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moonjella · 1 year

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MASQUERADE — 00 LINE

pairing || 00 line x fem!reader

synopsis || it's your first halloween at this prestigious school and with it is your first annual halloween masquerade. it's elegance and classiness mixed with the spirits of the young and drunk — a party like no other. but there is one rule : do not remove your mask. easy enough in theory, but in practise you find yourself to be the only prey in a room full of predators.

content || mature, minors do not interact! alcohol consumption. explicit smut — gangbang, unprotected sex, pulling out, cumming inside, cunningulus, fingering, blowjob, doggy style, riding, double penetration (spitroasting), anal play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, petplay, petnames, degradation and praise, dom/sub dynamics.

word count || 6.9k

author's note || for @underworldnet’s halloween event — day eight : costume.

“A bunny?” you scoff. “Really?”

“It was the only thing left in your size.” Shotaro explains. And in all honesty, it looks like the dress is two times smaller than anything you’ve worn before.

“I’m sure the fancy dress store would have had something better.”

“And I’m sure you know that this isn’t a party for five–year–olds. This isn’t fancy dress, it’s fancy dress. As a member of the committee, I can’t allow you into the party with me if you don’t follow the rules.”

“Maybe that’s the point,” you snatch the dress from his hands and throw it onto the bed. But you pick up the glamorous mask from the box he’d opened for you. This, at least, was something to admire.

A bunny mask, white with gems and lace dotted delicately across it with two white feathers poking from the top to act as ears.

“Come on,” he whines. “You promised you’d come this year.”

“I know I did but now that it’s a few hours away, I’m beginning to think it’s okay to break some promises.”

“You’d really break a promise with your best friend?” he gasps. It sounds like he’s only kidding when he fake sobs but it’s Shotaro and you know it means something to him deep down.

He’s your best friend, after all.

You tut and let out a quiet exhale.

“I’ll go,” you say to him. “But is there really nothing else I can wear?”

“I spent all day shopping to find your costume…” he pouts.

“Fine,” you huff. “Is there a reason I’m bunny?”

“Didn’t I tell you this year’s theme is animals?”

“I thought it was masquerade.”

“Every year is masquerade, dummie. But the theme changes every year, not many people go with the theme anyway. But I thought it would be fun for us to do it, since it’s your first time.”

“What’s your animal?” you ask him.

“I’m an otter.” He says with the biggest, dorkiest smile ever.

“An otter?”

“Yeah!” his eyes close up from how much he’s smiling and you can’t find it in yourself to question his choice further.

“This party’s a big deal, huh?” you mutter to yourself.

“I’ll pick you up at nine, ‘kay?”

You nod and wave him goodbye while he runs out of your room. You know in the few hours until the party, he’ll barely have enough time to get ready himself since he’s part of the committee.

Neither you or Shotaro were party people, but the annual Halloween masquerade is something he takes pride in — mainly because him and a bunch of his friends host it every year, but also because he loves the spooky season.

Though, you can imagine there’d be little festivities happening tonight.

With the kind of crowd at your college — a prestigious and expensive kind — the partygoers only care about drinking overpriced champagne and showing off their designer outfits.

It’s not that you never attended by your own choice. Shotaro invited you every year but last year you fell sick and the year before you were behind with assignments.

You feel worried, in a way. Sure, you’ve been to your share of parties. But this is the biggest party of the year. And your outfit seemed lame.

Tonnes of people go as bunnies, and the number of bunnies would be higher since the theme is animals. Oh well, you trust Shotaro’s choice.

You sigh as you look over the items on your bed.

The white dress, the embellished mask and a pair of white kitten heels — Shotaro knows you wouldn’t be able to handle stilettos for an entire night and you silently thank him for taking note.

You remind yourself to pay him in return for going shopping on your behalf as you get in the shower. Playing your favourite songs, you get ready with a bit of a lighter mood.

Since you’re wearing a mask, you don’t go too heavy on the eyes and instead focus on picking out the perfect shade of lipstick. And then you move onto your hair.

When you’re done, you slip into your dress, fumbling with the zipper as your arms reach around your back to pull it up. You put on your shoes and straighten yourself out in the mirror.

You look… beautiful.

White never looked so good on you.

No one in the entire campus has seen you show so much skin and you begin to tremble with bad nerves but a knock on your room door grounds you.

“You look amazing!” Shotaro looks you up and down with a huge smile.

He is donned in a brown tweed suit. His hair is slicked back and the upper half of his face is covered with a mask — rounded eyes and rounded ears and brown fur.

“Mr. Otter,” you greet him. “You’re late.”

“Only by two minutes,” he grins and picks up your mask before tying the ribbons around your head, making sure to not spoil your perfectly styled hair. “How are you feeling?”

“A little nervous, but I’m starting to feel excited.”

Although the pit of your stomach is a little wobbly, there is a thrilling sensation in your chest that outweighs it. it’s safe to say you’re not as reluctant as before now that Shotaro is here. He’s so happy to see you.

You can only imagine how excited he is for you to finally attend his party.

Maybe it’s the excitement of Shotaro escorting you, or the fact that it’s your first time going, but when you look in the mirror while he fixes your mask, you feel like a completely different person. And you like it.

Maybe just for one night, you could be someone else.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

Your hand slips into his naturally. “Yeah.”

“You remember the rule, right?”

“Don’t take off your mask.”

The party is everything you imagined it to be, and everything you didn’t imagine it to be.

You’re in awe at the sheer elegance of it.

Sure, you’ve heard many stories about it. You never attended but it was no doubt a hot topic of conversation for days afterwards and people began looking forward to next year’s party immediately.

As you stepped into the hall, it feels like a new age ballroom for modern teens.

Like the old days of high society somehow met with drunken teen spirit of the twenty–first century.

You would be lying to say you aren’t impressed when Shotaro asks you.

Staring up at the dazzling chandeliers, Shotaro’s arm slips from your hold as he hugs some random guy. You don’t recognise him because of the mask he’s wearing, but he’s all green. His suit a dark shade of emerald velvet while his mask is a few shades lighter with textured snake skin.

His smile, on the other hand, is charming and completely unalike to a snake.

They exchange chatter and you don’t pay attention to their words until Mr. Snake lays his eyes on you. His pretty smile widens to show a perfect set of teeth.

Before he can introduce himself, you’re met with a handful of girls who’ve been excited to see you since you announced to them you’d be at the party. They whisk you away and you give a sorry wave to Shotaro.

You didn’t want to leave him so early but he cheers you on with raised fists.

You’re rushed onto the dance floor but you want nothing more than to peel away from the crammed bodies. For a few moments, you blend in on the border of enjoying dancing but you’d need a few drinks to loosen up first.

You escape the grasp of sweaty bodies wrapped in expensive clothes and slip away to the side.

If the party is this hyper right now, you certainly don’t feel excited for how much louder it will get in a few hours.

But then again… tonight’s all about letting go, right?

It wouldn’t hurt to join in with the chaos for one night.

Everyone’s wearing masks and you can barely recognise who is who unless you know them personally.

There’s a hint of fun among all of this.

The hairs on the back of your neck stand up and a gentle shiver runs down your spine. It’s thrilling. And you feel like everyone is watching — your body grows a little to elated to what you’re used to.

Backing away from the crowd, you walk over to the punch table.

You sniff it before drinking, registering a hint of alcohol hidden among the fruity taste.

If you wanted to get completely wasted, you’d have started with the champagne on the other side of the room but you settle with some surprisingly good punch for now.

You just needed easing up a little.

And it works pretty fast. Your shoulders slowly relax and the dancefloor doesn’t seem so daunting now.

You feel a timid buzz in your body and it becomes stronger when someone joins you at the punch table.

He leans his butt against it after pouring a cup and sips it while looking you up and down.

You feel yourself burst into flames under the gaze of… a bear?

“Bunny?”

You nod.

“Nice,” he smirks. “You’re missing a tail, though.”

You roll your eyes and sip your own drink while his eyes slip down your back to your butt where he would expect to see a plush ball of white fur. You didn’t think about it until now, but your mask and ears are enough to let others know what animal you are. A missing tail isn’t a big deal.

But the way Mr. Bear looks at your body is.

It’s a new feeling; you like it, but you also don’t.

Discomfort floods your body but at the same time, you don’t want the feeling to go away. You can feel the walls of your comfort zone breaking away little by little.

You sigh at the thought. You’re doing this for Shotaro, remember?

Speaking of, you glance around the room and spot him surrounded by a group of people. Always the social butterfly. You feel proud of him in a way, but it didn’t help that you’re too awkward to speak to anybody else in the room.

Small talk has never been your expertise.

“Enjoying the party?” Mr. Bear asks.

“Sure.”

“Just sure? Not this is the best party you’ve ever been to?”

“It’s not the worst,” you shrug.

He chuckles and takes another sip of his drink.

“You look like you don’t go to many parties.”

“I don’t.”

“Then why are you here?”

Now, who does he think he is interrogating you for no reason, hm? His bear mask is less than intimidating, but the smirk on his face when he sees you firing up is enough to unsettle your nerves.

He’s here to piss you off on purpose.

There’s no need to give him what he wants.

Just finish your drink and go to the dance floor, maybe find Shotaro and dance with him for a bit before leaving.

“It’s rude to ignore people. It would be a shame to see a cute, little bunny get into trouble with the big, bad bear.”

He scoots over to you as he says it and he makes sure to whisper it right into your ear.

You swallow, ignoring the way his breath floats over your skin and causes goosebumps to rise. You curse the dress for not being long enough to hide how your body reacts to him.

“Big and bad, my ass,” you scoff, hiding your nervousness with an attitude. “You’re as intimidating as my little toe.”

You roll your eyes. When is this loser going to leave?

“You here with anyone?”

“What?”

“Did you come here with a date or are you alone?”

“Why do you want to know?”

“Just curious if you had an invite.”

“First of all, I was invited. And secondly, if I didn’t, I wouldn’t choose to spend my night breaking into some dumb party.”

“You sound angry,” he hisses. “Maybe you should leave if you don’t like it.”

“I would but some asshole bear keeps trying to talk to me.”

He’s silent for a moment before asking, “Who did you come with?”

Your grit your teeth. All the work the alcohol had done to relax you had failed the moment this pretentious ass came along.

“I came with Shotaro,” you tell him.

“Shotaro?” he laughs. “You gotta be kidding. Do you really expect me to believe that?”

“Why not? Is it so hard to believe?”

“A little,” he admits, clearly becoming agitated with you. “How about I call him over so you can say it to him?”

“What are you—”

“Relax, Haechan” Mr. Snake appears in true snake fashion. He attempts to rub away the tension in Mr. Bear’s shoulders. “She’s with Taro. I saw them come in together.”

The bear bites back a remark and finally shuts up.

With the snake dude is another guy — dark hair and piercing eyes. It takes you a while but you realise his mask depicts a wolf.

“You’re YN, right?” he says. “Taro talks about you a lot.”

You nod silently.

“Shit… you’re YN?” Haechan brings his fist up to cover his mouth. You don’t know why he’s so shocked but him being stunned to silence works for you.

“I’m Jeno.” Mr. Wolf holds out his hand but you don’t take it.

He retracts it slowly and you look to Mr. Snake again.

“Jaemin,” he introduces himself. “And you know Haechan already, I see.”

The four of you fall into silence. After learning their names, you can’t say you know them. You don’t recall ever having classes with any of them.

“Are you enjoying the party?” Mr. Snake slash Jaemin asks.

“It’s fine,” you say plainly. “The company, however, is not.”

Your words cut through the air between you like a knife and you can tell they’re all taken aback. You’re not sure where this fieriness has come from but it feels exhilarating. Seeing them all look at you in surprise while at the same time, their eyes travel up and down your body.

Being set on fire by three different gazes is new but addicting.

You direct your attention to tracing the shape of the pumpkin on your cup of punch while they begin chattering to one another. It’s a little awkward and you’re about to leave before you’re knocked into.

Thankfully, your white dress doesn’t get stained but the white shirt of a tux turns red with the punch.

“Aww, man, my shirt!”

You step back immediately, not wanting any of the stains on you.

“I told you to watch it,” a familiar voice whines. Renjun appears donning a fox mask while patting down YangYang with some napkins. “Oh, hey YN. You look… good.”

You don’t miss the way his eyes stick on your body before looking away.

“Th–thanks…” you mutter.

Renjun is a quiet friend, but he always goes out of his way to speak with you. You have a few classes together and you get along well. But one thing you’ve always wanted to ask him is why he hangs out with YangYang so much.

Renjun is a sweet, calm and mature guy. YangYang is nothing but trouble. He’s loud and grabs attention wherever he goes. You try not to question their friendship much but as Renjun tries to clean the stain on the latter’s suit, you really wonder how their friendship came to be.

YangYang wears a mask with a pointed nose and eyes — an eagle.

Interesting choice.

Being surrounded by them all — all of whom are taller than you — makes you feel intimidated. They share glances between themselves; it’s awkward but no one says anything.

Renjun continues to help YangYang clean himself, Haechan starts whining again and thankfully, it’s not to you. And the other two, Jeno and Jaemin, deal with both Haechan’s annoyance and YangYang’s carelessness.

While they’re distracted, you take the opportunity to slip away and scour the floor for Shotaro. He’s further away now and you don’t look forward to fighting your way through the dancefloor to get to him.

You pull your phone from your purse and send him a quick text message. He checks his phone straight away and his eyes search for you as soon as he sees it and you give him a little wave. He smiles back in acknowledgement before his attention is stolen again.

The message reads: gonna head to the private room for a bit. I’ll come back soon

You head to the said room, looking back to ensure nobody saw you slipping through the back door of the hall and down the empty corridors of the building.

When you reach the room, you close the door quietly behind you.

The lights are already turned on, albeit dim. Somebody probably forgot to switch them off, maybe Shotaro.

He showed you his “secret” room a long time ago but you never visited it frequently until recently. He used it to plan for the party while you studied sitting next to him. No one else ever came when you were alone so you assume it’s an unused room.

Shotaro told you he sometimes comes here alone when he feels stressed, and asked for you to use it freely.

You collapse onto the soft couch; the plush, velvety material drags you deeper while you take off your mask and fling it onto the coffee table.

“So much for getting out of my comfort zone.”

You scroll through your phone until you’re bored and then spend the rest of your time laying in silence staring at the decorated ceiling.

Shotaro probably won’t have much time to come see you away from the party so you decide to head back.

But as soon as you stand, you hear voices growing louder. You stop a few feet away from the door, waiting for them to pass so you can leave only for the door to your room to swing wide open.

You jolt slightly, heart racing for some reason.

“Another shirt ruined. My mom’s going to kill me.” YangYang says as he enters first but stops in his tracks right in front of you.

The others bump into him subsequently.

“YN,” the wolf — Jeno — says. “What are you doing here?”

“I… I was just leaving.” You duck to the side to make a narrow escape but a big, tall bear stands in your way.

“Not so fast, little bunny. You know this is our room, right?”

You clench your jaw. What is it with this guy and trying to cause you problems?

“I didn’t know.”

“So you just go wandering into any room you like?”

“I…, no. Shotaro brought me here. He said I can use it whenever.”

“Oh, he did now?”

“Yes, he did.”

“Now, now children. Let’s not start getting into it again.” Jaemin says.

The others step further into the room and you try to leave again but Haechan still stands in your way.

“You gonna move or what?”

“Would you look at that?” he scoffs. “Bunny’s got a bite.”

If he doesn’t stop, you might actually bite him.

He steps closer and you stand up straighter when he looks down at you. He’s only inches away; he feels… addicting.

“Don’t act so brave, little bunny. Or the big, bad bear might gobble you up whole.”

You scoff.

“Not likely. The majority of a bear’s diet consists of vegetation.”

“Bunny’s got a brain, too.” Jaemin says from the couch. Your back is facing him so you don’t see him picking up the bunny mask you left on the table and waving it to the others. “But not a big one, apparently.”

The rest of them have settled comfortably in the room and before you know it, Haechan is grabbing you by the wrist and dragging you to sit with them.

“What are you doing?!”

“Can’t let you go back out there when you’ve broken the rule. The little bunny needs to be punished.”

“What rule?” you huff. “Let go of me.”

You’re more than surprised when he places you in his lap. Freezing up immediately, your eyes widen but the rest of them act like this is just a normal day.

“Did Taro forget to tell you?” Renjun asks, and then explains, “You’re not allowed to take off your mask.”

“What—”

“Be quiet. You’re annoying me.” Haechan says.

And that’s exactly why he has you in his lap, isn’t it? Being stuck here is definitely a punishment.

They begin yet another conversation, complaining about how exhausted they all are from organising the party.

“Wait, you guys are on the committee?”

“Duh.” Haechan mutters beneath you.

“We all host the party with Shotaro,” Jeno explains. “Every year.”

You take in the information slowly. Maybe you should have thought twice before dissing the party to them earlier. No wonder the man beneath you got so pressed.

Stuck in your thoughts, you fall into silence again before a tickle against your leg stirs you. Jaemin’s fingers trace little patterns into your skin. He meets your eyes briefly before giving his attention back to the others as if nothing happened.

They continue talking but you feel both Haechan and Jaemin growing closer to you.

Haechan’s breath flutters over your skin. He places his chin on your shoulder and teases you ear with his lips. Your too stunned to comprehend his whispers and Jaemin snakes his way closer to you.

The others are watching as the two slowly break down your walls and every nerve in your body is on high alert.

Jaemin’s hand travels past the hem of your dress and you gasp as Haechan’s lips finally touch your skin. He’s soft, gently breathing onto the skin of your neck before biting down.

“Ah!” you yelp.

Your body is hot while the others watch Jaemin rubbing your thighs and Haechan leaving marks all along your shoulder.

“What are you doing?” you whisper.

“Hm? Don’t you like this?”

You bite your lips. You do, but it feels so wrong to admit it.

The desperation takes over, and you nod eagerly. This punishment doesn’t seem bad at all.

“Use your words, bunny. Tell us you want it.”

“I want it.”

“What do you want?”

“You. I want all of you.”

“Fuck…” you hear Jeno chuckle behind you. “Who knew Taro’s girl was this desperate?”

“I…I’m not…”

“Don’t give us that crap,” YangYang butts in. His legs are spread wide on the couch and his arms across the back of it. “Why don’t you come over here?”

“Hey, I had her first!” Haechan whines.

“Fuck you. You’ve had her all this time. You wanna know how hard my dick is from watching?”

“Not my problem.” Haechan says and grabs you by the cheeks, slamming his lips onto yours.

Your mouth opens to his immediately, letting him inside and you feel warmth in every part of you, especially in your core. You rub your thighs together, fidgeting in his lap and ensuring you rock your ass against his hardening cock.

Jaemin is exploring you with him. His hands have snuck under your dress, cupping your ass while he attacks your neck with his lips.

His mask grazes against your jaw and his dark eyes look to you through narrow slits.

There’s something exhilarating about his face being hidden, all of theirs. Maybe it was a good thing you were the only one to break the rule.

Haechan lifts your hips and situates you exactly how he wants.

Your ass presses right onto his dick while Jaemin helps him spread your legs wide on either side of him. He drops to his knees, kissing his way up from your ankles to your inner thighs.

His lips tickle you and your core tenses.

“Mind if I take ‘em off?” He notions towards your white, lacey panties.

You nod, swallowing nervously as he peels them away. You can feel the arousal on the material when it parts from you.

“Fuck, you’re so wet…”

“Of course, she is,” Haechan kisses your neck. “She’s a slutty little bunny. Ain’t that right?”

He nudges you and you nod quickly.

One of his hands cups your breast while the other pulls your dress up, holding it against your stomach so no obstacles are left for Jaemin.

“You sure you want this?” Jaemin asks. You appreciate his sentiment but you’re too desperate for his niceties.

“Yes, please…just touch me!”

A filthy grin finds its way to his face before he dips his head and attaches his lips to your pussy.

“Ah!” you whimper.

Your back presses into Haechan as it arches and your ass grinds against his cock while you rock your hips back and forth against Jaemin’s face. He grabs your thighs, holding them tight around his neck while he licks and sucks.

He drags his teeth over your clit gently, causing you to cry out from the feeling. And then he rubs his tongue up and down, electrifying your entire body.

You feel your orgasm approaching when he shoves two fingers into your pussy with ease. You’re so fucking wet and he spreads you open while tasting your sweet essence.

Pleasure hits you, blinding your senses and your body trembles in Haechan’s embrace. You’re gasping and crying, begging for Jaemin to not stop and finally your hips stop moving.

You collapse onto Haechan and catch your breath. Upon opening your eyes, you see them all staring at you with mouths wide open.

“You sound so pretty…” Renjun mutters.

Some of them stroke their boners over their slacks, others watch quietly, waiting for the next move.

“My turn.” Haechan flips you onto the couch. Your shoulders meet the cushions while your ass bends upwards. You shuffle into a more comfortable version while Haechan rips off his belt and pulls out his cock.

He hisses when he strokes it a few times.

“God, you’re so hot…” he whispers. “Gonna fuck you so good.”

You moan into the cushions while he prods your entrance.

“Wait,” Jeno calls.

“The fuck do you want?”

You turn your head to see Mr. Wolf reaching into his pocket and making his way to you. He talks directly to you, ignoring Haechan completely.

“Now’s a good time to tell you about the little gift Shotaro bought you.”

He reveals a fluffy white ball. You’re not sure of its purpose at first until you see the rounded metal hidden beneath all the fur.

Your eyes widen in shock.

“Shotaro got me that?!”

“He pussied out last minute and gave it to me instead. But it was meant for you.”

“Why the hell would he give it to you?” Renjun asks and Jeno shrugs while the others laugh.

You swallow grimly, eyes not leaving the toy.

“How about we give our bunny a tail?” Haechan grins.

His voice is so sickeningly annoying but you can’t get enough of it.

“What do you say?”

You purse your lips in thought.

Did Taro really get you that?

What did he mean by it?

Does he… want to have sex with you? Or was it only meant to as an accessory to your costume?

You don’t have time to think about it and you brush the notions away quickly with a nod.

“Bunny wants a tail.” You whine cutely, pouting your lips as you look up at him.

You hear one of them groan and Haechan grabs handfuls of your ass, spreading your cheeks and spitting between them. His fingers rub gently, spreading his spit.

Meanwhile, Jeno bends down to your level.

“Open wide.”

You part your lips and stick out your tongue, letting the saliva dribble. He rubs the metal part of the ball up and down, coating it in saliva before ordering you to suck on it. Whispers of curses fill the room as you make the most needy face you can while sucking on the toy.

“Good girl,” Jeno strokes your hair, tickling your scalp with his fingers.

The plug pops from your mouth Haechan holds you open while Jeno slips it in your ass.

“Relax, baby,” he rubs your body to ease. “There we go. Almost there.”

He teases it in and out of your hole until you’re ready to take it fully and then he pushes it in. You whine from the sensation but the feeling of being filled is incredible. You shake your ass teasingly and both of them grab it, leaving a red mark from a slap.

Haechan wastes no time in fucking you. He pushes into your pussy, guiding your hips onto him with eagerness. His cock spreads you open and he stutters vocally.

“Ah, you’re so fucking tight…”

You whine in response and push your hips back and forth with him, allowing him to dive in deeper. Your walls wrap around him and he stills for a moment when he’s fully situated.

“Fuck, Haechan!” you cry. “Feels so good.”

“Baby, I’m not even doing anything.” He chuckles and the others laugh with him. “You’re such a little bunnywhore, ain’t ya? So desperate for my cock.”

“Yes!” you cry out. “Please, Haechan, want you to fuck me so good.”

“What was that? I don’t think the others heard you.”

“Please! Fuck me real good, Haechan. Wanna be fucked like a little whore!”

He drags his cock out slowly before slamming back in.

“What a slutty little bunny.”

You moan into the cushions, not caring if they become covered with your drool and makeup. You can only feel Haechan’s cock driving in and out of you and the heated gaze of everyone else on the two of your bodies.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum already.” Haechan says and you clench around him. “Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

He thrusts a few more times before pulling out and jerking his cock over your ass. His hot cum hits you in spurts and you wiggle your hips side to side while he groans and empties his load on you.

“Fucking perfect…” he whispers and falls onto the couch.

“Who’s next?” Jeno asks.

You rise up on trembling arms and all of them are silent, but expectant. You crawl over to the one closest to you, Renjun.

He seems nervous, swallowing loudly when you touch him.

“Renjun…?”

“You… you don’t have to YN.”

“But I want to.”

You kiss his ears, his neck, his lips. Your hands sneak under his blazer and trace his hard body over his shirt. He nods shyly.

“What do you want me to do?” you ask softly.

“You…” he gasps and throws his head back when you squeeze his cock. “Your mouth. Use your mouth.”

You fall to the floor immediately, held warmly between his legs and he helps you remove his cock from his boxers and pants.

You stroke him gently, feeling him harden even more.

An experimental lick swipes its way up his cock and you eye him, watching him unravel from the warmth of your tongue. When you reach the tip, you take him past your lips. Little by little, teasing him and admiring the way his chest rises and falls rapidly.

You make sure to stick out your ass for the others while you suck Renjun’s cock and in no time, his cock hits the back of your throat from his hips thrusting up.

“God, YN!” he moans.

You suck tighter, bob your head faster and when you see his fists tightening by his side, you remove him from your mouth completely.

“Ah!” he gasps loudly. He reaches for his cock to reach his high but you hold them back. “YN, please!”

“Don’t you want to cum inside your little bunny?” you whisper.

He stares at you, mesmerised.

“Renjunnie… cum inside me… please?””

He nods gently.

“Are you sure it’s okay?”

You bite your lips, telling him that it’s more than fine. You want nothing more than to be filled up with him, with all of them.

To your side, YangYang has his cock out, stroking it up and down while his head rests on the back of the couch watching you. Haechan is still blissed out but watching intensely and the other two sit quietly, waiting for you to finish with their friend.

You climb onto his lap, a thigh on either side and press your lips to his while sinking down in his cock. He moans into your mouth and you mix them with your own. He holds you nervously, unsure where to touch you as you rock back and forth on his cock.

His fingers dig into your side and you reach a hand between your bodies, meeting with your needy clit. You rub circles, causing you to clench around his cock and the feeling of his cum spurting into you tosses you over the edge.

You bounce quickly, not wanting to slow down the orgasm anymore and allow yourself to be taken over with another. All the while, Renjun moans and moans until he’s fully spent inside of you.

You feel your ass clenching around the tail and you feel so full being stuffed again and again.

Renjun is on the border of passing out and you jump from him.

YangYang reaches his arm out to grab you but you find it entertaining to tease him and you slip from his grasp, making your way to Jaemin and Jeno.

“Hey, bunny,” Jeno smiles.

You smile sweetly, wobbling on your weak legs and he pulls you into his lap.

“How about we take her together?” he asks Jaemin.

“Sounds good to me.”

He lifts you with ease and lays you gently on the couch they were sitting on. He gives your tail a little tug, causing you to yelp but you all giggle together after.

“Has anyone ever told you how cute you are tonight?” Jaemins strokes your cheeks.

You shake your head, melting into his touch.

“Hm, we could tell her,” Jeno suggests. “Or we could show her.”

You whine, feeling your pussy flutter with excitement as if it hadn’t already had enough.

“I think she wants us to show her.” Jaemin smiles and you feel yourself drift to cloud nine when they both look down at you between them.

Jeno places himself between your legs, pressing a long kiss to your ankles before placing them on his shoulder. Jaemin, on the other hand, unbuckles his belt and pulls out his cock. He lets it hang freely, waiting for you to grab it.

A groan escapes him and his knees tremble when you begin stroking. You pull him closer, letting your tongue taste his precum.

“Ah! Fuck, bunny. You’re such a good girl.”

You squeal when you feel Jeno pressing his cock into your sopping hole. Your pussy flutters around him as he pushes his way in. You’re so overwhelmed yet you keep wanting more.

You take all of Jaemin into your mouth, moving your head as much as you could in this position and Jeno thrusts deeper, slow and hard.

You moan around Jaemin’s cock, vibrations running through his body and when he can’t take it anymore, he grabs a handful of your hair before thrusting into your mouth.

His cock hits the back of your throat, bringing tears to your eyes but you blink them away, not wanting to distort the image of the two men using you like their personal fleshtoy.

Fuck, you feel so hot.

Your core is so tense and you can feel every ridge of Jeno’s cock in your pussy. He slams harder, faster, pace picking up and rhythm growing messy. He’s close.

“Fuck!” you mumble around Jaemin’s cock.

They both groan, griping onto anything they can and you’re about to cum all over Jeno’s cock when he pulls out. You whine but he uses his fist to empty his load all over your pussy.

Your muscles twitch endlessly and Jaemin pulls out of your mouth only to push Jeno out of the way and replace him inside of you.

“Fuck, you’re so dirty,” he groans. “But so fucking cute.”

He thrusts into you and you let your entire body relax in his hold. His arms wrap around your waist and he kisses the exposed skin of your chest and neck, using his hands to grope your tits.

Your walls flutter around him and you feel the sting of pleasure once again.

“Harder!” you cry.

He heeds your demand and fucks you relentlessly, letting his cum spill freely in your pussy.

“Oh my god!”

You cum together and everyone groans with you. Your head digs into the couch and your hips rise up to meet Jaemin’s until he holds you both still together, brushing your hair away from your sweaty face.

He shushes you and guides your breathing until you’ve come down from your high once more.

Then he takes your hand and lifts you into an upright position, placing a gentle kiss on you’re forehead.

“Did so well, bunny. You okay?” he asks gently.

You nod, slowly and completely exhausted.

Everyone has collapsed onto their backs, letting the couches swallow them whole.

It must have been quite the show.

For all but one.

“Got one more for me?” YangYang smirks.

You crawl over to him, collapsing on his lap with your thighs on either side. His cock is already out and he’s lining it up with your entrance immediately.

He leaves a small kiss in the crook of your neck before sinking you down on his cock.

You rest your head on his shoulder while he lifts your hips up and down on his lap.

“Oh, my god!” he groans. “Waited so fucking long but it was worth it.”

You don’t register how fast he’s slamming you on his cock, nor how hard his fingers dig into your flesh but you use whatever energy still existing in your body to move your thighs.

“That’s right, bunny. Show me how good you can bounce.”

His words spur you on and the raspiness in his voice elates your heartbeat despite it being impossible to beat any faster.

You feel yourself clench one more time and you spill all of your juices onto him. It’s too much, you can’t hold anything back despite having nothing left to give.

“Fuck, she’s squirting!”

YangYang lifts his hips up when he brings you down on him and you feel him reaching even deeper.

“Ah!” you cry. “Too much!”

“Finally had enough?” he growls into your ear.

You nod desperately.

“Can’t take my cock anymore?”

“It’s too good!”

“Fuck, do you want me to stop or not?”

“No! Don’t stop! Please, don’t stop!”

YangYang thrusts harder and he bites into your shoulder. You’re amazed at how your dress was able to stay on this whole time but it slips down further and further, not exposing your chest fully but showing just enough of your tits to drive them all crazy.

One look at them bouncing is enough make YangYang lose all of his control.

“Ah! I’m cumming!” you cry, letting one more, and hopefully the last, orgasm wash over you.

“Fuck! Me too!”

His hips tremor when he pushes himself balls deep in you. They remain flush against your pussy until you feel his cum stop pouring out.

And when he pulls out, his cum drips out of your pussy and back onto his softening cock.

They all groan as you fall to the side, spreading your legs to show them how all of their cum decorates your body.

You’re so fucking messy, sweaty and covered in cum but you don’t care.

All of you sit quietly for a while, not a word spared between you until you’ve caught your breath and attempt to sit upright.

Jaemin and YangYang aid you and help you stand on wobbling legs.

“Are you okay?”

“I think so…” you gasp as you feel the cum dribble down your legs.

“That was fucking amazing…” Haechan says.

And the others agree with him. Renjun just hums in his blissed out state while YangYang strokes your thighs from behind.

“You were amazing. How did you even handle all of that?”

“Because she’s such a good bunny.” Jeno teased but leaves a sweet kiss on your cheek, and Jaemin beings you some tissues and helps you start wiping yourself.

Only now do they remove their masks and it feels refreshing to finally see their handsome faces.

Your entire body trembles gently while they take care of you, making sure to compliment you at any second they get. But a loud click catches everyone’s attention and your body jolts when the door opens.

Terrified of being caught, you grab onto Jaemin and pull him in front of you, but you freeze upon seeing who entered the room.

“Shotaro…” you gasp and pull down your dress as if it would hide the fact that you just fucked all of his friends.

“YN?”

He looks somewhat disheartened as he walks deeper into the room. Music still beats through the walls and your heart hammers with it.

As he gets closer, you see his eyes swim with emotion. And to your surprise, his entire demeanour changes from his usual softness to something dark and dominating. You’ve never seen him like this before but the numbness in your body slowly fades, replacing itself with excitement.

The room is silent as he guides your chin upwards to look him in the eyes.

His warm fingers caress your cheeks and as he stares deep into your soul, his hands slide down to your hips, pulling you so close to him that you can’t escape.

“Looks like someone’s been a bad bunny.”

#✧ jella writes #✧ jella's fics #nct x reader #nct 00 line smut #nct smut #haechan x reader #nct jaemin x reader #nct jeno x reader #nct renjun x reader #yangyang x reader #shotaro x reader #haechan smut #nct jaemin smut #jeno smut #renjun smut #yangyang smut #underworldnet halloween writing event

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justalildumpling · 1 year

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⇢ finding cinderella

synopsis: it wasn’t often jeno showed emotions of love and affection, let alone kissing a stranger at a party that he doesn’t even remember?! determined to find his nameless cinderella, he began searching the campus far and wide but as hidden secrets started surfacing, he started to wonder whether the midnight spark was meant to be pursued after all.

pairing: jeno x fem! reader genre: social media au, college au, strangers to lovers, fluff, angst, crack warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol, jokes about murder status: completed started: 14th February 2023 ended: 13th July 2023 update schedule: twice a week (probs mon & thurs??) taglist: closed🤍!!

note: this is the third instalment of the 'lovesick fools universe'! (tho it can be standalone) holy crap, the journey leading up to writing this fic was... chaotic💀 also imma be fr guys, this is gonna be a hell of a long rollercoaster so buckle up🥴

⎯ navi for lovesick fools universe

profiles 1/3: jay's sugar babies profiles 2/3: dream squad!! profiles 3/3: dream squad!! (pt. 2) chapter 1: the fucked up uni chapter 2: the ball and the glass slipper chapter 3: as the clock struck midnight chapter 4: after the magic wore off🍻 chapter 5: her own version of glass slippers👟 chapter 6: the prince and the stepsisters💀 chapter 7: her nike zoom pegasus chapter 8: prince jeno’s big fat L chapter 9: cinderella’s rats🤨 chapter 10: the questionable wingmen🤨 chapter 11: awkwardly dense charming chapter 12: breaking and (not) entering💀 chapter 13: bye mum im getting married💅 chapter 14: soft launch🙈 chapter 15: avengers assemble🫡 chapter 16: pussy🙄 chapter 17: nomin’s divorce era chapter 18: oh how the turn tables chapter 19: jinx😡 chapter 20: 🤡 chapter 21: loving him was red chapter 22: a twisted cinderella story chapter 23: coping mechanisms chapter 24: denial is river in egypt chapter 25: the story of us chapter 26: the untold truth chapter 27: gaslight, gatekeep, not girlbossing chapter 28: sneaky snake🐍 chapter 29: karma is her bf🤭 chapter 30: closing the cinderella story?? chapter 31: DAS MY BFF😤😤😤 chapter 32: lucifier’s new friend🫣 chapter 33: ok relationship veteran🥵 chapter 34: my soulmate frfr😔✋ chapter 35: sunwoo’s party pt.194859🫠 chapter 36: if the shoe fits chapter 37: so this is love🩵 (finale)

next lovesick fool: renjun

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pleasoflove · 2 months

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love grows best in little houses — lee jeno

roommate jeno x f reader

fluff, friends to lovers, pining, close proximity … >:)

7k words

summary: love grows best in little houses with fewer walls to separate, where you eat and sleep so close together you can't help but communicate. if we had more room between us, think of all we'd miss... love grows best in houses just like this.

authors note: this silly modern all white farmhouse quote had me thinking!!!

