your tongue in his mouth, humming against it at your call, its vibration sending hot waves down your body. His touches on your body take you higher, but you need more.

And so you say just as much, “More, give me more.”

“Fuck,” He sighs against your lip, “Yeah? Okay, I’ll give you more, anything for you,” Pressing one last peck against your lip, you see his body slide down your figure, his fingers going to unhook your bra as you arch your back. He groans at the sight of your breasts free from your bra. “I love your tits, so much,” His hands are big against you, but they fit perfectly against the cup of your breasts, squeezing them together as he smothers himself against your cleavage. He licks a stripe of each bud, before focusing on your left one with his mouth, tongue lapping around the swell as he sucks, opting to circle his fingers on your other tit before pinching it harshly, making you keen against him.

You rake your fingers in his hair, petting him. “Such a good boy, you make me feel so good,” Your words make him whine against your breast, making his hip stutter against the mattress, for some sort of friction. He releases one hand from cupping your breasts, opting to use one hand while his now free hand dances its way down your torso, unzipping your skirt and taking it off, before meeting the seam of your panties. With his pointer finger, he hovers a line ever so slightly on your slit, eyes wide as he glances at the pleasure breaking out on your face and the wetness of your underwear spreading.

He keeps his touch light, drawing circles on your clit through the fabric of your underwear, frustrating you. You huff when he uses the point of his fingers and presses the slightest amount into your hole, the fabric refraining you from feeling his direct touch. You pull at his hair that’s winded through your fingers, urging him on; he moans at the pull, getting the memo once he looks up at your face with an eye squeezed closed from pain or pleasure. Or both.

He licks at your entrance briefly through your panties, the heat and wetness making you moan, before his fingers finally fit themselves into the seam, sliding them down your legs. You feel more than see his gaze on your core, hooded eyes watching it squeeze around nothing as his fingers tease around it. He comes back up to you and presses his lips against yours, lips slotting together briefly before you feel his thumb rub against your sensitive nub, his middle finger prodding at your hole, eyes watching your face as he pushes the pad of his finger against you. You keen when his finger fills you, as he pushes his finger back and forth, his thumb following by pressing into your clit and pulling away rhythmically. He brings his head against your neck, licking a stripe against you before his teeth catch on your skin, lips wrapping themselves around you straight after, sucking into you before parting and finding another part of your skin to taint. He quickens his pace with his one finger, but it’s not enough, you can barely get enough of him.

Hugging his head that’s still tucked at your neck, you scratch at his scalp soothingly before pulling at strands of his hair. “Jisung,” You pant, “Another one, fill me up, please,”

“You want more?” He bites at your jaw lightly, before he pecks your lips lovingly, as if he isn’t trying to have you come undone with his fingers alone. You nod your head, “Please, I’ve been good, haven’t I?” You beg as your cup the side of his face, your eyes looking at his blown-out pupils, probably no different than yours.

Jisung gronas at your words. “You’ve been so good, such a good girl.” He pulls his finger out so just the tip of it hangs onto your gaping hole, before he joins in another finger, two fingers now filling you. You whimper out a thank you, hands clutching at his shoulders as he picks up the pace, hand now slapping against your cunt, fingers curling inside your sopping pussy. Your body feels like it’s floating and coiling into itself all at once, with Jisung’s unrelenting fingers contrasting his gentle pecks and scrape of teeth against your skin. Every few thrusts and squeeze against his fingers have his hips grind down, sometimes grazing against your leg, making you feel his hard-on.

You bring your hand down from his shoulder, curling it at the bottom of his shirt before tugging at it, mumbling the word off. He pulls back slightly and pulls his shirt off with his free hand while you help with getting it over his head. You scratch your nails against the lines of his stomach, eliciting a hiss out of his before you palm at the outline of his cock through his sweatpants. “You listen so well, don't you? Always doing your best,” You pant out, testing the waters as you tuck the tips of your finger under his waistband. His moan comes out higher in pitch with your words, hips jutting forward and into your touch.

“Good for you,” he breathes against your cheek, eyes squeezed shut at the brush of your fingers against his clothed cock, muttering another fuck under his breath, rutting into your palm for more.

You’re losing your patience, as Jisung speeds up his hand even more, the pleasure bordering with pain from his pace and harsher bites Jisung plants on you, too far gone with pleasuring you to be mindful of his strength.

You can feel your orgasm reaching, breath hitching and your stomachs coil tightening further and further. You wrap your hand around Jisung’s wrist, slowing him down slowly before prodding them out of you. You whine at the emptiness briefly but are soothed when Jisung plants wet kisses against your collarbone. You push yourself up onto your shoulders, making Jisung shuffle back slightly in order to not lose touch with you, Reaching over, you dig through your bag and pull out a condom, shaking it between your bodies to bring Jisung’s attention to it.

The sound of the plastic wrapper catches his gaze, “You’re gonna let me put it in?” He grabs the packet from your hand before gently pushing you back down. He kisses you again, seeming to not get enough, as he pushes his pants and boxers down in one go, his tip smacking against the soft lines of his stomach and leaving a glisten. The rip of the packet sounds before he rolls it on, and you shift closer when you feel the tip of his cock lined up with your pussy.

The sheets ruffle around you as Jisung comes down and places a kiss on your cheek before looking into your eyes. “Ready?” He asks, and with a nod of your head, you feel him slowly ease himself into you. The stretch feels amazing, as you both moan into each other mouths, your hands squeezing and wandering everywhere around Jisung’s shoulders, back, torso.

Jisung sighs, “Fuck,” His grip on your waist tightens, the pressure turning you on even more, squeezing around his cock. “You feel so good, so tight,”

“Fuck, Jisung,” You groan out as he quickens his pace, the sound of his hips slapping against your skin picking up. “Fuck, you’re doing so well. Stretching me out so good,” Jisung throws his head back, eyes squeezing shut at the pulse of your pussy around his member. He looks back down, wanting to see the join of your bodies, pulling out till his tip, before ramming himself back in, losing himself to the blissful feeling.

The knot in your stomach tightens. “Jisung, I’m close—” You’re cut off by your own moan as Jisung starts rubbing at your clit again, building a rhythm to his thrusts into you.

“Yeah? Fuck, let go baby,” He grunts as he bends down, his cock twitching inside of you as he kisses your lips before tucking his head back into your neck, lapping at your skin as he keeps up his speed with his fingers on your clit and his thrusts inside you. Your body curls up as your orgasm crashes into you, hands hugging at Jisung’s shoulders tighter as your thighs squeeze around his hips, keeping him in your pulsing core. Panting, you release your grip from his hip, bringing your leg down and patting Jisung’s head, wanting to kiss him again.

As he pulls away from you, you lean up and plant a kiss on his lips, chest bursting with the affection you feel while coming down. Jisung pulls his cock out from you, going slow as to not overwhelm you. He pulls off his condom, not having cum yet as his cock smacks against his stomach, the precum from the tip joining the light sheen of sweat covering his body. He fists his hand around his cock, tugging and pumping himself to a finish. You’re too spent to give him a helping hand, but you decide you haven’t spent your mouth enough.

“Pretty boy, you’re doing so well,” He hunches over your body at your words. “Looks so good fisting your own cock like that,”

“Fuck,” He groans, “If you keep going I’m gonna—”

“Cum baby, make a mess on me,” You run your hand up his thigh, before pulling up and grabbing at his hair and combing through the strands. His moan comes out high pitched as his hips stutter into his fist, before a spurt of come shoots out and lands on your stomach. He twists his fist around the head of his cock as he milks it out, before heaving a sigh and slumping down, placing a kiss on your shoulder before he lies by your side, cupping his body into yours. You continue running your hand in his hair as he settles on your shoulder, his cheek poking out which makes you poke at it. A giggle is shared as the giddiness of you two being together in the moment settles in, and when you go to place a kiss at his forehead, you’re reminded of the wetness of sweat all over your body and the slowly drying cum on your stomach.

“Oh, let me go get something,” He gets up and goes to his bathroom, coming back with a few paper towels and a wet cloth. Rubbing down your spent body, he pats you dry with the paper towel before putting them away and plopping down next to you, wrapping his arm around you and tucking himself close.

“I didn’t know you were the cuddly type,” You say as you hug at his shoulders, hands rubbing up and down as a faux massage.

“Well, I mean, I can let go?” Jisung’s nervous front grows again, as he goes to put some distance between the two of you. But before he could get far, you wrap your arms tighter around his shoulder as you hook your leg around his, stopping him from pulling away.

“I never said it was bad; I like this girlfriend bonus.” Jisung’s hair bounces as he pops his head up to look at you.

“Girlfriend bonus? Does that mean you’re my girlfriend now?”

“Only if you agree to my boyfriend bonuses,” You shrug. He laughs as he places his head back on your shoulder. “What are these so-called ‘boyfriend bonuses’ of yours?” You tap at your chin mockingly as you think.

“You can fuck my boobs next time?” You shrug again. His head whips up faster this time ‘round.

“Are you serious? Don’t joke about it, because if you are I won’t be—” You smack your hands on his cheeks, squeezing his lips into a pout. His shoulders slump at your attempt of shutting him up, eyebrows drooping as he gazes at you, making you laugh at his expression as you squish his cheeks repeatedly.

“Okay, good job guys, take a water break.” Coach Son claps, as everyone shuffles to their bags and grab at their bottles. Jisung’s elbow brushes against yours as he grabs his bottle from his bag next to yours, taking a few light sips before he places it down, looking at you with his cheeks full of water. It takes all his might to not spit the water out as you elbow him back and raise your fingers tauntingly, moving closer as if you’re about to tickle him.

Before you can successfully begin your quest, Coach lets out a sound as to gather you guys back ‘round, clapping his hands twice before waving you guys in.

“Since we’re coming to the end of the semester and you guys have proved to work really hard, I’m gonna conduct one last test to see how much your levels have changed since the beginning of the semester!”

“Oh my god,” You whisper out to Jisung as your hand cups your mouth, wide eyes looking at his as his eyebrows raise in surprise. This could finally be the moment that you can prove yourself, advancing onto a higher level to have an overall better ranking.

“Who wants to go first?” Jaemin steps up and raises his hand, confidently wanting to prove his skills.

He plays a round with the coach, showing signs of trying his best and knowing how to play, but his reaction speed comes a bit too late as he misses the shuttles by a step. Sometimes two. Sometimes he mixes up his left from his right, but that’s just occasionally. Minji and Ryujin play a round each, and show good improvement throughout the semester.

