ivy

The nausea only got worse from there.

 Her toothpaste made her gag, the morning porridge made her stomach churn but she ate a bit, only because Mingyu made it for her. The fact that today was an evaluation only made everything far worse. She had been here three weeks and this was her chance to show them she isn't put here by mistake.

The boys all crowded towards the door, pulling on jackets and sweaters, tying their shoe laces or getting last minute snacks. Riko tried to tie her laces…but her hands were shaking, her body was tired. A warm pair of hands took the laces from her hands and started tying them for her. 

“You okay maknae? Your hands are shaking…” Jeonghan asked, tying her shoes into a bow. She hummed giving him her usual smile “just nervous” she mumbled. He ruffled her hair then took her jacket from the shelf helping her zip it up “you don’t have to be nervous, our maknae is special”

The walk to the company felt longer than usual.

The air was cold, slightly breezy, it felt sharp against her skin but it helped her feel awake. She walked a few steps behind the boys, not because they pushed her away, but because each time she tried to keep up, her stomach twisted painfully and her vision blurred. At some point Dino slowed down to match her pace. “What are you thinking about?” he asked, slightly worried. 

Riko giggled giving him a small side eye “none of your business” giving him a slight shove. 

“Yah! I came to keep you company” he joked while walking her slow pace till they got to the company.

Inside the building, the bright fluorescent lights made her head pulse like a heartbeat. The practice room felt stuffy even before practice started. “Riko start warming up, we need to run this routine a few times before evaluation” Hoshi instructed, rolling his shoulders making sure everyone is doing some sort of movement.

Everyone moved into their positions. 

Riko’s legs felt unsteady. It felt like they were going to give out any minute. Her arms were shaky, each movement took so much energy out of her.

The music blasted through the speakers.

She pushed herself through the choreo. Her body leading even before her mind could catch up, making her movements sloppy. Her arms weren’t sharp enough. Her steps weren’t landing right. Every move made her feel worse. During the second chorus, she stumbled. 

A misstep.

Hoshi’s head snapped to her “Riko focus!” he barked not unkindly, but frustrated.

“I am,” she mumbled.

“You’ve been out of it the whole dance…you aren't concentrating” Seungcheol scolded, pushing his hair back with his hand. He looked visibly irritated which made her apologize quickly, giving the room a deep bow.

They did the routine a couple more times before the staff came to call them for evaluation. Riko walked slowly fidgeting with the end of her sweater anxiously. In the room the CEO sat at the center with company executives beside him. Suddenly the feeling of impending doom came in her chest.

Suffocating.

“Okay, I really want to see improvement, especially with the new member. It's really important for us to see you guys are still worth debuting” the CEO clapped his hands and the members moved into their positions. Riko forced herself into her position but her legs felt like a beanbag- heavy with no structure. The moment the beat came she tried to keep up but everything felt wrong.

Her timing was wrong.

Her footwork was messy. 

Each jump sent a shock in her head.

Her chest tightened and her breathes became shorter and shorter but she had to push through.

By the final chorus she was dripping in sweat, her bangs stuck to her forehead and shirt clinging onto her back. She could sense the tensions in the room from the silence. Frustration from the members and staff.

The CEO exhaled through his nose, slow and controlled. He didn't speak right away which, somehow made everything feel worse

“Unacceptable”

Her stomach dropped.

“Some of you have been here for years,” he continues scanning all of them “And here you are dancing in front of me like a bunch of rookies”

“Timing off, execution was horrible, it was nowhere near a performance standard” his voice rose. 

“And Riko.” Her heart stuttered

“We put you in this line up because we thought you were capable of keeping up but this level of instability is concerning”

Riko bowed, hands clasped tightly to hide the shaking.

“I’m sorry, sir. I’ll do better.”

“I hope so,” the CEO replied. “Because right now, you are not showing what a debut-ready trainee should look like. Fix it.”

The staff dismissed them, and as soon as the door closed behind them everyone left out the breath they were holding. But the break didn't last long, Hoshi was already starting practice again.

They ran it repeatedly.

Riko messed up repeatedly.

By the sixth run, Seungcheol finally snapped.

“Riko.” His tone wasn’t loud, but it cut straight through her. “What is going on with you today?”

She stared at the floor.

“I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” he shot back. “You’re unfocused, you’re dragging, and you’re putting the whole team behind. You can’t afford to be like this”

Her vision blurred, not from tears but from sheer exhaustion. She wanted to tell him she felt sick. That her chest hurt. That she hadn’t eaten because the porridge made her nauseous. That she hadn’t slept well in days.

But all that came out was:

“Sorry.”

“That’s not an answer,” Seungcheol said, arms crossed. “You need to fix whatever this is. We don’t have time to babysit you.”

Dokyeom pulled Riko back while Mingyu and Jeonghan tried to reason with Seungcheol.

 “Hyung”

“No.” Seungcheol didn’t look away from her. “She needs to hear it.”

Riko’s throat tightened. “I’ll work harder,” she murmured.

“Just saying that has no meaning. We don’t need another reason to set us back on our debut”. 

Jeonghan sighed, rubbing his forehead “Okay enough, lets take 10. Riko stay here”

Others started to filter out giving her glances as they left. Mingyu patted her back, mouthing a don't worry.

When it was just the two of them, Jeonghan crouched in front of her.

“You’re messing up simple things,” he said softly, more like the gentle brother who tied her shoelaces on her first week. “Are you nervous? Overwhelmed? What is it?”

She shook her head.

“Riko,” he tried again, “talk to me.”

“I’m just tired,” she whispered

“If something is wrong you can tell me, or any of the members, staff even, okay?”

She gave a small nod promising to fix her mistakes and focus more on practice. 