“I’m home,” You announce quite obnoxiously, jingling your keys and shopping bags. You made sure to shake the doorknob a little before stepping in as well, doing the courtesy of warning your roommate in case he had company over.

Instead, you find him relaxed on the couch, a knowing smile resting on his face. He gets up to help you with the grocery bags, “I could tell.”

You give Jeno an eyeroll, hanging your keys on the little rack by the door. “I’m doing you a favor, okay? Last thing I need is to walk in on you going at it with some chick from your lab class.”

He laughs a quick laugh, and you get lucky enough to see his eyes form into crescents before his features relax. “Don’t worry. I think I’d warn you before starting something in here.”

“Better safe than sorry.”

Sometimes you find yourself squinting and having quick, fleeting thoughts like maybe I should get my eyes checked, but you’re not oblivious to Lee Jeno’s looks, whose entire being seems to have been crafted by all the angels residing in the heavens themselves. All five feet and ten inches of his existence, from the little stray hair that sticks up from the rest to the bottoms of his feet; Jeno is a sight for sore eyes.

He’s inescapable, too. Quite literally, since you live with him in something that would be flattered to be even called a shoebox of a home.

The front door is simply the entrance to the kitchen— there is no dining room. The wall to your left side when you walk in is essentially the side of the staircase to your little loft, where your measly mattress sits on the floor.

Beneath your loft is Jeno’s “bedroom”, where his mattress is placed directly on the floor as well. He’s got a curtain hung up to separate the joke of his room from the living room, which barely fits the couch that the two of you snagged off someone from Facebook Marketplace.

So, yeah, your living situation is tough, except it only gets harder when the two of you share the most crucial and, possibly, most private space that anyone could ever have.

The bathroom.

Oh, it was tough on your heart. It still is, sometimes, though you’ve gotten better at pretending that you can’t see Jeno’s entire naked upper body when he steps out of the shower and you dash inside to finally relieve your bladder.

It’s not ideal, you know, but it’s the best that your money (combined) can get. Before the start of your junior year, you had been in such a slump over a breakup with your ex that you slacked off hard when it came to apartment hunting. Prices had gone up tenfold by the time you started searching, and with every single day that passed, they only rose and rose, practically laughing in your face for your earlier incompetence.

It wasn’t until you mentioned to your friend (coworker), Mark, that it had been absolute hell trying to find a place to stay. And bless his heart, that precious boy Mark Lee, as he lifted his hand to run it through his hair, only to accidentally knock off his uniform hat off his head as he exclaimed, I got you!

That’s how you met Jeno. A friend of a coworker-turned-friend who had been sheepishly looking for a roomie to occupy that devilishly tiny space because even though it was smaller than a suburban backyard, the rent was still so high.

Before you moved in, your automatic gameplan with any roommate was to interact as little as possible. Stay out of the kitchen if they’re in it. Watch movies in your room if the living room is occupied. Avoid being in the same space at all. Less contact with someone you barely knew meant less conflict, less tension, less worry. You just come in and out, talk about whose turn it is to buy the paper towels and stack the dishes, then move on with your life.

Absolutely impossible with Jeno. Firstly, he’s a kind-hearted boy. Well, not a boy— he is a man. A boy-ish one with that smile he’s got, and the tenderness behind his words yet the playful venom he spits at you whenever he gets the chance. It’s hard to stay away when his personality is so well-balanced and welcoming that you can’t help but to interact.

That, and it’s hard to avoid someone when you’re in the kitchen cleaning up and they have to walk right past you in order to leave. The first few weeks were awfully awkward; a constant cycle of oh, sorry, as the two of you tried to get past each other but couldn’t because of how close everything was together. Jeno gave up the act quickly and began to laugh softly at these little conflicts. It made you feel better, made you feel like you too could laugh at the silly reality of your situation. The apartment felt warmer. You’re unsure if it’s because it was tiny, and the heat was trapped, or because getting comfortable felt nice and it slowly transformed your place into your home.

“Ah. Fruity Pebbles? Someone’s tending to their inner child.”

You huff, your back pressing against his as the two of you sort the new groceries into the little storage space that you have. “They were on sale. And what about it? I’m sure baby Lee enjoyed a bowl or two. Don’t mask your inner child’s excitement with learned patronization.”

“Someone’s been reading lately,” He shoots back, and you can hear his stupid smile through his voice. “Big words for someone like you.”

“You know what? You can forget about the pebbles. Get your own cardboard cereal.”

“I don’t think it’ll fit in the pantry.”

“Laundry day?”

Yes, laundry day. The most taxing and annoying chore of all. Laundry day, where you have to haul your drawstring bag of clothes down the stairs, out of the apartment and into the hallway, all the way down to the elevator. It’s a mission, it’s quite serious.

Jeno stares up at you from the foot of the stairs, eyeing you with humor as he sees you lug around that giant sack of clothing. Oh, how helpful he is, only making you more self-aware as he stands with his fitted undershirt and notorious gray sweats. How lovely of him.

You try coping with the close proximity by turning your attraction to him into annoyance, only your brain does this wicked thing where it gets so annoyed you cannot help but notice all the other handsome, kind, inviting things about him to get annoyed about.

You do not, by any means, have feelings for Jeno. He’s more like that hot friend that you are so sure is out of your league that you simply give up. Yes, he’s hot. Yes, you know nothing will come out of it. Yes, you are one hundred percent okay with that. It’s just difficult when he’s got a pair of eyes and you aren’t looking your best. Human nature to feel a little self conscious, you guess.

“Let me come with,” He offers as you finally reach the bottom of the steps, mindlessly taking the lump of clothes and bringing it into his arms like it were the weight of a newborn baby.

“Eh?”

“I will help you,” He starts again, this time speaking slowly to mock you. He’s trying to stifle a shit-eating grin from coming up on his face. He’s so unbearable that you lightly smack at his arm.

You don’t understand why he would offer to tag along; the laundromat is one of the worst places to spend your free time at. The one you go to has a corner store right next to it, which is nice, but it feels boring again after you collect your snacks and choose a chair to sit in while you watch your clothes spin around and around. It’s even worse when the wall-mounted TVs play nothing but a loop of all the songs that reached top 10 on Billboard in 2013.

But Jeno doesn’t mind. He doesn’t mind a lot of things, you think, as you reach the building and hop out of his car. He’s got so much patience in his heart that you’re not sure what could ever bore him to death.

The two of you pick your washers and start dumping your clothes in. It’s pretty quiet, save for the low rumbling of the other machines and Katy Perry’s Roar playing softly from the TVs. The bell on the entrance door jingles as an older lady walks in with a little boy who's got a candy bar in hand.

When you finish loading the washer, you turn to Jeno swiftly. “Want anything from next door?”

He tilts his head, thinking. “Any sour candy.”

While you head out on your mission to bag the snacks, Jeno picks a table by the window to sit at. He zones out, mindlessly watching the music video play out on the tv, but the sound is muffled in his ears. He's not sure if it's from his lack of focus or the overpowering sound of the machines running.

He’s pulled out of it when the little boy speeds by. With the whole laundromat to himself, he weaves in and out of the rows like it's a maze, yet dutifully obeys his grandmother’s commands to pass him the little detergent tablets on the drying table. After he passes them to her, he starts running again.

He’s about to pass Jeno again before he trips over his own shoelaces and tumbles down to the floor. Jeno automatically perks up, worry flashing in his eyes as he looks at the boy and then to his grandmother. Her eyes are busy on the laundry, sorting out the colors and the whites, and while Jeno is internally panicking about the wellbeing of the child, the little boy simply laughs it off and gets back up on his feet. He’s a little bashful due to having an audience, but after Jeno wordlessly sees that he’s okay, they both relax.

The candy that he was holding had slid across the floor, so Jeno takes it upon himself to pick it up and give it back. He silently inspects it of any damage, earning a laugh from the little one as he hands it to him.

The boy carefully unwraps it then breaks off a piece to give to Jeno.

“Oh,” He starts immediately, taken aback. “No no, you have it.”

The boy hums a short mm-mm while shaking his head, insisting that Jeno take it.

With a weary smile, his big hand meets the small one in front of him and he gently takes the piece of chocolate, slow and careful in case the little boy has any doubts.

As you’re walking back to the laundromat, you can see the entire interaction through the huge windows in the front. The look that’s on Jeno’s face as he interacts with the boy is enough to make your knees weak. It’s so soft, almost loving.

When you step back inside, you try to be as discreet as possible, but the bell on the door alerts everyone that you’re there. The two boys look at you curiously before recognition crosses Jeno’s eyes.

You slide him his bag of sour gummy worms, and without any hesitation, he tears the corner open and spills a few into his hand. He offers his open palm to the boy, who at this point, is giddy and glowing with this new established friendship. He happily takes the worms and nods his head very firmly, “Thank you!”

The boy isn’t there for much longer as his grandmother finishes loading the clothing and calls him over so that they can get ready to leave. He stuffs all the worms into his mouth so that he can hold the box of detergent tablets for her.

It isn’t long before your clothes are done in the wash so that you can dump them into the dryer. You and Jeno pass time by making fun of the music videos playing on the TVs and showing each other viral cat videos.

If there is one thing you know about Jeno, it’s that he loves cats. He’s always making comments about them in passing, showing you cute videos, texting you that he’ll be home in 10, he’s just busy looking at the cats that are up for adoption.

He wants one desperately, it’s just that…

“You know there’s no room.”

He sighs, leaning back into his chair and it squeaks. “We could, like, take it for walks to get the energy out. If anything, we can get an older, lazy cat. I think it would like the space between the window and the couch.”

You laugh, turning your head to check the time left on the dryer. “The non-existent one?”

He throws his head back and groans. Your eyes stay focused on the way his adam's apple bobs for a second too long. “Jeno, living in a space that small feels like a crime against myself sometimes. I would not want to put an animal through that type of pain. Hell, we’re the hamsters in the cage!”

He chews on the inside of his cheek, giving you the stink eye, but it’s all in good fun. Deep down he knows that you’re right.

The buzzer on the dryer goes off and catches the attention of both of you. You unload everything and dump it onto the folding table, a sigh slipping out of your mouth.

Silently, Jeno offers to help you fold. You two split the pile of clothes in half and get to work, an awful Imagine Dragons song filling the silence.

The entire situation isn’t quite ideal. The music is bad, the laundromat’s a little too cold, and you’d very much rather spend your time doing something else like ordering food and picking a thriller movie or challenging your roommate to a game of zombie COD.

But that’s what life is all about, isn’t it? Doing mundane and annoying things with someone that you care about. Folding your laundry with Jeno right next to you, tackling the boring tasks in life with someone by your side. He didn’t have to come help you, but perhaps he offered because he didn’t want you to suffer by your pile of clothing alone. Yeah, that’s what it’s all about.

It’s a little domestic. Okay, it’s painfully domestic. Everything about Jeno is- you live with him, for heaven’s sake. It’s an entire domestic fantasy playing out right before your eyes.

At this point, you’re folding all your clothes on autopilot and you don’t even realize that the both of you are done with your piles. Jeno places every article neatly in your big drawstring bag, keeping it tidy before pulling at the string. He keeps it in his arms as he guides the both of you out to his car.

“Let’s pick up some food, yeah? And search up some good thrillers in the car?”

Upsettingly domestic.

When something, anything, occurs in Jeno’s life that requires him to tell another person so that he can get it off his chest, you are the first person to come to mind. How can he not think about you, when you’re the first face he sees in the morning? The one he makes dinner with, the one he discusses the houseplants with, the one he has to watch get ready in the bathroom, toothbrush in your hand as you sloppily call out to him to please remember to take out the trash.

The two of you share a life together, you share practically everything together. Your living space, tidbits of your interactions with others, news that’s spreading around the city; your unmasked heart and soul shines through every single day. It’s so candid it could almost be romantic, yet it’s anything but that.

Well, sometimes…

No, Jeno doesn’t go there. But he can’t help but think…

When something happens, you’re the person he wants to tell. The most basic and foundational characteristic of love. Sharing. It transcends the physical- of course, you do find yourselves splitting dinners and breaking the last cookie in half so that the both of you can enjoy. But it’s more than that, now. You and him break apart your own beings so that the other can understand, listen, and console. It’s love, he thinks.

Platonic love, he quickly corrects.

He’s been so busy thinking about it that he’s barely realized he’s been staring at the one piece of paint that’s chipping off the wall for too long. The sound of the shower water hitting the tub brings him back, and he looks to the closed bathroom door.

He rushes to it, knuckles knocking on the wood. “Can I come in?”

“Huh?” You practically holler. He laughs to himself, imagining your confused, scrunched up face.

“Can I come in?”

“Oh, yeah. Be quick because all the cold air gets in!”

So he does just that, opening the door just a crack and trying to squeeze in his muscular form so that the air doesn’t rush in.

Jeno closes the door and leans against the bathroom counter, all the heat from the shower coddling him close. It could almost make him sleepy.

“Taeyong wants to promote me.”

“Huh?” You call, hands freezing in your hair as you wash it. “Are you serious? To what?”

“Assistant Manager.”

“Assistant Manager? Are you gonna take it?”

“I don’t know, it’s just… I’m kind of nervous.”

A beat of silence. He calls out your name.

“Yeah, sorry. My face was in the water. Anyway, why? Scared an old geezer is gonna chew you out for the ‘new generation’s music’?’

He laughs. You’re lucky enough to hear it over the water.

“It’s just a lot of responsibility, you know? Like, I’m so used to just doing what I’m told but now, it’s like, I gotta be in charge and tell the employees to get off their phones when they're on the clock. It’s betrayal, you know? How can I look Jisung in the eye and tell him that this is his first warning? I can’t do that.”

You shut your eyes and try to stifle a laugh. It’s a laugh of endearment, though. Jeno cares so much about the people around him- even if it’s his younger coworker who works part time at the record store and barely even sees him more than three times a week.

You shut the water off, voice clear. “Jeno. You worry a lot.” You pull back the shower curtain just a little to peek out, “Can you hand me my towel?”

He obeys, holding out the towel to the edge of the shower with his eyes closed. As soon as he feels it slip past his fingers and the sound of the shower curtain rings clink together, he opens his eyes. You’re still behind the curtain, drying off.

“I think you should go for it. You’ll get more experience. Plus, from what you’ve told me, the record shop isn’t crazy unmanageable and unorganized. And,” You add, dragging out the ‘a’, “You’ll get a raise.”

You’re right, he thinks, tilting his head and staring off. The shop is pretty calm, the customers are mostly older regulars and the occasional teenager in search of a Harry Styles vinyl. Plus, a raise would be nice. Really nice.

“Did you tell Mark and Jaemin? What did they say?”

Jeno hesitates. No, he hasn’t told them yet. You’re always the first person he wants to tell.

“No,” He starts, honest. “I was gonna tell them right now, but I wanted to tell you first. I think I’ll follow your advice anyway.”

Your heart stops in your chest. God, that made you feel so special. You’re at a loss for words before you feel the water drip from your hair down your back.

“Good. Now step out ‘cuz I gotta dry off.”

He smiles and follows your every word. He remembers not to let the cold air in, too.

Jeno is your roommate. He is also your friend, a companion, a confidant. He’s nothing more, nothing less.

People have eyes. They’re allowed to look. In fact, it is their god given right to let their eyes linger a little longer on someone as attractive as Lee Jeno.

Why are you so upset? You can’t just shield him, carry a curtain around and charge a fee for people to look his way. He’s a free man. A free, good looking man.

This party was a mistake. Watching Jeno be tonight's entertainer has planted a seed of bitterness and disappointment in your stomach that you have never felt. The bitterness is towards the situation- you’re not sure if you’re disappointed in yourself for feeling this way or for how the universe has laid out the cards. You long for something to happen. You wickedly hope for that girl to spill her drink on herself and be forced to walk away. You wickedly hope for Jeno to come to his senses and ask you if you wanna go back home and crush some random 12 year old in a shooter game.

Come to his senses? What are you, his mentor? God forbid the man has fun for one night. He’s not even doing anything that bad. Just dancing with some girl you have never seen before, lifting his hand and caressing her jaw. He’s so unbelievable and so, so, so horrible when he gently tucks her hair behind her ear. You want to vomit.

“You okay?” Jaemin asks, making you jump as he slips into the spot right next to you. He’s got a red cup in his hand and you hold back from snatching it and downing whatever the fuck is in it.

“Hm? Oh, yeah. I’m kind of proud, actually. I’ve never seen Jeno interact with a woman before. Not like this, at least. I always thought he’d bring girls home every night, yet he never does.”

Jaemin’s eyes flash with something like confusion, tenderness, sorrow. You don’t see it though, busy focused on the way Jeno leans into her and talks gently by her ear. She’s giggling and sliding her hand up his chest. You’re positive she can smell the cologne you helped him pick out earlier.

“He’s just being courteous of you.”

“I guess,” You say with a lazy shrug. Deep down you know you’re only trying to convince yourself that you see him and support him as a friend; strictly a friend. And you seem to play that part pretty well, because Jaemin does not question you at all.

“I think I’m gonna head home,” You start, checking the time on your phone. Jaemin whips his head to look back at you, “Tapping out already?”

“Yeah. I don’t really know anyone here, only came because Jeno invited me. Plus, he recently bought some new maps in COD, so, I think I wanna try those out.”

“You sure? I think I could introduce you to someone, help you get that midterm stress off your mind.”

You practically snort at his offer. He’s considerate, you think, but you cannot betray your own feelings. You’d be a fool to try and trick yourself into thinking a fling with some rando will make you feel better.

Well… you’re still a fool. Yearning from afar, not doing anything about it.

“Nah, I’m okay. Thank you, Jaem. Get home safe, okay?”

He nods and the two of you part ways.

You find yourself in an uber, shooting Jeno a text that says hey, i really wanna play COD so im heading home early. please be safe lol. :_)

You’re dropped off and you walk up to your apartment, trying your hardest not to wallow in your own feelings. You head straight to the bathroom to remove all your makeup and get ready for bed before pulling yourself up the stairs.

Your mattress awaits you like it’s got its arms open. Cozy, warm, solid enough for you to cry into.

Your home feels your pain. It’s like everything looks a little bit darker, the cream white walls seeming to be gray, the little light fixtures and hardware looking like frowny faces. The walls absorb all your feelings, reeking of longing and hope and something else that is usually paired with those two feelings. Something so captivating and large, dark and light, something so scary yet you just have to have faith in it. Something that you would rather die than confess to yourself.

So it sits, pent up in the walls of your home. It haunts you. This stupid apartment haunts you, traces of the life you live with Jeno everywhere. You can’t hide. You can’t run to the other side of the hallway and lock yourself in the room in the very back- it’s not there. Your life and your feelings are right in front of your face, everywhere you turn, everything you touch. It stings, it burns, and god, this home will kill you. Your close and unavoidable proximity with Jeno will kill you.

You’re so busy moping that you almost miss the sound of the door opening. It’s quiet, slow, and you bet to yourself that Jeno is trying his hardest to be kind, to not wake you up.

You’re scared that you’ll hear the giggle of the girl, but it never comes. Just Jeno making his way around the shoebox, using the flashlight on his phone to light the way instead of switching the lights on so that he doesn’t disturb you. Curse that stupid boy.

Jeno shuts the door to the bathroom and turns on the shower. The sound is so calming that it lulls you to sleep.

He lets the warm water caress at his back, lets it help him relax. He replays every single thing that happened at the party.

He regrets leaving you alone. In the back of his mind, he knew Mark and Jaemin would take good care of you, but shouldn’t he be doing that? Taking care of you.

He’s not obligated to, of course, and he knows that if he ever mentioned that to you, you’d snicker in his face and tell him to shuddup and let loose. But he can’t. He tried and didn’t even get that far.

Jeno got into the bedroom and onto the bed with that girl, his body slowly pushing against hers so that she could lay down. The top few buttons of his black shirt were already popped open and his mind was so foggy he almost didn’t hear his phone buzzing in his pocket.

He felt bad, but he knew he would’ve hated himself even more if he ignored it, so he had pulled back and checked the screen. In his heart, he knew it was you.

Luckily, you hadn’t seemed upset, but it was like guilt took him hostage as he realized you left the party without him. You got home without him, and you spent the night alone. Jeno suddenly felt so upset and so… gross. Grossed out with himself. He tossed you to the side just like that. And for what? A fling that wouldn’t fulfill his heart like you do? Yeah, no.

“I’m sorry,” He starts, looking from his screen to the girl’s face. She’s got a look that tells him she already knows what's coming.

“Is everything okay?”

“Um, yeah,” He says automatically, then falls quiet for a beat. “Well, kind of. I have to go.”

“It's okay,” She says gently, and it hurts even more because she's genuinely nice about it. “Get home safely. I hope everything’s alright.”

So now Jeno’s home but he’s a little too late. You’re already tucked away in bed and he wishes he would've just come back with you, play a few games and then crash. It's odd not to hear you tell him goodnight; it's become like a ritual between you two. Some nights the two of you stick together like packed sardines in the bathroom, brushing your teeth and poking fun at one another with a quiet and subtle joy in your hearts.

Jeno’s finishes showering by the time he’s done thinking over all the details. He dries off fast, feeling slightly uncomfortable and alone. Every space in the apartment is so silent that it’s unnerving.

Before Jeno slips past the curtain to get to his bed, he stands at the foot of the stairs, making out the shape of your sleeping form, face smushed directly in your pillow. The sight is so you that he cannot help but chuckle quietly to himself.

He sees you there, at the top of the stairs, and for a second it feels like you're waiting for him there. Patient and resting as he navigates through how he feels before making his descent upwards.

Quickly, he realizes he's too sleepy to be plaguing himself with these thoughts. Jeno pulls back the curtain and sinks into his bed, subconsciously falling in a position that would fit against your body so perfectly if the two of you shared a sleeping space. You feel so close and so far from him. It's the last thing he thinks about before he falls asleep.

How do you tell someone that you want them without actually telling them?

Your relationship with Jeno is built on something so fragile that he’s afraid to mess up, trip and let the glass shatter. You’re friends– real close friends, if he thinks about it. You share a home together that’s small enough to make him think that it certainly violates a number of human rights. You cannot go a day without seeing or speaking to each other.

It's so sour and it's so, so sweet. Spending everyday together, reading each other, communicating in small ways that mean the most– his heart swells and gets clogged in his throat. He’s so close to you it's like your fingertips are brushing against his as you sit on opposite sides of the couch. And, if all goes well, he could unabashedly take your hand in his and spread kisses on the back of it. Even better, he could pull you right into his lap and smush at your face, kiss you there too. So many possibilities…

Along with those possibilities comes the ones that are on the other end of the scale. He could open up (more than he already has) about his feelings and unintentionally make you uncomfortable. Oh, he would hate himself if you felt uncomfortable in your own home. Then it would really be bad, because you'd both need time and space but you practically share a goddamn bunk bed and a kitchen that feels like a toddler’s first real-life toy. It pains him more to think that you'd be unhappy than how he would feel to be rejected.

Instead, Jeno’s feelings manifest into actions and touch. When you get up from putting on your shoes and your hair's a little astray, he’ll reach over and fix it for you, keeping his touch light and gentle. He insists on helping you button up your coats and tying a bow on the back of your dresses. When he sees that you’re especially tired, he’ll wash all the dishes even though it was your turn. Sometimes, when the apartment feels especially warm and the lighting is cozy and you feel so lethargic yet blissfully happy, you’ll tell him about your day with his thumb caressing your cheek. And sometimes, you’ll lean into the palm of his hand and he’ll keep you still.

It’s not until the day where he finds you knocked out on the couch that you slip up. He had come home late from work, the shop buzzing with people looking for a Christmas gift for that one vinyl collector of a friend. He had told you he’d be late, but you thought you’d still have enough energy to stay up and wait for him so that the two of you could eat dinner and call it a night.

Unfortunately, you did not have the energy. Finals had been consuming your life and now that it was finally over, you ended up knocking out on the couch like a baby, leaving the lights on and everything. Jeno smiled softly at your sleeping form, a familiar type of warmth crawling into his heart and nestling inside it. He quietly slipped off his shoes and made his way straight toward you, calling your name softly as a test.

You didn’t wake at all. You were gone.

It kind of makes him laugh; a laugh of adoration, not amusement. It’s one of those things that’s a little funny in its own way.

It happens, he supposes, when your heart and life is so full of love that it has to escape somehow. In touch, in kisses, in laughter.

For you, it escapes loud and clear- verbally.

After Jeno decides to take a risk and lift you into his arms, you automatically curl into him, trusting him even in the depths of your sleep. He’s slow to walk up the stairs, careful to not let your head hit the wall as he makes his way upward.

And it’s when he lays you down on your mattress tenderly, hands lightly pushing away all the hairs that fell onto your face, that you stir just a little bit.

“Goodnight,” He whispers to you, using his body to block out the light he hadn’t turned off. A dopey little smile creeps onto your face. You’re euphorically sleepy, the feeling of slipping in and out of it feels so good.

“Thank you,” You rasp a little, turning over. “Love you.”

Then you’re gone again, and Jeno is frozen in place at the top of the stairs, shoulders stiffening as the words swirl around in his head.

Firstly, he’s upset he didn’t get to say it back. But the disappointment washes away quickly and he’s overcome with joy, practically buzzing as he descends down the steps to shut off all the lights and get ready for bed. He’s got a stupid smile on his face that he can’t even put away as he brushes his teeth, and if any medical professional were to see him right now, he’s surely be diagnosed with lovesickness.

He whimsies all the way to his room, pulling back the curtain and plopping down on his bed like it’s a cloud and he’s in heaven. He falls asleep thinking of all the ways to say I love you.

Winter break is lovely. It’s an abundance of warm drinks, wooly socks, sleeping in, and having an excuse to wear corny pajama sets. Your heart is at ease and the cold weather feels so nice when it bites at your cheeks- especially when you feel yourself grow a little warm around Jeno.

For Jeno, it’s even better because there are a plethora of Christmas parties.

And, usually, there’s mistletoe.

“Alright, don’t get too excited. Close your eyes!”

He obeys, shutting them and even bringing up his hands in front of his face so that you don’t think he’s pulling any tricks.

You’ve got him sitting on the couch in anticipation as you dig through your shopping bags to find what’s so important. After a few moments of rustling and humming under your breath, he hears you sigh in relief.

You hold up two sweaters in front of you, side to side. One is clearly bigger than the other. They’re thrifted and it’s very obvious that they were previously owned by elderly people; maybe they scream vintage a little too much, earth toned with eye-catching patterns like stripes and triangles running across the entire sweater. They’re only a little bit outdated, but painfully cute, and perfect for the season.

“Okay. Open!”

Jeno lays his eyes upon the sweaters and immediately breaks out into a smile, eyes forming crescents. Really, he doesn’t even look at them for long. His gaze lands directly on you.

“You like ‘em?”

“Very much,” He affirms, with his eyes still set on you. He’s not really talking about the sweaters.

“Good! We’re wearing them at Hyuck’s party this weekend.”

So the two of you wear the matching sweaters to Donghyuck’s party. When the both of you step in, Jaemin automatically makes a face at Jeno, an expression that silently screams Finally? but Jeno shakes his head. He doesn’t look solemn, though. In fact, his eyes are hopeful and bright as he nods his head at everything you say.

He doesn’t budge from your side, either.

(He wants everyone to see that you’re matching).

It pays off because Renjun tells you both that you look like an elderly couple, to which he quickly corrects himself and says ‘duo’ instead. It’s kind of embarrassing with the way that he rushes off after, face a little red. You’re not sure if it’s because of the fact that he’s tipsy or because he’s worried he’s crossed a boundary. If anything, his comment makes you have to hold back a smile, and from the corner of your eye, you see Jeno biting at his cheek too.

Renjun’s flushed cheeks inspire you. “You want anything to drink?”

Jeno contemplates for a second before shaking his head, “Nah. I’ll drive us back home.”

But he follows you to the kitchen anyways, where it’s quieter because everyone is in the living room talking over Jingle Bell Rock. You swear you can hear Donghyuck break into laughter at some point; you can already envision his happy little glowing face nuzzling up to Mark.

Jeno leans against the doorway to the kitchen, fingers playing with the edges of his sweater as he observes you moving around to get yourself a drink. He’s thinking about a hundred things at once, and somehow, you both calm and excite him.

You approach him, steadily holding your glass so that nothing sloshes over and spills. “You wanna try? Just a sip.”

He nods and takes it from your hand, bringing it up to his lips for a second before he evaluates the taste. You wait expectantly, and then Jeno gives you a solid nod before looking back over his shoulder and extending his arm to place your glass on the counter. When he turns back around, his hand comes up to gently rest on your arm. He very, very carefully pulls you closer. It’s gentle, slow, and so subtle you almost don’t even realize the proximity between you two getting smaller and smaller by the centimeter. “It’s pretty good.”

“Just pretty good?”

“Yeah,” He replies, tone so soft and far away that you immediately realize he doesn’t really care about the drink all that much. And then you realize that he’s got these beseeching love-me eyes that make your heart twist in such a pleasant way that you know you can’t escape.

You can’t go back to how it was before. You’ll never be your old self, coexisting with Jeno in your tiny home with no care or feeling in the world towards him. You can’t go back to the days of trying to sneak past him, trying to go through the days without making eye contact and conversation. You won’t even be able to go back to the days where you merely saw him as a friend, a casual buddy that you’re glad you have a good dynamic with because you happen to share a home together. You can’t ignore how you feel, what you feel. It’s so heavy and it lingers in the air between you two now. You wouldn’t have it any other way.

“Look,” He nearly whispers, gesturing towards the ceiling with his chin.

Mistletoe hangs at the doorway, green and white with a red ribbon adorning the stems. It’s so predictable and awful and overall so corny that you can’t help but laugh. Your tongue pokes at your cheek as your eyes trail from the plant back down to Jeno, who looks at you expectantly. He’s mindful enough to leave enough space for you to make a getaway if you want to.

“Well,” You start, though it sounds more like a question, prompting Jeno to lean into you.

He dips down and slots his lips against yours, pulling a wanton sigh out from you. You’re quick to have your hands on him, fingers tightening around the fabric of his sweater and you swear you can feel him smiling within the kiss. It’s almost enough to make you pull back so you can see the look on his face, but he holds you in place, fingers softly trailing through your hair. He hums contently, the deep sound of it making the tips of your ears warm.

Your hands travel, sliding up his chest, and the two of you break apart before you end up devouring one another at the doorway of Donghyuck’s kitchen.

Jeno smiles down at you as I’ll Be Home For Christmas starts playing.

You’re a little nervous, the fear that comes with love pestering you at the back of your mind. You’re scared this’ll be a big unspeakable thing, a thing you’ll have to avoid in the house with Jeno. A thing that’ll never happen again, a thing to blame on the tiny sip of the drink he had and the consequences of spotting mistletoe.

But Jeno’s eyes ask you to trust him, that he wants this just as much as you do. Perhaps this can be a reoccurring thing, except you don’t need mistletoe or drinks. You can do this in the comfort of your own home, when he gets home from work, after you both finish brushing your teeth, when you’re both making breakfast, or maybe in bed right after you wake up.

You dive in again, hands sliding farther up till your fingers tousle through his hair, thumbs brushing against his ears. It tickles him a little, body reacting and caving into you a bit more, his hands cupping your cheeks. You tip your head back just the slightest and he follows, looming over you. He looms over you in a way that is so warm and loving and consuming - I’m here, I’m here, I’m here.

Yes, he’s here. Holding you tenderly, your bodies shaped so nicely against one another at last. You’re no longer sitting on opposite ends of the couch, looking at each other from the top and bottom of the stairs, eyes lingering as soon as someone turns away. He’s touching you, and this time you don’t have to shy away or cough and he doesn’t have to play it off as a mistake, a mindless brush of skin that doesn’t mean anything. No, it means everything now.

#lee jeno x reader #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #lee jeno fluff #nct x reader #nct dream x reader #nct jeno x reader

148 notes · View notes

cherrybyunss · 5 months

Text

Ship: Lee Jeno (NCT) x female reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Tags: Explicit Sexual Content, Angst, Mentions of Death, Grieving, Escape Sex, Oral (F receiving), Fingering, Nipple Play, Protected Sex.

Summary: This is an excerpt from "Make Me Feel Lightweight", the new fic im working on. To sum it up, Y/N was dating Jaemin when he met with an accident. This excerpt is Y/N remembering the time she hooked up with his best friend in search for solace a month after he'd passed away. (Hence the italicized text cause it's a flashback) (I warned you guys this fic gets angsty).

Warnings: 18+ (minors DNI), not proofread, protection is important, this is purely fictional and has nothing to do with the real idol. This is SAD but also sexy so read at your own risk.

cheryybyunss Masterlist

________________

You were drunk. Not drunk enough by a long shot but drunk nevertheless.

It was one of those days you needed alcohol in your system so you wouldn’t lose your mind. You’d been having a lot of those lately.

“Here you go.” Jeno walked into the room with a glass of water.

You accepted it. “Thanks.” But in lieu of drinking, you kept staring at it.

Everything around you had become a reminder of Jaemin.

Or maybe it had always been, it was just the misery that accompanied the memories that was new.

Fuck… You thought.

The void was getting deeper.

It was as if your body refused to listen to you – refused to act alive. You felt numb.

And a singular tear streamed down your otherwise blank face.

You felt a gentle pair of hands reach out, bringing the glass to your lips, and letting you taste the water.

You looked up at Jeno as you drank up.

He had a sorry smile on his face.

Damn it… Why did men have to act all strong and shit.

Jeno had lost his best friend of double digit years and yet… was allowing you to feel like you could lean on him in this fucked up state of yours.

He kept the glass away, wiped your lips, and fixed the pillows for you to lie down on the bed.

Allowing you to be selfish…

You teared up.

“Hey,” Jeno held your hand. “Is everything okay?”

The question made you choke up with tears. Nothing was okay.

But you couldn’t say that, so you just shook your head.

God, you missed Jaemin.

“Is there anything I can do?”

You looked up at Jeno again. He’d asked in earnest.

And so you allowed yourself to seek solace.

“Can you hold me?” You made yourself sadder with how your voice broke at the end.

Jeno opened his mouth, as if deliberating in his head, before he pursed his lips and nodded. “Sure.”

He lied down and opened up his arms for you. And you felt an extreme sense of gratitude for how welcome he made you feel.

Your first impulse was to snuggle in, but you decided against it. You shifted into his embrace so he was now spooning you instead.

You took a deep breath as Jeno’s arms wrapped around you.

With how overwhelmed you’d been, this vulnerable position may not have been the best idea, but for the first time in a month, you felt some semblance of safety.

Jaemin loved spooning you.

“You deserve it.” He would say. And leave a stream of kisses down your neck, till you were struggling to make him stop with the biggest smile on your face.

If only you could experience it one more time. You’d never ask him to stop.

Your hand found its way atop Jeno’s hand resting on your stomach. You hoped Jeno felt comfort too, lying like this with you.

Your thumb was mindlessly caressing the back of his hand, when he shifted a little, huddling in closer.

And your heart positively skipped a beat.

His breath was now falling directly onto a sensitive spot on your neck, and for some reason, you could not move.

“You good?” Jeno spoke, probably having realized you’d frozen.

But his voice made it worse, for you gasped, your back arching away from him ever so slightly, and your hand tightening its grip onto his.

You felt Jeno freeze as well. And his breath still continued to hit your neck, letting goosebumps travel down your body each time.

Fuck… Was he doing it on purpose now?

Your eyes shot open at the thought.

This was extremely dangerous territory. Irretrievably dangerous.

You knew that.

You knew that but it was the first time since the accident that you’d felt something other than pain, and you were not ready to let it go just yet.

Not just yet.