“You should go next,” Jisung leans into as he whispers, both of your gazes settled on the coach and Ryujin going back and forth with clears being delivered. Your blood rushes quicker at the thought of playing an official round, thinking of all the mistakes you can make that would cost you.

Sensing your nerves, Jisung places his hand on yours, grabbing it before giving the palm of your hand soothing rubs. “To help with the nerves,” He says when you look at your joint hands questioningly.

“Alright, next player?” Giving your hand a light squeeze, Jisung lets go and ushers you forward onto the court, as you raise your hand slightly, grabbing at your racket once Coach nods you in.

Arranging yourself, you pick up the shuttle left at your side and get into your serve position. You hit the shuttle and serve, commencing the game. You are able to reciprocate most of coach’s deliveries, stepping left and right when needed and angling your racket to optimise your own delivery, but it’s when you’re halfway through the game with Coach Son’s and your score being eleven and ten respectively, coach starts playing with a more advanced method. The drops become more frequent, catching you off guard as you have to run from the back to the front of the court in order to make it to the shuttle, as well as the clears going in different angles making you almost trip a few times as you attempt to make it to them.

Jisung has his fist at his mouth as he watches you from the side, with everyone else in awe at how quickly you’re moving compared to the last time they played officially.

“How did she get so good?” Haechan questions with his hand pressed on his racket. The whole class shifts their head from left to right at the sidelines as they watch you battling it out with their coach, the shuttle relentlessly being delivered with neither of you wanting to lose touch of it.

“It’s the perks she gets for having an almost professional-level badminton player of a boyfriend.” Ryujin’s smile is devoid of any callousness, patting at Jisung’s shoulder as she says this. Jisung can feel his cheeks grow red as he splutters into his sleeve, hiding his flustered expression as the rest of them shout out their reactions.

“All credit goes to her, she’s just a diligent student.”

“I can be diligent too,” Jaemin bats his lashes as he leans in from Jisung’s other side, but flinches and clutches at his shoulder when Soojin smacks him.

Back on the court, you’re starting to lose your breath when Coach delivers another serve to the back of the court, shuttle going straight as you attempt to create enough distance to successfully hit back. As he does a clear delivery, you position yourself at the back fo the court in order to meet his hit, before quickly centring yourself, preparing for his next move. From a steady pattern of his serves growing in your head, you were more than ready to reciprocate his short hit of the shuttle near the net, as you step forward and hit back.

Usually, you would’ve stumbled to hit the shuttle back at maximum velocity, sending it flying up and giving Coach more than enough time to think of his next move. But from your extra hours of playing with Jisung, you’re picked up the knack of delivering a short end with another short end, making the shuttle travel only the slightest bit over the net and plummeting down into the court. Coach Son is caught off guard when you do this, but his reflexes from years of practise kicks in, and before he could process his actions, he delivers a lob, sending the shuttle high in the air. Jisung gasps from the sidelines, making everyone alert.

He calls out your name, “Smash! Do a smash!”

With your eye settled on the descending shuttle, you think back to the one class you had with Jisung.

“You hit a clear when the shuttle can meet your hand at twelve o’clock. You have to wait for it to drop to the same level that you’re hand would be at a ten o’clock position to be able to deliver a smash; but remember that you have to keep going with your delivery until your hand reaches six o’clock.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

You’re still not sure what he meant, but with the fall of the shuttle, you’re not really at the privilege of recalling things for a long amount of time.

Positioning your hand at the first base, you wait for the shuttle to be at least a few inches from your head before you reach out, smacking at the shuttle and aiming at the bottom of the court. Coach, who was ready for you to hit the shuttle to the back of the court like you usually do, was not ready for the shuttle which was arriving at a quick pace. In a blink, the shuttle lands just past his ankles, and you’ve officially scored a point.

“Jisung!” You scream once the shuttle lands, looking at your boyfriend who was staring intently at your match. A look of victory glows across his face as his mouth drops in disbelief, eyebrows raised and fists clenched, over the moon at what you had just accomplished.

“I smashed! I did it! I smashed so hard oh my god, I think my arms gonna fall off,” The game is far from done for you to be celebrating like this, but you’re without care when the rest of the class cheers for you, Minji running up to you to give you a hug. You both start jumping with giddy while the rest join in, all while the coach looks at your huddled bunch with a smile on his face.

“This is Juda and this one is Chenle.”

“Why’d you talk about me as if I was a dog?”

“Because you are,” Juda shrugs before she plucks out a Yakult bottle from the packet in her hand, swingin it above Chenle’s face. “Who wants a treat? You do! Who’s a good boy?”

“Nice to . . . meet you guys too?” Jisung’s wave hangs mid air as he looks at Chenle slowly shift from a expressionless face to enthusiastically nodding his head up and down, wanting the drink.

“What did I tell you? You’ll fit just right in with us,” You link your arm through Jisung’s elbow, pulling him into your shared house with Juda before sitting him down on the couch. Juda and Chenle follow after, with the latter having his own bottle open and already emptied halfway. Juda offers Jisung yakult bottle, and goes to pick up the remote, going through the movies to put something on. You quickly grab a few snacks from the kitchen and come back, settling yourself right next to Jisung, leaving no space between the both of you.

“Wait,” Chenle turns to look at you from his positon on the ground, grimacing a bit at the sight of you two cuddled up, before continuing. “What happened with the new ranking then?” Your smile is shy when you look at him and Juda looking back at you expectantly.

“I got into group B.”

“YES!” Chenle whoops, grabbing Juda and shaking her by the shoulders. “No more whining and complaining and whinging about the class!” You chuckle as you cheer alongside him, with Jisung looking at your interactions with raised eyebrows.

Laughing, you tuck yourself into his side, linking your arms again as you rest your head on his shoulder. With Juda and Chenle bickering about settling on what movie to watch, you press a quick kiss on his cheek in appreciation.

“I couldn’t have done it without you,” You smile at him, to which he grins shyly at. “Even though I lost, the smash pulled me through. Your smashing abilities were so flawless that even I, a young duckling was able to smash through,”

“Okay, thank you for the compliment but maybe don’t say how good my smashing abilities are—”

“You just smash so hard and so well—”

“Please—”

“Jisung the smash master!”

if you liked this, dont be afraid to tell me !

#park jisung x reader #jisung x reader #nct jisung #park jisung smut #park jisung fluff #nct dream smut #nct jisung fluff #nct jisung x reader #nct jisung smut

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goldyeokki · 10 months

Text

𝐒𝐄𝐗𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐃𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐄𝐒 ¹⁸⁺

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄: smau, smut

꒰ ♡ ꒱ 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: [rj] sir kink, use of vibrator ♡ [jn] use of dildo ♡ [dh] implied exhibitionism and overstimulation, mating press ♡ [jm] dom/sub dynamics ♡ [cl] wet dream, a little dubcon-y, oral (cl receiving) ♡ [js] dom/sub dynamics

꒰ 💬 ꒱ 𝐇𝐔𝐀'𝐒 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐄. i'd like to preface this by sharing that i haven't sexted in a long while bc both men and women are disappointing here where i live. i did my best for my darling bestie ♡ (⸝⸝ᵕᴗᵕ⸝⸝)

thank you for reading! if you enjoyed it, i would love to hear feedback from you via comments, reblogs, or in my ask box. check out my other works here if you wanna read more from me! ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡

#nct dream smut #nct smut #mark lee smut #renjun smut #jeno smut #donghyuck smut #haechan smut #jaemin smut #chenle smut #nct jisung smut #park jisung smut #h.smut #h.socmed #h.dream #hua writes

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taexoxosgf · 4 months

Text

THIS DECEMBER

PAIRING park jisung x fem!reader | ft. friendgroup!nct dream

WORDS 5k

SYNOPSIS Your horny friends try to pull a little prank on you in the days leading up to Christmas. One thing Park Jisung likes to remind them is: he totally doesn’t want any part in it. Except, he totally does.

WARNINGS smut, ANGST, fluff, lots of dialogue, vag fingering, unprotected sex, creampie, vanilla vanilla vanilla, they're in love basically

NOTES I have to admit, this isn’t my best work lolllllll. though this was supposed to be posted on christmas, this can be my new years gift! 2024 here we come babyyy

★ Part of A Dreamy Christmas Collab!

“Why don’t we all be her secret Santa?”

“What are you talking about?” Jaemin chuckles, eyes dancing as he seems intrigued by the idea. But what pervades his mind was nothing like what Donghyuck was about to propose.

“Think about it…” he trails. “She used to say, if it’s an SOS, and we need help in that department,” he points to his crotch– “She would help us out.”

“You’re fucking crazy,” Jisung rolls his eyes when he catches on to Hyuck’s sudden idea.

“So you’re saying we all get her a present?” Chenle asks.

“Yes… But we all have to give her the same… present,” he walks between each of the men like a devil hovering over their shoulders.

“Hyuck, just get to the point,” Jeno huffs.

“Okay, bu–”

“No ‘buts!’ Get to your point,” Renjun groans.

“The gift we’re giving her can’t be put into a shitty little box.”

“Oh my god, NO!” Mark whines.

“What’s so wrong with a little fun?”

“Are you seriously suggesting an… orgy?”

“No, you idiot,” Hyuck pinches his nose bridge. “Let’s all give her our present one by one leading up to Christmas… Like an advent calendar,” he shrugs, unable to hide the pride beaming off of him from the simile.

“So you’re suggesting we all have sex with her in the days leading up to Christmas? Am I hearing this right?” Jaemin intervenes once more, orbs gleaming with interest.

“Ding Ding! We have a winner!”

“Jisung’s right. You’ve gone insane,” Renjun fully laughs.

“You know I’m insane, and that’s why we have fun. But you know what? Let’s make this more interesting… When we tell her after Christmas, the person who she says is her best fuck, get’s her secret Santa present,” Hyuck smirks. “You know she goes all out.”

“I’m in, but it might be hard for Mark because he’s actually in love with her,” Jaemin turns his body towards his friend who avoids eye contact before offering a retort.

“Why just me? You guys are all in love with her!” His claim is met with a group of huffs and groans.

“How do you know she’ll even agree to this?” Jeno points out, earning a nod from the others.

“She doesn’t have to if she doesn’t want to. If she does, then great! Amazing even! But if she doesn’t, then man, I feel kinda bad because we all got a thing for her.” Hyuck accepts the facts of the predicament. “Hopefully we can laugh about this on New Years.”

“I don’t. I guess I’m the only one,” the youngest of the group speaks out but it’s not taken seriously by his older friends as a fit of laughter echoes within the small space.

Hyuck’s the first one to speak– placing a hand on Jisung’s shoulder, “You’re the worst out of all of us.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You guys always bicker and talk shit but I know all you want to do is rip each other’s clothes off,” Jeno jumps in. “Nice try though. I almost believed it.”

“I’m not! She’s annoying as hell!”

“So annoying you want to fuck it out of her, right?” Jaemin joins.

“You guys are jumping me right now, I’m leaving,” Jisung excuses himself earning a look of victory from his friends.

“Wait! So you agree to it, right? Jisung?! Hello?” Chenle and Renjun yell out in unison, but the only reply heard is the slam of a door.

“You’re serious about this Hyuck?” Mark asks one last time.

“No, but this is just so those two kids will finally admit they’re down bad for each other. I think this will be their breaking point.”

“Damn,” all the other boys yell in unison.

“I know right? Someone needs to hire me for something! I don’t know for what, but something!” he crosses his arms to bask in his actions.

“Yeah, yeah,” Mark laughs at his friend. “You’re so dumb.”

“Just wait and see. He won’t make it to Christmas…”

Everyone is being… weird.

On the very first day of December, you and all your friends come together to pick a name out of a jar. The game of Secret Santa is an annual tradition you love partaking in. But once the weather dropped thirty degrees, all the boys started acting shady. They were canceling plans with you on purpose, avoiding eye contact when you spoke to any one of them, and just running away the first chance they got. It was easy to get mad, even call them out for it, but the replies would always be the same– that there was nothing wrong or they were just tired.

And you’re not going to lie, it was starting to make your skin crawl. The sudden shift in dynamic between you and the boys has you wondering if you did something wrong. But if they were trying to pull something, then they had another thing coming. It was frustrating, trying to shake it out of them in every way possible, but no one would budge.

December eighth rolls around and you know everyone is free today because you all collectively promised Sunghoon that every year until the day you die, this day will always be open for him. It’s always an annual trip to the snowy mountains– a secluded cabin and powdery snow that’s fit for snowboarding. Surprisingly, but not so surprisingly, everyone’s busy up until the car ride to the cabin.

Their persistent avoidance, even for an event like this, just pulls on the strings even harder.

You’re leaning against the island of the kitchen, glaring into their souls from across the room as the music's bass reverberates throughout the warm cabin; and the bitter liquid in your plastic cup disappears like water down a drain.

“Why are you standing here all by yourself?”

You turn to the voice, sporting a grin once you realize who it is. “Hey, birthday boy. Just glaring at the boys. Don’t know if they notice though,” you squint a little harder, hoping they’ll finally notice.

Sunghoon’s orbs follow the seven of them scattered around the living room. “They notice alright. I’m sure they’ll come crawling back when they realize you don’t play.”

“Oh, they know I don’t. But they’re still gonna try anyway,” you let out a heavy sigh. “I just wish I knew what they’re up to. It’s killing me.”

“Just ask Jisung.”

“Why Jisung?” The mention of your friend’s name causes the subject of your orbs to shift to him, but he’s already looking your way. When you make eye contact, he hurriedly glances away, confirming the suspicion that something’s up.

“I feel like whatever they’re planning, he’s telling them he doesn’t want to do it.”

“Why is that so detailed? Do you know what they’re up to? Spill right now!”

Sunghoon shakes his head in denial, raising the cup to his lips before responding. “Nah, you guys are always going at it. That’s all. It’s just a hunch.”

“Fine, maybe I will. But I was gonna do it anyway.”

You’re already making your way towards Jisung when Sunghoon blurbs out. “If it doesn’t work, I’m always available.”

“You wish, Park.” But you stop in your tracks. “Wait, what?”

Sunghoon walks off in a hurry, “Nothing! Had to try at least once!”

Rolling your eyes at the birthday boy, you finally make your way to your destination but all seven of your friends go completely mute once you reach it. There’s not a sound emitting from them, and it practically forces smoke out of your ears.

“Okay, what’s going on?”

“What do you mean?” Jeno murmurs.

“You guys have been ignoring me ever since December started! Spill your evil plans right now!”

“Nothing’s going on,” Chenle adds, but it’s met with a crack of his voice at the final word, and you know one hundred percent they're lying.

“Haechan! I know you’re the mastermind,” you turn to your friend, but all he does is shrug, eyes still looking everywhere but yours as he nonchalantly sips from his drink.

“Nothing whatsoever. We’ve just been busy that’s all,” Jisung speaks out, but you chuckle, knowing he’ll eventually give in if you press him hard enough.

“Of course, you’re a part of this! Sunghoon told me you weren’t, but I doubted him as soon as those words left his mouth!”

“What is that supposed to mean?” Jisung’s tone changes, as if he’s warning you.

“That little shithead!” Jaemin groans.

“I knew it!” you exclaim.

“What did he tell you?” Renjun interrupts.

“Nothing, just what I said before.”

“Nothing is going on. You don’t believe us?” Jisung is still firm on his decision to make you believe otherwise. With that stupid smirk he’s trying to hide and how his form influences you to shift back.

“Of course, you’re still on that even though Jaemin just admitted you guys are planning something! You’re the worst!”

“And you’re a dumbass,” Jisung mumbles once you turn away.

“Look who’s fucking talking,” you don’t realize you’re stepping closer at every syllable exchanged and you don’t know why your friend loves to push your buttons so much.

“You always say I’m the worst and then you come right back. I don’t think you hate me as much as you say you do,” Jisung’s eyes glimmer with a playfulness to them, closing the space between the two of you as the bickering reaches its climax. But his words only fuel your rage.

At this point, you can only see red.

All you do with Jisung is bicker or fight about stupid shit. Your friendship with the other boys is the glue that holds you and Jisung together. No one could guess that you met all the boys through him. You both had been friends with benefits long ago— practically another lifetime. But you’d jump off a cliff before admitting that the shards of glass remain. And that it still cuts.

It’s impossible to act like everything is fine and you both can get along. So instead, you fight and fight until no more words can be said.

“Ooooo,” you hear Jeno say, reminding you you’re still in a place full of swarming bodies.

“What about you? You either hate me or you love me. It can’t be both,” you mutter, condemning yourself as you catch a glimpse of his lips hovering above yours. You're both staring one another down, and you notice the same vein on the side of his temple, and his jaw clenches with each phrase that escapes your lips.

“Watch it,” Jisung seethes.

“What? If you wanna play this game, let’s pla—“

“Okay! Enough of this,” Hyuck groans before dragging the both of you by the wrist and out of the main room.

“What are you doing Hyuck?” you urgently inquire, but he doesn’t reply. He only hurriedly rushes along, throwing you both into a bedroom you don’t recognize. And as you rush to escape the enclosed space, your friend shuts the door in front of your face– leaving you with your hands practically clawing at the door.

“Lee Donghyuck! Open the fucking door right now!” you yell out, unable to comprehend how your friend could think this was a solution. “Open the door before I beat your ass!”

“He’s not going to open the door,” Jisung reminds you of his presence amidst the chaos. “Not until the morning.”

“What?! No. No. No. This is not happening right now.”

“Let’s just sleep. So when we wake up, we can just get outta here.”

You scan the room, realizing there’s nothing for you to rest on except the bed in the center– the one Jisung is currently sitting on. “You think I can fall asleep with everything that’s going on? And I don’t even know what’s going on,” you’re shifting awkwardly, habitually rocking yourself on the heel of your feet following the eye of the storm.

“Just sleep. It’ll be over soon,” Jisung already makes himself comfy, placing his legs under the covers and rearranging the pillow to his liking. He’s too calm. Way too calm for what just occurred.

“Where am I supposed to sleep?”

“I don’t know, figure it out,” he mumbles, lids already fluttering shut. You hate how you admire how long his eyelashes are.

His eagerness to ignore the dilemma influences you to the bed to pry his lids open. As Jisung opens his eyes willingly, you finally take notice of how close you both are. His eyes widen at the proximity and he shifts back to the edge of the bed in surprise. You’re caught off guard because there seems to be something lingering in the air between the two of you. And you brush it off because you know it’s annoyance.

“Just sleep,” he softly lets out before returning to his original position. “Next to me.”

His softness in these last words has you admitting some defeat– realizing fighting won’t solve anything. “Fine.”

There are still zero answers that will satisfy your scrambled mind.

And you’re trapped in a room with someone you can’t stand for more than five minutes.

It’ll be over soon. Right?

You’re fucking drenched.

As the daze of sleep washes over, you notice the stickiness between your thighs. And not the good kind.

It felt as if you just entered the fiery pits of hell.

“What the fuck?” you whine. The air was so humid, you were practically suffocating. And as you turn to the side, you see an irritated Jisung. If you thought you looked gross, Jisung didn’t have a dry spot on his clothing.

You try your hardest not to stare at the clothing sticking to his abs. This is not the time.

“Don’t,” he warns, thinking you’re about to poke fun at him.

You chuckle at the sight of his discomfort, offering a half-assed apology. “Sorry.”

“Lee Donghyuck! Turn off the fucking heater!” he yells out, but there’s no answer.

“Fuck. We’re going to die.”

“I’m not dying here with you. That’s not how I’m going out.”

“Is that so bad? Chill the fuck out,” you roll your eyes.

“Yes it is! I’m gonna kick the door down and beat Donghyuck’s ass.”

You don’t know if it’s the unbearable heat, or the constant fucking attitude from Jisung all night. Maybe it was the pent-up frustration from all the other times you both didn’t get along. But you’ve decided enough is enough.

“What’s your fucking problem?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re always so fucking mad at me. I do nothing and you’re mad. I breathe and you’re mad. It pisses me off! At this point, I should be the one giving you the attitude you give me!”

“And you know what? I always cared what you thought. But not anymore. I’m done caring so pretend I don’t even exist,” your heart is beating out of your chest as the words spill out like vomit.

“That’s no–” Jisung’s unable to finish his sentence when suddenly his orbs follow your fingertips gripping the hem of your top to bring over your head– leaving you in a bra. “Wha-”

“It’s hot as shit and I’m not going to suffer. Do what you want,” you huff, continuing with the removal of your jeans. You notice Jisung's stare lingering on your contours as you eventually pull them off, and it appears as if a million different things are running through his mind when he suddenly glances away and shakes his head.

You’re not going to lie, it’s amusing seeing Jisung’s usual persona falter. Your boldness and the situation it creates masks the uncomfortable predicament the two of you are in. “It’s not like you haven’t seen me like this before.”

“What did you mean by ‘you used to care about what I thought?’” He swallows nervously.