How fucking selfish…

Maybe you didn’t deserve Jaemin after all.

You shifted a little to make it all less overwhelming – both the good and the bad. And Jeno seemingly figured yet again that something was wrong.

“Hey…” His hand went to your waist, offering comfort.

“Don’t talk.”

Jeno supported himself up on his elbow behind you, and you refused to look back.

Your heart was racing, and nothing made sense. Jeno was Jaemin’s best friend…

And probably the only person who could make you feel something again.

You took a deep breath.

“Jeno…” You spoke, before looking just slightly over your shoulder as a tear rolled down to your ear.

You had nothing to lose anymore.

“Just this once… Will you have sex with me?”

There was no going back now.

Jeno lay there wordlessly, which was quite frankly a better response than you’d expected.

For some reason, your desperation increased with every passing second. You turned your face towards him.

“I know Jaemin was your best friend, I’m just… lonely, and I desperately need to fucking feel something or else I will absolutely lose my mind. And I know this is the most selfish request I could’ve made–”

Jeno cut you off by cupping your face. The touch of his fingers, warm enough to make you sob like a child.

You took a deep breath when he slowly leaned in, and pressed his lips onto your forehead. Your eyes fell shut, the tears that had welled up spilling over.

When he pulled away, you searched his eyes for any sign of resentment. But you couldn’t find any.

What you did see in his eyes as they looked into yours, was an emptiness akin to yours.

And you never figured out if it was fear that you felt next, or the elation at having company. All you knew was that you were on edge.

Men weren’t strong at all…

Your hand went up into his hair when he leaned in again. There really was no going back now.

Jeno kissed you, and you felt the kiss in the deepest parts of your soul as warmth spread all across your body in its wake.

You moaned into the kiss in desperation, and Jeno knew to match the heat.

He kissed you as if it were the last thing he’d ever do, leaving you gasping and groaning under him, – and oh, how you wished he could make it last forever.

He turned you back around, and grabbed the bare skin of your waist underneath your top, eliciting a gasp from you as you threw your head back, giving him all the space he needed.

He latched his lips onto the spot he now knew to be sensitive all too well, and sucked, making you moan his name, before soothing it with his tongue.

“Oh my god…” You felt that in your abdomen.

Fueled by your reaction, you assumed, he grew wilder. And you reveled in every second of pleasure he let you feel.

He pushed your jaw up and immediately continued the assault on your weak spots, enjoying the new found areas. Your labored breathing proving to be all the motivation he needed.

He licked a strip upto your ear, the movement painfully slow towards the end, and you had to dig into his fore arm in order to not scream in ecstasy.

One of his hands went upto your breasts, and he took a deep breath as he felt you up, and for some reason, that turned you on beyond reversal.

An image of Jaemin doing the same thing flashed in your head, and instead of managing to bring your overwhelming desperation to a halt, the image just proved to add fuel to the fire.

It caught you off-guard too. But you guessed you’d been hoping for this.

“Aah–” You knew you’d started to lose your mind, but it just felt too good to stop.

Jeno pulled away before pushing you flat against the bed, and climbing on top of you.

He looked at you with unparalleled desire in his eyes. And you felt yourself clench around nothing.

“Jeno…” You spoke, and could only say so much before Jeno kissed you again. And you sighed into the kiss.

You were gonna regret this, you were sure. So was Jeno. But every inch of your skin that he touched felt like it would come to life any second, and you wanted nothing more than for that feeling consume you in that moment.

You wanted Jeno to clutch your brain and make you forget and remember all at the same time.

As the kisses got more desperate than either of you could take, you pushed him away, just enough to be able to take off the t-shirt he was wearing, and you felt het pool in your stomach at the sight before your eyes.

You’d never noticed how fucking hot Jeno was before.

You kissed him again before taking off your top as well, and pulling him back down on top of you.

And oh my god, skin against skin felt amazing.

“Hey…” Jeno spoke, cupping your face again, and caressing your cheek with his thumb. “Are you sure about this?”

Your heart sank a little. He was going through grief too, and still managed to be a much better person than you’ll ever be.

You nodded. And he searched for more.

“I know it’s fucked up but…” You said, never looking away from him. “I need you today.”

And you knew that you were going to hell.

“I need you to make me forget everything else. I need you to make me feel so good that it’s all I can think of.” You brushed a couple strands of hair out of his sight. “You’re all I can think of.”

And Jeno took a deep breath, before kissing you again. Less desperate this time, but just as commanding. And you kissed back like your life depended on it.

“Sorry Jeno.” You spoke when he moved down to your neck, and you could not get enough of the feeling of his skin against yours. “It’s the most selfish thing, I know–”

You were cut off by your own gasp when Jeno found a soft spot on your neck and proceeded to leave a hickey, your hands clutching onto his back. “I’m hardly any better.” He breathed against the mark he’d left.

Jeno snaked his hand behind your back and unclasped your bra, allowing you to take it off, so he could waste no time latching his mouth onto one of your nipples, and sucking.

“Aah–” Your back arched up as Jeno worked his tongue on one nipple and fingers on the other, making you press your legs together in arousal.

Jeno looked up at you in the middle of the feat and allowed one of his hands to travel further down your torso. Your toes curled in anticipation.

He traced his finger down your waist, leaving goosebumps along the way, till he reached the waistband of your shorts. He pulled away, before hooking his fingers in, and on earning a nod from you, removing the shorts together with your panties in one swift motion, leaving your core bare against the cold air.

You instinctively closed your legs, but he grabbed your thighs and pried them open, and you grabbed the sheets in a fist.

Jeno parted your folds and ran his thumb all the way up, making you jolt at the sudden pleasure. “Fuck…” He cursed under his breath. “You’re really wet.”

He circled your clit, drawing out a groan from you, before lowering himself between your legs.

He licked a stripe up to your clit before circling the sensitive bud and sucking lightly, and you screamed his name as he ate you out. Every flick of his tongue pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“F-fuck! Oh my god–” Your hands flew to his hair, and that only motivated him to go harder. “Jeno…!” You cried out. “It feels amazing, please don’t stop!”

Jeno looked up at you, before adding one, and then two fingers to the mix. And you felt ecstasy consume your entire being when he curled his digits against your sweet spot.

Your back arched away from the bed as you felt yourself come close to your high. Jeno was working your touch starved body like he’d known it for ages, and you felt yourself edge over to madness from how fucking amazing it felt.

“Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” You cried out as your legs started closing in, if not for Jeno holding them in place as his mouth and fingers drove you over the edge.

You saw stars as one of the most intense orgasms you’d ever had washed over you in waves of pleasure. Your voice coming out in broken moans of Jeno’s name as he helped you ride your high out.

And then withdrew, allowing you to catch your breath.

Your dead boyfriend’s best friend had just given you an absolutely mind blowing orgasm, and you couldn’t wait to have him fuck your brains out.

You guessed this was about as fucked as things could get.

You sat up, hurriedly undoing the shorts Jeno was wearing, And you hoped Jeno was just as desperate.

When you finally managed, and pulled his shorts down, you gasped.

Looking up at Jeno, you realized he was expecting the reaction.

“Will you need to cum again before I go in?”

And your mouth stayed agape as you shook your head. Jeno was huge.

You gulped, and leaned in, licking a stripe up Jeno’s length, never looking away from him eyes, and he took a deep breath looking at you.

He groaned under his breath when you half the length into your mouth and sucked, before moving your tongue around playfully.

With your eyes trained at him, you attempted to deep throat. “Fuck.” He cursed when you managed to take in most of him, tears welling up in your eyes at the fullness.

You bobbed your head back and forth a few times, sucking on your way out each times, before pulling away and looking up at him again.

He pushed you back down onto the bed, the roughness making you clench again.

Jeno reached to the side table and pulled out a condom.

As he rolled it on, he looked at you, and asked again. “You sure you don’t need lube? Or at least another orgasm?”

You nodded, gesturing for him to come closer.

He leaned in, giving you the softest kiss on the lips.

You let out shaky breath when he pulled away. Who would’ve though Jeno of all people would be giving you butterflies.

“I’ll be fine, just…” You spoke, flushed out. “Just give it to me.”

Jeno looked a little something… Endeared?

He moved a couple strands of hair out of your face before kissing you again.

He intertwined his fingers with yours and pinned your hands on each side, catching you off guard.

“I’ll be gentle still.” He breathed into your ear, and you felt like you could cry.

He entered you slowly, the stretch still fucking unbelievable. You held your breath till he entered completely, your nails probably leaving marks on the back of his hands.

“Oh my god…”

“You okay?” He was letting you adjust.

You nodded, smiling a little at how careful he was being. “I won’t break, Jeno.”

“Careful, I might take your word for it.” He kissed down your neck as your eyes rolled back.

He pulled out almost entirely, before slamming his length inside you at once, and you screamed.

“Fuck!”

“What’s wrong? I thought you won’t break.”

“Jeno, I swear to god!” You cursed. “Stop fucking teasing me and get the fuck on with it.”

Jeno smiled. He was having too much fun for your liking.

He pulled out again. “Get on with what?” And then another thrust knocked the life out of you.

“Jeno…!” You cried.

You knew he wasn’t cruel enough to make you beg more than you already had. At least not given the circumstances you were in.

You just needed him to fuck you. And you needed him to do it now.

Plus with the way you'd been clenching around him, you’d be surprised if he didn’t.

“Okay, sorry.”

Jeno put both of your wrists together above your head, using one of his hands to hold them there, as the other went to grab your waist in a firm grip, and you felt impossibly turned on.

And then he rammed into you once, and then twice, picking up a pace that made you scream his name at the top of your lungs.

With every thrust he knocked the air out of you, your hands begging to hold him. But he was way stronger.

He fucked you like a man on fire, and you could cry at how good you were feeling.

Jeno leaned down to kiss your neck, while maintaining the pace of a madman, and pinched your nipple as he did. Your body’s reaction to the proximity was painfully intense.

“F-fuck! Jeno!!” You cried, tears legitimately welling up in your eyes.

When you hit your first orgasm this time around, Jeno only changed his pace a little so you could ride the high, but showed no intentions of stopping to let you catch your breath, earning an actual shriek from you.

“What are you doing??” You cried in overstimulation. “I came!”

“You can go on, can’t you?” He whispered, and went harder.

Jeno’s hand traveled down from your breasts to your clit, and your eyes shot open when you realized what he was doing.

“Just a little longer.” He said, and never looking away from you or slowing down his unbelievably hard thrusts, he started massaging your already sensitive clit with the pad of his thumb, while your hands were still pinned above your head.

“Aaah!!–” You had positively lost all grasp over reality. “Fuck, fuck, fuck…! J-jeno!!”

You sobbed, tears streaming down your face. As Jeno continued his assault on your sanity.

“I can’t!–”

“Fuck…” Jeno cursed under his breath.

You hit the wave again, and pleasure consumed your entire being as you almost blacked out. It was absolutely insane what your body had just experienced.

This time around, your orgasm triggered Jeno’s own, and he groaned as he came, the sound making you clench some more.

You rode your highs out with each other’s help, and Jeno finally let go of your hands, allowing you some rest.

For some reason, Jaemin flashed in your head as you caught your breath.

And you cursed at yourself, pushing the image to the back of your mind.

Jeno discarded the condom, and helped you clean yourself before spooning you from the back again.

You turned around to face him. He smiled at you when you did.

“Thanks…” You said. “And I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.”

You averted your gaze for a second before looking at him again.

It wasn’t what you wanted but it was probably for the best… –

“Let’s never do that again.”

________________

cheryybyunss Masterlist

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marvelous-llama · 2 months

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NCT recs

<<original book

most of the mentioned works is 18+ NSFW, MINORS DNI

pls don´t hesitate to hmu, if any of mentioned links doesn´t work or you have suggestions for more fics... thank you so much for all the love and comments

one shots

the perks of having a hot best friend by @jaeyunverse

Jeno x fem!reader (wc - 14.3k) best friens to lovers, university AU - fluff, angst, crack having a hot best friend is nice until you start getting butterflies in your stomach every single time you look at them.

rainfall by @xrenjunniesx

Jeno x gn!reader (wc - 0.6k) best friends to lovers - fluff

open the gates, let me in by @chenfleur

Jeno x fem!reader (wc - 4k) best friends to lovers, university AU - fluff Jeno always seems willing to do anything for you, and it takes a lot of inner nagging for him to finally realize why.

ready for love by @jnnul

Jeno x fem!reader (wc - 19.5k) university AU, friends to lovers - angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, suggestive a boy who has never taken a relationship seriously. a girl who is seriously over relationships. when they end up finding each other, will they let their ideas of what a relationship should be like ruin their relationship before it even starts?

series

#nct #nct dream #nct u #nct x reader #nct smut #nct recs #nct dream recs #jeno #nct jeno #lee jeno #jeno x reader #nct jeno x reader #lee jeno x reader #jeno smut

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kimbappykidding · 21 days

Text

Other parts: Part two.

Jeno was ready for a quiet evening at home. He shared an apartment with Jaemin but he was out for the night so he had the place to himself. To make use of this Jeno ordered a pizza, set up his gaming device in the living room and prepared for many hours of fun. About 2 and a half hours into his tournament the door went. Not the doorbell downstairs but someone knocking on his door and they were doing so frantically. Jeno was confused and a little worried until he looked through the peephole and saw who was standing there. "Y/n?" he asked opening the door.

You were Jaemin's twin sister but as you were born after him he always referred to you as his little sister. Being the same age the two of you were close and Jaemin never shut up talking about you! He loved you a lot and missed you like crazy when you moved away for university. You'd come back 6 months ago and Jaemin was thrilled...Jeno was pretty happy with you being around more too.

Jeno knew you from school. You were never interested in performing arts but went to a girls' school down the road from the school him and Jaemin went to. He obviously knew you as Jaemin's sister and always thought you were really pretty and cool. You were usually surrounded by friends but made sure to say hi to Jaemin and Jeno. Jeno remembered once, he saved the subway train for you when you were running late and you caught it just on time. You thanked him and it was the first time you'd looked at him directly in the eye. He thought you were pretty even back then and always had a crush on you...which apparently hadn't gone away since he'd become an idol.

"Hey" you said "can I come in?". You weren't slurring your words but Jeno could tell you'd been drinking and sensed something was up. "Yeah of course" he said and he noticed as he shut the door and locked it that you visibly relaxed and your usual smile returned. You were naturally a smiley jokey person and Jeno had never seen you genuinely sad or angry. You were also very confident and fun which Jeno of course had noticed. How couldn't he when a pretty girl started showing up and making him laugh and smile?

He'd never really seen you like this before and by that, Jeno meant in a dress. Sure you'd had a crappy skirt as part of your uniform when you were at school but that was years ago. Whenever you came over recently it was to have game tournaments with your brother Jaemin so you usually showed up in trackies and with your hair all scraped away from your face. But tonight you were in a dress and a tight pretty dress at that. Jeno couldn't help but stare as he never realised how toned your body was. You also had your hair and makeup done and just looked so pretty. Not for the first time, he wondered how you and Jaemin were twins. Jeno had always been fond of you but this was something else and he realised he'd never been alone with you before. The silence in the apartment seemed huge and he felt embarrassed just thinking about it.

"Is Jaemin here?" you asked and Jeno shook his head "he's gone out for the night". You sighed as he said that and looked down as if trying to work something out. "Are you okay?" he asked focusing on the matter at hand. You nodded "yeah I'm okay just this creepy guy wouldn't leave me alone and we weren't far from here so I told him I lived here and managed to get away from him and sneak in here just as one of your neighbours was coming out. It was very lucky". "What the fuck?" Jeno asked jumping up "is he still here?". "I don't know, he was knocking on the door downstairs asking me to let him in when I was coming upstairs...". Jeno swore again and grabbed his jumper. "What are you doing?" you asked and he shrugged "what does it look like? I'm going to go put some sense into that guy, harassing girls like that". "No don't!" you said nervously "I don't want him to hurt you". Jeno smiled "you think I'd lose?" Jeno asked, his pride a little hurt. "I don't know" you admitted "but even if he gets one punch on your face your stylist would be pissed" you said. You were a makeup artist for Hybe so it made sense you'd think of this but Jeno liked to think you genuinely didn't want him to get hurt. Jeno smiled again "then I won't let him get a shot on me". You still looked worried and Jeno sighed "fine I won't go" he said and again you visibly relaxed "you won't? Good! We're safe in here and if I just stay a little until he leaves..." when the buzzer went.

You both looked at it and waited for it to end but it just kept ringing. You shook your head "that's probably him". "There's no way that's him!" Jeno said and he pressed the call button. There was a two-way camera but your side was hidden and you were both standing around the doorbell screen when the image flashed up. "That's him" you said and Jeno shook his head and answered the call.

"Can I help you?" he asked in his most intimidating voice. The guy blinked and then with no shame asked "do you have a girl called Y/n up there? She said she way staying here". "yeah she's with me, I'm her boyfriend and why have you followed her home?" he asked. "I've not!" the guy said even though he literally had. "I just wanted to make sure she was safe, is she there? Not that I don't believe you I just want to make sure she's safe". "Yeah she's here" Jeno said and he gestured for you to come to him. You did and Jeno opened his arms. He rested one hand on your waist and pulled you close to his chest. He pressed the camera switch and glared "now you can see she's here, she's safe, she's more than happy so you can leave and if I ever see you near her again you're dead" and Jeno hung up.

You both stayed frozen for a few seconds after the screen went black and then you let out the breath you'd been holding. "Wow thank you" you said looking at Jeno and he shrugged "you're welcome, I'm glad you came here. You can always come here if there's anyone bothering you". You nodded "thanks Jeno" and he smiled "no problem". It was at that moment you both realised you were still standing together and you apologised as your hands were still resting on his chest. "Sorry!" you said "I didn't mean to feel your chest". Jeno chuckled slightly "It's fine, I grabbed you pretty suddenly too". "Yeah but it was nice" you said "I mean because it felt safe. To have your arms around me after being with the creep". Jeno nodded and ignored all the suggestions going around in his head because you were still Jaemin's sister. "No problem, if you ever need any more help with him just text me" he said. "I would but I don't have your number" you said with a smirk and Jeno smiled and gave you his phone "put it in and I'll go find you something to wear". "Wear?" you asked and he nodded "you're not going back out there while stalker Steve is out there. You can sleep in Jaemin's room" and he disappeared into his room.

You put your details into his phone and then wandered into your brother's room. Jeno appeared shortly after with a t-shirt and some shorts. "They might be a little big but I figured they'd do the job" he smiled "feel free to use the bathroom too. Anything on the side is fine and there are brand new toothbrushes under the sink if you want to brush your teeth". "I'm sorry but what boys' apartment has new toothbrushes already there for when you need a new one? Males can plan in advance?" you asked. "The good ones can" Jeno replied purposefully omitting it was Jaemin's idea after that one time they both binned theirs and the store was out of them for a week. You laughed and Jeno could feel your eyes on him as you toyed with the clothes he'd brought you. He wondered why you were watching him until he realised you probably wanted to get changed.

"So can I get you anything else?" he asked and you shook your head "thanks Jeno you've been amazing...definitely the favourite out of my brother's friends". "You mean I wasn't before?" he asked and you shook your head "no but that's only because Jaehyun exists". Jeno paused "oh you're into Jaehyun?". "What girl isn't?" you asked "with those big shoulders and cheekbones he's so sexy...but Jaehyun's never saved me from a stalker before so you definitely jump to first place". Jeno smiled "I'm so honoured. Are there any perks for first place?" before realising how they sounded. "You want a prize?" you asked and Jeno blinked "no I was only joking". You looked him up and down before nodding "hmm shame" and then turned and strode into the bathroom leaving Jeno staring after you.

Jeno's heart was beating rapidly and he didn't get how one word could make him so crazy. Jeno gathered all his things from the living room and retreated to his room. He felt all flustered around you so figured this would be safer. He heard you moving around as much as he tried to ignore it and eventually fell asleep an hour after you'd gone quiet.

The next morning Jeno woke up to hear a soft banging and recalling you were here, he jumped up worrying it was the stalker coming to bother you. He rushed into the kitchen to find you cooking at the stove. You looked super cute in his shorts and he stared at you from behind for a few seconds before he spoke "Y/n?" he called "what are you doing?". "Jeno!" you said happily and spun around to face him before pausing and it was then that Jeno realised he was topless. He slept shirtless and forgot to grab a shirt in his rush to make sure you were okay. He felt a blush form on his cheeks as you looked over him before smiling. You turned around as he rushed to get a shirt but as he went he heard you say "yeah Jaehyun who?" and that comment really made him happy.

Jeno returned fully clothed and tried this again. "Why are you cooking?" he asked. "I thought I'd make you breakfast as a thank you for rescuing me" you said and Jeno shook his head "you don't have to do that...but out of interest what did you make?" because it smelled really good. You smiled "go take a seat I'll bring it through now. You have perfect timing apparently".

You gestured to the balcony and Jeno saw you'd set the table casually but it was still way nicer than when he and Jaemin ever did. You appeared a minute later with two plates and passed Jeno one "here, from looking in your fridge I guessed you're a bacon fan?" you asked. You knew your brother didn't like it much so deduced the huge amount of bacon in there belonged to Jeno and were correct. "Very much so" Jeno said and looked anxiously at the bacon to see how you'd cooked it but was pleasantly surprised. "I like it this way too" you smiled seeing his expression and tumbled into the chair next to him. Jeno smiled to see your plate just as full as his and he couldn't help but admire how strong you looked. You clearly didn't subscribe to the idea women had to be super thin and fragile and he thought you looked glorious...so much so he actually forgot about his bacon and you had to remind him. "Well go on don't leave me in suspense, take a bite" you said and Jeno nodded "right" and took a big mouthful. You were staring at him, wide-eyed, and Jeno quickly swallowed and nodded "it's good" and you smiled pleased. The food actually was good but Jeno would've easily lied and eaten the whole thing because your smile was incredibly charming.

Jeno very much enjoyed his breakfast/time with you one-on-one and found it easier to talk to you by the end of it. He liked how there was still tension between the two of you but he could also talk to you and learned more about you. He'd always wanted to ask you questions but he never dared approach you when Jaemin was around and so you'd remained an elusive figure until now. He thought past schoolboy Jeno would be stunned to see future him sitting chatting to you and even managing to flirt a little. It was progress indeed.

After breakfast, the two of you did the washing and drying together and were just finishing up when the door opened and Jaemin entered. "Y/n!" he said seeing you and then he spotted you were in Jeno's clothes and paused. You could see the misunderstanding forming in Jaemin's eyes and decided to nip it in the bud. "So last night I had this stalker and Jeno got rid of him and let me stay over. How sweet is he?" you asked. Jaemin immediately relaxed and smiled at his friend "thanks Jeno and Y/n are you okay?". You nodded and explained things to Jaemin who was just as furious as Jeno. The two were debating how best to get the security footage to share with police and came up with multiple plans which made you smile.

You had to leave soon to get ready for work and Jaemin insisted on driving you home. After he'd arrived he'd steamrolled the conversation and your attention was on your brother. So Jeno retreated to his room after saying goodbye and was starting to plan his day when there was a knock at his door.

"Hey" you said appearing "I just wanted to tell you I'll take the clothes home and wash them so I haven't stolen them I'm just cleaning them". "You don't have to do that" Jeno rushed to say "I can do that, plus it's not like you're dirty or something". You smiled "I know but I figured I could drop them off sometime later in the week...it'd given me an excuse to come back and visit you" you said "unless you don't want that?". Jeno swallowed because you were definitely flirting with him! He heard Jaemin call your name asking if you were ready to go and you smiled "want me to leave them or take them?" you asked. "You can take them" Jeno said and your smile made his day.

Later that day at work Jeno still wasn't over what had happened and when Jaemin left he told the guys (minus Jaemin) everything. "It was weird" Jeno admitted "Y/n came over because she was having some problems but that's not the point. Things were supercharged between us and she was so flirty with me!". Jeno expected the guys to gasp at the idea of Jeno flirting with you but they didn't. "Oh yeah Y/n's flirted with me before" Mark said and some of the other guys said you had with which bothered Jeno. Not because he thought you had but because the guys didn't seem to get this was different. "Yeah she's a jokey person but this was more than that, she was so full on". "Yeah Y/n's like that" Haechan said and Jeno's frustration worsened as Mark began telling the story of the time he commented you looked good in red and now anytime you wore a red outfit you'd make a beeline for him. Jeno didn't like how Mark clearly thought you were into him and even though he'd only had one moment with you, he needed the guys to understand whatever they thought had happened was meaningless compared to his moment with you.

"No you don't get it this was beyond flirting this was really... physical" Jeno said "We were pressed up together and she didn't move away until she felt she had to and then the next morning when she saw me topless she totally checked me out. I think she wanted me!". The guys all looked at him and then Haechan started laughing "yeah right!". "Yeah are you sure this wasn't a dream you had about her?" Chenle asked. "Of course it wasn't a dream it really happened!" Jeno said. The guys however just kept teasing him and then when Jaemin appeared let the topic drop without any protest.

The guys all clearly thought this wasn't a big deal at all but Jeno couldn't drop it. He tried not to think about it because it was only one occasion but he couldn't help but pause every time Jaemin's phone went and kept asking Jaemin about his plans hoping they'd involve you. Slowly it did get slightly better...he stopped thinking about you as much and that's of course when you re-appeared.

Jeno was on tenterhooks wondering when you'd come over but finally, you texted him one day asking if you could meet him after work one day to give him his clothes back. Jeno immediately scrambled to work out a day that was best for you and suggested Friday which actually worked perfectly. You agreed to meet him in a cafe around the corner from his work and Jeno was nervous all day. He didn't tell Jaemin in case he thought it was weird or asked to come. He didn't tell the guys because he worried they'd tell Jaemin so he sweat in silence.

Of course to make things worse rehearsal overran and Jeno was stressed! They weren't allowed phones so he couldn't text you and he was so worried you'd think he'd stood you out. He took off running the second rehearsal was over and texted you he was on his way. He reached the cafe still out of breath and was relieved to see you still sat there. He rushed over to you and you looked up as he got close. "Y/n I'm so sorry I'm late, thank you for waiting. Rehearsal overran and I couldn't message you, I'm really so sorry". You smiled "Jeno it's fine, I figured that's where you were so I'm not mad. I get you can't just drop what you're doing when you're done. You didn't need to panic, I wasn't going to storm off if you were a little late. I know you're a nice guy and weren't blowing me off". "Oh..." Jeno said feeling surprised "thank you". You smiled "you're welcome, now do you need a drink? You look like you just ran here" and you paused when you saw Jeno's face "you ran here?". "I didn't want to keep you waiting" he shrugged and you smiled "well relax now, sit down and I'll go get you a drink". "Wait no let me pay for it" Jeno said but you just pushed him back into his chair "no, you need to get your blood pressure back to a normal level" and you walked away not giving Jeno time to argue. He watched you go and put his hands in his lap.

You placed a cold drink in front of Jeno minutes later and then took a seat across from him "so how has your day been? Apart from the last-minute stressing?". "It's been busy but good" Jeno said "we've been learning the choreography and that's my favourite part of any song". You smiled recalling he was a really good dancer "yeah that makes sense, you always were a really talented dancer". Jeno blushed "have you ever seen me dance?" and you paused. "I've seen you in music videos Jaemin showed me" you said "but never in person no. Why are you inviting me to your next rehearsal?". Jeno went pink at the thought and explained rehearsals weren't allowed guests. "Okay so a private performance then?" you asked and Jeno went even pinker so you smiled and told him you were joking. "Don't worry, I'm sure I'll see you dance live at one of your concerts someday". Jeno nodded "yeah we can get you tickets anytime you want to come along so just let me know". You nodded "I will do" and Jeno calmed down enough to return the question "so how's your day been?" You chatted more and Jeno fought out a lot more about your job. It was weird hearing you talk about Seventeen and it made him a little nervous to think you were around guys like Mingyu and Jun all day but you didn't seem interested in them like that...or so he hoped. You ended up staying in the cafe for a few hours and Jeno didn't even realise it had gone dark outside. He insisted on driving you home after last time and led you back into work where he'd left his car. On the way inside who called out to him but Jaehyun?

Jeno cursed because he really didn't want to have to introduce you but there was no avoiding it as Jaehyun called out his name. "Jeno? I thought that was you, what are you still doing here?" Jaehyun asked. "Oh I went out after work and I'm just coming back for my car" Jeno explained and Jaehyun nodded and looked at you. "Hi" he smiled "I'm Jaehyun, I work with Jeno". You smiled "nice to meet you I'm Y/n, I'm a fan of your music". Jeahyun smiled "thank you that's really sweet to hear. Are you an idol too?" he asked unsure as he looked at you and Jeno didn't blame him. You were a stylist and definitely cool enough to be one. You shook your head but seemed pleased with the compliment "no I work for Hybe, I'm a makeup artist". "Ahh that explains it" Jaehyun said and your smile grew. Jeno felt very awkward and wasn't sure what to do to stop you and Jaehyun. He was sure this was his shot with you over but then you spoke. "Yeah I thought of applying here but none of you guys seem to need makeup at all. I saw Jeno without it the other morning and had to do a double-take he looked so good. You all just have perfect faces or something". Jaehyun smiled "well I can personally testify I don't but yeah Jeno does". Jeno blushed as you both looked at him and tried to say he didn't but you didn't let him.

After teasing him for a bit, you went your separate ways and Jeno led you to his car. Jeno's heart was still beating rapidly from your compliment and the implication you'd seen him without makeup in the morning. It was like you were leading Jaehyun to believe the two of you were a thing. Jeno felt better for the interaction now and the smile Jaehyun shot him as you walked away made him confident Jaehyun thought you were together and Jeno liked that thought.

He liked it very much.

"Today was fun" you said in the car and Jeno nodded "yeah it really was!". "Maybe we should hang out again?" you asked and Jeno's throat went dry at the thought but he must've looked okay with the idea because you kept going. "You're into gaming right? Maybe we could hang out and do that sometime?" you asked unbuckling your seatbelt as you reached your house. Jeno nodded "I'd love that!" and you smiled. "Great, I'll text you" and you hopped out of the car. "Bye Jeno!" and with a gorgeous smile you walked away.

Jeno felt like all his high school dreams were coming true and he couldn't wait for what the upcoming week would bring.

He knew if you were there, he'd be happy.

That's part 1 of my first Jeno series! I discovered NCT-Dream quite late but liked Jeno from the start. I think he's stunning and like his tough but shy personality.

This will be a four-part series and I will link other parts at the top of this page.

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lebrookestore · 1 year

Text

oceans and engines | l.jn

Pairing: Lee Jeno x reader

Themes: strangers to lovers, highschool! au, coming of age, lovers to exes, heavy angst, light fluff, teenage romance, first love au

Warnings: profanity, mentions of food, heavy angst, underage alcohol consumption, underage substance consumption

Wc : 3.7k

Summary: Standing where the water meets the sand, you reminisce over a love you recently lost, one that you couldn’t help but let slip through your fingers like the very sand beneath your feet.

Playlist: oceans and engines by niki, another love by tom odell, atlantis by seafret, consequences by camila cabello, meant to be by ber and charlie oriain, exile by taylor swift, emily by jeremy zucker and chelsea cutler, favorite crime by olivia rodrigo, flowers by lauren spencer smith, i should hate you by gracie abrams, partners in crime by finneas

Notes from brooke: i wrote this in a day and it’s been almost 8 months since i’ve been able to write like that, but with this short story, the moment i started, i physically could not stop. everything came out so naturally, and that is because it’s all true. i’ve changed details here and there to support continuity and such, and due to the fact that there are some things i cannot bring myself to write right now, i have omited a lot of the story. maybe one day in the future i’ll be able to write it out in its entirety or maybe i’ll delete this as well, but i wrote this fic to process my emotions, and maybe it might help someone else do the same. i hope you, dear reader, enjoy reading it<3

You liked to think you were a patient lover.

The whispering of the waves cut through what would have been your reverie, jerking your mind back into its previous state of frantic overdrive. Seafoam swept over your bare feet as the ocean water washed off the sand stuck to your soles and carried it back out, only to bring it in again the next moment.

Patience is a virtue, people would say, along with other once-meaningless sayings such as Love is blind. Maybe sometime in the past, you would have laughed at the utterings of such phrases, sure of your sense of self-control and ability to see reality for what it was.

But you had been so very virtuous.

And when your moments of patience came back occasionally, you could still imagine his smile, the way the sides of his eyes crinkled and his lips pressed together to show off his unadulterated, infectious glee. Although fleeting, the thought of it still managed to bring a shallow smile to your mouth, before its sides fell back into forced indifference, an expression you had grown to master over the past few weeks.

Moments of peace, followed by those of absolute torment - a cruel cycle that you fell victim to countless times.

Jeno had been perfect in your eyes, at least at the beginning, and almost till the very end. From the very minute you set your eyes on him the first time, it was like you knew in your bones that he would be yours. A wordless connection developed between the two of you, born out of the stolen glances from across classrooms and jittery words falling from nervous tongues - it was indisputable that there was something there to anyone who spent even two minutes around the two of you.

You recalled the first time he kissed you, on a Friday evening such as this very one, but much later into the night. Six months ago, in a secluded corner of a terrace and away from the crowd of people that consisted of the party the two of you had found yourselves amidst. You were sixteen, just as you were now, but a much more wide-eyed version of the supposedly sweet age.

You were tipsy from your first real taste of alcohol, for the previous times you had consumed it, it had been your parents who had let you have a few sips from their glasses while joking about how you were growing up now. This was different though, this was unsupervised and unrestricted access to it, and when he told you he liked you back, you thought it was the result of the liquor in the red solo cup you had somehow misplaced.

Sobriety rushed back to you when he pressed his lips to yours though, chaste and out of the blue. You remember your eyelids fluttering shut, but shock overtaking your every muscle as you froze, only registering what had happened seconds later, when you were staring right at him in disbelief.

A soft smile played on his lips, a soft word slipping through them and just barely reaching your buzzing ears.

“Good?”

You swallowed, wondering if it had been real with how quickly it took place. Maybe it had been a figment of your imagination.

“Yeah.”

It was the most perfect first kiss you could have asked for.

A best friend and a lover, somehow the two of you were both for each other, being able to talk and laugh about every topic that was brought about. The nerves faded with time, comfort replacing them as you got to know him better. You memorized the sound of his laughter, his stupid jokes that somehow always made you crack a smile even when you tried your hardest not to.

He once told you he loved the pissed-off look that overtook your features when you tried to get him to shut up, or if he cracked a particularly lame joke that day. You told him he was lucky you liked him with the very same look. He agreed wholeheartedly, causing a wave of heat to curl around your neck and up to your cheeks, leaving you to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from grinning too hard.

Jeno made you the happiest person in the world.

Which is why you let go of all the times he managed to make you the saddest.

Love truly did make you blind, and it was so bitterly ironic that you could only see that now. Every red flag seemed white when you looked through the rose-tinted glasses that had been bestowed upon you when he asked you to be his girlfriend.

Everything seemed so perfect, and you had wanted to keep it that way so badly.

He told you he loved you for the first time on this very beach, a little deeper into the ocean than where you currently stood where the water was up to your knees. Your blue dress stuck to your skin, hair matted down against your forehead due to the number of times he had splashed you, and yet you had the biggest grin plastered onto your face.

The sun beat down on the two of you, and it flitted through the strands of his hair like a halo of sorts, framing his face in such a manner that he seemed like an angel. Three little words flashed through your mind, a startling revelation when it really shouldn’t have been. You had thought about it before, of course, but not so literally and not so forwardly - definitely not right when he was in front of you.

His shirt was drenched, and he stopped, looking at your face with that soft simper of his. “You okay?”

You were perfect, and you caught your bottom lip between your teeth, wondering if it was the right time. Your parents would have laughed at you for even suggesting the notion of being in love, because you were so young and so very naive, whatever would a sixteen-year-old know about the big scary concept of love? Not that you could ever ask them such questions, since technically you weren’t supposed to be dating anyone, you weren’t allowed to be in a relationship.

And you had risked it anyway for Jeno, so surely this was worth the risk too, right?

“Yeah,” you cleared your throat, averting your gaze from his for a moment, the words travelling from the safe confines of your mind to the tip of your tongue. The water suddenly felt too cold on the expanse of your skin, but scathing at the very same time as the sun dried it up. “Jeno, I…I um-”

And they got stuck right there, refusing to be pronounced out into the world as a single shred of fear made itself known. What if he didn’t feel the same way yet? What if you were moving too fast for him?”

“Y/n?”

“I…” And now you wracked your brains for something that would seem passable for the moment, to cover this up. The silence seemed much too loud, weighing down on you with every word left unsaid.

And somehow, he understood, the pause conveying what you wanted to say. He took steps towards you through the water, until he was right in front of you, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“I love you too.”

A sigh barely managed to escape you as he kissed you, hands on your waist as yours gently cradled his face. To be loved was the most beautiful thing you had ever experienced, and more so was the act of actively falling in love with Jeno Lee. It felt as if you were walking on clouds, the world resting at your fingertips.

You were so high from it all that you didn’t realize it when he was hurting you, at least not the first few times.

Jeno had the habit of thinking too much and sometimes would isolate himself from everything - his family, his friends and even you. He’d be physically present when he had to be, like when classes were in session, but mentally he wouldn’t be there at all. He’d barely look at you sometimes, ignoring your existence almost wholly.

He was going through something, you told yourself, and it was what his friends said as well. Apparently, it was something he did often. You didn’t mind, everyone had personal problems and you didn’t mind being the one to wait around for him, to be the one to comfort and help him through whatever he was struggling with.

But when you asked if something was wrong, with hesitant eyes and pursed lips, he lied to your face and denied it. You could tell he was lying, it was so undeniable, but you understood. Some people had a harder time opening up than others did.

The next day it was like nothing had happened, he was talking like he normally did and kissing you like you were so used to, so you pushed the incident aside and decided not to think so much about something that may have not even been that important. You were just glad to have him talking to you again.

When it continued to happen, it was as if you were desensitized, used to it. He’d walk away and not say a word to you, and you’d shrug and feign a smile, turning to humour to cover up the neglect that you had begun starting to feel. Three months of your relationship slipped by without you even noticing, and these happenings continued to grow, while you continued to suppress the resentment that came with them.

You didn’t want any drama, nor did you want to fight. Everything was perfect and you didn’t dare try to disrupt that perfection.

Another party and another moment of drunken bliss led to the two of you sitting on a couch, lip-locked as music blared on in the background, drowned out to you as all your focus lay upon your boyfriend, acutely aware of the smoky aftertaste that he left on your lips. Later, you found yourself barely comprehensible, but with your head in Jeno’s lap in the backseat of a cab, his fingers playing with your hair as he dropped you home.

“You think you’ll be okay? Manage to get back into your house without your parents realizing?”

“Yeah,” you nodded, or at least tried to as you looked up at him. “I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Intoxication is a funny thing, and there are so many ways one can be intoxicated. The most obvious sources are substances - alcohol, cigarettes and drugs - things that shouldn’t have been nearly as accessible as they were for teenagers. The other source was that of comfort and bliss, something that people used substances to achieve.

But you had your very own drug in the form of Jeno, and he was so very intoxicating.

And then it happened again, with him barely saying a word to you for two complete days, even forgetting to say goodbye. Usually, the two of you travelled together, but this time, he simply walked off without you, leaving you to watch his figure grow smaller the farther he travelled.

High school shouldn’t have been this hard, you realized, and hurt began to settle in the pit of your stomach. The next day, he continued to ignore you, leaving you confused and visibly upset, something your friends noticed, and it was only when they brought it to his attention did he realize what he was doing.

The next thing you knew, you were in his arms, wrapped in a tight hug as he whispered apologies into your hair. It felt genuine and real, contrition lacing his voice as he held you.

So you said it was okay. You said it was okay because you couldn’t bare to see the conflict in his eyes. You hugged him back and let it go, once again putting yourself on the back burner for his sake, because it was just as painful to see him looking so confused and regretful, struggling to come up with the words to explain why he had acted as he had.

You forgave.

And it kept happening, but you loved Jeno so much that you trusted that in time, he would tell you what was bothering him. You told him time and time again that he could tell you anything and you’d always be there, waiting and ready to listen when he was ready.

All your friends were in awe of the two of you, seemingly such an impeccable couple with no problems. Some thought the two of you would end up together with how evident the love there was. Envious of how healthy the relationship was, when in reality it was falling apart and straying away from being healthy with every damn day.

The way just talking to him could brighten up your entire day and make you forget about whatever you were previously upset about. The apparent glee that everyone could make out when he had his arm around you and the affectionate glances you took at him that went unnoticed by only him.

Jeno’s eyes had always been your weakness, expressive and almost always locked on your figure. More often than not, you would have to look away, flustered out of your mind and wishing you could hold his gaze for longer because you adored having it on you.

It was probably why it hurt even more when he would push you away and barely look at you when he did so, then return a day or two later with those pretty little apologies of his, saying he’d be better. Saying he couldn’t talk about what he went through, but then lying through those perfect teeth of his when he said if there was anyone he would tell, it would be you.

Because he never did.

Over time, you realized you just knew facts about him - his favourite colour, the fact he was born with a good tolerance to alcohol (something you had quickly discovered at parties), common subjects he’d revert to while making jokes - but you didn’t really know him. He had pushed you away so much that he had become the one thing you had feared the most.

A stranger.

And the thing was you had let him in, given so much of yourself to him while he kept you at a distance.

You were lonely in love.

“Jeno,” you mumbled, reaching out and intertwining your fingers with his. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing.” The way he lied to you so easily baffled you and you pursed your lips, stopping yourself from saying anything further and swallowing the lump in your throat, one that seemed to constantly be growing as of late. You watched while he focused his eyes on the screen of his phone, scrolling through his Instagram feed without paying much attention to a single thing on it.

It felt as if he was using it to avoid having to interact with you, and avoid it he did, because he spoke to every single person but you that day, leaving you feeling like an absolute idiot.

You received another apology a few days later, soft-spoken and as repentant as the last, with the very same promise of bettering himself for your sake, and it was then you started feeling a little stupid, even as you forgave him again. It felt as if you were losing little pieces of yourself now, whatever you hadn’t already given to him.

Putting him first was something that had been ingrained in you by now, something that had come so naturally from the moment the two of you had begun dating. You welcomed him back with open arms every time he fucked up, whereas he kept his arms crossed, guarded as ever.

The guise of perfection began to show cracks in its surface, and as hard as you tried to keep intact, it was only a matter of time before it shattered.

You told him that it was getting too much the next time he did it, that you just wanted him to tell you what was going on in his head so you could be there for him. It was the first time he had seen you express how it hurt you, and for the first time in the four months that you had been with him, he opened up the tiniest bit.

It would be the only time.

The last time he did it, it completely shattered you, your patience finally running out. Finally, you had managed to break through the armour he always seemed to be wearing and he had gone ahead and put it right back on. Desperation crept through, and it bled into what it truly was in the first place - an emotion you had long been suppressing for his sake.

Unadulterated anger.

The moment you let yourself feel it, it took over every fibre of your being so intensely that you could barely think straight because you were so tired of being constantly alienated from the one person you loved the most in the world.

This time though, his apologies meant nothing to you, for they had been reduced to simply empty shells constituted of letters strung together that you had heard innumerable times in the past. After all, there were only so many times you could believe what someone says before the words turned meaningless with the sheer number of times you had heard them before.

When the anger faded, it was replaced by sorrow, the realization that you no longer believed in him. You loved him, of course you did, but not in the same, innocent way you once did. Now, your love was tainted and burned with how much he had hurt you- months upon months of damage that you had tried your best to put aside for him.

And he had never ever considered how you felt.

Inherently you knew he was trying, but nothing had ever changed and you knew that you couldn’t keep doing this to yourself. You had given far too much of yourself and had lost a lot of who you were along the way and with how much he had pushed you away, you just couldn’t let him in again.

And as agonizing as it was to see the tortured look in his glasses when you told him the same, no matter how many times he begged you to try to let him fix it, you knew what you had to do.

“I love you Y/n,” he said, voice breaking, as he reached out to try and touch you, only for you to take a step away from him, unable to meet his eyes but for an entirely different reason this time. You couldn’t look at him without second-guessing your decision about what you had to go through for your own sake.

You couldn’t say it back, but not because you were scared. The lump in your throat had expanded so much that it prevented you from even whispering the words.

The conversation ended with you walking away from him, asking for time and space. You had fought for almost six months to keep your relationship alive, doing everything in your limited power as just a teenager hopelessly in love with a boy who couldn’t give her what she needed no matter how much he tried.

You decided to put yourself first and be selfish this time and let him go, letting a piece of your heart leave with him in the process. Those sad eyes of his would forever be imprinted in your memory, haunting you for the days that followed with all the things left unknown about the boy you were so completely lovesick for.

Having to keep it together in front of your family bore fruit to sleepless nights filled with tears and staring at your ceiling, thinking back to when you’d have his arms around you in your bed as you cuddled into him when your parents weren’t around and missing him.

It all led you to where you were right now, standing in between the sky and the sand, breathing in the salt air. Now, you were almost seventeen, staring out into the limitless and unpredictable ocean and taking comfort in its constant ebb and flow.

You were still so young, with so many more loves to experience waiting for you. Just as the ocean recovered from its tides, you too would make it past the crash that followed the initial fall for you. You knew that some would probably think it ridiculous of you to hold on so tightly to a boy you loved when you were just sixteen.

But you would know. You would know of the boy that made you laugh on your darkest days and held your hand underneath the desks, how he kissed you and took care of you, and how he told you he loved you in the very waters that you stood and took comfort in now. You would know what loving Jeno Lee felt like, even if it had been for just six months, and you would choose to remember the good.

Six months of fragmented and yet unsullied bliss, a love so fierce that it would always leave a mark. A love you had fought for and had perhaps lost the war, but you would walk out of the battlefield knowing you tried.

And you’d never know if you had made the right decision or if you’d regret it down the line but as you peered into the horizon, memories of your first magnificent love dancing about, you knew you didn’t regret even a moment spent with him, for they had constituted for some of the happiest moments of your life. Uncertainties crept into your thoughts, but you were sure of one thing as you whispered your last profession of affection to the wind- that you’d be alright.

“I love you too.”

fin.

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doeilovr · 2 years

Text

[11:27]

You yawn, heavy eyes slowly blinking open. You scan the room, it was still night, moonlight shining through the sheer curtains and illuminating the room in a blue hue.

Your eyes wander to the alarm clock sitting on the side table, a sigh escaping your lips when you realize it's not even midnight yet.

Just then the bedroom door opens behind you, followed by a few loud shuffle sounds. You even hear a faint "sorry".

Your boyfriend Jeno is coming home late as usual. On some days you don't hear him at all, on others he wakes you up on accident, which of course you never admit, telling him you weren't sleeping yet instead.

Today you're awake, but Jeno's doesen't know that apparently. You can't help but smile as the shuffle sounds behind you get louder and Jeno keeps apologizing silently.

Finally he joins you under the warm blankets, as carefully as possible. You turn around with a big smile, Jeno looking at you with wide eyes.

"Don't tell me you've been awake all this time", he gasps.

You shake your head, pecking his lips in a quick motion. "Don't worry, you didn't wake me up or something."

Jeno relaxes, lifting his arm, so you can rest your head on his chest. He plants a kiss on your head and just holds you in silence for some time.

"So how was your day, baby?" Jeno whispers again, something he does unconsciously whenever you cuddle.

"I had a relaxing day at home, did some cleaning, took a long shower, watched a movie", you pause, smiling as you remember your calm day off. "How about you?"

Jeno yawns, "My important meeting went well, practice was great today, for lunch we had takeout, so I was in takeout heaven."

"Takeout heaven, huh", you laugh, Jeno joining in as well.

He only hums in response. "And then I went home and my baby is awake so I get to cuddle. A perfect ending for a perfect day, if you ask me."

You snort, "cheesy."

Jeno rubs your back and plants another kiss on your head. "You know me."

"Yes. And this is why I love you."

"Oh, is it", Jeno chuckles playfully, "I thought it was because of my incredible good looks and abs."

You smack his chest slightly, giggling. "That too", you whisper.

Jeno only smiles. "I love you too."

You cuddle into him more, closing your eyes and focusing on his heartbeat.

"Sweet dreams, honey", Jeno whispers gently.

"Sweet dreams."

﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏﹏

a/n: like mark would say/rap, it's been a minute.. anyway I am back with a timestamp you guys, I've missed this blog and all of you :) I hope you enjoy it and I am happy to be back, sharing my work! <3

yes, I was just busy working the past months as I said, and actually I will obviously also go back to working, but today I had the time and inspo to write this so I just went with it and yea.. I hope you like it! Have a nice weekend :3

taglist: @shrutiajit

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yofriendlywriter · 3 months

Text

IN A MAN'S WORLD (M)

"The mafia world has always been a male dominated place. One woman was ready to change that."

Pairing: lee jeno X y/n (fem)

Genre: Slooow Burn, Mafia AU, Enemies To Lovers, Eventually Smut,

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT

Warning: Cursing: Explicit language, Drugs, Alcohol, Smut, Physical fighting, Unaliving "Traditional Men & Women roles" being mentioned.

A/N: This is my first ever fic, I've had this idea in my head for too long and now I want to do it lol, please give me comments or send me a message on my ask me anything:)) mwah <33 p.s lmk if u wanna be in the taglist :)

Status: Coming Soon

Idol List:

NCT ot20, Seventeen, Le Sserafim & Mamamoo

//Chapter Index

Chapter Index :

Introduction

Prologue

Chapter 1 : A boys club

Chapter 2 : Whiskey and Red Lipstick

Chapter 3 : In the Shadows

Chapter 4 : Unveiling Power

Chapter 5 : At Last.

Epilogue

#nct #seventeen #nct fanfic #seventeen fanfic #le sserafim fic #mamamoo fic #nct jeno x reader #mafia au #lee jeno x reader #nct mafia au #seventeen mafia au #fanfic #nct 127 #nct dream #wayv #nct u

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inyourdreamzen · 1 year

Text

jeno au recos

don’t you dare kick my art genre - fluff | angst | high school!au word count | 4.8k words

summer lovin’ genre - suggestive word count | 9.8k words hold fast genre - fluff | slow burn word count | 11.1k words

seven days to say i love you genre - fluff word count | 5.1k words untitled genre - fluff word count | 1.4k words

heartbeat

#nct au #nct fanfic #nct dream fic #nct dream x reader #nct jeno x reader #jeno fanfic #jeno au #jeno x reader

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tenderlyrenjun · 2 years

Text

Married

re:preview no. 1 and no. 2

minors + bots do not interact; fic rec blogs without comments do not reblog

A/N: from a joke idea to a poor fic preview to a final fic ... here it is! and it took me a little less than 2 weeks to write this, so please take it with a grain of salt. also, ik that i said i hate childhood friends to lovers (for psych reasons), but jeno is just so friend shaped.

summary: you take jeno to be your lawful wedding date, in busan.

includes ... girl/afab reader, porn with feelings, mutual pining, strong!jeno, they’re both government officials with the city planning department, jaehyun (127) marries mingyu (svt) btw ... smut warnings ... sex dreams, lingerie, oral sex (f + m receiving), masturbation (f + m), fingering, spanking, 69ing/ish, big dick!jeno, choking/breath play, edging (kind of but not really), praise during sex but not like a kink, unprotected sex, and so, so much consent ♡

wc: 25,9k (again, i am so sorry)

again, minors + bots do not interact

“Hey … hey, wake up. The conductor hasn’t come by to punch our tickets yet, and you’re sitting on them.”

You gently pat Jeno’s face where the 5:30 sunrise glows, barely seeping down the half-shielded window; he immediately closed it, about five minutes ago, once the night ended, more irritated by the sun waking him up than moving beds from his apartment to train, but he still kept a small part cracked, as if wanting to relive the road trips home during Seollal, when you two, excided by leaving college at the earliest moment, would book the cheapest rides and get picked up before rush hour. Your long sleeves scratch along his freshly shaven jaw, like scrubbing pillowy softness into his cheeks, and he tries to ignore it – tries to ignore you, except you become extra annoying, squeezing his face harder until he has to slap your hands away to avoid sleeping on the empty hard seat beside him, the last one in this connected row, where his blazer, a less comfy pillow than your narrow shoulder, takes residence. Jeno slides his palm across yours, enveloping your wrists like handcuffs, fixing them on your thighs. You have to take a moment, tongue weighing heavy and dry. He never really lets you forget how strong he is, oblivious to it all.

Even last night, when you helped him last-minute stress pack (a.k.a. the real reason you stayed at the 00-Line apartment), you hopped on his overflowing luggage, complaining that one clap from him would snap it shut (or completely break it, but you felt optimistic!). Granted, your shoes sat on top of all his clothes, preventing it from zipping up without something weighing it down – which is why his blazer sits on the bench, not in his bag, or yours. You told him that he could put it in one of your bags, but you both knew there was no room, what with all your different wedding outfits. He deadpanned at you, hearing that revelation – the multiple wardrobe changes –, throwing his facial cleanser at your loose makeup bag (the one you ended up shoving in his backpack too).

But not everyone can just wear one suit like him! You have the pre-wedding outfit, before you change into your attendance dress at city hall while you help Jaehyun set up; then, there’s the dinner dress, which you plan on also using at the rehearsal dinner, and a dress for the real reception, and of course you need a backup in case something happens to one of those, in addition to the matching shoes, because shoes (and accessories) elevate the appearance, as you reasoned, which made him visibly nervous for some reason, as if you would leave him looking like an outsider with your family, the same family he has known since middle school. You reassured him that he will always match with you, and if not, Busan has a thousand stores to buy a tie … which would have the potential to also not fit in his bag, like the blazer, but you two – he – can make it work! He makes everything work, like a superpower.

Jeno end up wearing the blazer over his hoodie, to the station, giving him a needed second layer against the dark 16-degree weather. He looked more put together with it on, than he probably actually felt, especially considering that he only had 10 minutes to get ready before Mark drove you to the KTX station. Although, the façade breaks now that it’s just the two of you in the booth – no strangers, no coverups, no friends, no expectations; so when he picks his head up and his hoodie falls, navy fluffy hair sticking out at random angles, you stop staring at your hands below his and catch his bangs, tucking them back gently into place. You want to move him into your lap (it might be more comfortable), but not yet; the conductor still has to punch your tickets, and you don’t want to repeat Chuseok 2020 when the conductor scolded you for laying across the bench. Plus, you never really get the chance to do this with him, be this close to him, not that you don’t want to, or that it’s too hard.

You just … never get the chance.

“How are you this awake,” he groans, raising his analog watch into squinted view, nearly crying laughter as his eyes close again, cheek pressing into your shoulder, “at 5:37 AM?”

You roll your head dramatically, provoking more grumbles out of him that make you giggle as he jostles. “Some of us actually go to sleep earlier when we know that we have a schedule at dawn.” You graze your recently manicured nails into his scalp, mumbling through a smile, “You knew we were going to leave for Jaehyun’s wedding a few days in advance; you were there when I booked our tickets; he invited us to lunch because of you.” Jeno makes an objecting noise. “Ah, maybe I should’ve invited Haechan instead.”

“Hey.” Jeno smacks your thigh, his long fingers curling behind your knee to pull you closer. You gulp, praying that he cannot hear the knot in your throat. Apparently, his displays of strength are inversely related to his energy levels; the less energy he has, the more he uses his strength with you. But thankfully, he remains oblivious, poking your stomach with his furthest hand. He slinks up your shoulder, massaging down your tension to get selfishly comfortable, warm breath exhaling into your neck. “You fell asleep maybe 20 minutes before I did,” he objects, arguing the root of the problem, as if knowing that he will always be your first choice, “and that was, like, four hours ago.”

“Ha,” you laugh sarcastically, masking the new sweat on your palms under your sweater paws. You rub your hands together for a second, bouncing the heels together, before pushing him up, with all your strength, holding him there long enough – despite a series of complaints – to take the tickets from under his ass. “I wasn’t the one who said, ‘No,’ to coffee when Jaemin offered.”

“He went to sleep when I woke up!”

“Eh,” you wave off and lay him on your shoulder again, “Excuses.”

“You’re so mean to me,” he whines, pouting, cuddling you so tightly that your revolve falters, “I’m doing you a favor, and you’re being mean to me.”

You comb his hair again, soothing all the wrinkles in his forehead, not denying it. He is partially correct. You do take advantage of his kindness – merely because he offers it so nicely, on a silver platter; it is a reason why you lo… why you … why you return it so easily, albeit quietly, like now. He will attend your cousin’s wedding this weekend; he lets you overpack his luggage; he opens his apartment to you with wide arms. And in return, you paid for the KTX tickets and hotel; you reserved a slot at a shooting range in Jeonju where your layover stops; you let him fall asleep on your shoulder right now, even though you are tired as hell, too.

Besides, your cousin, Jaehyun, probably would have invited Jeno to the reception anyways. He invited everyone, on a limited occupancy, from Eunwoo to Jihyo. And Jeno , who once wished Jaehyun to be his older brother, is pretty close with your family. There is no way he would not end up in the family photos.

“Ugh.” Jeno sits up, rubbing his eyes single handedly with the arm detached from you. “Why did we agree to lunch? We could be sleeping right now.”

You laugh at him, tugging him back down easily, and ghost your fingers in his hair. “Mingyu has to finish up some work project before they can go on their honeymoon, so Jaehyun suggested lunch to give his fiancée some uninterrupted time.”

“Boo, they’re just going to fuck,” Jeno yawns, starting to fall asleep again. “You stay over at my apartment all the time, it’s like you practically moved into my room, and there’s no way you get any work done.”

“Ha … ha .. a .. yeah …” Totally not distracted by him, or how much freer he is in his bedroom, always wearing basketball shorts without underwear as it seems, always manspreading enough for you to see. It is definitely not the same thing. You lift your head to look over the seats. “Where is that conductor? We need to get moving.”

Jeno slides you back down. “But really, you got this?”

“Ye-yeah.”

“Alright.” He nuzzles into your neck, almost kissing your skin when he tilts his chin up. Your entire body freezes for a second, anticipating, hoping, that he kisses you, any part of you. But he doesn’t. And you press your lips together, eyes closing too, just briefly, as not to fall asleep. “I’m going to take a quick nap. Wake me when we get there?”

“Yeah, okay.”

As he settles into sleep, Jeno’s head slowly nods forward, and you cup outside his cheek, catching him before he falls, lingering your nails behind his jaw for a moment, for this moment, until you spot the conductor. Amazing timing. You sigh. Jeno’s fingers twitch closed, briefly, like a reassuring hug that you misinterpret – willingly misinterpret – as something more, like this is okay, it is okay to have feelings during arbitrary moments. You inch apart from Jeno again, shifting on your hip, into the aisle, and pick up the tickets again, holding them so tightly that little veins fold onto the papers.

The conductor comes by, moving ever so slowly, like he wants to help you preserve this moment, with your best friend unconscious on your shoulder, and as though he could read your heart, he says, “You’re a cute couple."

"Ha ... thanks," you smile politely, biting your lip, grounding yourself with a look a Jeno. He spasms in his sleep, hand squeezing your thigh again. “Oh, right.” You hand the tickets over, reality resuming. You try to cease your shaking hands between your thighs, shoulders raised as awkwardly as the smile on your face, but Jeno’s hand, his strong hand, splits your legs, so you give up.

“We still have some chocolates left from White Day,” the conductor informs softly. The entire world seems to calm down, or stay asleep, for Jeno’s sake, and you don’t blame them, lowering your own tension too. “I can bring some for you and your boyfriend if you like.”

You swallow thickly, licking the corner of your mouth, considering it selfishly because why would anyone reject free candy?, but you shake your head. “No, I’ll – I’ll, ah … wait for my b-boyfriend to wake up first. H-he really likes chocolate.” Oh, my God; be cool, you scold yourself, but the nerves make you feel bad, like you are too close to Jeno or you make him uncomfortable with other people’s assumptions.

“Alright,” the conductor nods, smiling at the two you, practically repeating cute couple, “Let me know. I’ll save some for you.”

After he punches your tickets and hands them back – an archaic practice, and vain, since you checked in electronically around 5 AM – you grab Jeno’s hand.

And, in his sleep, he weaves your fingers together.

Attention, passengers: we are approaching Jeonju Station in five minutes. Please collect your items; we will be stopping shortly.

Jeno yawns awake, lulling his neck tall along the line on the backrest, kneading the kink in his spinal cord that keeps forming after he sleeps on your shoulder (he should really move onto your chest). Speaking of you, Jeno reaches at his sides, left and right, fingers dancing into the empty seats, not even finding his blazer. He peaks an eye open, wincing as the full morning light assaults his vision, then he actively looks for you, and finds you easily, already standing, pulling down your bags from the overhead hanger. A wheel jams on the railing, making you lean on your toes, shakily, to get it down, but you look unstable, so he immediately gets up, the second he sees your ankles wobble, and steadies you by your lower back, using one strong hand to bring down the luggage by its handle, his palm lingering too long.

The timing hasn’t been that great lately, these last few days – months, if he’s being honest. Like, yeah, you practically spend every waking moment together, a side effect of knowing each other since middle school and now working together on a project for urban revitalization in the lower Seoul district, but there are little things that still separate you from him. Not enough to make him feel as if you are drifting apart as best friends, as childhood friends; only enough for him to notice that he relies on you to be his personal comfort, his home away from home. And maybe, he thinks, this trip can recenter your relationship.

So, he starts by closing the distance.

Except, as strong as he might be, Jeno knows he is unaware of how much he uses at any given moment, and you tense in front of his hand, instinctively jolting up and hitting him square under the chin with the back of your head.

“Ow!”

“Sorry!” you scream, equally cringing and grabbing your hair, before finishing lamely, not knowing how to help, “sorry. You scared me.” You step into his personal bubble, practically into his chest, and grab his chin before he can cover up the temporary pain, holding him almost as long as he touched your back, except he didn’t have a valid excuse to you that long. He holds his breath, as if a doctor started the inhale-exhale stethoscope check, but you stop talking.

“You could’ve woken me up,” he tells you, moving your hand with his jaw, staring at your lips, willing you to talk or break the beat. “I know the bags are heavy,” he says, which translates to I would’ve helped you.

“Yeah, but you looked so cu … so peaceful. I didn’t want to wake you until I absolutely had to.”

Jeno nods, fair; he’s done the same in the past when you were in college, especially after exam season, after you pull multiple all-nighters in a row but still make plans with your friends. Like, there was this one time, you stayed over at his apartment, a different one than he lives in now, one closer to Uni, for Haechan’s birthday party later, and you fell asleep on his bed while he played League with Jaemin and Jisung. He ended up waking you up about ten minutes after the party started, to give you a bit more than an hour of sleep. Needless to say, neither of you were the first to wish Haechan happy birthday, for which he only accepted monetary penance, but Jeno thought it was worth it, no amount of money enough, to see your smile refreshed and echoed in your posture.

“Hey, is that my blazer?”

You glance at the lapels, slightly raising your arm as well, as if you forgot that you were wearing it. “Yeah, sorry, I – I got cold.” You slowly take it off, shaking the sleeves off your shoulders. “Do you – Do you want– ?” Do you want it back?

“No,” Jeno interrupts, fixing his jacket by the lapels over your shoulders again. “It’s alright. Wouldn’t want you to get hypothermia”

Once it situates correctly on your body, Jeno trails his hand up your arm, rubbing your bicep, sensing that the cold probably got to you, given that the loud air conditioner in the back contradicts the clear sunny sky. Then, the train stops, violently, and you both reach your arms out to steady one another, ultimately falling against the chairs, his waist pressed tightly against yours. You inhale sharply, first, and he copies you, hands brace above and below each other’s elbows. Neither of you really stand this close to each other, having too much respect for your friendship. He can name less than a handful of moments: 7 Minutes in Heaven at the beginning of 9th grade; an awkward dance at your first high school dance in 10th grade; truth or dare during sophomore year of college; accidentally pressing against you in the copy room at work after the shelves in the supply closet broke and the handyman shoved a thousand boxes next to the printer. Jeno doesn’t know what is different now; this, too, is probably another rare occurrence. He has loved you forever, never making a move, but …

“Th-thanks,” you whisper, quickly pulling away your hands.

There it is.

“No, um, no problem.”

Wordlessly, you go through the unloading motions: you stacking his backpack on the roller luggage, him taking the duffel bag that you claimed was heavy. Jeno closes the distance again, putting his hand behind the small of your back, walking you preemptively down the aisle. You slump against his palm, resting your cheek occasionally on his bicep as more people file out in the front, and he lets you, slinging an arm around your shoulders, because the fatigue is probably hitting you now that you have to force your body to move.

Once you get to the front of the train, an exit almost like a plane since you sat in the middle of the cart (not the most coveted place, since you can’t recline or get out quickly, but the easiest to snake), the conductor greets him:

“Hey, you’re awake!”

Jeno points at himself, lines forming between his eyebrows.

“Yeah,” the conductor confirms, handing over a small bag of chocolate hearts. “I saved these for you.”

“Thanks?” He tilts his head to the side as he unwinds himself from you, accidentally bumping his elbow on your head, and accepts the candies with two hands – a clear bag of shiny pink and yellow Hershey’s mini-chocolate bars. “Why us– ?”

“Okay, thanks, have a good day!” you shout, pushing him into the station, barely stopping to bow before exiting the train.

Jeno manages to catch the conductor’s last words, something about good-bye and being cute. “Do you know what that’s about?”

“Nope,” you lie badly, and he gives you a skeptical look, which you ignore. “But fr-free chocolate.”

So he lets you ignore it, eating one. It tastes good, but he swears he hears you exhale in relief.

The layover in Jeonju lasts two hours, until a little after 10:30 AM, but it feels like two minutes.

You spent the entire time latched onto Jeno, supporting your caffeinated body through all the laughter and smiles – yours and his, as you surprised him with activity after activity, a thank you for coming, for willingly enduring gossipy aunties practically cross-examining him on the reception floor and drunk uncles at the karaoke machine who would otherwise be tone-deaf without the drinks in their hands. After the first activity – a short 30-minute session at a shooting range – Jeno picked you up with his knees, spinning you around outside the building, repeatedly crushing your torso between his beefy arms. And when he thought that was it, you Uber’ed to the Jeonjuchun River and rented a couple bikes next to one of the pretty pavilions (big mistake; you had to go back to the start and wait for him there because you couldn’t keep up without your ass catching on fire!). His dumb, wide smile made you want to keep going, plus you had a last planned surprise to grab coffee and pastries at the Mural Village, having called ahead two days prior to reserve a couple of their signature glazed donuts, his favorite.

So, it makes sense that when you get on the last train to Busan, exhaustion hits your entire body full force.

As Jeno packs the bags on the overhead hanger, you sit sideways on the chair, watching him, noting how his hoodie slightly rises, right under his belly button, confined neatly by the prominent outlines in his abs. To really sell whole ‘not-checking-out-your-best-friend’ bit, lean into the spine of the booth, lazily leaning your head against the leather cushion, half-closing your eyes, lazily leaning on your own shoulder, arms folded comfortably across your stomach. You don’t know where the lie and truth meet, but you still wear his blazer, and the earthy cologne keeps you awake, as a (poor) substitute for his proximity, until he kneels down next to you.

“Tired?”

You can hear the smile in his cheery voice.

“Mmhm.”

If he were Jaemin, you might’ve cancelled every surprise (or just not planned them) and accepted his offer to take a nap in the station while the next train arrives. If he were Renjun, you might’ve left later in the day, or the previous day, or maybe not even planned lunch with your cousin, since the two don’t really know each other that well. If he were Haechan, you might’ve gotten teased after the second you stared wobbling on your toes, needing his support to get you on the train, or he would have driven all the way to Busan in that newly painted car, taking turns at rest stops. But no, this is Lee Jeno, your best friend since middle school. You used to joke that you had a platonic crush on him, that you manifested being his best friend from the moment you saw him; you just didn’t know that it meant this.

“Short on words?” he jokes. Earlier, you were more talkative than him, a side effect of being as awake as he is now, before you ate a peanut butter jaffle, nearly falling asleep as you finished breakfast, like a child after Seollal dinner with the grandparents. “You had so much to say when you were willing to let me, your best friend, starve.”

You roll your eyes, leaving them closed when he takes his seat, offering his arm as a plushie for you to cuddle; you also shift your hips, invading his personal space to lean even deeper on him. “As if you would starve. How many donuts did you eat? Six? A dozen? How many sandwiches?”

“Are you calling me fat?”

You slide your arm across his abdomen, letting your hand dangle on the other side. “I’m saying you’re just giving me more surface area to hug.”

Jeno rolls his eyes, his entire head, mocking your actions from the first train ride, “Excuses.” You slap his chest, accidentally groping his pec (you were aiming for his arm), and leave your hand there, slowly dragging your wrist down his abs (again, not intentional – and hopefully he feels that way too) to hug his waist. He brushes your hair behind your head, equally running his thumbpad along the curve of your ear. “I got this one; take a nap.”

“You got the tickets?”

“Eung.” He pulls them out of his front pocket. “Freshly printed from the KTX terminal –“ He grabs your fingers, gently rubbing them between his like helping you wash your hands. “- ink smudged under your nails.” You groan when he drops your hand.

“Bags put away?”

“Yeah, all four of ‘em.”

“Make sure the pastries–”

“Shhh.” Jeno curls his hand over your mouth. And you are tempted to lick his palm, except your mouth is too dry, so you resign to breathing through your nose above his long fingers. “Sleep; I got this.”

“You know, these seats recline …”

“Shh,” he repeats, laying you back down on his shoulder.

Unfortunately, you wake up the next hour after a train attendant bumps your booth with her snack cart. Ironic, since you had a weird dream involving Haechan as a Domino’s delivery boy (even though he hates American fast food!), dropping off a pizza with all the pepperoni replaced by Jeno’s eye smile, and you paid using a ₩100,000 bill with Renjun’s college CSA (Chinese Student Association) presidential portrait in the middle. Eh, you’ve had weirder. Like that dream – after Jeno started working out more … diligently, in college – where you basically pounced his bones at the end of multivariate calculus in the middle of the lecture hall. That, and the one with a young Bill Nye.

You inhale deeply and push your palms on either side of your legs, inadvertently groping Jeno’s thigh in the process, making him jolt too, when you get yourself upright, leaning a little more on him than the chair.

“Everything good?”

“Hmm?” you yawn, stretching your limbs under his arm, which somehow blanketed you during the ride. You spare it a glance before looking up at him again and answering his question, “No, yeah, all good, just –” Another yawn escapes you. “– tired’s’all.”

Jeno squeezes your torso into his chest. “You can go back to sleep. We have a little more than an hour until Busan.”

You nod into his hoodie, almost accepting it.

Then an egg sandwich with your name scribble on it appears in front of your nose. And you reluctantly wake up, shaking Jeno off your shoulders as the train attendant hands you a small paper food-box, the lunch that you reserved with an extra ₩10,000, in case the jaffle place was closed on Thursday mornings. With the professional photos and multilingual descriptions, you practically could not say no to the gilgeori toast.

Except, you can and you do. One bite into the brioche, after the attendant leaves, you barf the mashed pellet onto a napkin, quickly washing away the taste with some water.

“Don’t like it?” Jeno teases, giggling loudly. Then he takes a bite of his caprese katsu sando and immediately regurgitates it into an empty paper cup on the table. “Oh, ew.”

The two of you exchange raised eyebrows and nod at each other, verbally confirming, “Switch.”