His words have you stopping in your tracks, not realizing your words were true candor. “Nothing, I was just saying nonsense,” is all you can render as you make your way to the bed, but Jisung beats you to it, grabbing your wrist to prevent you from escaping.

“Tell me. Please. I know it wasn’t nonsense,” his voice is like syrup, the usual bite to it completely gone.

You turn to face him, though you regret it the moment you notice how his eyes match his voice. “Well, I cared what you thought because of what we did before we all became friends. And us… Or whatever we are. I don’t know what we are now but I cared about you and what you thought about me.”

“Cared?”

“I still do…”

“Then why do we fight?”

“I don’t know. I guess you hate me so I just returned that energy.”

“I don’t hate you,” he sounds hurt, the similar bite of his voice attempting to escape. “You annoy the hell out of me, but I could never hate you.”

“Oh…”

“You really act like you hate me though,” Jisung offers a small smile.

“I don’t hate you. You’re annoying as hell. And I just don’t know what to do with everything lingering in the air when I’m around you,” you bite your lip at the confession, realizing it wasn’t a very good one. And you see him watch you do so.

“You mean the tension?”

“Yeah… The tension… The tension causes us to fight. Right?” The air becomes more suffocating than it already is. Maybe it’s the heat, maybe it’s Jisung so close to you, or how you’re basically naked in front of him.

“What else would we do?” his eyes are still trained on your lips.

“I don’t know,” you murmur not above a whisper. “You tell me.”

“Let me try something,” he takes a step forward, shortening the small space between the two of you. “Promise you won’t get mad.”

“No promises,” you urge, because you’re unsure of what Jisung planned to do after the indirect confessions made in the room today. One things for sure. This territory hadn’t been visited in ages and it scares the shit out of you.

“What are you go–” You’re cut off the lips that make its way onto yours.

When you see Jisung dipping his head down to capture your lips onto his, you're taken aback. However, the minute he makes contact, your legs almost buckle. It's a familiar sensation, and you melt into him as he tests the waters with increasing devotion.

When you reciprocate the kiss, it gets feverish, and your trembling lips work together haphazardly, interwoven with airy sighs. His arms reach for your waist, pulling you into him harder than ever before. He knows your body like no one else, and it drives parts of your brain haywire. It feels like only yesterday that you both would rendezvous.

He groans into your mouth and squeezes your ass as you tug on his hair the way he likes it. It makes you whimper since the combination of the sloppy kiss and the rush of pleasure is far too satisfying.

It feels good. Way too good.

That's why when Jisung pulls away, you chase his lips and he emits a small chuckle at the action. “Tell me you missed me. Tell me you don’t hate me and never did,” his shoulders rise and fall at a rapid pace as he catches his breath.

“I don’t,” you look up at him, and you want nothing more to kiss him again. It feels like all the frustration aimed at him was sexual. It’s honestly his fault for always looking so tempting while offering some smartass retort. “I never did.”

"God, I missed you," he smashes his lips against yours again, this time much more aggressive, and the back of your knees reach the edge of the bed, briefly disconnecting your lips. You laugh, and he smirks before diving back into you as soon as your back comes into contact the mattress.

Something possesses him at that moment, makes his hands glide up the back of your thighs, to kiss down your neck, sucking and biting to leave small bites that he later licks over to soothe the sting. “Know how much you love to be marked.”

“And I know how much you love me choking on your dick,” you giggle, licking a long stripe along his neck up to his jaw.

“You’re dangerous,” Jisung hooks your thong aside, unsurprised when he notices the sticky arousal coating his fingers. “Fuck, I forgot how wet you get.”

“It’s from the heat.” Your words contradict themselves as noises of pleasure leave your lips when he runs his fingers along your folds. Jisung, on the other hand, knows the meaning behind your words like no other. “All this stickiness is from the heat? I don’t think so baby,” he offers some stimulation to your clit and your back arches once he comes in contact with your bud.

You shake your head and he dips his head down onto your neck offering a small kiss against the side of your neck. God, he looks so hot, with the sweat dripping down the side of his temple and his puffy lips from kissing.

The lewd sounds from his fingers running along your folds sends you into a frenzy. You’re attempting to gain more friction, bucking your hips to feel more. You’re so needy for his touch. You've been longing for this touch. "I'll be nice, baby," he says, inserting one finger inside your hole, your walls engulfing him up to the knuckle. Jisung experiments with twisting and curling his fingers, enjoying the way you gasp and pulse around his fingertips.

The wet glide is so satisfying and you moan, basically fucking yourself onto his fingers. “Sung–” is all you can choke out as he begins thrusting with a rhythm you both can’t forget. “Wai–”

But Jisung can’t withhold any longer, not with you looking so pretty underneath him. Not with the sounds that he remembers all too well. His cock practically throbs at these thoughts, begging to be free from its confines when you’re already a mess. He’s pressing against your clit along with the constant thrust of his fingers. “Shit, Sung!” you wail, already foreseeing your high from the short time.

Your nails dig into his forearm, body twitching from the overwhelming pleasure only he can give you. “Oh, fuck,” the words are combined with a moan as your orgasm takes you by surprise, coating his fingers in a creamy pearl substance. It drips down your folds as he pulls away, and the wash of the aftermath runs from your toes to the crown of your head. It’s blissful, but your hunger for him doesn’t stay satiated. “Good girl,” he says as he revels in your figure.

“I need you,” you pant. “Now.”

“Whatever you say, Mom,” he jokes as he pulls his shirt over his head before discarding the rest of his clothing.

“Ewww. Never say that again,” you say, earning a laugh from Jisung.

“Like words ever stopped me before pretty girl.”

He's tugging the side of your panties, dragging them down the side of your legs while practically gaping. He continues with your bra and he gazes, unable to believe everything taking place currently. You're like a dream, sprawled out beneath him. The pretty girl he could never get close to after being so close with.

“Ready?” he asks after he shakes himself out of the trance you have him in.

“Mhm,” you nod.

He pushes inside, sighing into your ear at the creaminess of your cunt. Your arms are wrapped around his neck as he bottoms out, fingers burrowing further into his scalp. Jisung, rather than staying against your neck, takes advantage of the chance to peer at you. When his nose brushes up against yours, all he sees are your lips caught between your teeth.

At the feeling of his big cock inside of you, you clench around him. He groans against your mouth, habitually bucking his hips forward. “Fuck,” you moan out, back arching at the feel of his cock dragging against your walls. Your brain is already a mess and it has been since the moment he kissed you. But Jisung loves how you’re a mess around him. He takes pride in how he makes you feel, and that turns him on beyond belief.

“Move Sungie, please,” you plead and Jisung groans at the nickname you know he loves so much. It’s enough for him to grab your wrists to pin them above your head before he begins moving.

“Sung,” you call out again when he begins to move. His calculated movements have you squirming beneath him, but you’re still perfectly fit against him and it’s as if you both never stopped this routine.

“You’re mine. I’m not letting anyone touch you,” he coos, and you’re quick to agree. “Yours.”

The constant rhythm he keeps has your eyes rolling to the back of your head, and you're shivering when he picks up the pace--giving him a look that seems to make Jisung's cock practically explode. He snaps his hips forward, so close to the edge that you shudder at the perspective.

He's fucking you so well that your eyesight is fuzzy, and the brush of his dick against the spot that drives you insane only adds to the sensation. "I-I'm so close," you warn, your irregular breathing hitting his face.

“Wait S-sung-g no.” Just as you’re about to hit your peak, Jisung flips you over so that you’re sitting on his thighs. Though you’re disappointed in the delay of your orgasm, the angle has his cock pushing deeper than before, tip nudging against your velvety walls harshly. “Fuck, I can’t,” you beg as your back arches at the smallest movements.

As fast as words leave his throat, Jisung dips down to suck on your nipple, occasionally leaving purple blossoms. “Wait I’ll–”

“You’ll what?” he says, chuckling when he sees you instinctively grinding forward against his member. “Cream my cock?” He watches your fucked out expressions, loving how your eyes are lined with tears.

“I’m planning on it, “ he smirks before thrusting up into you.

“J-jisung!” you’re a sobbing mess above him as his harsh thrusts sends pure pleasure up your spine. His name falls off your lips like a mantra, and the gibberish he can’t make out only urges him to move furiously into you. Though your brain is a puddle of mush, the band in your lower abdomen is about to snap, so you grind your hips against him with newly found fervor, stimulating your clit in the best way possible.

Jisung watches you above him as his fingers dig into your waist. You’re so beautiful, he thinks. Everything about you, every part of your mind and body he worships, and he swears he’s not going to let go of you this time.

“S-sung,” you moan again and again, and Jisung continues to abuse your boob, kissing up your throat as you inch closer to your high. “So perfect.”

You let out a high-pitched moan at a specific thrust, and your thighs tremble against his. "I got you," he says as he places a gentle kiss on your lips. And after a few thrusts, you're collapsing against him, again repeating his name. You're just a lick away from teetering off the edge.

“I want it so bad,” you blabber against his neck. “S-so close. Don’t stop.”

“Give it to me,” he dips underneath to circle your bundle of nerves with the perfect pressure and you come undone, high-pitched moans and whimpers against his ear.

The mix of cum and the slick from prior allows the glide to be that much easier for Jisung to glide against as he tips over the edge as well. You’re still pulsing and gripping his cock like a vice and it’s a done deal for Jisung. “Inside?”

“Inside me,” you kiss the side of his neck. He feels euphoric as your noises against his ear urges him on and his arms hold you tightly. And after a few more thrusts and desperate hips, his cum shoots inside you. “Fuck.”

It's so much energy that when the sensation of your high washes over you, you collapse against Jisung, who also collapses against the mattress.

“You’re sticky,” you look at his face and admire how good the afterglow of sex looks on him.

Jisung massages little circles across the small of your back in comforting stillness.

“I’m going to murder Hyuck,” he realizes how much the humidity encases the room.

“Maybe not too brutal, because his plan to lock us in here so we can finally make up worked,” you notify him and his eyes light up.

“I think everyone’s asleep. How about we torture them some more?” he smirks at you.

“I say Hyuck isn’t going to get a wink of sleep tonight,” you mischievously grin and it’s enough for Jisung to dive down and continue drowning in your lips.

DECEMBER 31 11:59 PM

“Damn, I can’t believe my plan worked! You guys are attached to the fucking hip,” Hyuck comes over to you and Jisung hand-in-hand.

“Your plan worked for once dumbass,” Jeno butts in abruptly, almost spilling the alcohol in his cup.

“We have no more arguing but I don’t know if it’s worth it,” Jaemin points.