As you finish your second sando, of three, occasionally nibbling Jeno’s food, just to make sure that you really don’t like it, the train unexpectedly shuffles forward, making a fast stop as if it almost missed the station – not the Busan Station, which you aren’t sure whether to be happy about. On one hand, it would mean that the conductor almost missed your stop in Busan (literally impossible, since it is a major station), if you were in Busan; on the other hand, reality, it just jerks the entire cart, your bags and everything loudly jangling above. You hear the rumpled plastic tote bag, full of pastries from a local shop near the Mural Village, squish between the luggage bags, and you immediately get up to save them.

Jeno’s hands stabilize you as equally quick, when you crossover his legs to enter the aisle. His strong fingers dip into your skin that exposes after you grab the pastries, your hoodie lifting right below your belly button. You exhale shakily and look down at him. He concentrates on reading the stats on the game he lost when you got up. You come back on your heels. Then the train jolts again, stopping for real. And Jeno grabs you harder, probably more surprised than you, given the way his wide eyes ask if you’re okay. You nod, then dig through his backpack, pulling out a Tupperware in addition to the pastry bag, and take your seat again – all while aided by Jeno’s massive hand.

He takes the bag from you, holding it in front of him on the table, as you open the Tupperware, to check if everything was all good – no broken cookies.

“Oh, thank Go– Hey!”

Jeno takes one of the cookies with bigger chocolate chips, although the edges are distorted, curved out of shape. “Yum, I love your mom’s recipe.”

You frown, whining, “I made those for Jaehyun and Minghyu.” You pinch his arm, closing the box and taking the bag before he eats everything there, too. “Plus, you ate an entire bakery in Jeonju. How are you so hungry?”

“Nothing compares to a mother’s recipe.” Jeno bites into the cookie again. You cross your arms under your chest, trying to emulate your best mom-caught-him-with-his-hand-in-a-cookie-jar state. He doesn’t crumble, but he coaxes the last bite into your mouth, smiling after you comply.

You roll your eyes, sighing, “God, these are good.”

Jeno rolls his eyes too, munching on his last sando again. “I love that you’re so humble about your baking skills,” he laughs

But all you catch are the I love you and his crinkly eye smile.

Attention, passengers: we have arrived at the Busan station. Please gather your belongings and departure the train at your nearest exit.

The actual stop is even worse, if that’s possible, than the other 500 it took to get here. And Jeno finds that he doesn’t like this train very much – the stop is too abrupt, and there was no warning like the previous ride. He might even file give a comment or two on the feedback card, assuming there is a box somewhere for it. Once, he gave a thumbs-down on a YouTube video for not effectively helping him tie his boxer hand wrappings. Or, maybe, the driver sucks.

He just hates that you wobble so much every time you stand up in the cart, even though the ride is over now. Not that he hates helping you. He doesn’t mind, almost enjoys it, if he were being honest – holding your waist between his long fingers, under the guise of steadying you or warming you up, given that he never really gets to be this close to you. And he takes advantage of the moment, of your exhaustion, inhaling the remnants of your shampoo as you nestle into his chest, face first.

You mumble something incoherent against his shirt, then groan when he laughs.

Jeno pushes you back up, for less than a second because you fight him, trapping his waist in your arms. He laughs a little bit louder, and his shoulders rise to his ears, allowing him to hug you around your neck, practically suffocating you between his beefy biceps. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

“I said –” You lift your chin, pouting at him through your eyelashes. “– the Uber will be here in five.”

“Oh, then should, um, should we …?” He gestures to the exit.

“Yeah,” you doze, shaking yourself off him, shoving your hands in his blazer pockets. Jeno frowns. He hopes you can get more sleep tonight, especially since the hotel is, like, 20 minutes away from the train station. “Let’s go wait over there.”

Jeno throws his arm over your shoulder, guiding the two of you through the automatic double doors, his hand hanging in the air above your chest. Outside, you slant onto him more, wrapping your arms around his waist again, turning your cheek on his pec, eyes half-closed too. He can smell his own cologne on your skin. But, scared that you might hear his heart skip a beat, Jeno rotates you into his neck, resting his face on your hair. He only gets half-a-second though, until your phone beep beeps, altering the Uber’s presence two meters away, which is even closer than he thought. Seems like everyone wants time with you, at his expense. But as the car pulls up, honking, confirming your ride, you yawn one more time and fix his hoodie, with your arms circling behind his head, before packing the luggage in the trunk. It takes Jeno another moment for his body to move. He waits until you have to pat the car seat to grab his attention – because no matter what, he’ll always leave an eye out for you, an ear open for you, an arm free for you. And he follows.

Everything goes fuzzy during the 15-minute drive (the driver took the freeway, rather than the streets), without an object to distract him. He basically ordered you to sleep, as if the car vibrations weren’t a strong enough lullaby, shushing you into the crook of his neck, like he leaves that place specifically for you.

“– cute couple.”

Jeno snaps his neck up. The driver’s – an older man – eyes reflect a smile through the rearview mirror, and he repeats it:

“You two,” he clarifies, “You look like a cute couple.”

The sentiment echoes later, again stealing the air from Jeno’s lungs, once you arrive to the hotel, accurately predicted by the app on your phone, not that he was counting down the meters until you arrived …

Jeno barely lets you thank the driver, shoving you through another automatic double doors set with renewed vigor. You give him a weird look that he cannot quite narrow down, so he ignores it, pointing to the front desk, unaware of how much time has passed, not wanting to block the entrance. You turn slower than him, and he thinks his cover has blown, that you will know that the Uber driver said something weird, something he has pondered since, basically, middle school. But instead of asking question, you answer the concierge’s questions: Name and ID? Credit card? Reservation for … two? Jeno taps his toes into the ceramic tile, tempted to pull out his phone, but he doesn’t, in case you need him.

Then, she makes the point that snaps his neck up again: “You two make a cute couple – oh,” she frowns, typing into the computer. “A room with two beds?”

“Yes,” you confirm, sounding like gritting through your teeth. Jeno cranes his neck forward to confirm, but as he does, the concierge grants you the room tickets and you move on, pulling him by the hand – interlaced fingers – toward the elevator, avoiding the topic.

Silently, again, Jeno follows you through Floor F to Room 23, only stopping when you roll his luggage in front of the TV and dresser. He copies you, unsure what to do or say without knowing exactly when Jaehyun, or Mingyu, will stop by for lunch; although he expects it to be soon. You put your hands on your waist, staring at the floor. He almost asks you what you’re thinking about, but you cross your arms under your chest, sheathing your hands under his blazer.

“S-sorry about that,” you whisper, so quietly that he has to step closer. “Be-because she thought that we, um, th-at we are –” You wince. Jeno reaches out, squeezing your shoulder, thumb rubbing harder to reassure you further. “– were a couple.”

“It’s o– ”

“The same thing happened with that train conductor.”

“What?”

Maybe he sounds too surprised, because you look mildly offended, mouth agape. And he pauses, for what feels like eternity, until you laugh. Then, he laughs. You sway forward a little bit, both hands landing on his chest. He catches you, steadies you, again, laughter fading into a smile.

“Sorry, about that,” Jeno apologizes honestly, by the tone of his voice: soft and comforting. He rubs the back of his neck, feeling like he owes you some sort of explanation. “I guess I was too close to you.”

But you disagree.

“No, it’s fine!” you reassure him right away, as if all his worries are ridiculous – which they might as well be, since you are his best friend (don’t tell Jaemin; although, Jaemin tends to be more affectionate than you in social settings, and they have been mistaken for a couple on quite a few occasions, even with you present). Then, you glance at your hands, darting between your fingers on his shoulders and his eyes. “I w-was probably too close to you to-too.”

And with that, you retract your hands.

But he catches them, puts them back.

“It’s okay,” Jeno promises, his palms stroking small circles into your waist. “The Uber driver also thought we were a couple.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

A beat passes.

And in that beat, Jeno realizes that neither of you are like this with your friends – you don’t hang off his arm; he doesn’t spend an entire night staring at you from the corner of his eye – and neither of you were like this as kids – you weren’t each other’s first kiss; never have you been called out for cuddling, justifying it as “we’ve been doing this since we were young!”. But this could be the residual pent-up energy from forcing his body not to immediately find you in every setting. Like, his judgement can lax while the real world pauses outside the Busan border. You know, he has let you borrow his clothes from middle school through college, to now; he has held your hand across the sidewalk, making sure that you stay on the side furthest from the cars on the street; he has hugged and kissed (your forehead) and cuddled you in the past. And each time, he shoved any inkling of feelings back down.

“I –” Jeno starts, but you are too close to his face and words fail him. He needlessly brushes hair away from your face, as if the action would bring him clarity. It doesn’t; it gives him more questions than answers, especially in the way that you slowly crawl toward his face, eyes trained on his lips. Jeno returns it, mouth parted on the last syllable he said, shoulders falling down, down, down. He slides your hips over his, stuttering his hand onto your cheek, letting you rest in his palm, your head turned, ready if he closes the distance.

You lean forward on your toes, standing tallest on his shoulders. He mimics you, getting smaller, as a way of asking for your consent, and this time, you copy him – copy what he usually does – flickering your gaze to him until enough time has passed. You get closer … closer … closer …

Ping!

“S-s-sorry,” you mumble, pulling out your phone from your back pocket but not pulling away from him. Jeno bites the inside of his mouth, unsure whether to move, since you don’t. One breath escapes his lips, mutually breaking the moment. “It’s – It’s Jaehyun – Oh,” you exclaim, as if realizing the proximity for the first time. You step back, escaping his grasp, pointing toward the bathroom at the front of the room. “I-I sh-should get ready. He – He – Jaehyun, my-my cousin, um,” you stutter, shaking your head at the ground, “I don-I don’t know why I’m telling you that; you know him.” You grab your duffel bag, but it pounds the floor. Jeno thinks you weren’t aware of how heavy it is, and he raises his eyebrows. “Anyways, -” You smile at him, hands pressing into your hips. “- he – Jaehyun – will be here in 30 minutes. I-I’m gonna go change an-and get ready in the bathroom. Yeah, uh, bye.”

You slam the door.

Another five minutes later, after he collapses on a bed, it hits him: Jeno almost kissed you.

Lunch goes off without a hitch. Mingyu picked an Italian place called La Bella Citta, which was originally meant to cater their wedding, until Jaehyun decided that he wanted traditional food at the reception. It is a pretty expensive place, hence why they paid (partially because you and Jeno are the siblings he never got). And the lunch followed a simple formula: Jeno makes a (bad) joke; Jaehyun brings up an unrelated anecdote, chuckling prematurely at just the thought; Mingyu laughs too hard, accidentally spilling champagne; and you get a bunch of memories, smiling fondly as Jaehyun cleans Mingyu’s shirt with a Tide pen.

Well, there was this one thing.

Your risotto didn’t taste very good – the rice was overcooked; butter had been added over oil; the dish lacked its creamy texture, more soupy in consistency. Thankfully, Jeno exchanged half his steak with you (not the tenderloin part, of course). No one would have noticed; had you not been so obviously gawking at him for the gesture, because it sparked Mingyu’s clumsy ass to comment something about doing the same for Jaehyun in the past. And then Jeno turned it into a competition for which of them has exchanged more meals with the Jung family (although you don’t share the same last name; you are part of the family by extension).

While they battled it out, with Jeno winning since he did take your egg sandwich on the train earlier, Jaehyun poked you in the arm. “So you brought him?”

You narrowed your eyes. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no,” he shook his head, “I just thought you might bring Jaemin or Renjun – I never see Renjun, and he buys really good gifts.”

You snorted. Yeah, right. Renjun bought a choco pie for Jaemin’s birthday, like, at midnight, from a convenience store; he bought Jeno PJs, even though Jeno doesn’t wear pyjamas (you can attest); and he bought you a thrifted candle holder which broke after you put an electric candle in it. If Jaehyun wanted a good wedding gift, he should have told you to bring Jaemin. Still, you would’ve brought Jeno; like, no matter what, you would have asked Jeno first, and he would always say yes. Even during that awkward orientation week in college when his physics professor caught him shotgunning two beers at the same time right before class (it happened twice); you begged him to go to office hours with you, needing constant reassurance that you did not, in fact, sound like an idiot.

“And I thought you liked Jeno,” you frowned.

“No, I do; probably not as much as you, but of course I do. If you didn’t tell me before the wedding invites went out, I would’ve sent one to him myself.”

After that, everything everywhere happened all at once; you didn’t have time to contradict him, or self-reflect – Mingyu spilled more champagne; Jeno leaned his arm behind your chair, using his other hand to pull you closer, to help you avoid touching the entering wedding party; Jaehyun tilted his big ass forehead at you knowingly. You were almost relieved to head back to the hotel, instantly collapsing on your bed without changing out of your Sunday finest clothes instead of responding to Jaehyun’s cryptic observation.

“I’m dead; I’m dead,” you complain, throwing your arm over your eyes to block out the golden hour seeping into your room. Dramatically, you fall backwards onto your bed, relaxing your entire body into the comforter. You peak under your arm to find Jeno when he doesn’t respond, and he smiles back at you, hanging up his blazer before taking a running start.

“Oof!” Jeno flops like a fish beside you, covering his eyes too. “All of us are dead,” he jokes, referencing the drama he started last week. You started it first, binging it a couple days after it aired, but when he told you about it, you didn’t have the heart to tell him that you’d already seen it and watched half the season with him. It became part of your daily lunch routine, not that you know how long it will last. Your urban revitalization project is temporary, a bit long term temporary, spanning until maybe October, but still temporary.

You shift onto your side, hands folded in prayer under your head as a pillow, scanning his peaceful face. “Hey,” you whisper tentatively. You wait another few seconds (maybe even a minute) before opening your mouth, hand reaching out to touch him. “Jen, I –”

“Yeah?” his voice rasps.

“I j-just wanted to thank you for coming with me today,” you change your mind, recoiling before he opens his eyes, which he does, peering at you with the same wide curiosity as the day you met him, “And switching meals with me all day. I – I –” You inhale. “– I really appreciate it, really … appreciate you.” You whisper the last bit, hoping that he doesn’t catch it.

But he does.

“Of course,” he tells you, like he could never say no. And suddenly, you cannot recall an instance when he has ever denied you the thing – he shares his food with you; he helped you spontaneously paint your apartment at 3 AM; he gives you his clothes at the crack of dawn. “You’re my best friend.” Now you can remember the moments – he wouldn’t do the laser tag tournament with you (and Jaemin); he turned down your invite to The Griffin Bar; and worst of all, he outright refused to go to Renjun’s Single’s Appreciate Day party with you. “I’d do anything you ask.”

You roll onto your back, facing the ceiling, and close your eyes.

“Jen-Jen-Jen-Jen-Jeno, Oh!” your rapid legato whimpers wake Jeno up.

First, his body reacts, an involuntary twitch from his feet to head. Next, everything above his torso moves, his arm covering his eyes. He turns into his elbow, away from the window that isn’t as bright as he thought it would be. He, then, remembers that he, somehow, fell asleep on your bed, or you two fell asleep on the same bed; neither of you really got the chance to figure out the sleeping arrangements, since yesterday had so many activities. Not that it mattered, or was a bad thing; you did spend the previous night in his apartment, in his bed. Granted, you slept feet to head, him on top of the duvet with another blanket.

Jeno drops his arm down his cheek, cautiously opening an eye to the other half of the bed.

His hand and jaw fall.

You moan his name again, mouth gaping at the ceiling, eyes twisted shut while your back arches off the mattress. At some point in the night, you must’ve changed, or you wore that lingerie set under your dress the entire time at lunch. Jeno cannot help it; his eyes find your tits spilling out of your teeny-tiny mesh cups that don’t look like they would cover up very much skin anyways. He tries to move to your face, but his willpower fails, and he looks for the source of your moans: your hand between your legs. Unfortunately, you still wear the matching, lacy panties, and your palm hides just how wet you are, the other fisted into the sheets by his thigh.

Jeno bites his lip. Why would you wake him up like this? Do that next to him? … Unless …?

Experimentally, Jeno leans onto you, pressing his still-clothed chest over you bare arm, the one attached to the blanket, clawing it roughly. He kisses your shoulder, ghosting his index finger down your naked stomach. Your moans get louder, more encouraging, so he doesn’t stop. God, Jeno wonders how you have this pornographic glow at golden hour, before the day even starts, that he cannot get enough of. You arch further off the bed, into his touch, making his fingers pad deeper into your skin, increasing their pressure until he gets to your pussy. He cups around your hand, guiding the way you grind into your own hand. But desperate for more movement, maybe more of him, you scissor yourself. And he can feel it, feel your knuckles flex, forcing your thighs separate for the deepest stroke.

“Fuck, you’re so wet.”

“To-touch me, please, Jeno, touch me.”

Jeno inserts his fingers with yours, simultaneously rutting his fully erect penis on your leg, which makes him realize that he is too clothed, but he doesn’t want to pull away from you. Instead, he straddles one of your legs, grabbing the opposite side of your neck. Blindly, using his tongue to find your most prominent vein, he sucks at your throat. He kisses you, kisses your neck, sloppily, repeatedly, until you whine even louder. Jeno has to break away, moaning into the air, his chest sweating through the white whore shirt. The two of you might get a noise complaint; is it bad that the potential turns him on? He barely gets to return to your neck, barely gets to make that wet mark even more tender, when you reverse the positions.

You push him back down, temporarily, just long enough to flip your hair over your shoulder and climb his waist. And apparently, he makes a strangled sound, because you release his shirt, smoothening out the wrinkles, mumbling something about buying him a new one later, but the entire action makes more of your hair fall down, so Jeno sits up quickly. You slide down his lap, only stopped by his long, thick cock standing under his pants. His dick outlines your ass curve, pushing your cheeks further apart. With the new position – the better position – he shoves your hair back, fisting it into a ponytail the same way you fisted the sheets, exposing your neck again. He starts a new hickey, too impatient to find the last one (it is on the other side), sucking his way down. Your bra straps fall down your biceps at this point. The plastic little adjuster springing free with your tits as Jeno bounces you in front of his cock, too much acceleration rolling your body on top of his chest that he has to force his body to slow down before he cums prematurely. He wants to cum inside you.

The decision to end the foreplay, the juvenile grinding, occurs when you rip his shirt open, mumbling something about buying him another later. Your nipples rub on his pecs, almost purposefully missing his, circling around the areola. He grunts throatily, catching your ass and pulling your cheeks apart, slapping them twice, fast, as a punishment for your sopping pussy teasing him, ghosting his cock.

“I want you,” he breathes, “I want you so bad.”

“Then, fuck me.”

Jeno hooks a finger around your panties, moving his knuckle slowly over your clit until your legs shake as much as his do. He gives you a quick look, a quick kiss, before lifting you on your knees, positioning his cock between your legs. You brace your hands on his shoulders, lowering yourself with his hand on your hip. He gets halfway in your pussy, the both of you throwing your heads back, moaning to the ceiling. After a brief recovery, he trusts in all the way.

Jeno stutters his hips down, preparing the next thrust, his eyes shut tighter than your pussy walls around his dick.

Then, he wakes up. For real.

He jumps, in a cold sweat, the birds chirping outside. And maybe, Jeno should be concerned now. Initially, he just looked for you, as the first thought crossing his mind while he opened his eyes – eg, when you slept over at his apartment, feet to head, him too scared to sleep next to you in case he accidentally confesses murder, or close to, during his sleep; when he slept on your shoulder in the train; this current moment.

Yeah, technically, he is in your bed – hotel bed, but still. Jeno fumbles around the mattress, untangling himself from the blanket that you probably put on him last night. When he stands up, in the small aisle between the beds, unbuttoned pants slipping off his waist, the hem covering half his feet, he recognizes that these are yesterday’s clothes, from the lunch with Jaehyun and Mingyu. He stumbles toward the night, every part of his body warm, his cock burned by the teasing memory of almost pounding you in the very bed he just woke up in. Of course it was a dream; it was too good to be real. Jeno grumbles, palming the small table for his glasses. As he puts them on, he finds the hotel stationery branded with your messy handwriting:

Left for coffee xx be back in 30 ♡

Jeno nods his head. Half an hour. The other half of the bed was vaguely warm, he remembers. He looks to the other bed – still made, pressed enough to bounce a ₩500 coin off. Evidently, you fell asleep next to him, too, and even though he cannot recall who fell first, he can recall who woke up first and how he woke up. His cock writhes, twitches under the waistband of his Calvin Kleins, no longer swinging between his legs; it wants to know how deep your vaginal canal is, and Jeno steadies it, groaning because he spent half the day steadying your pretty waist. The thought makes him involuntarily squeeze tighter, makes him realize that his underwear constricts the blood flow that rushes to his cock head, stopping at the base like a spiteful cock ring. So, he frees his entire length, shimmying his bottoms below his ass, and hops onto the empty bed, with what he assumes is enough time to finish what his dream started.

Focusing on the upper half, Jeno dry rubs his tip, roughly massaging his finger around the head, expediting his orgasm like a college freshman testing out the sock-on-the-door myth with a solo session. His fingers curl tightly around the circumference, slowing down his thrusting. Pre-cum quickly dribbles above his navel, leaking into little pools in the crevices of his defined abs. He slathers it along his entire cock, twisting his palm up and down, moans loudly bouncing off the walls. The wetness creates the foundation for his fantasy, conjuring the image of an equally moist mouth choking down his fully length, your mouth choking down his full length. Jeno knocks his head on the wall, whole body panting into the air. His hips float, too, and he chases his hand, a poor replacement for pussy or a sex toy; ass coming off the blanket as sweat builds up on his body. He unbuttons half his shirt, sliding his fingers to his nipple. That familiar tension in his stomach creeps into his chest, and his moans get more desperate, louder.

Then, as if his dream were a premonition, you come out of the bathroom, wearing a low-cut sports bra and matching tight, black leggings.

“Ah!!” you both scream.

A beat passes, maybe an hour, Jeno cannot discern between his exhibition rising and your gaping mouth.

You react first, running into the bathroom.

“I thought you were out getting coffee?!” he shouts, covering his dick with the blankets. It twitches underneath.

“Why would you think that?!” you scream back, before calming down and cracking the door open a little bit, “I got back five minutes ago. I was putting stuff in the bathroom for my shower.” God, his dick really twitches. He might even cum untouched. You sound like the beginning of a bad porno, and maybe his fantasy was an actual bad porno, but the thought of you, with so much exposed skin, willing to expose more skin under hot water. “Why are you –”

“I thought I had time!” he interrupts. He stands up and pulls his pants on, silently screaming at his boner to go away. It doesn’t. And he resigns, praying that you won’t see it. “I thought I would hear you bring me a coffee too and have time t-to-to cover it up.” You usually buy him a coffee too; you did it all four years through college – barged through his heavy apartment door, or announced it, pressing the iced coffee on any bare skin available.

“It’s in the fridge! I didn’t want to wake you after yesterday.” You slowly come out of the bathroom, and he turns around, wincing when his still-hard penis bounces against his hip. “It’s an iced coffee,” you tell him, biting your lip and avoiding eye contact. You cross the room toward the mini fridge. Jeno sucks in a breath. The coffee is inside. Of course it is.

When Jeno coughs, you immediately turn around then look away as equally fast, having accidentally made eye contact with his penis (and him with your tits, again, just like in his dream). “Do you, um, do you still want to take a shower first, o-or can I, um, get in there?” He scrunches his nose at the poor choice of words.

“N-n-y-you can go first,” you stutter through a mirrored cough.

His shower lasts the half hour he thought he had.

Overcoming awkwardness has, surprisingly, never come up in your relationship with Jeno, not even through the ungainly middle school phase, during when you confidently kept your fleeting crush on him a secret. Well, you hoped it was a fleeting crush. Those feelings bubbled up on and off for years, and currently, they were on. Last time they turned off (aka when you suppressed them), Jeno had a girlfriend, a long-term girlfriend, for two years. You thought you were in the clear, thought you were over it, permanently, especially after they got stupidly expensive promise rings, but habits are hard to break. And you crawled right back to him.

You step out of the bathroom, towel shaking out the water droplets from your hair, casually dressed like you arrived from Hongdae. The oversized shirt doesn’t stick to your skin as much as your sports bra earlier after your quick run in the streets, or the blouse that you nearly sweated through at lunch yesterday as the afternoon temperature increased to accommodate for spring. You jump on your bed. Well, you guess this is your bed, the one closest to the entrance and bathroom, because Jeno … occupied the other one. You glance at it, instinctively hiding your hands under your tousled covers, then shake your head. As you look away, you see your handwriting on the hotel stationery crossed out in perfectly straight lines (a symptom from majoring in architecture, you know) above Jeno’s cursive:

Went down to the lobby for breakfast. It ends at 11.

You flicker at the digital clock beneath a disconnected lamp: 10:05 AM. Still early. You got up some time around 5:30 or 6, your body absorbing too much sleep, having passed out almost right after getting back to the hotel from lunch. Unfortunately, Gwangbok-Dong doesn’t open until mid-morning, about 10:30, so you couldn’t buy a wedding gift yet (you have an envelope of cash for the reception, but Jaehyun added a registry link qr code on the invites). You also hoped to give Jeno more time to sleep, knowing that he must’ve gotten five interrupted hours total in the span of 36 hours. Shopping without him would have knocked out a chore, the only chore really, and then you two could buy him a tie or just wander around the area, which, come to think of it, costs a lot of money. It costs money to breathe, Jeno once joked during an ECON 305 lecture sophomore year, so now, you might as well take advantage of the complimentary bibmbap.

By the time you get downstairs, the chefs have disappeared, and only three plain bibimbap dishes remain amongst the sparse assortment of other breakfast snacks. At least this moment has somewhat perfect timing; you didn’t have very good timing earlier when you caught Jeno with his dick in hand (or did he not have good timing? You have no idea). You snake around the buffet-style tables, picking up a small mango juice and a few side dishes in addition to the main. Once you have a decent portion, you walk toward the half-empty seating area, scanning the chairs for a place to sit. You kinda look like a new high school transfer student searching for a clique – do you sit with the band geeks and their giant brass instruments? Do you sit with the chem nerds and finish the homework that’s due tomorrow? Or do you latch onto the one person you vaguely know so that people don’t stare at you for standing too long?

Yeah, you immediately find Jeno playing some cart rider game on his phone under the table. Nice to know that the sentiment is returned, ha.

“He-hey,” you mumble, clanging your tray on the metal table. “Do you mind if I sit here?”

Jeno looks up at you and puts his phone in his pocket. He gestures to the seat already pulled out, as if it were waiting for you. “Yeah, of course.”

You eat a few bites, hoping that the tension will go down the longer you are in his presence, but he fidgets by your side, rubbing his feet together loudly over the wood flooring. He gives you an apologetic stare, waiting for you to break first. Slowly, you finish chewing part of the egg and wash it down with juice, equally marveling at him, unsure how exactly to say alright, we both know that I caught you masturbating and you probably finished off in that not-so-short shower without (1) scarring the other guests and (2) completely altering your relationship. Like, you didn’t even have sex!

“About this morning,” you start, “I should’ve knocked.”

“No, no.” Jeno shakes his head. “I should’ve … not … done … that. We’re sharing a room for the weekend, an-and it’s your space as much as mine. I’m sor-”

“I mean,” you interrupt, pushing your spoon around the bowl of rice, “it happens. You – Guys get … those,” – morning wood, hard-ons, boners – “an-and it’s not like you were thinking about me. I get it.”

Jeno makes a strangled noise, so you whip your head at him. Suddenly, you notice his proximity, and you push all the way back into your chair, accidentally skidding it across the floor. Your eyes go wide, eyebrows more talkative than your sputtering mouth. You aren’t stupid; he knows that, but Jeno is too honest for his own good, even at the expense of his own thoughts. He bites his lip, evidently saying more than intended, and that is how you have known him for the last decade – overly blunt, blurting out his thoughts easily, every answer written on his face, stuck on the tip of his tongue.

And you cannot help yourself when the memory of his massive cock resurfaces, his pre-cum pooled at the neglected slit as his fingers massage right under the head. Your fight-or-flight response activated before you could make a conscious move to take the leap, to get even closer on him than the train allowed. You wonder, breath hitched, whether you idealize his cock – whether he idealized sex with you. On your end, it has been a while since you last got laid, a couple months, bit of a dry spell hitting you at the start of this new urban revitalization project to fix up the arts district around the SeMA. The initial funding took some convincing, both the government and museum not seeing the necessity, but once your team got the ball rolling and you were able to pull in Jeno, the lead architect, and Renjun, a graphic designer, you figured that time would be more in your favor.

That was not the case.

Your team leader divided the project based on skill-level, meaning that you had to cooperate on the ground level with Jeno and Renjun, planning every move from point A to point B. So, while half your coworkers enjoy hoesik, probably out there hitting on clubgoers and getting laid, you stay at the office past witching hour, hunched over blueprints and maps and expense reports. The only saving grace, really, is working with your best friend. … Your best friend who just inadvertently admitted that he jerked off to the thought of you. … Your best friend whose dick you currently think about, trying to revisualize whether you remember it correctly. Maybe you need a refresher.

“We don’t,” Jeno clears his throat, still avoiding eye contact, hands rubbing on his jeans, “um, we don’t need to talk about it.”

You bite your tongue.

Because you do want to talk about.

Geotechnical engineering, in college, was easy. Jeno received A-level marks all three terms, nearly a 100% in the second term. Designing a new plaza around the SeMA, for your project, was easy. Jeno got his first design approved by the MOLIT and the Cultural Heritage Administration, based on a 4AM napkin sketch. Fuck, even finding your G-spot in his dream was easy (although, credit is due to the movie magic directed by his subconscious). But all of those have something in common: a template. You know, like, engineering follows a basic algorithm, as do project designs. And he’s had years of experience giving people orgasms, even made a few squirt, so he can just manipulate a technique to best suit your pussy.

With this, with you, with the real you, Jeno doesn’t know what to do, or where to start, when you are so close to him, concentrating on straightening out the main knot in the tie you wrap around his neck. I’ll buy you a new one echoes in his mind, the assurance you whispered in his dream, now that you are actually out shopping. He can smell your own body wash this time, compared to the cologne on his blazer in the train station. And you probably don’t even know how hard it was for him, then, to not kiss your neck. Maybe that’s why his subconscious creates a pattern out of it: bring you close (like at on the KTX), taunt him in his dream (give him the kiss he wanted and set up something more), bring you close again.

It took a moment, both times, to actually build up tension. The first time, he scarcely kept his eyes open, couldn’t really appreciate your body, half-tired, half-scared; probably why his subconscious went easy on him last night, as if having mercy for all the dick veins in his heart. And when he caved, you caught him. Jeno spent the better part of this shopping excursion keeping his distance – e.g., even though you browsed home appliance stores together, he walked a few meters behind you, only stopping to make commentary:

“What if we get them an air fryer?” he suggested, to get out of there as soon as possible and relieve the awkwardness.

You refuted, “They already have an air fryer. Mingyu bought one, since Jaehyun can’t cook.” Right. “Makes him feel like Baek Jongwon.”

So, you settled on a nonstick, ceramic, pink Always Pan set (in addition to the cash envelope) that Mingyu might get more use out of and help lessen the dish load. But you let Jeno pick the color.

“There,” you finish, eyebrows unfurrowing. You turn him toward the adjacent mirror, arms crossed over his chest. He doesn’t immediately scrutinize your work (not that it was necessary; you have been tying his ties for formal events since MUN championships in high school). Your hands linger, warm, on his shoulders, falling slightly on his pecs. Then, you let go, palms up as if an AED machine alerted you about the next incoming shock. “I’ll either do this same knot –” A cape knot. “– or an Eldridge knot, depending on which dress I choose, but both look good for a solid color tie, like this one.”

“What about a trinity knot?”

Jeno cannot believe that he is making small talk with his best friend about the various types of knots; the same best friend who vomited into a cup 0.2 seconds after entering a bar, resulting in your entire group getting kicked out, and then fell asleep on the sidewalk outside, resulting in a cop arresting all seven of you for the night because you made it seem like you were all blackout drunk. Your relationships survived that whole mess, despite everyone losing the ₩25,000 entrance fee (although, Haechan and Renjun refused to go out with you for, like, a month). Most importantly, your relationship with him survived that; actually your relationship with him didn’t even take a hit. He nursed you back to health the next day, which might have, or not, been a symptom of his excessive drinking – tucking you into bed with a thousand blankets, bringing you 35 water bottles, taking your temperature every 4 minutes.

“Mmm,” you consider, fixing your gaze back at his neck. “Probably not. It’s not really formal enough for a wedding, and I’m already on the fence about an Eldridge knot, in case Jaehyun or Mingyu want to wear one – it’s like if I wore a white dress to their wedding. People would think that we were getting married.” Jeno raises an eyebrow and is met with silence. You drop into your hands, twiddling your thumbs, a forced laugh bubbling through your esophagus. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s, um, it’s fine,” he reassures you. He should be sorry, for making you deal with his emotions. “You could, um, tie it change it at the wedding hall, or, um, at the reception. I don’t think I’ll end up wearing it all night.”

“Or you could learn how to tie something better than a half-Windsor,” you tease, slowly lifting your head.

An identical smile breaks onto his face. “It’s a classic for a reason!”

“Call it what it is: basic.”

“I haven’t had to learn how to do other knots!” Jeno pushes your shoulder, laughing when you do. “Besides, it’s never about my clothes. I’m just the accessory, your arm candy.”

Your giggles fade, then almost as if remembering the distant morning, you separate from him. And he has to close the distance again. He tentatively reaches for your hand, boldly threading your fingers together. You don’t react, instead choosing to focus on the glass display case under the mirror. Your hair moves just a little, the strands loose from your ponytail blowing, slightly, in the wind. His hand could replace it – the hair tie – if you wanted (it’s what his subconscious wants), but you focus on the glass display case under his reflection. You fiddle with the blade of a tie that you both rejected earlier (ha, you seem to be rejecting a lot of things today). The color didn’t suit his skin tone or the garden wedding theme; Jaehyun made sure to include a sample of his bouquet in every invitation. How is he going to be a good wedding date, to you, if you can barely look at each other?

“Did I sa–?”

“Let’s buy this one,” you decide, interrupting him simultaneously. You pull the purple off him, as if un-marking him. Another stark contrast to his dream, which has him wondering whether his fantasies are boring. “Then, we can get dinner at that bistro down the road. I know you’ve been craving steak, and Jaehyun is doing a chicken-or-fish style reception.”

Jeno shakes his analog watch into view: 3:27 PM. You finished breakfast before noon. Should you leave now, you might be able to finish dinner just as quickly (or long), based on your pace eating bibimbap, and grab coffee before the café by the hotel closes.

“Yeah, okay. Sounds good.”

Jeno pays for the tie and an extra two white dress shirts (just in case), as well as a chocolate bar from the tiny stand at the register, stacked near the gift cards. You thank him, but it is the least he can do – (1) he feels really bad for this morning, and (2) you essentially paid for every other part of this trip except the food. He reassures you that you need not apologize; you are his best friend, but then you throw that back in his face when he brings up money. Both of you keep parroting “don’t worry, it’s fine” at each other, only to retreat into awkward silence.

You hold the shop entrance open for him, gesturing him out the door, then walk a pace behind him. The medium-sized, paper shopping bag swings between the two of you; well, it would, if he stood next to you.

Jeno stops.

“What are we doing?”

You pause too, body freezing mid-motion for a second, then you look over your shoulder, eyes looking him up and down. When his head tilts to the side and his eyebrows furrow, you turn around.

“We’re going to the bistro,” you answer, as though it were obvious.

But Jeno already knows that. He made the plans with you half an hour ago. “No, I mean this. Why are we –” He shakes his head again; he knows why, too. His reflection in a department store catches his eye, so he pulls you from the middle of the sidewalk around the corner, somewhat hidden behind another building. “What are we doing?”

“Jeno … are you okay?”

“I’m serious! We practically spend every day together, it feels desolate when you’re gone, and … and –” He steps into your personal bubble. “You’re not here with me right now.”

“Jen,” you drag out his name, looking away from him, “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

You are not hearing him.

Jeno cautiously withdraws his hands from his bomber jacket. His nails accidentally scratch the pocket inner lining, giving him a chance to back out, to reconsider his declaration. But he doesn’t need a second chance; he just needs the first chance. So, instead, Jeno grabs your palm, inching his fingers up your elbow, and scans your eyes. Without resistance, you draw him closer at his waist. The shopping bag falls down low on your wrist, drumming against his thigh and yours. He feels your leave his waist and slide up his cheek; he has to close his eyes, not entirely believing the way his body betrays him, leaning into your face.

“I … I …” he pants, head spinning.

“Hey, it’s okay,” you assuage. He can feel your breath on his lip, so he sucks in air, lips parted slightly, scared he might ask for too much. And maybe that is where you get a signal – get the signal – because he feels you rise to the tips of your toes and kiss him. “Let’s just order room service.”

Why did you say that? Let’s just order room service. The suggestion prolonged the time before you could kiss him again, because once you got back to the hotel, heels practically floating off the ground, you had to wait.

Luckily, the hotel was just around the corner. If you ran, you would have been upstairs in 10 minutes, but the two of you took your time, practically strolling through Gwangbok Road. He walked beside you this time, his pinky occasionally grazing behind your hand.

And in the elevator, Jeno became bolder. His entire body, previously trembling, gravitated toward you, latching onto every part that you would allow, and you gave him permission, made it known that you wanted him to touch you. You almost pressed him into the reflective wall, trapping him on the cold metal railing, but you restrained yourself; you already made that initial move: kissing him (well, it was the next move, since you caught him masturbating, earlier, to the thought of you. Then, he was the first person out the elevator, practically dragging you into the bedroom, nearly detaching your arm. Outside your hotel room, Jeno kissed you. Your hips knocked beside the key swipe, making it easy to fumble the key card out of your pocket and through the lock. You didn’t open the door immediately, choosing, instead, to stand on your toes, and wrap your arms behind his neck, essentially climbing him, like a tree, in the empty hallway, the shopping bag floundering on his back. Jeno paused the kiss, trailing his lips away, ghosting his breath on your tongue. His gaze flickered from your parted mouth to your eyes, and you saw his dilated pupils grow bigger. He pointed his eyebrows to the green light, right before it turned red. You scanned his face for another rejection, and seeing none, you opened the door.

But once you got inside, Jeno sat you on the bed, perching you where you fell asleep next to him last night. You dropped the shopping bag and your jacket to the floor, staring up at him the entire time, hopefully inviting. While he towered over you for this second, you admired your work – bruised lips, static hair, flushed skin, even his breath bated. Subconsciously, you touched your bottom lip, dragging it down to see if it were equally swollen (it was). Jeno took a step forward, but changed his mind, ordering room service from the restaurant downstairs through the phone on the nightstand.

Now, you flicker your gaze over his body, checking him out like a man who convinced his foreigner girlfriend not to dress modestly at the clubs. Your eyes flicker slower, up his tiny waist (that makes his flat ass appear a little plump) to his strong biceps, sleeves pushed up to reveal more skin, back to his lips, which mumble a swift thank you before returning to the edge of the bed. You slide to the very tip, spreading your legs wide open enough for him to stand between. Jeno curls his thumb under your jaw, lifting your chin, maybe admiring your features too. You hope that you look equally disheveled.

Jeno gently pins you on the bed, slithering up your torso, brushing his pecs on your tits. He grabs your waist, fingers dipping toward your butt, dragging you to meet his pelvis.

“You have to tell me,” he says, eyes closed, millimeters from kissing you again, “right now, that you want this, want me, before we do anything more.” His thumb comes under your shirt, drumming an indiscernible beat directly on your stomach, just around your belly button, almost unsure which direction to go – toward your pants, toward your bra, outside your shirt. Your breath hitches, and you feel your body sink lower into the mattress. “I need to know that we’re on the same page.”

“Can’t you feel it?” You guide one of his hands down your pants, his long middle phalanges driving cautiously into the seam. He cups your pussy, falling level on your chest. His lungs pant heavily into the back of your neck, tickling the hairs into standing up. “I want you.”

Jeno chases your lips, barely managing, “Not what I meant.” With your consent, he kisses you again, and you, consumed by his undivided heat, ignoring everything that isn’t his touch, like the white sheets rusting under your long hair as his shirt grinds into your abdomen, riding your clothes up. He hooks a hand under your thigh, switching the positions for you to straddle him. His legs stretch forward, feet planting into the ground, which gives him the leeway to sit up and brush your hair back into a makeshift side ponytail. Jeno scans your eyes, darting side-to-side, all the tension melting away after you smooth his shoulders. “I … I …”

You caress his cheek, having mercy on his dick (currently hard under your ass), and lift his chin higher. “I know what you meant.” You press your lips into his, chastely. He responds, puckering his lips each time you peck him, but he also frowns – frowns deeply enough for you to really pull away; his frown looks more intense than you felt. “I …” you whisper, sliding your arms on his shoulder, fiddling with his hair. You teeter on your knees, shifting your weight across his lap. He stops you. “I like you so much. More th-than friends.” Then you kiss him again, to wipe your confession away, because you can live with it. You can live with the repercussions of his mistake; you can be his mistake. This doesn’t have to be a whole thing. You don’t need to finish your confession with his rejection.

Jeno whimpers your name, tugging you away by your hair. “I –”

“It’s okay,” you whisper, “You don’t need to say it. Just me –”

“No, I need to –” He sucks in a breath. “Can I kiss you?”

You shake your head, an actual mistake because he freezes; you only meant it in disbelief. So, you lower down again, sliding your hands under his jaw. You turn your head to the side and mumble, “Don’t stop,” before reconnecting.

Jeno pats his palm on your pussy. His opposite hand, the one above your hip, fingers your waistband, scratching continuous circles, waiting for an affirmation. “I meant kiss you here.” He pouts at you through his eyelashes. “Can I kiss you lower?”

You shimmy off his lap, pushing him into the bed. “Everywhere,” you answer hastily. He helps you glide off your pants, and his veiny hands are all you can concentrate on, everything else blurring until he fondles your clit, above your black panties.

“Do you like this?”

“God, yes,” you pour moans into his mouth, holding his throat straight, like a tall glass for iced tea. When he inserts a single, long digit between your wet pussy lips, he winces, as if being penetrated himself, as if you found his prostate on the first try without any lube other than your spit. He adds a second finger, his longest finger, the middle finger, the ‘fuck you’ finger (literal in this case), prompting you to hump his hand. Your hips roll forward, increasing intensity. You gasp when he scissors his fingers wider and crosses them over one another, like a promise, then you bounce higher, your ass cheeks squeezing together. “Fuck, I didn’t know you could do that.”

Jeno slips in another digit, curling all three forward, his ring finger (the free one) twitching unrestricted. “I guess there’s still a bit you don’t know about me,” he blows into your gaping mouth, your moans following his rhythmically to the beat of some song you cannot think of while riding him.

You sink all the way down his hand, grinding your clit on his palm, and take off your shirt. Before your tits can spring free, Jeno pulls you close, trying to suck marks above your bra. You grate broken ah, ah, ahs, growing louder whenever his fingers sheath completely inside you. As if goading you, he slaps your jiggly ass, twice for every once you shake down. You yank Jeno away by his hair, darting through his swollen lips, his flushed cheeks, his narrowed eyes. Under you, his dick twitches.

“Should I –“ you pant, slowly stopping on his hand. But he seems not to like that response and drives his fingers back up. “Can I,” you correct, “ah, ah – Can I help you with-with that?”

“I want you to cum.” Jeno squeezes your ass cheek, and you fall into his lips again. Your tongue falls out, stiff, virtually asking for something to occupy your mouth. He takes his free hand, shoving it between your lips, pushing your tongue down, saliva pooling under his fingerprint. “Are you close, pretty girl?” His hand moves faster, rougher. Your thighs twitch. “Feels like it.” Your panties threaten to slip back into place, so he rips it. “Sorry,” he mumbles carelessly. You don’t blame him, too focused on your legs tensing up but his thumb on your tongue pushing you back down.

“Don-don’t worry,” you whimper, “I, ah-uh, have a – ah – nother pair. They’re also black, fuck, but lace. Hides better under my-my dress.” You skid lower down his waist, and his cock stands up on your ass.

“Fuck, you’re going to ruin me.”

“Untouched?”

“Maybe.”

However, you don’t like the thought, considering it unfair – unfair to him that he has to settle for a cheap orgasm; unfair to you that you cannot milk him dry between your thighs. So, you descend his legs, prying him open at the knee. You spare it a glance, covered by his jeans, wondering what it would be like to bend over it, ass in the air, spanked harder.

“Hey,” Jeno calls, snapping you back to attention. You relieve your thighs, unclenching, to stare at him. “Is this –” he inhales sharply, possibly trying to come off nonchalant, like it would be okay if you decided to stop, decided that you didn’t want this anymore; you swoon. “Is this still okay?”

“Of course.” You meet his eye. “Always.” You loop the tops of your fingers under his waistband, above his Calvin Kleins, the name brand embroidered as thick as his veins leading under it. “Can I help you with this?”

“God, yes, please,” he finally answers, throwing his head back on the pillows.

You unzip his pants, the sound bouncing off all four walls without any moans to cushion it; you could practically hear a pin drop. Jeno props himself on his elbows, and his abs crunch forward, tightening his impeccably defined six pack. Like, you already knew – since college – that he sculpted his body at the gym like Pygmalion did Galatea, but it adds pressure, not because your hand wraps around his cock (you have yet to touch him), rather because his gaze burns holes through your hands.

“You don’t,” he mumbles, “You don’t have to take it all. If you can’t. You don’t.” Jeno shakes his head, his hair shyly hiding his eyes. “I just want you, so it’s o – Fuck.”

You lick the premature bead of cum, digging your tongue in his slit to clean all of it out. Your thumb and index fingers wrap, tightly, below the glans. You bob your head a little lower, tasting just the tip, flittering your eyes to gauge his reaction. While your inexperienced days are behind you (pun intended), Jeno has this magical first-love quality about him, that makes sucking his dick seem like your first, like when two rom-com leads finally have sex, except it’s in a car on a cliffside for added drama. He appears to agree – how? You don’t know exactly for sure, but people outside your relationships have mentioned that you make a good first girlfriend.

Jeno involuntarily stutters his hips higher, pushing half his cock past your lips, making you gag. Evidently, there are many things about him you still don’t know – namely, how big his dick is. You always suspected him to be above average, especially after his sporadic growth spurts in high school, but you never imagined that this would be your way to measure him! He can barely fit half his shaft through the rim of your lips. And it gets worse (better?) when you hollow your cheeks, scraping your tongue above your teeth, because your mouth squeezes him out. Jeno mumbles a string of curse words, nearly screaming them as you suck harder, his fists twisted in the blankets. You pull off his cock, replacing your mouth with your hands, albeit tighter, and spiral your saliva down to the base, leaning tall on your knees to spit more on his tip, in the slit from where precum bubbles out.

“I told you: I want you.”

“Fuck.” Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, sit on my face.”

You stop moving your hand, subconsciously throbbing your palm to the beat of his (dick) pulse. “What?”

Jeno’s fingers tap on the blanket, his voice increasingly whiny, “Sit. On. My. Face.”

You comply, kneeling around his cheeks, knees brushing his shoulders – which still wear his shirt, nothing but his abs and penis exposed. All the cloth touching your skin makes you feel more vulnerable, most likely more vulnerable than Jeno, and he might regret this in the morning. So, as he anchors his extra-large hands under your thighs, digging into your muscles, you pinch his shoulder, like a safe word, a safety action. And he stops.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, curving his neck to see you better. Maybe you frown too deeply or maybe you are on the verge of tears, because he sits up again, immediately spinning in front of you. “Hey, -” He gingerly reaches for your cheeks, holding your chin above his fingers. “- We don’t have to do this, if you don’t want. It’s okay. I want you to want this.”

“I,” you swallow, cautiously looking into his eyes. You cover your chest, hide your boobs by your bra – the only clothing on your body - and naked arms. “I just,” you mumble before finishing lamely, face warming with his hand, “feel really naked.”

“Oh,” Jeno says simply. He scans your face indiscernibly, so you, not wanting any of this to end, raise your eyebrows suggestively and glance at his shirt. “Oh!” Jeno takes it off, elbows crossing on either side of his ears, showing off his Dorito torso. And you must have been leaning forward, because you fall into his chest, a hand bracing widely on his obliques. You sheepishly raise your face, slightly ducking under his perky nipple; you lower eye-level with it and hesitantly lick it. “Fuck. Is this why you wanted me to strip?”

You flatten your tongue under his areola, then flick upward, tentatively building more pressure until you have his waist in both your hands, holding him steady while you massage his nipples. Your opposite thumb pushes small circles where your mouth neglects, almost kneading him like that time he taught you, in Chem 224, how to use a mortar and pestle properly, holding the ceramic bowl firm against the thick pestle breaking apart various solids into fine powders. Deeming his left pec marked enough (by your nails and lips), you move to the right, leaving a moist path between his boobs, but, rather than fondling the other side, as you did when it was dry, you fist his dick, dragging him forward. You assume Jeno gets the hint, given that he traps you on the sheets, under his flexed biceps. He kicks off the rest of his pants and slithers up your body, pressing his completely naked body into yours, only your bra left as a barrier. Jeno straddles across your hips, his cock spasming, as if asking you to do the last honors while he gropes your entire lower half, massaging your ass with the heels of his palms.

“Do – do you-you still want me to sit on your face?”

“No,” he heaves instantly before doing a partial push up (push down?) to kiss you, aggressive and instant. You can feel his broad deltoids pinch together while you ground yourself on his muscles, using the moment as an excuse to grope him. He swirls his tongue in your mouth, simultaneously smacking his wet lips to you, making you constantly chase him, come up only to be pushed down again. “Fuck, mayb-maybe later.” Later. You’re going to do this again. Jeno holds his torso still, slowly moving his cock between your pussy lips, lubricating himself prepared. “I want, uh, I want to be inside you,” he moans, voice breaking, “Can I fuck you? Please?”

You guide his tip into your cunt. “Please.” And when he stretches your hole, urging his girth past the involuntary tightening, you arch your hips up. “Full, full, fuck.” He shallowly thrusts, pulling out a little bit, only to push in more. Your thighs shake, and you point your feet down, curling your toes, to keep your legs separated enough for him to go faster. But you notice that, while he pistons in and out of your cunt, you cannot feel his balls slapping your ass; you cannot hear the distinct skin-on-skin noises – that’s when you realize: he’s not completely in you, despite the full feeling practically in your cervix. “Jeno,” you whine, “Fuck me.”

“I am,” he answers, breath quivering through gritted teeth.

“Harder,” you beg, fidgeting to give him additional access, little grabby hands wriggling along the outline carved around his muscles. “More.” You claw into his well-defined six pack. “F-fill me up all the way.”

Jeno mattes your hair down with his thumbs, coaxing your eyes open again. You peak through just one, then slowly open the other; you can feel the lines in your forehead melt away. Just for a second though. Because he uses your temporary relief to bottom out. You barely process any of his movements, until he kisses you again, his thrusts stuttering too gently. His breath trembles, controlled, masking the way his hands fight some urge to bruise your hips, so you hook your shin around his strong leg and topple him. When you sink down on his dick, taking every inch, pussy working overtime to accommodate him, the both of you groan. You honk his pecs, matching each squeeze with your breath. The bedsheets rustle, having come undone with all your tossing and turning, and Jeno kicks the blankets off the bed, sitting up. He mouths your perky tits, tilting his head to the side, jaw dropping with his tongue to suck as much skin as possible. You grab the headboard, accidentally slamming it into the wall, once, twice, three, four, five times, when he circles his hips, dick flopping around inside your cervix, ridiculously deep. Jeno grabs your ass, strikes your skin hard to start bouncing you on his lap. He helps you keep his cock inside your pussy, guiding you less than halfway up and banging his skin against yours. The position pushes you forward, allowing his shaft to graze your sopping clit, vulva pinning opened.

“Ahh,” you scream, “Je-Jeno, I’m-I’m –“ You throat tightens, words choking, “Oh, shit, I’m gonna cum.”

Jeno brings his lips to yours, half a millimeter away. He grunts, abs tightening too. “Cum, baby, you can do it. You can do it. Come on, baby.” He grabs you by the throat, holding you in place as he licks into your mouth, eating up every moan, every breath, and fucks you faster. Your pussy gets wetter, more malleable, and you finally cum, toes curling, unwinding in his chokehold, tongue flopping out. He kisses your pink, plump tongue, lips smacking heavily, moaning out his nose and mouth, “Uh, uh, uh, fuck. Can-can I –“

“Cum inside me,” you finish for him, answer for him.

Jeno propels his cock a couple more times, the last one driving both of you into the air. Thick spurts of cum shoot into your pussy, almost adding another inch, the tip of his cock hitting, jerking, on your G-spot. You sit there for a little bit, your bodies slumping down the headrest, possibly addicted to the way your walls continuously milk even more cum out of him.

When he finally finishes, cum forcing its way down your thighs, he kisses you. “So … about sitting on my face?”

Your face lights up, the thought of him eating his own cum out your cunt way too exciting, and you push him on the bed, immediately popping his cock out and straddling his mouth.

An obnoxious ringing interrupts Jeno’s dream, way too early (well, anything that wakes him up is too early), and he whines at it, preferring to sink into his heated mattress pad. But the default iPhone ringtone seems especially heartless, right now, for whatever reason – even though he probably wake up earlier than this during the work week. He buries his head in his pillow, trying to force the alarm into snoozing. His nose brushes into the soft pillowcase, inhaling the aromatherapy. Then, it moves … you move. And Jeno remembers the night before. It wasn’t a dream this time.

You slam your hand on the nightstand, briefly sliding out of his arms. The alarm – your phone – persists though, falling to the floor. You mumble a small fuck under your breath, softer than last night; the memory makes his dick twitch. He feels you crawl over the edge, rustling the bedsheets, your ass brushing his dick away. You dip heavier into the side with a Herculean effort, reaching for your phone, then slide it onto the mattress under your pillow. He tries not to react, tightens his already closed eyes, but his dick twitches. Thankfully, you seem blissfully unaware, nuzzling back into the pillows, a hand crossed over your chest, breathing deeply.

Jeno exhales through his nose, relieved. You must’ve fallen back to sleep – good, honestly, with work and then the whole train ride mess a couple days ago. Maybe he can use the time to finish what he started yesterday morning. Unfortunately, when he grabs his cock, points it up, his pelvis scrunching his abs, your thighs part, just briefly, then close again. The tip catches between your ass cheeks, trailing toward your pussy, sliding with back and forth, aided easily by how wet you are. Jeno internally groans at the thought of you having a sexy dream, hopefully about him. You start swaying, and your arm starts shaking, and your breath labors – you are touching yourself: your neck, your arms, your stomach, your clit. All the shifting spurs Jeno into action. He slowly and shallowly rocks his hips forward, spreading your natural lubricant across the top half of his cock. You lean into him, hands changing to claw his burly naked shoulder, and guide his fingers to your cunt. At the new position, the closer position, he sloppily mouths the part between your neck and shoulder, his breath as hot and heavy as his tongue.

You freeze for a second, stiffening your posture, and he thinks that maybe he misunderstood or that you changed your mind, so he slowly pulls back. His cock springs free from the tight crevice, wet and warm and hard, twitching on your round ass.

“I’m sor – Did you not – I thought – I’m sorr –“

You turn around and kiss him quiet, throwing a leg over his hip. Your heel digs into his lower back, above his flat ass, lodging the tip in your pussy again. Slowly, you lower yourself on his cock, kissing him harder the further you sink down. Once he is completely inside, you pull your face back and wrap your arms around his neck, practically fusing your bodies together. Everything moves too fast for him. Jeno is unable to appreciate your touches. He makes it known with a mewl, chest beating quicker than yours. And as if you sense it – best friend intuition, you might say in any other situation where his dick isn’t in you, like wordlessly handing over a bag of ramyeon that you ‘borrowed’ from Renjun’s room – you brush a few strands of hair away from his eyes, and he opens them this time. You’ve always been good at comforting him: when he had a panic attack over losing his wallet, when he got reprimanded at work for shredding the wrong abstract, etc. He has always known it. Well, not always; he doesn’t know where it began, but he knows the feeling will last forever, like a vow. Jeno hugs you around your waist, tighter, asking you to move for more or to stop for less, because, much like last night, should you give him an inch, he’ll take a meter.

“Don’t be sorry,” you beg, humping his cock again. “I want you.”

Jeno loses balance and falls on his flat ass, his thighs sandwiched densely between yours. He fumbles around the bed, pushing away the thin sheet to see his cock disappear in your pussy. It should be impossible; you should be tight, having nothing to prep you beforehand, but maybe his stroke game last night was enough, you came twice on his cock alone, the stretch evidently lasting through now. The mattress creaks and the headboard hits the wall as you bounce firmly, knees jabbing into the bed. Your breath shakes, abs visibly flexing, and you fall forward, hair splaying over his shoulder. He licks his middle finger, then drags it under your thigh, trapping his cock in a V, using his lubricated finger for added pressure on your clit, his dick abusing its underside. His free arm belts behind your back, index finger teasing outside the rim of your asshole.

“Oh, oh,” you scream, biting your lip, pawing the comforter for some stability while he rams your little cunt. “F-f-ffuck.” He spanks your ass, dragging the meaty flesh up with a glowing hand mark. “Cu-cu-cumming. Mmm, oh my god, I’m so c-close.”

“Already? Shit.”

You tuck your hips forward, and he takes advantage, moving his hands under your torso, massaging your clit with all his fingers and sucking your tits. The repetitive sounds synchronize – your whimpering, his whimpering, your skin slapping into his, the bed springs screeching, your cunt squelching. All of it overwhelms his senses, and had you not been so close to his ear, Jeno would’ve missed your mantra:

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno,” you squeal, moans getting increasingly louder, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, cumming.” Your pussy drools cum down his legs, and he gradually decelerates, riding out your orgasm.

A beat passes, full of tense heavy breathing, before he pants in your face, nearly screaming (as if you hadn’t done so a moment ago, in his ear, with his face buried in your neck). “Breakfast,” he says simply, loudly, trying to hear himself through the ringing in his ears that preserves the way your moans sound, as if this could end on Monday morning when you get back to your real lives – which it could. You never said what this is. “Should we, um, should we get breakfast?” He remembers your alarm, trying to suppress the hardness in his cock, as if this were all just a formality, a complimentary wake up call not provided by the hotel, and he looks away, but he doesn’t go far, only dropping to your lips, not wanting to part, even in his view. “You know, that first meal of the day, typically eaten during moan-morning, often in, um, including rice, eggs, milk –”

Jeno flickers his eyes away from your lips, catching you gazing at him. Somehow you make it less creepy than when he does it. There was this one time at the end of high school when he checked on you, in the next cubicle over, in the library, only to find you asleep on your textbook, relying on osmosis rather than flash cards to study for the CSAT; 15 minutes passed and he felt like he regressed into that middle school nerd who just stood there, wheezing. Or that other time in international student building during college when Renjun slapped him on the arm because he was staring at you too long; he lied, saying that he was just making sure you got the right coffee from the vending machine, but Renjun knew. Jeno is convinced that his entire friend group knows how he feels about you – Haechan tried setting him up with you back in high school; Jaemin practically read his diary; Mark … Mark might actually be the only one who doesn’t know, for sure, but he definitely suspects something!

You grab his chin, snapping him out of his thoughts, and search his face before kiss him, your eyes fluttering closed as you grind him through the overstimulation. “Cum in me,” you order, “I’ll milk your cock dry.”

“Fuck,” Jeno breathes, never detaching his lips. He hugs low on your waist again, slapping your ass with both his hands. And when he can’t take it anymore – take the grinding, the clenching, the bouncing – he mumbles your name in your mouth, “Baby, I ne, uh, I need to cum. Let me cum inside you,” he takes you up on your offer, like the more-than-decade-long pining stops at a dam, at your answer.

Wordlessly, you shove you tongue in his mouth, cradling his cheek as he leans deeper between the pillows. You grab whatever length of his cock that is not in your pussy, and he whimpers when you throb your hand around him, teasing the other half inside your cunt. Jeno scoots forward, using the momentum to slap himself all the way in you, making your hips stutter. Fuck, you’re tight. And he knows that it’s a dumb myth for the vagina to be this compact, narrow canal, but your wall muscles barely conform to his girth, and the thought boosts his ego, so he holds you steady against his chest, repeatedly ramming your pussy with long thrusts. Your tits jiggle off your chest, scraping his pecs, almost slapping him in the jaw as he tilts his head up to suck more bruises under your chin, to soothe you from all the choking last night.

“Je-Jen,” you stammer, “I don’t –“ You swallow, shaking your head. “My legs are-are going to giv-give out.”

“It’s okay, baby, just breathe,” he tells you. He punctures your hips at a faster pace, like giving your pussy CPR, ordering your clit to administer a shock, blowing the kiss of life for the both of you. “In, out, in, out, in, out,” he guides, “You can do it.”

Jeno flips you on your back, an oof resounding the room, yelps and giggles following. He gives you a second to gather your composure, regulate your breathing, then pistons his cock repeatedly in your pussy. His tip catches on a particularly hard clench, and your walls refuse to let him go, trapping him in a spot that abuses your G-spot. He pushes the entire length inside you, practically fucking your cervix again, driving your back arched. You writher along the mattress, hair splaying among the sheets. His fists outline your obliques, thumbs erroneously pointed outward, trying to support your back. He accidentally slips on a particularly hard thrust, but before he can save himself, he protects your skull from hitting the headrest or your arm from getting crushed by his chest. Phew. Maybe if he were weaker, he would hold you on the bed, thrusting in a way that lets the both of you fall into the pillows, or maybe if he were stronger – mentally and physically – he would be able to stay up, not tempted or dizzy at the sight of your slightly parted mouth. Jeno readjusts his hands – one pushing your waist into the comforter, for his own support, and the other creeping toward your neck. You lift your chin up, giving him consent, and it takes him a second to move forward; he didn’t think he would get this far, that you would completely let him manhandle you. But, he guesses, he doesn’t know everything about you, and he is so excited to discover more. He pads his fingers on either side of your esophagus, squeezing just enough to make breathing a little harder for you, make it harder for you to follow the breathing pattern he ingrained in your cunt.

“Fuck, baby, breathe just like that.” Jeno peeks an eye wider, glancing at the blanket tosses away. Cautiously, he drifts his gaze to your stomach, and his cock twitches. You moan loader, almost confirming him thoughts – is he really that deep? Your pussy clenches. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum.” Jeno kisses you. “Cum with me,” he moans your name.

You used to make fun of him for being such a romantic, always cooing when he’d swoon over Knox and Chris, until he decided that he didn’t like their romance anymore. It’s too possessive. Although, he understands the sentiment, because the way you look at him, now, face contorting over your second building orgasm, incomprehensible whines spilling into the air. He should have done this sooner, should have kissed you sooner, and he would have, if he had known it would lead to this, because he can do it; he can bury the depth of his feelings while you sort yours out. If he can have you this close, like this, he would do anything.

Jeno draws his hips back, your name snagging on his moan. He feels your fingers dig in harsher as your legs tense up, tension building in your stomach. His knees chafe against the sheets, rocking an imprint into the mattress that keeps your legs open. Jeno slows his thrusts, instead hammering his entire cock harder. He tries not to cum prematurely, wanting to see your second orgasm of the morning overstimulate, but as he abrades your clit, holding your thighs wide, he feels himself shoot a thick rope of cum deep in your pussy, and it’s not long until he spills everything else, fucking you through his own orgasm, fucking his cum into you, your hole greedily drinking it all. You follow a few hits later, shaking your ass to help yourself along, then Jeno collapses, sweaty hot body enveloping your matching one. He presses sloppy, wide, open-mouthed kisses on your clavicle, steadily trailing up your neck, your cheek, and pecking you on the lips.

“Better than your dream?” you giggle, returning a kiss.

“Way better.”

Getting out of bed takes forever. The first time you tried to leave, you sat on the edge, stretching your arms upward. You bent over, standing on the ground, reaching for your toes, shaking off the jelly sensation, but Jeno, equally awake, rejuvenated from the twenty-minute rest since his cock was in you, leaned over the edge as well and made out with your pussy, licking all the way to your rim and back. Rather than shoving his head away, you pushed your hips back, for more, and eventually returned to bed, kicking up your legs and giggling your way into another blow job. The second time you tied to leve, you had to cross over Jeno’s body to get to the aisle between your beds, since your bed was pushed against the wall). You slithered a leg over his waist, balancing your palms on his shoulders, his cock twitching on your ass. He grabbed you by the waist, holding you there. You raised your eyebrows, pretending to be innocent (even though you really did want to get out of bed) as his cock hardened.

And now, the third time, your legs shake on your way off the mattress, having experienced way too many orgasms in less than thirty-minutes.

“Come back to bed,” Jeno whines, patting the empty warm spot you previously occupied.

“No,” you laugh, holding your arms out for balance before you fall again. You slap his grabby little hand away from your ass, much to his dismay, and pick up one of the new shirts you bought him yesterday that slipped out of the bag after Jeno kicked over a blanket. “I’m hungry,” you pout, facing him and buttoning up the top few buttons. “I need something to eat.”

“You have something I want to eat.”

“Real food, dork.” You walk over to your luggage, hunching over, ass on display but too far away from him. He groans, and you can hear him flop back onto the bed. You slip on a pair of panties, and his groan gets louder, making a smile instinctively spread on your face. “Come onnnn,” you complain, crawling onto the bed with a blouse and bra in hand, inching into his face, “Let’s grab something at that bistro. We won’t have a lot of time tomorrow at the wedding, and it’s already 5.”

Jeno sits straight, back against the headrest, his arms behind his head, showing off his thick muscles and tiny waist. He looks you up and down, a frown settling into his lip as he releases his arms with another groan. “Are we doing this backwards?”

“Doing what?” you ask, focused on exchanging his top for yours, another long-sleeve but black this time. You creep onto his lap, legs folded over the edge. He instantly goes to stabilize your waist, and you replace your arms around his neck, giving him a chaste (albeit sensual) kiss on the cheek, the corner of his mouth. “I just want to get dinner.” You put a hand on his arm, doing your best to give him a set of puppy dog eyes that you hope he cannot refuse. “Please?”

Jeno throws his head back. “Okay, let me put on some pants.”

The wait time at the bistro exceeded the amount of time it took to get ready and Uber over there, so you decided to look for something else. It seemed as though the universe wanted to punish your feet, everything else either closed by noon or surpassing an hour wait. You know that Jeno hates waiting more than 45-minutes. If he even knows that the restaurant is trendy or high-end, he won’t leave the apartment.

“I’m sorry,” you mumble and stop in the middle of the sidewalk, an empty sidewalk around the corner from yet another restaurant. Jeno slows down ahead of you, a hand coming out of his blazer to rub the frown lines in his jaw. “I didn’t think everything would take this long.”

“Hey,” Jeno calls, stepping into your personal bubble, preventing you from looking away by cradling your cheeks, “Hey. It’s okay. We’ll find something.”

“No, it’s not okay,” you shake your head, tearily looking into his eyes. The night sky almost obscures them, but Jeno led you close to a building with motion sensor, external lights. “It’s ridiculous, honestly, and you keep comforting me, but I’m starting to feel like a bur –”

You are cut off by your own gasp when Jeno kisses you, effectively shutting you up, and you melt into his arms. He simply puckers his lips, kissing you as long as he inhales before breathing out, just enough to regulate your heartbeat. The whole world slows down around you, every sound muted except the gentle smacking of his lips. One of your feet pops, kicks up, and you lean into his touch, fully assuaged.

Jeno pulls away first, leading you over to an open hotteok stand without a line. He orders two for each of you and a large soda to share, paying quickly. The vendor compliments the two of you as a couple, but when you go to correct him, Jeno interrupts you again, a hand on your lower back, thanking the guy, and walks you down the street. Once you get to a bridge, streetlamps connected by strung lantern lights, he relaxes against the railing, using the warm pancake to heat up his hands. You look him over again, then glance at your attires; it seems weird – you both wearing nice date clothes but eating ₩10,000 snacks, sharing a soda instead of wine.

“What?”

“I just …” You turn the wrapper around in your hands, gaze falling to the chewy dough. “How are you so nonchalant about everything?”

“What do you mean?”

“Are w-we going to pretend that the stuff in the hotel room didn’t happen? Like I didn’t confess that I like you, more than platonically?”

Jeno sighs, casting his gaze to the floor. But, like, why? You are the one vulnerable right now. In the last 24-hours, you confessed, to liking him more than friends. You only ever came close three other times; three times in 12 years: at the beginning of high school, motivated by your friends to take control; at the end of high school, before graduation, when you thought that he would go to KAIST instead of Yonsei with you; in the middle of college, during volunteer work at a soup kitchen. And each time, you chickened out. You thought that maybe, after you entered the workforce, like a real adult, you would face the music, face these constantly lingering feelings, and maybe, this is it; this is the music, but something about him, about this, regresses you back to that teenage girl feeling: shy and insecure.

“I –” Jeno inhales, crumpling the hotteok wrapper into his pocket, then waddling over to you. “I don’t think you know what you’re saying.”

You frown. He is not listening to you. Why else would you repeat the friendship-shattering phrase? You thought that this was it, that you could live with being his weekend mistake, but that involved getting a solid response from him, something tangible to let you know how he feels.

“I just … You don’t …” You lick your lips, gradually dropping your gaze to the floor, unable to face him with all this uncertainty. “I,” you emphasize, pointing your middle phalanges above your heart, “don’t know what you’re saying. Jen, I want some cl –”

For the second time tonight, he cuts you off with a simple kiss, long and chaste, holding you by the neck, as if the action exempts him from explaining himself. And maybe you are easy to sway, because you let him kiss you in the middle of a bridge overlooking the Busan city streets, convincing yourself that having him physically close is the same as having him emotionally close.

Jeno hopes that he won’t be like Jaehyun on his wedding day – absolutely insane. Well, he hopes that he won’t be like this on his wedding day, with you, oscillating between awkward silence and carrying out his childhood, assuming that he marries you. Granted, the wedding cake did melt, and another groomsman, the best man, Yuta, is running late (delayed flight from Japan), and Jaehyun did rip his tie, hence why Jeno, now, runs around the Park Hyatt Hotel, searching for any front desk attendant to point him toward a sewing kit at the very least. He should have brought his back up tie, a skinny black tie that he definitely does not know how to turn into a cravat, and he cannot ask you, not after last night when he evaded your question by sleeping with you.

Left. Right. Left again. Jeno looks around the empty, second-floor hallway, above the equally empty front desk, adjacent to the imperial staircase. Promptly, he shuts the door, inhaling and exhaling under the weird single lightbulb at the center of the ceiling, eyes shut, trying to imagine his happy place.

“Jeno?”

He sighs, shoulders dropping, face finally relaxing without the groom-zilla pacing and spiraling without “his soul mate” to calm him down, but Jeno cannot refute very much. Even in his dreams, you exist. And maybe he talks too little, or you talk too much; maybe he doesn’t say enough, or maybe you don’t say the proper words, but he could live in the in-between, in the that moment after you say something and right before he doesn’t. So, he sinks into your enveloping voice, engrossed by just the sound of his voice, no pressure behind it – pressure to answer your ‘I like you’ confession with his thousand-word ‘I love you’ confession; pressure to have the ‘what are we’ conversation; pressure to face your inevitable rejection that, although you feel something more than friendship for him, you don’t feel the same way. Except, Jeno doesn’t just feel the warmth from your words.

Your fingers slowly touch his tall shoulder, pads of your fingers dipping in harder to grab his attention. And he screams.

And you copy him.