“You guys are like rabbits!” Mark yells out.

“Gross! Not the fucking time! I need to find someone to kiss,” Renjun groans.

“Yeah but everything Hyuck does to end our suffering, it just reappears as something else!” Chenle laughs, earning a middle-finger from the subject of his words.

“Guess you were right. We can laugh about this on New Year's,” Jeno turns to Hyuck.

“Happy new year motherfuckers,” Chenle says before clinking all the cups together.

You turn to Jisung as the clock counts down, his arm around your waist. “Happy New Year, boyfriend.”

“Happy New Year, Girlfriend,” he smiles the hardest you’ve seen him in a while.

“Happy fucking new year,” he says before smashing his lips onto yours.

Happy fucking new year indeed.

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f4irys4n · 6 months

Text

random texts with bf! jisung pt1 <3

afab! reader | fluff, suggestive, smut

pt2 | pls ignore the time stamps!!

requests are open <3

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neochan · 5 months

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currently thinking abt pervy nerd roomate jisung who’s actually a freak n loves seeing bimbo reader whining n crying for him n loves degrading reader.. 😓

squirming and begging him to stop, fingertips harmlessly scraping against his broad shoulders. "ji-jisung, please." and he pretends not to hear you, pushing his cock deeper, until you're blubbering nonsense.

his hand holds your jaw to keep you still. "you fucking love this," he pants, "i know you do. can feel it. pussy's squeezing me so tight." he grins like a madman, "you've been fantasizing about this, huh? your roommate coming in and fucking you on your pretty pink bed.... desperate slut." long fingers slide down your neck until they're situated at the base of your throat - and then he squeezes. "that's why you wear short skirts all the time. no panties. you're just an airhead that needs her pussy filled."

#⋆ answered #jisung x reader #nct dream smut #nct jisung smut #nct smut #jisung smut #jisung park smut

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revehae · 12 days

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maneater (r. fantasies)

warning: noncon, semi-public sex, jisung × (f) reader x jaemin

wc. 1.3k

love that i wrote this for @neocentral and she’s also the only reason i was able to recover this 🫶🏽 EVERYONE SAY WE LOVE YOU BELLE

maybe it was jisung's fault, the unfortunate outcome of his generous naivete. foolishly, he had mistaken your kindness for infatuation, your exuberant flashes of teeth when you glanced his way as flirtatious gestures of mutual affection.

jisung wouldn't consider himself a loser. he had a couple of friends. sure, he wasn't the most popular guy around, especially not with girls, but that didn't make him a loser. there was no reason to doubt his chances with one of the campus' most popular students, especially not when you made it so easy to like you.

too easy, jisung would think, clenching his pale, whitened knuckles into stiff fists when he saw other guys talking to you, checking you out from head to toe like you were a fresh slab of meat on display.

deep down inside, even if he refused to admit it to himself, jisung couldn't fault them like he wanted. your wit was admirable and your beauty rivaled that of goddesses. to say nothing of the fact that you were so amicable and approachable, maybe too approachable.

idiotically believing under the trance of your bewitching stare and enthralling smile that you reciprocated jisung's less than platonic feelings for you was his first mistake.

mustering the courage to approach you and ask you out was his second.

at the very least, you were sweet enough to let jisung down gently. even as you ripped his thudding heart out his chest and shredded it with bared teeth, unraveling the thread upon which his very world spun, your lips were fixed in a perfect smile as you apologetically told him that you didn't feel the same way, tenderly brushing your hand against his.

how kind of you to shatter his heart in the most beautiful way possible. you had to have done this a dozen times before, maybe even twice as much, so accustomed to rejecting every male's advance that you knew all the right words to say.

"you'll forget you ever felt this way," you'd told him at one point, most of your other words becoming white noise to his ears as indignation poked holes into his chest and swallowed him whole.

jisung liked to think that he handled the rejection fairly. outwardly, at least, it was true. you wouldn't have guessed from looking at him that the world as he knew it had been upturned and rage was festering in side of him quickly and brutally. he should've listened to his friends when they told him, dude, she's a maneater.

to think only days ago jisung thought so highly of you. now, whenever he saw you, only the most degrading of words came to mind. what a picky, arrogant whore, hissed his thoughts bitterly.

you must've thought you were so much better than him. you must've got a good laugh at his expense, leading him on and making him believe even for a minute that you liked him the way he liked you. or maybe you were just playing hard to get, so entitled that you thought he would chase you.

wrong. jisung was not like those other guys that would come begging at your feet and he refused to lower himself to such degradation, solely so that you could feel better about yourself.

it had to only have been a couple of weeks forward, jisung's anger intensifying by the day, when he heard those godawful noises coming from just around the corner.

he recognized that voice - your voice. jisung would never admit that he was obsessed with you, but there was no doubt in his mind that the high-pitched, agonized cry he heard came from between those glossy lips of yours.

naturally, it was jisung's first instinct to investigate, to wonder what was so terrible that you were shrieking so sharply. he became especially curious when the sound was cut off, suspicious sudden and abrupt, as if it had been muffled.

jisung tiptoed around the corner, quiet as to not disturb the scene unfolding just shy of him. although, given how busy the city was, bustling with everyday life, it would've been more difficult to hear him approaching.

jisung nearly gasped at what he saw, poking his head around the sturdy brick wall and spotting your frame caged behind jaemin's as your back was pinned harshly against a cold wall.

"shh, sweetheart." jaemin crooned, tone of voice cheating his violent hands. "wouldn't want anyone else to see you like this, now would you? imagine how hard it would be for you to have a good future if all anybody saw when they looked at you was this loose little pussy."

jisung wanted to say that that was already what people saw, but he held his tongue. he didn't want to risk making his presence known. one slightly wrong move, one bad step, and both of you would know that he was watching, lurking discreetly in the shadows.

shameless, jisung whispered in his brain, shaking his head as he kept his eyes locked on the incident in front of him. jaemin was forcing himself onto you in broad daylight, for fuck's sake. without a care in the world if anyone saw him.

even as people walked only mere feet away from the sight, burdened with the tasks of their own problems. people that wouldn't randomly think to check around an alleyway to see if there was a girl attempting to fight off her attacker.

your face was familiar, but hardly recognizable all at once. your usual heart-stopping smile was surely upturned into a piteous frown, though it was obscured from jisung's vision as jaemin smothered your screams with his palm. moisture stung your eyes, gathering at your lashes and dripping thickly down your tear-stained cheeks.

even with jaemin's palm pressed flat against your mouth, your whimpers still faintly traveled through the hot, stuffy air. you thrashed in his burly arms, struggling to wrest your way out, but jaemin kept you in place with his spare arm.

part of jisung was bristling with pain and seething with white-hot anger watching another guy touch in ways only he should've been able to, but he couldn't move and he definitely couldn't look away. your stiff nipples were exposed from where jaemin had yanked your shirt down, jisung arriving only moments to see how jaemin sucked at licked at the tender buds.

"i don't take no for an answer," jaemin whispered, stuffing you full of his thick, veiny cock. your pussy was sore from how vigorously he was using you, but nothing would stop jaemin from doing as he pleased if he wanted it enough.

jisung's cock twitched in his light sweatpants. he only wished he could've felt the way your cunt squeezed his cock for dear life, milking it for every last drop of cum like it did jaemin's. if only he would've had the courage to slam you against a wall and take what he wanted, show you who was in charge.

it kept him up sometimes fantasizing about how tight and wet you were as he fisted his own cock to ecstasy. the sight of jaemin abusing your poor little cunt was infuriating, but erotic. not taking out his cock and pumping in his hand took all of jisung's willpower.

watching how wide your gorgeous, fretful eyes were, how your chest heaved quicker and quicker, skipping breaths to get to the one that came after, jisung almost felt bad for you. he liked to think he would've been much more tender, had he gotten the opportunity, setting the mood and taking his time to please you.

until you broke his heart. now, whatever happened to you was out of his hands and jisung couldn't have cared less, ignoring the panic in your body language and obvious pain tensing your features.

jisung had the power to stop his friend if he really wanted, to intervene and save you from your troubles, and he most likely would've, had you not wounded him. but he remembered the gash still fresh on him, your smiles rubbing salt in the cut, and decided this was what you deserved. you'd get over it.

yeah, she'll forget she ever felt this way, jisung mimicked resentfully, those words burned onto his heart harshly. so in the end, against jisung's better judgment, he kept on walking.

#park jisung smut #tw: noncon #nct dream smut #nct dream hard hours #nct smut #jisung smut #nct dream x reader #jisung x reader #nct jisung smut #revehae fantasies

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the-neo-slickbucket · 8 months

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3:29 am

Jisung loves it when you're needy for him. You get all whiny and clingy. Begging him for more. Begging him to be closer. Begging him to fuck you. And he always gives in. Like right now, he has you all perfect ontop of him. You are crying into his shoulder from each movement the two of you make.

"I know baby." He coos at your whining. His cock moving inside of you so perfectly that each thrust feels electric.

You cry when he stops or when he continues, so he isn't too sure what exactly you want him to do. But he knows just exactly what he wants to do. And he will do whatever he can do to make you even more delirious as the night ebbs on.

"Too much!" You whine and mutter against his neck.

"Not enough." Jisung's voice is sure and assertive and makes your voice crack in overstimulation.

"You wanna make me feel good don't you?" Jisung asks with a teasing voice. He grins when you nod against him.

"Then just let go. Let go and let me fuck you senseless."

#park jisung hard hours #nct dream smut #nct #nct dream imagines #nct dream #nct fanfic #nct x reader #park jisung smut #park jisung #nct jisung smut #jisung smut #nct jisung

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babbymochiiii · 25 days

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🔞 Discord: PARK JISUNG

SYNOPSIS: you and jisung have discord date night, where things take a turn.

WARNINGS: established relationship idol! jisung x afab reader, pleasuring yourself while on a discord call with jisung, jisung being a dom bc yes, jisung commanding you on how to pleasure yourself, fingering, handjob, slight cum play? Idk if it would be call that but it’s something like that, squirting?

AUTHOR'S NOTE: divider credit @cafekitsune 🧡 I’m so down bad for Jisung that is fucking shows and I’m not complaining—! Also, a big thank you to my babes @rockstarhaechan for encouraging this fic 😖💜 bc it would've been sitting in the back of my head for the longest.

“He’s camping! He’s camping!” You heard your boyfriend yell down his mic as you both were in the middle of a fight in the video game you were both playing.

“HE GOT ME!? HELLO?” You yelled down your mic this time as you stared at your monitor in disbelief seeing your characters death screen.

“This is bs.” You mumbled as you leaned back against your chair as you waited for Jisung to finish out the battle.

After the game was over, you and Jisung sat in the lobby of the game, talking softly amongst yourselves.

“How did you die?” Jisung snickered as he looked at his Discord monitor and watched you roll your eyes with a smile at his question.

“Babe, literally was going where you told me, and the motherfucker came out of nowhere like—“

To be fair, Jisung has been pent up with a lot, and I mean a lot, of sexual energy that he couldn’t even help himself but zone out to what you were saying and watch the way you animatedly recounted what happened to you in the game.

He looked at the way your lips formed their syllables. He thought about how they could be wrapped around his cock in this very second. Thought about the time you cock warmed him while he was playing a few rounds of games on his pc. Remembering the way you failed to stay still as he tried to concentrate on the intense game in front of him. All it took was one small whimper to fall out of your lips for him to fully lose focus on the game, and shifting it towards you.

"Ji please fuck me."

You said it with the most saddest pout and puppy eyes, how could he not give what you wanted.

Without realizing, Jisung started to stroke himself through his shorts, causing a shuddered breath to leave his lips and land straight into your ears causing you to stop talking and look towards your monitor.

You watched the way Jisung's face flushed it's pretty pink, along with the tips of his ears. You kept your eyes trained on his chest, seeing how it rapidly rises and falls down, as if he ran a marathon.

As if...

"Ji, what are you doing?" You asked suspiciously, even though you had a feeling you knew what your beloved boyfriend is doing right now.

He ignored you. Jisung's eyes were close at this point, completely lost in the ecstasy his touch is bringing him through his shorts.

You bit your lips as you watched Jisung become completely loss in his own pleasure. You couldn't help but join him, because the sight of your boyfriend pleasuring himself turns you on completely.

You propped your feet up on your chair, and moved your flimsy shorts along with your underwear to the side. You greedily sought out your swollen clit, and the moment you placed your fingers on it, a moan slips past your lips.

This causes Jisung to flutter his eyelids open. The man looks towards his second monitor on his desk and sees the display you have for him on your camera.

“Fuck.” Jisung mumbled out as he saw the way you played with your clit. His hungry gaze follows the way your greedy fingers slide down your slicked folds. The action causes the two of you to moan out loud seeing the way the camera captures it.

"What are you doing princess?" Jisung asked sweetly, but still holding that bedroom undertone. "Couldn't help yourself could you?" He muses as he leans forward in his chair.

A whimper leaves your throat as you look towards Jisung's camera. "I couldn't...you were touching yourself and you looked so good " You said softly with a pout, into your headset mic as you leaned your head back in your chair.

A hum of acknowledgement made it's way out of Jisung's throat as a smile that held all sorts of promises. "Princess?" He calls out to you, all too softly.

The tone of his voice causes chills to run down your spine, as you knew that tone very well. Jisung uses that tone on you when he is about to command you to do something.

"Yes?" You spoke timidly.

"Stop what you're doing." Jisung commanded with the same soft smile and tone with you.

You slowly removed yours hands from your heated core, and awaited for what Jisung will say next.

"Such a good girl." Jisung cooed to you.

You felt your heart pick up an even faster speed than it was before, and you were honestly scared at how turned on you are over what you and Jisung are doing, considering you have never done this before.

“Ji, please—“

“Shh, baby take it easy, yeah?” Jisung said as he gave you a smile as he got up from his seat.

What came in view was the raging hard on in his shorts. Instantly the sight of the tent made your mouth water as you knew he was going to bring his pants down. I mean he has to right? In order to—

All thought process stopped the moment Jisung hooked this thumbs into his waist band and pulled down his shorts and underwear in one go.

A whimper leaves your throat at the sight of his hard length hanging in the air, pre cum glistening off of his pretty pink head. You bit your lip, trying to hold back another moan from slipping your lips.

“Enjoying the view?” Jisung teased as he settled back into his chair.

You slowly nodded your head before adding; “very much.”

Another hum of acknowledgment left his throat as he assessed you through the screen.

“Strip.”

There was your command. Quickly, you gently got up from your seat and discarded the clothes you were wearing. Once fully naked, you sat back onto your chair and awaited for what Jisung wanted you to do next.

"You're so beautiful princess." Jisung praised as he licked his lips at the sight of your naked form.

A shiver runs down your spine at his praise and the way he looks at you. "Prop your legs as you had them before." Jisung said as he leaned himself back on his chair, and spread his legs open. Creating a better view for you.

Doing as told, you managed to have your legs hanging off of your chair’s arm rest, displaying your sopping wet folds.

Jisung raised an amused eyebrow at the sight before him. “Are you that turned on right now?” He teased. He couldn’t help but tease, it just made the whole situation that much hotter.

“Ji…” your whimpered as you clenched your hands on top of your chest.

“Use your big girl words.”

“Yes! Yes, I’m that turned on right now.” You said as you felt your face heat up.

“Good.” Jisung said with a smirk. “Touch yourself for me.”

Without a second thought, your hand went down and immediately made contact with your swollen clit. You started to leave harsh and fast circles. Whimpering moans leave your throat at the delicious stimulation.

“Slow down princess. There’s no need to rush.” Jisung said as he started to slowly tug at his hot length.

You whimpered in protest, but still did what he asked as you knew it would benefit you in the end. You looked intently at Jisung’s screen and watched at how he slowly pumped himself into his fist. Wanting to be good for him, you matched up with his pace.

Whimpered and throaty moans leave both your mouths as you both continued with the slow pace that Jisung made.

You were close to wanting to just disobey what Jisung ordered. You wanted more stimulation for yourself and for Jisung, but you knew the consequences he would put out for you if you did do such a thing.

“Princess?” Jisung calls out, his voice groveled due to the pleasure.

“Y-yes?” You stuttered out.

“Why don’t you add a finger, hm?”

As if the gods themselves spoke, you let out a moan at his words and you slowly inserted a finger inside of your awaiting entrance. As you went past your first knuckle, a sigh of content is heard from you. You pushed the rest of your finger inside of you, and moaned at the feeling of at least having something inside of you.

Jisung swears he has hearts for eyes at this point. He always loved seeing you so submissive and obedient for him, but this. This takes the cake for him. Subconsciously, Jisung tightened his grip slightly and started to pump at a much faster rate than he was before. “Fuck, babe—“ he moans out as he bits his lips trying to hold in the moans that want to leave his mouth, “—you look so pretty like that.” Jisung groaned out.

A pretty moan left your lips at his words and the way he started to pump himself at such a fast pace. You started to follow his lead, pumping and rubbing your clit at a fast pace as him, creating such a delicious feeling.

“Ji…feels so— mmgh, so good.” You moaned out as you felt your eyes close in pleasure.

“Princess, shit— add another finger for me.” Jisung said as he twisted his fist around his head causing him to buck his hips up.

Adding another finger into your sopping hole made your toes curl and eyes roll to the back of your head.

The two of you continue pleasuring yourselves I. Front of each of your cameras. Moans and whimpers leaving your mouths as you continue to chase your highs.

Squelching sounds are heard through your mic, that goes straight to Jisung’s cock causing him to want to loose his control completely. “Princess you sound so wet.” He groans as he continues to pump himself.

“S-so wet for you Sungie.” You moaned as you removed your fingers from inside of you and played with your entrance, causing string of wetness to connect between your fingers and sopping entrance.

Jisung bit the inside of his cheeks at the provocative sight displayed on his screen. “You’re such a mess baby.” Jisung said in awe as he saw how much slick was covering your entire pussy and inner thighs.

You inserted your fingers inside again and started to finger fuck yourself in a fast pace. “J-Ji…please—“ a moan cuts you off at the intense sensation starting to build up in your lower belly.

“It’s okay baby. Cum. I need you to come with me. I’m so close princess.” Jisung groans at the end as bucks his hips forward, fucking into his hand at how close he’s at right now.

As the intense feeling in your lower stomach started to build up, you started to chant Jisung’s name like the mantra that he is. “I’m so close…so mmgh! Ahh— so close—“ you couldn’t even form your sentence as you felt like exploding.

“Me too baby…me too.” Jisung moaned as he felt his thighs spasm and his balls slightly tighten up, getting ready to release their load.

“Ji, I’m—“ you didn’t get to finish your sentence before a loud moan breaks through. You felt your back arch off of your seat as you clenched around your fingers. Slick squirted out of you as you continued to finger fuck yourself through your high.

“Princess, mmgh.” Jisung said with one last groan as he bucked his hips up into his tight fist one last time before shots of hot cum started to shoot out. His stomach clenched as he started to release the last of his load onto his hand, and stomach. Gently pumping himself to go through his post organism high.

The two of you sat panting on your chairs. Eyes barely open as you assess the others state.

A smile adorn’s Jisung’s face as he looks at you. This causes you to giggle as you knew what he was thinking of.

“That was hot.” You both said causing the other to laugh.

“Well, at least I know we’re both into this, so we can do it while I’m on tour and away from you.” Jisung said as he gave you a fucked out smile.

This causes you to send him a smile his way. “Oh we’re for sure doing this again.”

“Count on it princess.” Jisung said with a smirk.

From then on, the two of you would do these little discord or FaceTime calls to get off together when none of y’all had the time to see one another.

a/n: this has been sitting on my mind for a whileeeee and I finally have it written down and out for y’all!!! Hopefully y’all enjoyed it!!

Much love and kisses 🥰

#park jisung #park jisung imagines #nct jisung #park jisung x reader #jisung scenarios #nct jisung smut #nct drabbles #nct dream #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct kpop #kpop #kpop smut #kpop imagines #kpop idol

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diorcities · 9 months

Text

bunny (lmk)

previous. part two .next.

pairing: mark x afab!reader. jisung x afab!reader. genre: smut, dark academia. content: thigh riding, backshots, riding, fingering, slight degradation, exhibitionism, unprotected sex, creampie. allusion to virginity and voyeurism. 50% plot, 50% smut. wc: 4 k

description: excluded and marginalized, your only friends seem to be little creatures. and the hunter. bunnies hate him and avoid getting too close, but why? is it because he's an outcast just like you? although, rather than hating him, they seem to fear him, has he done anything to them? the only way to find out is to make him follow you into the woods.

the entourage of bunnies surrounded him like one who looks at a deity: with worship. their feline eyes focused on any slightest movement, their delicate lips sighing with joy when finally their gaze is reciprocated. with smooth skins and different tones. docile. fragile. with laughter similar to the touch of a rose petal. laughing when he whispered some sly comment to them. or when he recited phrases from his favorite books. their laughter echoing in the hallways, in sync. while they pushed you or hid your clothes when you showered. innocent little jokes, for harmless little bunnies.

jisung doesn't even cringe at them. he lets them follow him, not because he likes the attention he surely receives, but because he thinks there is no way to get rid of them, so he let them touch him, comb his hair while he dozes in the garden, stalk him, and then laugh when they are discovered by him. but he's never upset with the bunnies, how could he? they're lovely, he's rather... retiring. reluctant. as if he could do nothing but live with it. so sometimes he smiles, especially when he guides them to some lonely place when he surprises them from behind in some dark corner. and then he withdraws again, with his attention no longer on them again. but in you.

being always close, you don't understand why. going unnoticed sometimes, until one of them notices you, and suddenly, you are the butt of the joke. but they are adorable, jisung always says so. lovely. pretty. his arms are sometimes covered with small scratches from paws or small bites, but he says pretty, pretty. precious, precious kittens.