It takes a moment for him to turn around, a hand over his heart, patting down his lapels. But when he does, when he finally looks at you, as if he were the groom this wedding, waiting for you, the bride, to surprise him at the end of the aisle, Jeno’s breath stops. He cannot discern whether it’s due to the shock value of being in close proximity to you again, in an intimate setting almost rivaling 7 minutes in heaven (though he can say that he’s had more than 7 minutes in heaven with you, outside a closet); or it’s because you look absolutely stunning, somehow making the lime green garden wedding theme work for you – Jaehyun practically shoved a floor-length dress in your arms the moment you both arrived, absolutely exhausted, half-filled coffees pressed against your foreheads, above your sunglasses blocking the sunlight, as if you two were hungover (you weren’t; neither of you have drank more than water this weekend so far), before he directed you to Mingyu’s “side of the hotel”, even though you are his cousin, and took Jeno to his side. And, when you initially asked him to be your wedding date, Jeno didn’t expect to stand with the wedding party, thought he would just have to sit in the audience, watching you stand at the altar in front of the wrong man (granted, your cousin and his groom), but Jaehyun gave him a matching green tie and the second groomsman spot.

“Ha-ha-hi. What, um, what are you doing in here?”

You, staring at the floor, feet squirming clickty clack in your heels, hold up a tiny sewing kit. “Stealing some supplies for Mingyu. He brough an extra cravat and wants me to sew in tie, as a precaution, in case something happens to the current one.”

Jeno lets out a small laugh, and you slowly look up at him.

“What?” you frown.

“Nothing,” he smiles at you. “Just … they’re really meant for each other. Jaehyun ripped his tie, and he sent me looking for a sewing kit to fix it.”

You furrow your eyebrows and tilt your head to the side. And Jeno coughs weakly into his hand, trying not to think about the way you kissed him, last night, head tilted again, eyes half-lidded, lips parted slightly. “What about Yuta?”

“Delayed.” Jeno jingles his watch into frame. “He should be arriving at Incheon in the next few minutes, but he won’t be here until, like, 20 minutes be-before the wedding,” Jeno trails off slowly at the end. The ceremony, the intimate short portion of the early afternoon, starts in two hours. Except, right now, the closet seems more intimate – perhaps 50 people will be accommodated later, the ballroom, and if he translates that into this space, about a tenth would be in attendance. And they probably would not like to witness him undress you with his eyes.

“Mmhmm,” you hum, stumbling your fingers onto his lapels. You feel the material once, under your thumb, then smooth out imaginary wrinkles. He has to wonder what you see that he doesn’t, but he says nothing about it, not wanting you to leave him. “Luckily, Jaehyun has you then, huh?” You press your palm into his jacket, just the one time, above his rapidly beating heart, then start dropping your hand.

But he catches you.

“I’m lucky,” he says, the words falling from the tip of his tongue, like breaking the dam, letting all the pent-up and unresolved feelings flood, “to have you.” Jeno subconsciously tugs you forward, by your hand, until you stand just a hair away, your dress breathing like a Lee Byung-Ho sculpture for SeMA’s Aging World installation a few years ago (he took you and spent the whole time scribbling your name next to the notes that he had to decipher later for his extra credit essay). He flickers his eyes across your face, waiting before he gets an approval. You stay still for the longest second in history, and he mirrors it, mirrors you. When you appear to move away, he also copies that. “Sorry. Sorry. I know we’re in a kind of uncomfortable spot, and I probably shouldn’t’ve –“

“Jeno?”

“… Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Please.”

You fist his jacket, ruining the lapels more obvious for him to see, making him stagger forward. He braces a hand on the bookcase storage behind you, pulling your lower back toward his pelvis to help you evade ramming your spine into the shelves, but he still falls, face first into yours, one strong arm keeping you close, the other hovering above your cheek, too scared that he might crush you with the impossible weight of his crush, his feelings. You try to comfort him – as you always do, like a rock – fluffing his hair. Then, your foot slips, stiletto heel snagging on a loose roll of toilet paper. And he catches you, of course, always, holding your waist so tightly that you might crack. You echo him, this time, grabbing, groping, gripping every surface that you possibly can. To stop himself from toppling you, he bunches your silk dress at your hip and shoves his strong leg between your thighs. He drags you up his knee once, twice, thrice, and you moan.

“Jeno,” you barely manage to breathe, after one kiss, lips tight. You go lax in his arms, fawning over his arm like a damsel in distress – head thrown back, hair starting to tangle at the roots, leg hooking onto his waist. He moves down to your neck, your collarbone, your chest; he slides down the spaghetti strap for easier access, peppering wet kisses onto your skin. “Oh, my God,” you moan, arms tightening around his neck, drawing him impossibly close and thrusting your half-exposed tits in his face. “Don’t stop, don’t stop.”

Jeno kisses you harder, his tongue barely poking out, bottom lip dragging up. His inhales feel – and sound – heavy, trying to inhale everything about this moment.

“I want you,” he mumbles, nose brushing your cheek. He stops kissing you, open mouth panting into your ear. “But not like this. Not right here.”

“Jen,” you whine, sliding your hand under his jacket, clutching the back of his dress-shirt slightly untucked. “Please. I want you.”

“I – “ he gasps. “I –“

Then your phone rings.

I want you so bad, but not like this. I want to make love with you.

“He-hello?” you answer. You press your forehead to Jeno’s, and he takes the opportunity to analyze your face, the face he has memorized in his daydreams. Jeno twirls a loose, long strand of your hair, tucking it behind your ear. “Yeah, I f-ff-found it.” He presses a singular kiss under your jaw, tongue hunting for a prominent vein. And when he finds it, he pushes, harder, sucking just light enough not to create an ostentatious mark. “Mmm,” you nearly moan wantonly, legs giving out, “I-I’ll br-bring it by right now. O-okay, yeah, bye.” You quickly hang up the phone, dropping it to the floor, and wrap your arms around Jeno’s neck, returning one kiss, the final kiss, long and chaste, everything spilling out. “I have to go,” you whisper, sliding down his thigh.

“Yeah,” he mumbles back, “Me too.”

During the wedding, you did this a lot.

Thankfully no one noticed, or you hoped that no one noticed – you and Jeno staring at each other, across the altar; you behind Jeonghan, Mingyu’s best man; him behind Yuta, Jaehyun’s best man. You wanted to pay attention to the grooms, and their lovely ceremony, but seeing Jeno, just a few people away, had you quixotically imagining him at the forefront of the room, surrounded by your own friends and family. Who would be his best man: Renjun, Jaemin, Haechan? Would you get married in his hometown, or maybe abroad? What would you wear – Leehwa, Vera Wang, custom Prada?

Everything faded in front of you, when he met your gaze, staring you down over Yuta’s shoulder, closest to the officiant. You thought that the venue’s organization had it out for you, putting you on a pedestal below Jaehyun, but as Jeno returned your acknowledgement, you realized that the venue was, really, protecting your feelings, because the moment you locked eyes, the entire weekend flashed through your memory – almost kisses, actual kisses, accidental touches. You had to suppress all those feelings, make sure none of it was written on your face, like they meant nothing, like you don’t know what his current suit looks like crumpled and on the floor of your hotel room, like he belongs closer to you. The cheers following Jaehyun and Mingyu’s ‘I do’s were the only thing to bring you out of your own head, to draw the details of reality again, as if you willed time itself to move into the reception so that you could have Jeno to yourself again, restoring the intimacy of this affair to the grooms.

Unfortunately, it took a bit longer to even breathe in Jeno’s direction.

Both the Jung and Kim families shuffled everyone down to the reception ballroom, where even more friends and family and colleagues waited. You had to go back upstairs, without Jeno, to change into your party dress – the silk purple one, a shorter material that matches the tie you bought him. And then, the tables separated you as well, sending Jeno to mingle with other singles and you with your distant cousins, through the first course as both grooms, together, made their rounds, greeting every guest and expressing their gratitude in low bows for coming to celebrate their union. You finally found an escape during the main dish, which forced everyone to pull food from a buffet table rather than be served the same appetizer.

“Hey,” you bump elbows in line with Jeno, stealing his attention from the galbi-jjim, a small smile fighting your cheeks. “I – I can’t believe we got separated there. Do you think I can sneak you back to my table?”

Jeno chuckles and places a rib on your plate, using the obnoxiously large tongs to fix a batonnet carrot atop the meat. “I hope so,” he answers honestly, nose crinkling as a sign of it. “You’d think that they would put us together, since I’m supposed to be your plus one.”

“But I guess not,” you finish for him. You look over your shoulder at your table – nearly empty, like the preceding pew taking communion, then whisper, like making a tryst between spies, “Meet me at my table when you’re done. You can take my aunt’s chair; she’s dreadfully boring.”

You finish plating the traditional food that Jaehyun picked out for the occasion (according to Mingyu) and return to your table (Table No. 3) ahead of Jeno, who stopped to wait for a restock of japchae right before the dessert platters. He is easy to please – and they do say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach – because after he plates his noodles, he looks over his shoulders and sneaks a bite, eyes prettily fluttering closed, lips puckered around the tips of his manicured nails, licking his fingers clean. You try not to laugh, biting it behind an inevitable smile. Jeno finds you, easily, as he always does, tilting his head in confusion, but you wave him off, gesturing for him to finally join you, make you feel at little less alone among the extended family branches.

“Here, take some of the japchae,” he says, already unveiling a nearby fork from the dark green napkin cloth and piling it next to your rice. “It tastes –” He kisses his fingers. “- chef’s kiss, amazing.”

“You two make a lovely couple,” your aunt interrupts – not the dreadfully boring one; a different aunt, a younger aunt, who, just two years ago, claimed that she wouldn’t be like the rest of the peanut gallery, gossiping and leaping to conclusions about everyone younger’s love lives. You and Jeno sink into your respective chairs, deliberately avoiding touching each other. She leans in, over your arm, almost daring Jeno with her excited Princess doe eyes. “Can we expect another wedding soon?” He coughs. And you drop your metal chopsticks. And your aunt leans back, shrugging as if she hadn’t dropped a bomb. “It shouldn’t be a surprise. I’m probably not the only one who is expecting it. You graduated college – what – 10? 13? months ago. Right now would be perfect for you to get married, while you’re still young.” She briefly points a spoon at Jaehyun and Mingyu, before chopping up her almon bowl. “They got married young, and now they’re going to honeymoon across Europe. I’m just saying –“ She shoves a bite of food in her mouth. “It’s better to get married young – you grow together; finances are easier to manage; your health is in good shape, etc. etc.”

Your other aunt, her wife, finally joins, too, and smacks her arm. “Are you bothering another couple about getting married?” She turns to you with sympathetic eyes. “Sorry, after we got married, four years ago,” she emphasizes more to her wife than you or Jeno, eyes slightly narrowed (although playfully) on the last syllable, “she has been obsessed with weddings.”

“Happens when you marry a wedding planner.” They kiss.

You turn away, shyly looking at Jeno, mouthing an apology.

Surprisingly, he leans into your ear, whispering. His initial breath, before he even says anything, sends shivers down your spine, and he grabs your arm, rubbing your naked forearm for warmth. Oh. He mistook it. “Just play along,” he instructs. You can feel a hair move from its place. “It’s easier to say that you don’t know when we’ll get married than to explain why we’re, um, you are not dating.”

“W-we don’t actually know when we’ll get married,” you answer, gradually building your voice to conversation decibel.

“See! I told you they were a couple! There is no way that they wouldn’t be. Look at them!”

You cautiously glance at Jeno, stopping at his matching purple tie (he must’ve changed when you changed; and lucky him, a simple tie is easier than an entire dress), because you do not want to be so obvious about your lie. The train conductor, the Uber driver, the hotelier … they all thought the same, but since then, the start of your trip, you discovered that he does want you to touch him, in all the ways that carry meaning (and then some). You just do not know to what extent. He never said anything, never explained anything, not that you are entitled to his feelings. And you tried to reason it all – maybe you say too much, not really letting him, or maybe he says too little, constantly shocked to silence by all the secrets you spill.

You open your mouth at the round table, but another aunt of yours comes by and pinches Jeno’s cheek, saying something about how handsome he is, the statement echoing far off in your ears. And thank God, honestly; you did not quite know what to respond, merely hoping that, if you simply opened your mouth, your Broca’s area would follow. It didn’t.

“Yes, yes, but as you mentioned, my lovely date does not have a drink, so we best fix that,” you hear Jeno express. You peek to your side, then up, seeing him having stood at some point in his conversation. He throws you a look, eyebrows raised, eyes wide, smile nearly rectangular, and nods toward the open bar. Oh! You stand up, too, albeit clumsily, knocking your thigh into the mahogany, the silverware and ceramics jostling; you give your aunts a hasty bow and apology before taking Jeno’s arm. “See,” he says to your other aunt, “We must be going. There is a long Island iced tea out there with my name on it.” They laugh together, then you let Jeno drag you away to the open bar, away from prying aunties.

“Long Island iced tea?” You quirk a single eyebrow. He refused to drink those ever since the 2020 trip to Germany when you, Jaemin, and Renjun got so fucked up on Long Island iced teas, consuming more and more, claiming that it just wasn’t hitting, until it did, that the four of you missed your nonrefundable trip back to Incheon.

Jeno rubs the back of his neck. “Yeah, I, uh, couldn’t think of a different drink.”

You flutter your eyes to the drinks menu, reading through the specialties until you find the Long Island iced tea … right above the Sweet Pink Punch, a fruity pink margarita that is definitely right up his alley, had he had a few drinks in his system already. You raise your eyebrow even further up.

“Okay! I wanted the pink drink,” he pouts. “Is that what you want me to say?” The bartender immediately pops one up on the counter for him, pointedly fluffing the pink little petals over the equally pink salted rim. Jeno groans. “So not what I wanted.”

“Here,” you laugh, flagging down the same bartender. “I’ll take a six blueberry kamikaze shots and a whiskey smash.” It is Jeno’s turn raise an eyebrow at you, and you laugh harder, lightly smacking him on the stomach. “Don’t look at me like that. We’re just gonna take a couple shots to take the edge off this whole party, –” A bit of liquid luck, if you were being completely transparent. “– then, we’ll make a few rounds and leave early. The key is – thank you –“ You pass him half the shots and put your drinks close together, making it ambiguous which belongs to whom. “– The key is to make a strong impression, and since we were at the altar today, I think we’ve got a free pass, but, just to be safe, –” You down a shot. “– we’ll take a few more photos, schmooze Mingyu’s cousins, note a talking point for later, then –“ You click your tongue. “– we’ll bounce.” You down another shot. Just one little glass remains, filled on your side of the bar, while your date has yet to even touch the table, so you look up at him. Jeno has an arm folded under his chest, opposite fingers dragging his bottom lip down, intermittently padding inside his mouth. And you swallow, throat suddenly dry with only liquid courage to drink. “Is … Is that okay?”

“Huh?” He drops his hand, and your eye follows, mouth drawing a continuous blank. “Oh, yeah,” he answers. “But, um, we don’t have to leave right away. It’s your cousin’s wedding; it might be fun to hang around with everyone for a bit.”

Jeno doesn’t know why he said that – We don’t have to leave right away, and it might be fun to hang around for a bit. Those few rounds you talked about (not the shots ☹) turned into hours, even more after you offered to stay while everyone else left, to help clean the reception hall. Jeno stood up, also, to start piling dishes into bus tubs, but you, and the others helping, only gave him easy-to-complete tasks or shooing him away. He eventually just sat down, sporadically drinking a bottle of soju, watching you laugh with your aunt and Mingyu, now your cousin-in-law, over something he couldn’t hear from so far away.

And when Jaehyun approaches, Jeno misses him, too caught up in the way your eyes almost physically light up at Mingyu’s umpteenth gawky faux pas of the night.

“How long?”

Jeno jumps, straightens his back. He relaxes after seeing Jaehyun, who looks far calmer than a couple hours ago. Maybe marriage suits him, brings out the vulnerability that no one really sees unless they get a few drinks in him. Jeno wonders if marriage would change him. Would he be more conscientious? Introverted (if that were even possible)? Would he have the same level of self-control? Or would his sex life get worse? And what if he didn’t marry you? He wants everything that marriage entails, even the compromises he might not be able to think about right now, but he isn’t sure that he would want it if it wasn’t with you.

“I …”

“How long have you been in love?” Jaehyun repeats, a knowing look quirked into his smile.

Jeno inhales, once, twice. He opens his mouth. Then, he puts down his bottle. “Forever,” he answers quietly, “maybe.” He winces. That sounds wrong, so he corrects himself, “Probably. Your cousin …” he starts, not saying your name, because if he does, he might accidentally confess something that he wants only you to hear.

Jaehyun chuckles, possibly more intoxicated than Jeno. It feels like that time in high school (Jeno cringes at how often he’s thought about his teenage years, like someone stuck in the past, but he cannot help that he has spent half his life with you) – that time in high school, near the end, when you invited him to his first college party, Jaehyun’s college party. So many things happened, so many firsts happened: his first beer, his first time losing his wallet (it was in the garage refrigerator), his first hickey; he emerged from a random bedroom, tugging up the collar of his shirt, and accidentally bumped into Jaehyun who was coming out of the bathroom from a different – but similar – experience.

“Dramatic,” Jaehyun comments. And Jeno whips his head to look at the groom, but he finds him looking at Mingyu. Jeno turns, too, but his eyes find you instead, instantly forgetting about the wedding party, until Jaehyun starts talking again. “Though, understandable.” Jaehyun spins his chair to Jeno, crouching a little closer, like he is about to reveal a secret. “You know, I almost asked you to give a wedding speech too.”

“Me?” Jeno points to himself. Jaehyun nods, re-affirming. “Why?”

Jaehyun shrugs, leaning back. He takes Jeno’s soju. “Because you give good speeches.” He tilts his bottle to Mingyu and you dancing and singing (Mingyu off-beat; you off-key). “My husband –” He smiles (that annoying and sickening lovey-dovey smile … that Jeno can’t help but want too). “– thought it might make you confess.”

“What?!”

Jaehyun shrugs again. Then, a beat passes, and Jeno opens his mouth, but Jaehyun gets up to join you and Mingyu; you pulling him up by an imaginary lasso. He hands back the soju, shimmying toward his husband. Another jealous pang bubbles in Jeno’s chest, and, yeah, he may not be the best person to let give a speech, or he might be the best. Sure, he wants that – to be called someone’s (your) husband and dance the night away with them (you); and yeah, he thinks about what it means to be in love, or what love itself means, and he comes to the same conclusion, every time. He comes to the same conclusion as you gesture for him to join the mini-after party, starting up an old SHINEE song on your iPhone that everyone knows.

More muzak fills the silence, albeit awkwardly now, through the first floor of the hotel. Jeno holds the sensor open, allowing you to enter first and push the Floor F button. He takes a place next to you, leaning on the cold wall, flushed face finally starting to mellow. You stare at the red numbers increasing on the monitor above the door, adjusting the hem of your purple cocktail dress lower than his tuxedo jacket hanging off your shoulders, rubbing your thighs together at your knees. The reception lasted longer than you anticipated; weddings, especially those so deep in Busan, tend not to exceed two hours, but you stayed passed 7 PM, since 11 AM, helping around where you could. And maybe it started out as a way to avoid Jeno, after the previous night, then all the discomfort and embarrassment faded, once you got a kiss and liquid courage. It seems to have faded by now though.

“Beautiful, um, beautiful ceremony,” Jeno mumbles, scratching the back of his neck and biting back a smile.

"Yeah,” you agree, breaking into a nervous smile. You fumble with the silver cufflinks, the memory of the last time you were confined to a small space with him – the closet at the Park Hyatt Hotel – at the forefront of your brain, and you wonder if his breath would be warm, or warmer, on your neck now. A glimpse of Jeno crawls into the corner of your eye, so you look him up and down. He doesn’t appear tired, rather lost in thought, like you, lips sucked in as if preventing another secret from falling out (or maybe he has to throw up). It becomes harder to ignore the weekend tension, the unsaid confessions, the sex. “Jeno, I lo –”

“So –”

Silence pulses, and the elevator goes up a floor.

You both close your mouths again. Perhaps you should have taken the stairs; the huffing and puffing would help you break the quietude. Beautiful ceremony was the first thing he said to you since getting into the Uber from the reception hall. And before that, he only made small talk, interrupting you if he even sensed a deeper conversation. It was frustrating, but you also understood. You kept bringing it up at inopportune times. Either the next task (eg, the wedding, the not-your wedding) or the atmosphere (eg, too many people) prevented you from really talking it out.

“Oh, you go first.”

“No, you were talking first. You go.”

You inhale. “Jeno, I lo –”

Ding. You have arrived at Floor F.

There it is again.

Jeno shrugs his shoulders sheepishly, gesturing for you to leave ahead of him. “We can talk about this in our room.”

Our room. Funny enough, since you two moved into the new gender-neutral dorms, at the beginning of college, people assumed that you were roommates (oh, my God, they were roommates) and were quite shocked upon finding out that Jeno chose to stay with Jaemin and you with an upperclassman, Yoohyeon, who had the same major as you but was in her last year. And similarly, to this hotel, your room – our room – is in the middle of the Fth Floor. Yay, more awkward silence to tread through. :|

You fall into routine with Jeno, as you step foot in your hotel: he takes your his jacket from your shoulders, hanging it in the closet by the door, and you saunter towards the closest bed, eyes trained on the ground as if an officer asked you to for a walk and turn test. You kick your shoes off by the heels, nearly moaning when the straps release your feet, and rub the bottom before a blister appears. Jeno, equally shoeless, joins you, sits beside you, his thighs parted widely on the space you give him.

“Jeno, I lo –” you start. But he leans over, caressing your cheek, and kisses you, slow yet passionate. His thumb rubs long, comforting lines above your jaw, helping you to relax further and you accept, holding onto his arm for stability. You add another hand, behind your back, supporting yourself as he guides you down on the neatly pleated duvet. He almost tries to say something through the embrace, his tongue clicking a syllable or two above your teeth. “Are – are we doing this again?”

Jeno pecks your lips and rests his warm, exposed forehead against yours. “As much as you want to.” He kisses you again, falling alongside you on the open bed, turning you from the edge. “I,” he pants, eyes closed, chest rising. You brush away his hair, pushing back all the strands you can bunch, stealing the moment to selfishly admire him without the weight of ruining an already intimate affair with your affair. “I – I can’t do a onetime thing with you.”

“Me neither.”

Jeno opens his eyes, instantly analyzing your face. “What does that mean?”

“It –” You peck his lips again, rolling him under your body, straddling his waist. “– means that this feels good.” You grab him by the collar, a button falling undone. He immediately finds your waist, just like the train ride, hands belting through your short dress, dragging the silky material up your thighs. You can feel his shirt scratch into your skin as you both find the most ideal spot. He winds up further on the bed, arms mingling with the sheets, and you slide down his hips, slipping to his dick, teetering on your knees, preemptively riding him. “Do-do you like it?”

His body freezes, and you fear that you did something wrong, touched something wrong, said something wrong, but then, Jeno shimmies his hips, sliding down his trousers. You feel his cotton Calvin Kleins touch your own cotton panties; your pussy practically activated by the twitch of his cock. He taps high under your thigh, drumming hard enough to jiggle your ass, almost contemplatively.

“I … like it,” he decides to say, but his easy-to-read face frowns and he opens his mouth again, “I … I love it.” He bites his lip. “I love … I love you. So much.”

“You do?”

“Yeah.” Jeno gazes into your eyes, and you try your best to reciprocate, because you do reciprocate everything: the looks, the feelings, the love. Slowly, he sits up, rolling his spine toward you. When he gets in your face, millimeters away, he tucks your hair behind your ear again. You trap his hand there, clamping it between your cheek and shoulder, leaning into him. “It’s okay if you don’t feel the same,” he whispers, but you both know that your relationship would not survive the depth of either one of your feelings, not after all these years.

“I love you, too, Lee Jeno,” you answer, kissing him before he can say anything else.

He slithers his fingers under the sides of your underwear, twisting them up, his face pliantly moving in your hands. You grind through your panties, and after a moment, you find his dick, grazing just the tip through your ass, all the way to your clit.

“Shit,” he moans. His hands readjust on your waist, gripping tighter, making you moan. “Are we doing this again?” You nod your head, holding him still and diving a bit lower. Your thighs adapt to the new curve in your back as you sloppily kiss his neck, tongue exploring his clavicle. “Then, sit on my face.”

Jeno helps your legs around his face, licking the wetness up your knees. His constant eye contact tells you to watch him, and you have to fight the urge to completely melt on his washboard abs. Jeno pulls the crotch of your panties to the side, a finger hooked around the black lacy material you once mentioned, that you looked forward to wearing after he ripped the other pair. You nearly lodge a complaint at the silence and the emptiness, but then, he moves. He flips you over, simultaneously tearing away your underwear, clawing your ass to ride his face; his chin lifting, abrading just under your clit. Your forehead falls to his groin, nails scratching into his bare legs – smooth and muscular. He starts peppering tiny kisses all over your vulva, tongue probing the further you soak his face. As a distraction, you unbutton his shirt, from the bottom up, fisting the hem, dragging up his torso. You walk backward, on your knees, punching holes into the mattress, exposing his abdomen. Experimentally, you lick a stripe through his well-defined abs. His knee kicks up. You do it again.

“Princess,” he whines, forehead resting on your inner thigh. “I won’t be able to control myself if you touch me like that.”

“I’m barely doing anything,” you mumble, crawling to his leaky cock again. Jeno, vindictively, adds a finger, and another, and another. He licks your pussy, swirling his tongue near your rim, then jumping back to your cunt, joining his three fingers. You fall forward, groaning, and take his cock, clothed, in your hand, drawing his tip along the lines of your lips, suckling the head.

“Fuck.” His head hits the mattress. It makes you feel attractive, sexy, to turn him on like this, and you love it.

“God, I love you,” you whisper.

“I love you,” Jeno returns. He almost nips your skin, lips barely covering his teeth in time. “So much,” he breathes, almost awed.

“Jeno, I’m gonna cum.”

“Wait!” He pulls his face off. “I want to see you.”

Romantic. And you guess it’s the season, that heightens, if not adds, to the sentiment. So, you contribute, trying to give him everything and more – that is what you have been doing all weekend with the train ride and the food and the hotel and the clothes, giving him your whole self.

You scramble off his chest, turning around, to face him. He flickers from your eyes to your hair and combs the staticky baby hairs back down. And you like to think that you’ve gotten to know him more, the last couple of days, think that you’ve gotten more accustomed to the little gestures, the tender indicators which show you something lasting. You lean down again, slowly, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He rolls you under him, trapped by his strong biceps, humping his dick between your legs, not allowing you a single moment of refractor. With his lips sewn into yours, he extracts his cock, lubricating it with your vaginal spit, teasing your hole. You swivel your hips, trying to push him inside. And just you think he might taunt you further, your orgasm hanging by a thread, he presses forward, centimeter by centimeter.

“Fuck,” you both groan, heads thrown back. A beat pulses, letting you, and him adjust to the size, the tightness (even though you spent 24-hours practically attached to his pelvis, skin sticking in this same way).

“Okay,” you exhale, “Okay. Move, please.” But Jeno keeps his head glued on your shoulder, breath shaky, chopped by tiny whimpers. You groan his name, elongating it when your voice chokes on a sob, feeling his thick cock throb inside you, raw and bare. “Jeno, please, I wan – I need to cum.”

Without looking at you, Jeno pulls back his hips, thrusting shallowly, his tip flopping around your cervix, searching for your sweet spot. And he knows when he finds – you know that he knows he found it – because your face contorts, eyes twisting shut, body relying on his touch to see. At some point, he meets you in the middle, greedily rolling his torso on top of you, roughly dragging you through the bed sheets. Jeno kisses you again, the same tender passion rising but more fervent, like he needs to chase the moment, like he missed out on chasing you all these years. So, you slow down, gasping into his mouth, showing him that you are here, with him, for him, forever, if he wants. And you let out a strangled cry, repeating his name like a mantra, hooking your arms under his shoulders:

“Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno, Jeno.”

He starts fucking you faster, increasing his pace as his name disappears into a series of blurry sobs on your tongue; he smashes his lips on yours, slamming his hips hard – hard even for him, judging by his own low-pitched whines. Your dress chokes your waist, the straps having slid down your arms, off your wrists, and your boobs spring free, somewhat free, since he holds you so close. You pull him in, nails clawing his back, flexing your legs away to give him the freest access to your cunt. He finds some stability in your clit, pushing the pulsing nub into his thrusting cock.

“Tell me you’re going to cum.”

“I’m so close. Please, please, please.”

Jeno pinches your clit. Your back drives off the mattress, trailing his abs, grinding every inch of skin that you possibly can, both of your outfits doing little to obstruct the tension, only adding strenuous friction. His hand punches the mattress, to avoid losing balance, and gives him more leverage to move faster, if that were even possible. In, out, in, out, yank, pull, prod, in, out. You babble more nonsense, brain barely processing quick I love yous and his name, before an earthquake shatters your sympathetic nervous system, breaking down the walls that blocked your orgasm. Your body trembles, rolling upward, accidentally meeting his thrusts, and your pussy spasms, coaxing out weepy hiccups from Jeno. You push two fingers between your bodies, around the base of his cock, helping his orgasm. And you feel the first ribbon of cum shoot deep in your cervix, his shoulders shuddering, but he keeps going, jamming his cum far up your cunt.

You lay there, curling around his arm, taking his cum while he planks above you, watching your spasms lessen. Jeno moves first, removing your clothes and situating the two of you by the pillows. He pulls you into his chest, shimmying your dress off your legs and his shirt off his shoulders. You let yourself close your eyes, melting into his arms, into the weekend, into finally getting the love of your life. And maybe minutes, or an hour, passes, not that you’re counting, because you’ll have him as long as he will have you. And you think he feels the same, know he feels the same when he whispers a phrase that only people who want to be together for a long time say:

“So, when are we getting married?”

#neohub #jeno x reader #jeno fluff #jeno smut #lee jeno smut #nct fanfic #nct smut #nct dream smut #nct jeno x reader

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justalildumpling · 9 months

Text

⇢ twin flame

synopsis: chenle was convinced that his two introverted friends were destined for each other so what does he do? bribe them to text each other of course ⎯ or alternatively, when jeno started to fall for an anonymous mutual friend of chenle's

pairing: jeno x fem!reader genre: social media au, strangers to lovers, college au, FLUFF, crack warnings: swearing, jokes about death, sexual innuendos, lowkey presence of a stalker, mentions of alcohol status: completed started: 6th August 2023 ended: 18th January 2024 update schedule: twice a week taglist: closed🤍!!

note: bye- this was meant to be a oneshot smau but turned into a mini series💀 this is the result of a jeno brainrot :((( i want to smother him in forehead kisses man :(

profiles 1/2: 6 baddies 1 child profiles 2/2: certified freak (7 days a week) chapter 1: introverted cat parents chapter 2: im *TECHNICALLY* not flirting😙 chapter 3: the simp and the beast tamer chapter 4: love presented through violence🥰 chapter 5: *AHEM soulmate😚 chapter 6: jealousy, jealousy chapter 7: balls deep in ice🥶 chapter 8: stay toxic besties chapter 9: eggs in my basket chapter 10: closeted SIMP🚨 chapter 11: “LJSHPTSD”😭💀🚨 chapter 12: let loose🤭 chapter 13: plan b😁 chapter 14: is jeno okay? (no, he’s rlly not💀) chapter 15: confession time🤨🤨 chapter 16: life is like a box of chocolates chapter 17: waiting for you chapter 18: 💥🍒👈 ?????? chapter 19: duck, DUCK, goose? chapter 20: was it really over? chapter 21: careful buddy🥰 chapter 22: lying, skill level 💯 chapter 23: dog with separation anxiety… chapter 24: to slay or to be slayed💀 chapter 25: stop it. get some help👍👍 chapter 26: my soulmate chapter 27: love island🔥 (finale)

bonus ! ⎯ the audio file

click here for : jaemin's spinoff

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moonjella · 1 year

Text

WHAT COMES AFTER — LEE JENO

pairing || boyfriend!jeno x fem!reader

synopsis || the death of your boyfriend was something no one expected. the most loved boy in town was gone in an instant and the world for you had ended. depressed and alone, you give it one last try. you find the ouija board stashed away in your garage and call out his name. but he doesn't reply and you decide it's time to finally move on. but then you receive a strange phone call from an unknown id, and on the other end is your dead boyfriend.

content || female reader, major angst, dealing with the death of a loved one, mentions of death, grieving, speaking to the dead, counselling, party and alcohol consumption, a guy tries to make a move on the reader, mild violence.

word count || 8.6k

author's note || for @/underworldnet’s halloween event : day seven — afterlife.

Your world ended the day Jeno died.

He was the sweetest boy in town. Everyone loved him since he was young. He was kind and affectionate, offering his assistance to anyone who needed it.

You often joked that there wasn’t a single person in the small town that didn’t know him because he helped so many.

Be it mowing lawns, carrying shopping, or in your case, saving you from bullies.

You weren’t even five when it happened, but you’ll ever forget how strong and brave he was when he shielded you from being hurt.

He stayed close to you since that day, easily becoming your best friend. And you lived close to each other. You played with him a lot, spent long summers together as well as cosy winters.

You walked to school together every day, ate lunch together, paired up in classes.

In any situation, you were always with him and when you weren’t, it wouldn’t be long until he found you.

It was always like that.

But there came a certain age when it became awkward for a boy and girl to be so close.

Your parents told you it was fine to be friends with him, but to be extra careful since you were now a young woman.

Jeno received the same lecture from his own parents because there was a period of total awkwardness for a while. But it soon became something you both would laugh about.

Puberty was an odd phase for everyone and when you both grew used to your new bodies and minds, you became close in a completely new way.

And then came all the questions.

Are you guys dating?

You know guys and girls can’t be just friends, right?

How long have you been together?

Almost everyone you knew had assumed you were dating; you guys were inseparable, after all.

And you, being a young–minded and curious teen girl, asked him:

“Jeno, are we dating?”

You’d always remember the way he choked with wide eyes until the milk he was drinking sprayed out from his mouth.

“I mean, do you want to date me?” he replied.

You shrugged. “I’ve never dated before, but if I did, I’d probably choose you.”

He asked to be your boyfriend right then and there. You said yes.

Back then, you never understood the true intensity of being boyfriend and girlfriend but over the years you gradually realised how serious you and Jeno were.

You always had been the endgame.

He meant everything to you.

He was your first in every aspect and you to him.

It was like you were always meant to be together like destined stars.

He was always there.

Until he wasn’t.

The town sheriff came to tell you the news personally since his parents were too distraught to visit you themselves.

A car accident had taken Jeno’s life and just like that, he was gone.

You felt numb at first.

Like none of it was real; like it was just a bad dream.

You had that blinding buzzing feeling in your body for days as if you weren’t existing in the same realm anymore.

Everything lost its meaning.

You became furious with the world, yet at the same time, you felt nothing towards it.

Nothing but pain and longing and anger.

How could life be so cruel to you? How could life be so cruel to Jeno?

His death shook the entire town to the very core.

You waited and you waited for Jeno to call, to show up at your house and tell you none of this was real but he didn’t.

And then the numbness faded, replaced by pain.

Pain you’re still feeling to this day.

Months have passed and it still hurts as bad as it did back then.

It hurts to eat, to sleep, to breathe.

You can’t do anything without being reminded of his loss and how you can’t live a happy life without him.

He was always by your side.

And now you’re all alone.

Your parents try their hardest, urging you to go to school again. You haven’t attended for months and they tell you again and again that it would help you get out of your hole.

Every day you say “I’ll go tomorrow” but tomorrow never comes. All the days blend into one dreary nightmare without the love of your life right next to you.

Friends visited you, as did teachers.

Everyone felt for you but they eventually moved on without you.

You wonder if you’ll ever catch back up to them.

But you don’t think it’s likely since Jeno was your one in a million.

What life is worth living without the person you love the most?

You remind yourself every now and then that Jeno would never want this for you. He’d want you to carry on and do your best but whenever you try, it all comes crashing on you again and you can’t stop the tears.

The pulsating takes over, you lose control of your body, unable to breathe.