“oh,” bunny says. sitting in a circle in the garden, tasting their lunches while you watch in the distance, hidden from their small snouts and sharp nails. “what is it, kitten?” the other bunny wants to know but gets no answer. in response, they all seem to perceive something that you can't because of the distance that separates you. and it's like seeing everything through a lens, the way their bodies tense and freeze. bites halfway without being chewed because they have all been paralyzed as if they were under a charm. and before your eyes can catch it, a quick flash appears and descends like a guillotine on a small furry creature.

it's so tiny you can barely see it. it writhes and squeals under the gaze of nine pairs of curious eyes, which soon return to their lunches as if nothing, while the small dying creature lies beside them. “wow, kitten, you're so fast,” they say between each bite, “kitten, you're so agile.” and they keep chatting until it happens again. but now their prey is too large to be crushed by their tiny hands, and their nails would only scratch the surface. the prey is no longer a prey, but a hunter, and the reaction it gets is just what it expects: the bunnies run out like a frenzy, leaving their companions behind and watching over their own interests, fleeing in terror to some shelter, or to jisung.

the hunter ignores them, but you know he is watching. always observing. to the bunnies. he wants to hunt them down, or so it seems, you don't know. you've heard them talk about him. he's dangerous. he's not jisung, because he has darker hair, pitch black. and his gaze is not flattering because he's always frowning. he doesn't smile at the bunnies but glares at them, eyes narrowing as thoughts run through his mind. scheming tramps to catch them. bunnies abhor him because he's not jisung, and he abhor them for no apparent reason other than because.

making them tremble with fear just by his presence. cause them to hurt themselves when they see it. bunny once peed on herself. bunny cried until she had hiccups. bunny vomited until she was in the infirmary, and all of them went to jisung. because jisung protected them from the hunter. the hunter never approaches jisung, but observes him. you've seen it.

so as a good rabbit hunter, his eyes fall on the little creature writhing on the lawn, and debate. should he wait until there are no eyes to look at him? should he go after the other bunnies? could he use it as bait for other types of prey? by the time he wants to make a decision, it is too late, and you are on the rabbit, taking it in your hands and seeing what bunny has done to it, before turning around and entering the forest. the weeds engulf you as you enter more and more disappearing into the bushes.

before he goes after his new prey.

at a certain safe distance, so that you do not hear his footsteps. going deeper and deeper into the forest, following your trail. you can barely feel him, lurking. looking closely when you deposit the small animal in a small clearing, feeling its heartbeat furiously under its small ribs. with small black speckles splashing their cream fur, and long, furry ears that fall drowsily over their glowing black eyes. “don't be afraid, little one. i'm friends with bunnies, i don't hurt them,” you assure in a low voice. “look at your leg, is it broken?” you seem to notice. the rustling of the branches alerts them both of you, “it seems that someone followed us to here, but don't fear, i'll protect you,” you say in a whisper.

to your surprise, it is not difficult to find him. he's not scared, because he's a hunter, you remember. he's not afraid of you, but why does he seem to? “have you come for him?” you ask, feeling a revolution in the pit of your stomach.

“no.”

“have you come for me?” a short sigh leaves his lips before his eyes travel behind you. “did you kill it?” he inquires, and you shake your head so hard it makes you dizzy. you watch him meditate, before he startles when he feels you moving towards him. “are you scared?” he wants to know now, furrowing and sniffing as if he could smell your scent from where he is standing.

bunnies are right: he's not jisung. he's not charming, he's not blond, his voice is raspy and rough, and his whole body emanates a wild energy instead of the calm swell of jisung. something demonic dances around him, and attracts, like a bear trap. but, no. you're not scared of him. so your steps take you closer to him, studying the panorama that unfolds in front of him with open and overflowing eyes when your hands touch his cheek. “no.”

“they are.”

“i'm not them.”

“then, who are you?” you let him register your face, eyes wandering everywhere: hair, nose, lips, before landing on your eyes. your lips say your name softly, sensing his body tense up and relax. “are you scared of me?” you ask now, tracing a path to his temple. his skin looks so soft that your teeth ache in your gums, approaching your mouth before he lifts his face and your lips press on his jaw. there's a pool filling with furious butterflies when his hands find your waist and squeezes it to push you away, but midway through he repents and presses you against him.

you can't go any further when something wraps around your wrist like thorny weeds and pushes you backwards, until your back hits something hard like the wood of a log. “they don't have names” he points out.

lips down his neck, eyes watching him close his as he frowns as he is wailing before he makes eye contact with you. dark eyes staring at you from above, a tangle of emotions behind his pupils. eyes shut when you rub your lips on his skin, once again, and you thought about the reluctance to look at you while your mouth spread kisses, is he waiting for the bite? is he waiting for your teeth on his skin?

“no, they don't,” you say, agreeing as something inside you reveals something. thinking and wandering in your mind, because he's right. “do hunters have names?”

“mark.”

mark. like a wild gale. like the smell of wet earth and pine leaves. like the sound of the wind whipping hard at your thin curtains at night, as your fingers traveled south and your eyes locked on the moon. the sound of a wolf in the depths of a cave. mark.

he spins on your heels. there's a fence that separates your bodies from the precipice, and with a quick move, you're on top of it. mark's hands stay on your waist, while his eyes travels back and forth between your eyes and lips. “how can i be sure you're not one of them?” he demands to know, a sudden movement accompanies his words and causes you to strengthen your grip. “should i throw you off the cliff and see if you fall on your feet?” he adds, above the wind. he starts to get impatient when you don't respond right away, factions hardening and sharpening with each passing second when you don't open your mouth.

“did a mouse eat your tongue? answer me!” his body remains between your legs, hands firmly suspending you between solid ground and nothingness. a fall that surely ends in your downfall. when you look into his eyes, dark as onyx stormy eyes, you see yourself reflected in them.

your words are so vague and silent that they are blown away by the wind before they reach his ears, so he shakes you and orders you to repeat it. “you're not cruel, mark.” your response is surely not expected, and his reaction to you is not either, as he grabs you tighter and in mid-motion your body jerks forward, not backward. gracefully, mark pulls you down from the fence rail, and his body presses tighter against yours.

adrenaline ravages your body, and an electric current shakes you from head to toe, but, you are not scared. energized and euphoric, your breath freezes in your throat and your legs tremble, abruptly feeling the prominence pressing into your stomach. “then who am i?” he says, with regret. tilting his head until his wild jet black hair tickles your cheeks, and you're there, holding your breath because you fear it might scare him. but mark's not like bunnies. his heart remains a hunter-like steadiness. and his eyes land on you, his next prey.

mark watches you lick your lips. calm as what comes after a storm, let your hand rest on his cheek. an infinity begins and ends by looking at each other before he speaks. “where do i belong?.” no answer is needed when you finally stamps his mouth with yours. and his soft mouth begins to test the ground, first briefly and fleetingly, meditating, evaluating, until he grabs you by the back of the neck and kisses you fiercely. with intenseness. with thousands of sensations repressed and finally released on the tip of his tongue, running through yours. he knows now.

with you.

ejecting your body with sweet ecstasy, your body inhibited from any terror as you melt into him. biting and licking, tearing and squeezing fiercely. heart pounding as he pulls your hair and exposes your neck, sliding his silky tongue across your skin to your mouth. with a quick move, your back presses against his chest, feeling his hands dangerously moving down your stomach to the inside of your skirt. his fingers burying themselves beneath the fabric of your underwear and pressing against your swollen pussy. legs vibrating and wanting to close to increase the friction of his touch on your core before his knee pushes your legs apart, opening them again.

your enthusiasm makes his fingers slide nimbly through your folds, awakening all your senses and making you close your eyes as a whiplash of pleasure shudders in your stomach. it doesn't compare at all to what you've felt before. his expert fingers make you groan and moan, feeling your system suffer disorientation and agitation, mind clouded while his fiery eyes watch you succumb to him.

“is this what you want?.” he asks. yes, that and more. his lips on your mouth, and his fingers in your pussy. hands on your tits and cock buried in you. you can hear how wet you are every time he pumps his fingers along your swollen folds, feeling them in your dilated entrance, eager to be inserted by him.

you feel his available hand press into the valley of your butt, before you hear the sound of the zipper followed by the movement he makes to pull down his pants. his hand gropes your ass, raising your skirt until he exposes your skin. something hard is pressed in the middle while lowering your panties, extinguishing the touch on your pussy. the friction of your bodies only makes you feel the bulge more clearly, before his hand pushes it down, between the crease that forms your butt to your wetness.

his hand takes the back of your thigh when he sees you raising it on the fence. he presses his palm against it and helps you spreading.

a sigh comes out of your lips when you feel the head brush the entrance, sliding down your folds due to your arousal. pressing against you, mark moves it trying to find the best way to push it in. he expands you with haste, as if he can break you if he's not gentle. a moan freezes in your throat and your hands squeeze the railing when he push it inside. legs failing trying to support your weight when the unknown sensation causes your features to contort.

something rough and callous rests on your hand. his fingers intertwine with yours as a way to comfort your whining. his head buries himself in your hair, and he tries to strangle a growl that you barely hear. he slips out and into you, with parsimony; a brand new tingle takes over your intimacy. it hurts. but at the same time you like it. your fingers reciprocate his gesture. more, they mean.

the sweet burning of your tingling core being shredded makes your eyes roll. feeling him press against you, while his cock buries itself in you. pumping in and out awkwardly while your narrow walls stimulate his length. knot forming at the base of your belly due to his constant and firm thrusts, he hits the swelling that grows tighter and tighter as he destroy you.

his breathing is loud and shallow, moaning loudly and ramming you brutally. you cry, being completely shattered by the way he buries his cock in you, possessed by the desire for your walls tightening around his circumference, enveloping his hard and painful cock. “y-yes... o-oh.”

you feel him grinding against you, penetrating you with short, deep thrusts. moving dexterously, your body contorts when he increases speed, “shi— fuck!” the powerful noise of your skins colliding joins your constant moans and the incessant clash of his cock on your tingling core.

the ground seems to vibrate due to his pounding, rough and sharp, they eject your body forward with each tap. moans gushing out of each other mouths. a divine sensation is unleashed in your stomach, and suddenly you are euphoric. you cannot sustain yourself properly. “one more,” he utters, picking up the pace, both legs numb and trembling is the result of the grace of his movements, increasingly stronger and faster. one more, after everything felt light and your body shut down, leaving you agitated. nesting and knotting the swarm in your stomach again.

“y-yes.” the rattle that makes his cock in the swelling, releasing a pleasant pain every time he penetrates you. your eyes close as a jolt overwhelms you and cuts off any thoughts. you hear his wild, agitated breathing in your ear, exhaling every time he hammers inside you. “m-mark, o-oh” your eyes roll back while faint scream reverberates in your throat as the sensation expands through your extremities, and grips your pussy, “let it go... let it go,” he exhales, increasing the intensity of his thrusts.

you bite your lips hard when your breath is taken away and your senses get out of control. moans slip from your tongue along with his grunts, “f-fuck, let it go.” you suffer a catalytic state of whining and moaning, burying your nails in the ash wood of the fence when the pain is finally released and your body collapses.

feeling weak and sleepy, you try to regain your senses and what just happened. your body still vibrates and spasms when the aching gets worse. the motion becomes more messy and clumsy. hardly, mark growls as he stimulates your sensitivity as something slips down your crotch.

sunset drops down on the horizon as you make your way home cutting through the woods. the sound of the branches breaking as they give way under your weight is the only company, along with the beating of your heart like the hands of a clock. your sight wanders and wanders between the treetops and the blanket of dry leaves under your feet. is it you, or does everything look more colorful? you are ecstatic and… happy, yes, content, which at first goes unnoticed. that sound, the sound of the branches breaking, echoing your own. you've lost mark. he has vanished into the undergrowth. his demonic yet dazzling presence has disappeared as you were caughting your breath after the intercourse. but still, you call his name.

there's no answer more than your breathing accelerated.

“mark?” the sound of a crane taking flight exalts you, and suddenly your heartbeat quickens. “mark,” you urge. he has taken your underwear with him after having fucked you, maybe he wants to give it back.

you don't know if jisung will be upset about it. after all, you've done what he asked.

your steps lead you to the academy in a hastle, imposing at the top of the hill, with towers that end in pikes skimming the gray clouds. you climb and climb the steps of the library tower, feeling your legs give way from time to time. when you reach the top, you have lost your breath. agitated, you sweep the room in the dark; the candles on the desks are extinguished, and the lamps have died, yet a faint flash comes out of one of the corridors, and without a second thought, you go inside.

he's hardly a dark blur. the kerosene lamp resting on one of the hooks on the wall sheds a golden light on his profile. he smiles, alerting your presence. “come, gentle night, tender and gloomy night, give me my romeo and, when i die, cut him into a thousand small stars.” it's his way to greet you, leaning back in the chair and palming his lap for you to climb up. you sit astride, back pressing the wooden table behind you. in his eyes, apprehensives, there's nothing you can read from, except the constant desire of finding love in them.

“i've lost it,” you inform under his gaze. “i'm sure you did, kitten.”

“where you there, as you promised?” a lazy smile appears on his lips before nodding, “yes, i saw it all. did you like it?” the burning remaining in your legs send shivers down your spine. yes. you did. “did he breed you?” two orbs like two dying stars stare at you, waiting for a answer, but jisung's touch deprived you of doing it when his finger wandered down your leg to the inside of your thigh. “look at that, you're still stuffed with his seed.”

his fingers navigate your folds, distracted. something warm begins to bloom in your stomach as his fingers move up and down in the swelling of your cunt. hips reacting on its own, starting to rock your body side to side on his digits that run through your swollen cunt, silky with your arousal. a sigh leaves your lips when jisung stops his action, and shifts you to one of his legs. his trousers have pulled up to reveal the middle of his tender thigh, pressed shamelessly against your dewy core. “go ahead, darling, while i finish this book.”

you don't fully comprehend what he wants you to do until an involuntary movement of his arm as he searches for the best position to read moves you forward, the friction of his leg muscles sending detached signals to your brain, holding him by the shoulders to resume what you only has done with your pillow.

jisung hushes an ephemeral laugh as he hears you moan agitatedly, completely spellbound by the sensations that explode like fireworks in your belly and the sparkling tingling that descends into your intimacy and wets his skin, making you slide more easily over him. his muscles tense and untwist under your throbbing pussy, smiling in rapture at the pleasurable feeling that unleashes in your stomach. sensing his firm grip stopping you without a warning. “i know, i know. let me take care of,” he hushes when you wail due to your high washing away and leaving you aching.

he undoes his pants with graceful fingers as you gaze captivated and desirously at his exposed and erect cock and when he strokes it. a shaky pant leaving your lips as your hips raise and your walls crave him, clenching around nothing. jisung coos when he notices how desperate you are. “how precious thing.” his large fingers curl on your jaw, “want me to stuff you too? how insatiable.” a chill runs down your spine when he rubs the tip along your entrance, recalling when mark did it too. “dripping with his cum and still hungry.”

he stifles a grimace as he slides into you slowly, and for a moment you think he's been waiting for this precise moment the same way you have. squeezing your waist as he becomes elated at the way your walls snuggle around him, resting the tip where a tingle whips you. your pussy clenches and twitches, dazed by the full way it feels, starting to rock involuntarily once you've become drunk from the way he jerks inside you.

your moans echo on the walls and the lubed sound of your pussy bounces off the books. a sweet fluttering in your belly is unleashed with each thrust of your pelvis against him. a sharp burning that you manage to cease and replace with the silky smooth rolling of your hips, enveloped in the pleasurable sounds his lips release. he's frowning with his head stretched back for moments as your pussy coils and squeezes his girth. you feel numb and aching, stomach vibrating as you slow your thrusting because it hurts, but whimpering and grinding against him again.

your head lolls back as you feel his cock hammer you relentlessly. heartlessly. riding his cock with an unseemly frenzy, hearing him gasp and giggle with joy under your voice screaming his name. biting your lips when a shudder strike you so hard, that you're nothing more than a tangle of haze and hisses.

“easy, kitten. you'll hurt yourself.” your body quivers at his low and sweet tone. sensing his hands caressing your thighs before they wander into your wet core and trace circles that send electrical currents through your system. “you make me feel... dizzy.” surprising yourself when your fingers work skillfully to unbutton his linen shirt and reveal his smooth, tender skin without stopping the rhythm of your short wiggles on his lap. eyes drinking his pale chest rise and fall, covered with lines going in all directions, short and elongated ones of a reddish hue; he's covered with small scratches that fade when they reach the neck. “they get too excited sometimes.” it's his only answer. his eyes shut at the constant thrusting of your pelvis and your walls tightening around his length while bobbing on his girth covered in your silkiness, as a tingling rage burst in your chest for those who hurt them.

“u—uh, fuck,” he gulps, mouth part open where it slips pretty sounds. “fuck, that feels g-good, kitten,” he moans as you tremble on his lap and your inside twitches and throb due to the motion of his graceful fingers on your swollen spot. being unable to keep the pace, the rhythm of your hips alternates between sharp and sloppy. completely altered by his cock burying itself in you and soothing the swelling inside you, tip slapping again and again as you move up and down, stimulating your tingle that slides down and forms a creamy ring at the base of his girth.

“just like that, s-shit,” he gushes out, feeling dizzy as a lashing sensation whips you and fills you with a black noise. sensing your body shattering when jisung uses his strength to push your pelvis down and pump his cock into your core, pounding into you ruthlessly until utterly becoming sloppier and sloppier as a last groan leaves his lips.

a shot of bliss assaults while waves of pleasure wash you over, collapsing and throbbing ecstatic at the sensation of something thick and warm painting your pulsing walls. hot seed gushing out when he pulls his cock and strokes the remaining of his load under your mesmerized gaze, wrapping his fingers around it until it becomes limp. seeing him smiling when you say how pretty it is.

“now go,” he hurries you, “before the wolf gets you.”

the night has long settled in the starry sky when you descend from the tower. solitary, the academy sleeps under the sounds of nocturnal creatures; invisible presences that see you advance the patio to the bedrooms. tiny little eyes in trees, bushes, and under rocks, which follow you as you pass the bridge.

you rise from his lap ruined and completely shattered. “will you be fine?” you ask, fearing someone will come and make those horrible marks on him again, but he calms you down. “of course, i'm sneaky.”

you process what he says, frowning, “what if... something else gets me?”

the wind feels cool, the full moon accompanies you, and the hooting of nocturnal animals reaches your ears. no. not animals.

they're whispering. they hide in the shadows. no longer beautiful. cursed. hideous. you feel their eyes on you and loneliness is no longer comfortable when you know they're lurking. when they hide when you look back. when as you go along you feel them taking steps behind you, their murmurs more and more audible.

“her hair..., kitten. pretty, pretty.”

“i want her eyes, let me have her eyes, kitten.”

“her skin..., oh, kitten.”

“you'll have it.”

your eyes squint the darkness with a scream freeze in your throat. heart rumbling in your ears.

no one's there. there's no one there.

your nape hairs suddenly bristling when you look back absently, and suddenly you see it. crouched in a corner, hidden. following you. a figure bigger and longer than your little companions.

you thought you had imagined it, because as soon as you see him, he has disappeared.

so you go after him.

accelerating your footsteps on the cement until you turn a corner and see his fleeting figure cross in another. a new glimpse of his graceful body, a black flash of his short hair and washed-out black pants as the only garment. back muscles flexing when he uses a single hand to direct his rash walk toward the yard you've come from. stopping finally, disoriented.

a cast covers his right arm, and his chest rises and falls rapidly, as if he's scared and lost. but then his gaze land on you, and it seems like he finally found what he was looking for: his name, on your lips.

“renjun.”

#mark smut #mark lee smut #jisung smut #park jisung smut #nct dream smut #nct smut #nct mark smut #nct jisung smut #♡mark #♡jisung

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