Everything around you turns grey and bland and your grasp on whatever reason you have left to keep going disappears into thin air.

The days slip through your fingers like water, like the tears that have begun leaking from your eyes.

You miss him so much.

***

Today is as dreary as ever.

But there’s one positive you can find, a silver lining, if you could call it that.

You haven’t cried today.

It’s Sunday. The weather is grim and wet but your eyes aren’t pouring like the sky.

Your parents are out shopping and you’re curled up at home in a blanket.

They left you while you were watching an old movie, one of Jeno’s favourite. While they did pressure you to join them on their outing, you refused with your eyes glued to the screen, watching the movements go by mindlessly.

It’s a trashy horror; you’ve watched it a million times. You probably wouldn’t have watched it at all if it weren’t for Jeno.

The specialness it held in your heart was now a patch of soreness.

Bitterness fills your body as you watch the stupid teenagers pull out an Ouija board.

You scoff inwardly as you’re reminded of all the times you told Jeno about the Ouija board hidden somewhere in your garage.

You always wanted to try it but didn’t for his sake. He was too terrified it would be real. Despite growing into a manly type of guy, he was a softie at heart. He put on a brave face even when he was more afraid than you.

For a split second, you think about it and an old, familiar feeling takes over your mind.

Curiosity.

Jeno isn’t here to stop you anymore so maybe you could finally try it.

Maybe you could talk to him.

It’s a ridiculous notion but you find yourself on autopilot, scrambling out of the blankets and into the chilly garage. You’re digging through shelves and old boxes and by the time your nose is filled with dust, you pull out the box.

It’s heavy from the wooden palette but you brush it off and scurry to your room.

You have no idea how this works, or if it works at all.

But just in case, you set some rules for yourself — don’t use it for too long and throw it away when you’re done.

You don’t want Jeno to be turning in his grave seeing you play around with the same thing he warned you about.

Setting it on the floor, you place the planchette in the middle and cross your legs.

This is it, you think. If it works, I can say goodbye. If it doesn’t…, I’ll move on. I promise.

You’re not sure who you’re making the promise to. Your parents, Jeno, yourself.

Either way, your embarrassingly sad attempt to contact Jeno feels like the only way to drag yourself out of this slump. Because no matter what answer you get, you can finally have some closure.

You place your fingers on the planchette.

“Jeno,” you ask, voice quiet and trembling. “Are you here?”

Nothing.

“Jeno,” you say, a little louder. “It’s me, YN. Can you hear me?”

Complete silence.

“I miss you so much, Jeno,” ah, the tears have come at last. “I’m right here, baby. Please talk to me.”

A void. Just like the hole he left in your life when he died.

You try a few more times more, calling his name louder and louder, allowing all of your grief and desperation to leave your body as you cry for him.

All the while gaining nothing in return.

You swallow grimly and finish your session like they did in the movie — a whispered goodbye and wiping your tears as you shove the board away.

It hurts more now than ever before, but there’s some sort of relief buried under it all.

Jeno’s gone. He’s not coming back.

He’s living peacefully now.

Maybe you can move on, too.

You take those few moments to ponder and let out your remaining emotions. Seconds turn to minutes and minutes to hours and you’re finally broken out of your trance when you hear your parents’ car pulling into the drive.

You sit up, limbs shaking and your eyes are sore. Surely, your parents would know you’ve been crying but you make it downstairs in one piece while they’re hurrying inside from the rain with their shopping.

“Hey, sweetie,” your mom greets you at the bottom of the stairs. If she notices your red eyes, she doesn’t mention it. “How was the movie?”

“Good,” your voice cracks, coming out as a whisper.

Your dad comes in and pats your head before planting a kiss on it. “Did you eat?”

You shake your head.

“Good, because we brought takeout.”

You manage to stifle some food down. It doesn’t taste like flavourless mush anymore. Slowly, your ability to taste food returned but there was always a sick feeling in your stomach. It’s not so bad right now, thankfully.

It’s been a while since you’ve wanted to eat properly.

Your parents watch carefully as you eat. It’s the most you’ve eaten in a long time.

And when dinner ends, you gather the motivation to help them clean up.

They share glances between themselves, but they’re happy you’re feeling well enough to do chores again.

“Mom, dad…” you say, and their eyes fly to you immediately. “I want to go to school tomorrow.”

They’re both stunned and your mother steps forward immediately, stroking your shoulders.

“That’s great, baby but… are you sure?”

You nod fervently. “I want to go.”

They share one last look before agreeing with you.

“Okay, baby. How about you go take a shower and I’ll get your bag and clothes ready? Sound good?”

You nod.

“I’ll drive you in the morning.” Your father adds.

You smile and it feels good.

It’s not a smile because you’re happy. But a smile because you can finally feel things changing.

You can feel the chains of grief loosening around you and washing down the drain as you shower. The smell of your floral shampoo isn’t disgusting anymore, the hot water against your skin doesn’t burn you.

And when you look in the mirror, you feel a little less hopeless under your dark, rainy cloud.

You’re dressed and have dried your hair quickly, eager to get into bed after another draining day.

But tomorrow will be better, you hope.

Bzz.

Your phone vibrates in your hand.

The screen reads unknown caller.

You don’t usually answer unknown calls but something tugs at your thumb and it swipes the green button.

“Hello?” you ask.

It’s silent for a few moments and you’re about to hang up but a loud pant hits your ear. You wince at the sound.

Whoever is on the other end is breathing heavily. You’re about to hang up but then you hear it.

His voice.

“…YN…”

You heart sinks faster than your knees as you collapse. Your phone slips and clatters on the ground but your fingers scramble from it immediately.

You’re gasping, pressing buttons and swiping again and again but the call has disappeared. The call log is empty; there’s no trace of him at all.

But it was him!

It was Jeno.

You heard him clear as day. He said your name.

Or…maybe you heard a hallucination?

There’s no way it could have been him, right?

He’d dead.

You’re broken from your frenzied state when your mom enters the room.

“Honey, I heard something. Is everything okay?”

“Y–Yeah…” you pick yourself up as she enters. “I just dropped my phone.”

“Okay, baby. Be careful with it,” her warm arms wrap around your shoulders as she guides you to your bed. You slip under the covers and she places your phone on your bedside table. “Get some sleep, okay? It’s a big day tomorrow.”

You nod and swallow the fear bubbling at the back of your throat.

The only thing on your mind is Jeno and his voice and his breathing and how on earth he was on the other end of your phone but you manage to convince your mother that you’re okay and she tucks you under the blankets, switching off the lamp before leaving you in a dark and empty room.

Just when you thought you could start building it up once more, your world comes crashing down all over again.

***

“Have a good day at school, sweetie.” Your father kisses your forehead before you leave the car.

He drives away with a worried look on his face and despite you telling him numerous times on the way here, you’re fine.

Or so, you think you’re fine.

After last night, you’re not so sure you can hold it all in through the day.

Upon waking up, you realised the phone call must have been a dream, or even a hallucination because you longed for Jeno so much.

You were so close to telling your parents about it but you knew they’d have thought you finally lost your mind and that was the last thing you wanted.

You promised them last night that things would change.

Holding onto something bizarre like the phone call would only hold you back.

So, you hold tightly onto the straps of your bag and walk into school. A few looks are spared at you here and there — they don’t bother you too much but when you arrive in your class, the entire class falls silent.

It’s the teacher who first approaches you. You head up to their desk to discuss how far behind you are before the bell rings and you make your way to your seat.

You try so hard not to look at the empty seat beside it, Jeno’s seat.

It’s fine, you say to yourself. This is all fine.

Perhaps the self–convincing worked wonders because you make it through the morning without breaking down due to Jeno’s empty presence next to you. Sure, it was hard to focus and you realised how stressful it would be to catch up on all of your classes but you made it through.

Only minor conversations are exchanged with your friends; none of them dare to mention Jeno. They tell you to ask them if you ever need help or to hang out with them if you’re ever lonely but they don’t mention Jeno. And that makes you a million times more lonely.

It’s as if everyone has forgotten about him already, and even if they do remember him, they don’t dare talk about him, like he’s some curse.

You figure eating some lunch will take the bitter taste away from your mouth and you sit down with a small circle of people. You pull out the lunch your mother packed for you and your heart warms at the small I love you post–it note she tucked between your sandwich.

A smile attempts to creep onto your face.

It’s not so bad. It’s all fine.

You keep telling yourself that yet, fine doesn’t sound like a word that exists anymore when your eyes lay upon the red apple your mother packed in your lunch.

It’s just an apple but it feels like the end of the world.

Because it’s not your apple.

It’s Jeno’s.

You hate apples.

And Jeno loved them.

Your throat swells and your breath becomes stuck as if the apple itself had lodged its way in.

“YN, are you okay?”

You look up and everyone is staring at you.

The pity on their faces says everything. One look at the apple and one look at your glossy eyes are enough to show them that everything is not fine. Everything is, in fact, awful.

“I… I need to go to the bathroom.”

You dart up, almost tripping over your seat while you rush to the nearest toilets. A few people are there but the make a swift exit upon seeing your tears. You don’t hear if they ask if you’re okay, nor do you hear if they say anything else.

You slam the door to the cubicle shut and wait for silence outside before you begin sobbing.

The pain in your chest tears you open and your whole body wracks with grief.

It hurts so bad.

Why won’t it go away?

Why did a stupid apple have to make you feel this way?

Nothing in this world is free from the influence Jeno had on you. Nothing will ever be the same without him.

“Jeno,” you sniffle. “Jeno…”

You’re catching your breaths in hiccups when you feel a vibration in your pocket. Assuming it’s one of your friends to check on you, you pull your phone only to see another unknown caller.

Time freezes for a second.

But you break it just in time to answer the call.

“Jeno…”

“…”

“Jeno… is it really you?”

“…YN?”

“Oh my god,” you gasp, covering your mouth. “Jeno!”

“YN…”

“W–Where are you? Jeno, I miss you so much!”

“I’m… somewhere.”

For a moment, you cut off all your surroundings to focus only on his voice. It’s deep, plagued by fatigue with gentle trembles. But you only hear his voice. Nothing else.

No background chatter, no passing vehicles.

Absolutely nothing.

“Jeno, are you… alive?”

You don’t dare to even breathe whilst waiting for his answer. These last few months are all a joke, his death wasn’t real and he’s really alive somewhere.

He has to be.

Or else why would he be on the phone with you right now?

“I… I died, didn’t I?”

A sob bursts from you and rivers pour from your eyes.

What the hell is happening?

“You can’t be dead if you’re talking to me. You’re alive, aren’t you?”

“No, I… I remember the accident.”

“Wha—, then how are you talking to me?”

“I don’t know, I just heard you calling me. So, I answered.”

“No, you called me. I answered you.”

“YN, please…”

“Please what, Jeno? What the hell is going on? Where are you?”

“I don’t know, it’s all…empty.”

This can’t be real. How can he be talking to you if he’s dead?

“What do you see?”

“Nothing. Everything is nothing. I can’t see anything.”

“Can you feel anything?”

“No…”

“Can you move?”

“My body… it’s like it’s not here with me. It’s just… me.”

“What about noise? Can you hear anything?”

“I hear your voice.”

You pant heavily. You can’t comprehend this. In no way is it possible to speak to someone who died months ago.

“YN?”

His voice is softer, like a child. You despise how vulnerable he sounds. You want nothing more than to find him and keep him safe with you forever.

“Yes?”

“…I’m scared.”

You could have bled yourself out with tears by now as the emotions erupt from you. If this is real or not, you don’t care.

You just want Jeno.

“I’m here, okay? Don’t be scared, Jeno. I’m right here.”

His breathing picks up on the other end and you can’t take it. if he really is dead, if this is his ghost speaking to you, you can’t imagine how terrified he must be.

“I’m right here, Jeno. Don’t hang up.”

You wipe your tears and clean your snotty nose, promising Jeno you aren’t going anywhere but the door to the toilets open and in flows the chatter of some other students.

Completely hushed, you look at the screen of your phone to make sure the call is still ongoing while you wait for them to leave but instead, a blank screen shows up.

You prod your phone, dissecting your call app to find Jeno but there is no longer an ongoing call. It shows up empty in the call log just like it did last night.

Shaking your head, you squeeze your eyes to clear your vision and frustration fills every inch of your body.

Why is this happening? Why did he disappear again?

You can’t be dreaming this; his voice… it was real, it felt so real.

But he was gone all over again.

***

Jeno.

Every second of every day, it’s Jeno.

He consumes your body, your mind and your soul despite not being here to do it.

You parents have noticed your gloominess. They had hoped it would finally get better for you but it’s still the same. The only difference now is that you’re going to school.

Two weeks have passed since the phone call in the school toilets. And two weeks have passed since you last heard from Jeno; if it was really him.

Some days, you’re convinced it was all down to your mind playing tricks on you. And if so, you despise your mind for being so cruel.

The other days, you believe he really was speaking to you. It’s no doubt the Ouija board was behind his phone calls. It makes sense.

Today is one of the former days, however. Your morning was so and so — breakfast with your parents and then school. The afternoon was tiring and the evening is somewhat relaxing.

And lunch time has become your least favourite time of the day.

The daunting sight of the apples your mom packs in your lunch every day lingers even after the sky darkens.

It would be so much easier if you just told your mom that you don’t like apples.

But that would mean you and Jeno would no longer be the only ones who knew your little secret. Ignorance is bliss, you think.

If there’s one thing he took to his grave, you know it was this.

***

Bzz.

Your eyes fly to your phone immediately.

You’ve been jolty for days so your rapid movements don’t alert your parents who are used to it by now, and your heart swells when you see another unknown caller ringing you.

Just when you were thinking of him during the movie you were watching with your parents, he called again.

Or maybe he didn’t. It could just be a random call.

You close the bedroom door behind you and settle on the edge of your bed.

Taking a deep breath, you don’t wait any longer and answer the call.

“Jeno?”

“YN.”

You gasp. “Hi…”

“Hey…”

It’s silent for a few moments, nothing but a sea of emptiness.

“It’s so good to hear your voice, baby,” he says.

“Oh, Jeno,” you sob. “It’s so good to hear you. I miss you so much!”

“Don’t cry, baby,” he shushes you. “It’s okay. You don’t need to cry.”

He spends the next few minutes trying to settle your tears, all the while trying to hide his own shaky voice.

“There you go,” he praises you. “All better now.”

You hum with a nod, not that he can see you but you’re sure he can feel it.

“Good girl.”

Oh, God. You could melt in the ground from hearing his voice again.

“Now,” he starts. “you wanna explain to me what the hell is going on?”

You bite back sobs while trying to explain the last few months to him. About the accident, about his death, about the Ouija board. It terrifies you. How exactly is a dead person supposed to take the news that they’re dead?

But Jeno takes it all with a grain of salt.

In a way, he explains, he knew it all along.

“So, let me get this straight. I died so you played with the Ouija board and now you can talk to me.”

You hum. “That’s right.”

“Wow,” he huffs. “I didn’t think you’d actually have the balls to do it.”

“Hey, the only reason I never did it sooner was because you were too scared!”

“I wasn’t scared!”

“Yes, you were!” you exclaim, smiling as if you’re speaking to him right next to you. “You’re such a scaredy–cat.”

He grumbles. Because he knows you’re right.

“But it’s okay because you’re my scaredy–cat.”

It feels odd talking to him like normal, like he’s not dead. Like all those late night calls you spent together before the world you knew was snatched from you.

“I hope you didn’t say that at my funeral.” He mocks and you freeze up. It’s admirable that he can talk lightly about all of this, to pretend that speaking to you right now is normal but his words lock you up. “YN, you still there?”

“Yeah. I’m here.”

“Oh, I thought you’d gone again.”

A shudder slivers its way up your spine. He must be just as scared to hear your voice disappear as you were to his.

“I’m sorry. I won’t mention it again if it upsets you.”

“Hm, it’s okay. We can talk about it if you want,” you tell him. “But I don’t have much to say about it.”

“Why not?”

“Well…” you bite your lip. “I didn’t go to your funeral.”

You hear him inhale deeply, stealing the air right from you.

“I… I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he says, his voice low and gentle. “It must have been so hard for you. Don’t blame yourself.”

Easier said than done.

You only have yourself to blame.

Everyone in the town attended Jeno’s funeral. Everyone but the girl he loved so much.

Tears build in your eyes again and as if he could see them, he says “let’s not talk about this, okay? It’s getting late.”

You sniffle, wiping away the wetness.

“Do you need to go to bed?”

“Yeah…” you whisper. “I have school tomorrow.”

“Okay, why don’t you get into bed, hm?”

You stretch your limbs while keeping the phone attached to your ear as you settle under you covers.

“Comfy?”

“Yes.”

A fatigued smile lingers on your face. Just like all the times he slept over, it feels like he’s right here with you.

“Jeno?”

“What is it, baby?”

“Can you stay here with me?”

“I’m right here, YN. Not going anywhere.”

“Will you still be here when I wake up?”

“That’s not up to me.” He says, somewhat bitterly.

“Then… can you at least stay until I fall asleep?”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Until you fall asleep.”

***

A sleepy smile finds its way onto your face. You’re freshly washed and tucked under the covers with your phone pressed to your ear again.

Some time has passed and you’ve been talking to Jeno at any chance you can get. The calls only happen a few times a week, but they have become your number one source of sustenance. Especially when he calls before you go to bed.

It feels so good to hear his voice again.

“Did you have a nice shower?”

“Mmh,” you hum. “It was nice.”

“I bet,” Jeno chuckles. “You should get some sleep. It’s been a long day.”

“It wasn’t too bad,” you tell him. “I went to see the cats today.”

“You did?” he asks with a hint of excitement. “How are they?”

“They’re good.”

“And… my mom? My sister.”

“They’re good, too.”

“Just good?”

You swallow nervously. It’s not the first time he’s asked about them and it’s not the first time you told him plainly that they are good. You figured he’d start pressing for more sooner or later.

“Yeah, I mean, they’re as good as they can be.”

“What does that mean?”

“Well, we don’t talk much anymore. I only speak to them when I go to see the cats but I think they’re doing okay. They don’t really mention anything, they just get on with life.”

“Hm,” Jeno murmurs. “Do they ever… talk about me?”

“I’m sure they do. They just don’t do it when I’m around.”

“Oh…”

“They’re doing well, though. I promise. I heard your sister joined a sports team. And your mom’s still going to work.”

“Good, that’s what I want,” you feel a pin stabbing your heart. “I don’t want to hold them back. I don’t want to hold anyone back, not even you.”

“I… I know,” you mutter. You don’t know if it’s Jeno holding you back, or your refusal to let Jeno go, but you are miles behind everyone else.

“I’m sorry, I ruined the mood.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say while trying to conceal the swelling of your throat. The only good thing about him not being here is him not being able to see you tear up so easily.

“Let’s change the topic,” he says. “How are classes?”

“They’re fine. School is still a pain in the ass, though.”

“I trust you on that one,” he chuckles. “I’m glad I don’t need to go anymore.”

“I’m glad you’re happy leaving me to suffer alone in Mr. Kim’s algebra.”

“Oh, is someone being sarcastic now?”

“Maybe,” you grin. “Maybe not.”

“As secretive as ever.”

“Don’t you know it,” you giggle. “And speaking of secrets, my mom’s still packing apples in my lunch.”

“Ah, I miss your apples.”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too, baby.”

You hum sweetly, fatigue slowly taking over your body once more. He puts you to sleep soundly every night.

“You should go to bed, now.” He says.

“I don’t want to. I wanna keep talk to you.”

“Well, can’t argue with that,” he sniggers. “What else do you want to talk about?”

“They’re showing your favourite movie at the cinema,” you tell him. “You know, that super cheesy horror you made me watch a million times.”

“Aww, no way! I’d drag you to go see it again if I was there.”

“I’d rather you not,” you giggle. “I’ve seen it way too many times.”

“And each time is a blessing.”

“A blessing? Absolutely not, Jeno. The movie is awful.”

“How dare you? That movie is one of the best ever made.”

“Don’t make me laugh, Jeno or I’ll never fall asleep at this rate —”

“Hey, YN. It’s late, are you in bed?” your mom enters your room. “Oh, I’m sorry, sweetie. Didn’t know you were on the phone.”

Your eyes widen, hand on your heart to relieve the shock. But that only makes you seem suspicious to your mother.

“Who are you on the phone with?” she whispers.

“No one.”

You bite your lip and wait for her to leave so you can continue talking to Jeno, but she doesn’t.

“Who is it?”

“No one, mom.”

“It’s certainly someone, YN. Is it one of your friends?”

“It’s none of your business, mom.”

You regret the attitude in your tone but you need her to leave or your connection with Jeno will disappear again.

“Are you seeing someone new?”

“Mom, what?!” you shout. “No! I’m not seeing anyone!”

“Darling, getting angry is only making me more worried. Who’s on the phone?”

“It’s no one.”

“You promised to talk to me, okay? You can tell me anything.”

Your teeth gnaw at the inside of your lip. Despite you flipping out on numerous occasions and closing yourself off from your parents, they’ve been nothing but supportive. It wouldn’t hurt to tell her, right?

“I… I was talking to Jeno.”

You don’t understand what emotions cross her eyes in that moment but you’re sure they aren’t good.

“What do you mean, sweetie? Talking to Jeno?”

“Yeah, I… I played with the Ouija board a few weeks ago and we’ve been talking since. Look.”

You hold your phone up to her, waiting for her reaction. But she doesn’t give you one.

When you flip the phone to face you, your heart sinks into the depths of your stomach.

“No! No, no, no!”

You gasp, eyes filling as you scramble with your phone.

Seconds.

That’s all it takes for him to be snatched away from you. Your mother shushes you, trying to ease your tantrum.

“It’s fine, baby. It’s okay—”

“No, it’s not okay! Nothing is okay anymore!”

You’re frantically swiping your phone, prodding it so hard with your finger that it hurts. The sight of you obsessing over your phone like you’re about to die without it terrifies your mother.

“YN, please calm down.”

“I am calm,” you seethe.

“Take a deep breath, okay? You don’t need to behave like this.”

She wraps her arms around you as an attempt to console you but you shove her away. She made Jeno disappear and you look like nothing but a crazy fool talking to a ghost.

But you don’t care.

You only want to hear his voice again but when your phone refuses to connect you with him, you throw it to the ground, scaring your mother.

She’s silent for a few moments, trying to comprehend what the hell is going on with you.

“Baby… do you need to see a doctor?”

“No.” you grumble. Your head is in your hands, fingers nipping at your scalp. You didn’t get to say goodbye to him and who knows, tonight could well be the last time you hear from him. “I want to see Jeno.”

“But you can’t see him.”

“I was talking to him,” you yell, standing on your feet to pick up your phone only to throw it away again when you see he hasn’t called you back. “I was just talking to him, mom! You made him go away!”

Pacing around the room frantically, you unsure of what has come over you but your fists fly to your hair. You mom begs you to stop but you keep screaming the same words again.

He was here.

He was talking to me.

It’s your fault he’s gone.

“YN, stop this nonsense! Jeno is dead!”

You freeze, looking her in the eyes with nothing but anger.

“Get out.”

“Excuse me?!”

“Get out! Get out of my room! Go!”

“YN!” she yells and your entire body tenses; she’s never raised her voice like this before, especially not at you. “Just who do you think you’re talking to?”

You purse your lips, fighting back your tears though the effort was all for nothing as they slip down your cheeks.

“What has gotten into you?” she squeals. “How long do we have to wait for you to be normal again? We’re trying so hard to be here for you but you keep pushing us away! And now… now you’re talking to Jeno?”

“I was talking to him.” You sob, begging her to believe you but it’s a lost cause. No one will ever believe you.

She pulls you down to sit on the edge of your bed with her and this time, you don’t push her away.

“Talk to me, sweetie. Tell me what’s going on.”

“I promise, I’m not lying. I really was talking to him.”

“Okay,” she mutters. “Okay.”

As much as she says it, you know she doesn’t understand your words, but she goes along with it.

“What else, hm? Whatever you need to get off your chest, just tell me.”

You take the tissue she hands you and wipe your sopping face with it.

“I hate apples.”

“What?”

“I hate apples. I hate them so much!”

“I thought you love apples.” She squanders.

“No, I hate them.”

“But you always ate them when I packed them in your lunch.”

“Jeno always ate them for me. He always traded with me,” you sob. “He always ate my apples for me.”

“Oh, baby,” she kisses your temple. “I’m so sorry.”

It’s not her fault. In fact, it’s yours for never telling her but it feels like an ocean has been lifted from your shoulders after finally telling her.

“I won’t pack you apples anymore, okay?”

You nod.

“Now, what else?”

You shrug. You don’t have many words left to say but the tears keep coming.

“Would it help if you went to see him?”

“What?” your heart skips a beat. “See him?”

“You… you haven’t visited his grave yet. Maybe if you went — ”

“No!”

“YN…”

“No,” you repeat. “I don’t want to go.”

“Please sweetie, if you keep pushing him away, you’ll never get over this.”

“Pushing him away?” you cry. “I’m not pushing him away. I’m holding onto him. I’m the only one who’s still holding on to him.”

“That’s a lie and you know it. You’re not the only one who’s hurting. Think about his parents, his sister. Hell, even I’m still hurting but we just have to move on.”

“Yeah, move on and forget about him,” you scoff.

“No one is forgetting him, sweetie,” she strokes your hair. “He’s still here in our hearts and our memories but we can’t let his death make us lose our minds like this.”

“I’m not losing my mind, mom. I really was talking to him.”

You could tell her a million times and you know she still wouldn’t believe you.

Maybe you are losing your mind.

She picks up your phone from the ground; it’s a miracle it’s still alive.

“I’m keeping this for now.”

“But, mom — ”

“No buts.”

“What if he calls me again?”

“Then I’ll answer him.”

You want to argue more, you want to snatch the phone right out of her hand but you’re too exhausted. Everything is going to go downhill from here and right now, sleeping seems like the best way to escape all of the pain.

***

“She’s getting better,” the school counsellor tells your parents. They let out a sigh of relief.

The three of them speak like you’re not sitting right there with them.

“Her grades are improving and her teachers are saying her attitude in class is better. I also heard you joined a few clubs, is that right?”

They all turn to you and you nod slowly.

“That’s great,” you mom exclaims and grips your hand.

Yeah, it’s great. It’s all great.

You’re just like everyone else now.

You’re moving on.

Seeing a counsellor was just the beginning of it all. You’ve been seeing them for a month or so, several times a week. Who knew grievance counselling would work so fast?

Well, who knew you were faking it the whole time?

You hated it at first, putting up a front with the counsellor but you figured things would move faster if you just showed everyone what they wanted to see.

Your phone has since been confiscated so you spent most of your time these past weeks studying and getting your grades higher. You spent some time socialising with close friends and you even took part in extra–curricular to really put the cherry on the top.

Fake it till you make it, or so they say.

“I think it may be a good idea to give her the phone back,” the counsellor says, catching your wandering mind. “Of course, it is still up to you as her parents but it would help her feel normal again.”

“What do you say, YN?”

You shrug. “Whatever.”

Of course, you want your phone back. You want every chance to speak to Jeno again but an entire month has passed since you last spoke and frankly, you’re scared to hear his voice again.

Or worse, you’re scared you’ll never hear it again.

After a few minutes, you leave the office with your parents. The rest of the day goes on as normal and you act as if everything is fine.

And when you get home, you eat dinner quietly, silently gnawing at the skin of your lips until your parents finally return your phone.

“I want it in our room at bedtime,” they say. “You can have it back in the morning.”

You nod and take it from them solemnly.

At this point, you’re not confident that life feels immediately better having your phone again but you want to at least try one more time.

You race up to your room and close the door behind you. Taking a deep breath, you sit on the edge of your mattress and glare at the phone in your hand.

“Jeno,” you whisper. “Can you hear me?”

Nothing happens.

“You can call me again now. Please…”

Hours pass by in a moment while you wait for his response, calling his name again and again but he doesn’t return your call.

That last time was the last time.

He never rang your phone again since — although your parents had possession of it, they answered every call and none of them were from Jeno.

Everyone had convinced you it was all hallucinations. You were grieving so bad that your mind conjured up his voice to act like he was still here.

And you’re beginning to convince yourself of that too.

It’s not so bad to admit it.

Life isn’t so bad without him. It still hurts but you’re being carried along with everyone else instead of constantly wallowing in your sea of self–pity.

Besides, life is a distraction.

The more you focus on mundane things, the less you think about Jeno and as guilty as it feels, it’s the only way to mask the painful longing for him.

You exhale slowly and deeply.

You’ve tried so many times to let him go.

Maybe this will be the last.

***

Letting go of Jeno is great.

Perfect, in fact.

Or so everybody tells you.

You’re surrounded by sweaty bodies that are completely out of their minds.

Despite their cheers and loud singing, you feel nothing but frustration.

You were surprised when your parents allowed you to go to a party. The only reason you asked them was to show them how well you’re getting on with life and you were fully ready for them to shut down your request.

But instead, they pushed you to go.

“It’s fantastic,” they gleamed. “You’re doing so much better without him.”

Just like everyone else says.

“It’s so good to see you here. Letting go of Jeno is the best thing you can do. Let’s go get a drink.”

Well, it’s not that you’d fully let go of him yet. That is still to come.

But you act like it. You act like everything is fine and although it’s not bearable, putting on a front numbs the pain.

A different type of pain distracts you in this moment, though.

The loud music causes throbbing in your head and you regret coming instantly. Jeno always said parties are a sham and he was never wrong. Why else would the two of you always ditch weekend raves to do something else?

“Lighten up, buttercup!” one of your friends says to you. She’s completely wasted but she’s having a good time.

You take a cup from her make your way up the stairs. It’s a little bit quieter and much less busy. You collapse on the floor outside of a room.

With your knees pulled up to your chest, you watch as others flutter around you.

You wonder if getting drunk would help. They all seem to be having a good time and you know alcohol is a way to escape reality.

The smell of alcohol isn’t appealing but it’s masked with the sweet smell of coke. As is the taste when you swallow it. You don’t know how much is in there but you down the full cup.

So much for promising your parents you wouldn’t drink.

You rest your head against the wall, feeling the vibrations shatter through your mind and in no time, you feel the drink take over.

Your body is abuzz, the vibrations don’t stop and you feel your conscious swaying back and forth with your body. Giggling, you make it to your feet and stumble around, holding onto the wall for much needed balance.

“Who knew you were such a lightweight?” someone chuckles and you spin around.

“Jeno?”

“Nope,” the guy sips from his cup. “He’s dead, remember?”

“Oh, yeah,” you mumble. “Where’s the bathroom?”

He nods his head in the opposite direction.

You mutter a thanks and start stumbling towards the bathroom but you feel a presence behind you. The guy is following you but your mind is slow to react. Upon getting to the bathroom, he enters with you, shutting the door behind you both.

“What are you —”

There’s a grin on his face and you feel your skin pricking when he touches your sides.

“Stop it!” you shout and flail your arms to push him off. “Stop!”

You kick him in his shin and he keels over.

“Ow!”

Serves him right. You kick him again but this time he backs up. Both of your bodies stumble drunkenly and when he dives for you, you brace yourself for the impact.

But it doesn’t come.

He stops in his tracks when ringing fills the air of the small restroom.

You feel it in your pocket, the vibrations and you pull out your phone.

You’re about to heave at the sight of it.

Unknown Caller.

The guy tries to snatch your phone but you kick him away, almost sobered up just from seeing the screen of your phone.

You duck under his arm and run out of the bathroom, down the stairs and out into the night.

Terrified, you look at your phone again.

He’s still calling.

You place and hand to your chest to calm your beating heart and answer the call.

“YN!”

“Jeno!”

“Baby, what’s wrong?”

“I… I….” you can’t finish your words.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” you tell him, repeating it a second time for yourself. “I’m okay.”

“What happened? Why are you out of breath?”

“I was running.”

“Running from what?”

“Just… a guy… at a party.”

“What did he do?!”

“Nothing! He just tried making a move on me but I stopped him.”

Jeno sighs in relief.

“God, are you okay?”

“I’m fine, Jeno. Are you?”

You collapse onto the grass and lay down, staring at the shimmering stars.

“I’m fine, I just feel like I’ve woken up after a really long time.”

You bite your lip guiltily. All these weeks of you calling out to him, he never answered and you thought you were finally done with it all.

But you must have called him subconsciously during the event in the bathroom. And he saved you.

“I’m sorry,” you whimper. “I didn’t mean to wake you up. I never did.”

It’s all your fault.

Jeno would have passed peacefully if you hadn’t have called him back. From the Ouija board to the phone calls; every time he called, it was because you needed him.

And the fact is, you will always need him.

But Jeno deserves better.

He deserves to move on even when you don’t want to.

“You saved me, tonight, Thank you. And I’m sorry I keep calling you,” you say to him. “It would be so much better if you were still here.”

Jeno sighs.

“I can’t always be with you. I can’t always save you like I did tonight, like I did when we were five years old. That’s why I need you to be brave. I need you to look after yourself no matter what.”

“Jeno…”

“I need to go soon. I’m so sorry I can’t stay with you longer but know that I love you. I’ll always love you even when I’m not here.”

“No, don’t go,” you sob. “I don’t want you to go.”

“I need to go, YN. I can’t stay like this forever. You can’t, either.”

“But —”

“YN,” he speaks. “Listen to me. I promise I will always be watching over you. But you can’t keep calling on me to be with you. I’m not meant to be in your world anymore.”

“Jeno…”

Your entire body shakes with sobs. You’ve pushed away the truth for so long and to hear him say it, to hear him say he’s not yours anymore, it breaks you on every level.

“It hurts, Jeno.”

“I know. I know it does, baby but it’ll get better, I promise.”

“It won’t, Jeno. I’ve tried for so long and it still hasn’t gotten better. It still hurts so much.”

“It will,” you close your eyes and imagine his arms around you. You’ll do anything to make yourself believe he’s here with you. “It will get better.”

“Aren’t you scared?”

“I’m not scared, YN.”

“But I am. I’m scared to be alone again. I’m scared of what’ll happen to you. I’m scared of what comes after.”

“And that’s okay,” he shushes you and you can feel his breaths against your ears. “It’s okay for you to be scared. But you’re a strong girl. You’ve held on for so long. Now it’s time for you to let go.”

His words are like a melody to your ears and your soul shatters knowing this will be the last time you’ll hear his sweet voice.

You don’t want to, but you have to. For both of your sakes.

“Okay, Jeno” you sniffle. “I’m letting go now.”

***

When people tell you the grass is greener on the other side, you would never have thought you could feel those words as strongly as you do right now.

They sink deep into your bones.

The cemetery gives a dullness to the air but you’re certain the grass is greener than whatever lays beneath it, Jeno included.

You wonder if he passed peacefully, if there was another place he could go to. One where green grass still exists.

Your first time in a graveyard… it feels surreal. Much like the last half a year. Being here feels like a second awakening, like you finally have control again. And it starts with seeing him, speaking to him. The real him.

The grass guards many a grave and you weave your way through the headstones with a flower bunch in your arm. You read the names of them, none of them engraving in your memory until you see his.

Lee Jeno.

Your heart tenses, chest swelling with emotion.

All of your senses turn go into overdrive.

His presence surrounds all of you, engulfing all of your senses in the feeling of him like the days when he stood right next to you.

With trembling knees, you fall to the ground and let your fingers sink into the mud. You’re here, you’re finally here.

The entire world has convinced you that it would be so much easier after you visit his grave but you’re struggling to understand how that could happen when it hurts so much.

Letting go of Jeno was never going to be easy, you know that.

But you at least thought the pain would grow more bearable with time.

It’s been weeks since you heard his voice and you want nothing more than to have his strong arms wrap around you and hear his whispers of comfort, promises that he’d never let you feel an ounce of this pain again.

But you know it won’t come.

It never will.

This pain is something you need to live with now.

You place the flowers on the soil, letting your hand linger over him, too afraid to touch but too afraid to let go.

“Jeno,” you whisper. A single tear drops onto his grave. “It’s me.”

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