But she didn’t.

Not for the rest of practice.

Not during vocal lessons where she barely sang above a whisper.

Finally after the horrible day they got to the dorm she was quick to change and lay in bed. She only came out when Jun came to tell her that Mingyu had set dinner for her. She slipped away after that. Quietly, curling onto the couch with a blanket around her shoulders.

She didn’t mean to cry.

But the moment the lights dimmed and the noise faded, everything she had swallowed down, shame, exhaustion, the ache in her body, the sting of Seungcheol’s words.

Her face crumpled.

A tiny, broken sob slipped out.

Then another.

Soon she was shaking, face hidden on her knees and hands in her hair. She tried to stop but her body wouldn't listen

Another sob escaped, small and broken, and she pressed her face harder into her knees, shoulders trembling violently.

She didn’t hear the door open.

She didn’t hear the footsteps.

Not until someone spoke, soft and unsure

“...Riko?”

Her breath hitched. No. Not him. Anyone else.

Seungcheol walked towards her crouching in front of the couch. He had come out to get a glass of water and send any awake members back to. He didn't think he’d see Riko, their maknae,  curling into a ball and crying so hard.

He swallowed hard.

“Riko…?” he said again, quieter.

No response. 

“Hey…what’s going on?” he tried to move a bit closer but then she moved trying to tug the blanket to cover her whole.

But her hand slipped.

And Seungcheol accidentally caught a glimpse of her face.

Tear-streaked. Red-eyed. His chest clenched painfully.

“Riko…” He reached out but stopped himself, fingers curling in the air. He didn’t want to scare her.

“I’m sorry” she mumbled voice tiny and hoarse

“Why are you apologizing?” he whispered. 

She shook her head again, shoulders shaking harder.

“Because I'm not keeping up at practice…a-and I keep messing messing up” 

Seungcheol’s breath left him in one slow, shaky exhale. He had been harsh.

Too harsh.

Now she was folded into herself like a wounded thing.

“Hey,” he murmured, barely audible. “Look at me for a second.”

She didn’t. She pulled her blanket tighter, as if she could hide inside it.

Seungcheol hesitated only a moment before sitting on the floor beside the couch, back against the frame so he wasn’t looming over her. He kept his voice low, softer than she had ever heard from him.

“Riko… I wasn’t angry at you.”

A lie. Or at least, not the full truth. He corrected himself with a sigh.

“…I wasn’t only angry at you.”

Her breathing hitched, a small, wounded sound she tried to swallow down.

“I was angry at everything,the staff,the routine, with the executives…everyone” 

He opened his arms and Riko practically jumped into them, tears starting to fall again clutching his shirt.

He froze.

Not because she was crying into his chest. Not because she was finally letting herself be held.

But because his palms, pressed against her back, were met with heat

Not the warmth of someone who’d been crying.

Not exhaustion.

This was a fever. A burning, alarming heat spread through the fabric of her sweatshirt like fire.

Seungcheol’s stomach dropped.

Slowly, carefully, he pulled back just enough to look at her face again. Her cheeks were flushed beneath the tear tracks, her eyelids heavy and swollen. Up close, he could see the tremble in her jaw, the way her breath hitched like even crying hurt.

“Riko…” His voice was barely a breath. “You’re burning up.”

She shook her head weakly “No, I’m just tired” 

“You’re not,” he said, firmer than he meant to. The tears pooling her eyes again made him regret his tone “I’m sorry, I didn't mean to scare you..”

Riko scrubbed at her eyes with the sleeve of her hoodie. “I can still practice. I… just need to try harder. I’m slowing everyone down.”

God. She really believed that.

He exhaled through his nose, guilt crawling up his spine.

The last three weeks flashed through his head in pieces:

Her shaky first day in the lineup. The way she flinched whenever he corrected her. The sleepless eyes that got a little duller every morning. Her hands trembling while tying her shoes. Her voice barely audible during vocal training.

And him. 

Snapping, criticizing, pushing, thinking she simply wasn’t trying hard enough.

He thought she wasn’t ready. He thought she didn’t have discipline. He thought she was just another trainee added by executives to “balance the image.”

He never once thought.

He never even considered.

That she might be twelve, alone in a foreign country, sick out of her mind, trying not to disappoint them.

His chest ached.

“Riko…” He tried again, softer. “Why didn’t you tell someone you were sick?”

She sniffed. “I didn’t want to be a burden.”

A burden.

 A child who could barely stand had tried to dance through a full evaluation because she didn’t want to be a burden. Seungcheol let out a small sigh then stood up lifting Riko with him.

 “Lets get you into bed okay?”

She gave a tiny nod, arms tightening around his neck. Her breath was warm against his collarbone, too warm, and her trembling hadn’t stopped. He adjusted his hold and walked toward the room, nudging the door open with his shoulder.

The lights flicked on.

Groans echoed immediately.

Joshua blinked awake first, rubbing at his eyes. Seungkwan shot upright, hair sticking in every direction. Dokyeom sat up, hitting his head on the upper bunk.

“Hyung? What's happening?” Seungkwan's voice died down when he saw Riko tucked against Seungcheol’s chest.

“Shua, wake up,” Seungcheol said, knee bumping against the mattress. “Let Riko lie in your bed. She’s burning up.”

Joshua sat up instantly, all sleep gone shifting out of his bed to make space for her.

“She’s sick,” Seungcheol muttered, crouching as he tried to lower her without jostling her too much. “Really sick. Fever’s high.” 

Jeonghan shuffled into the room, hair messy, eyes half-open. “What’s going on? Why are you guys-”

He stopped mid-sentence when he saw Riko in Joshua’s bed, curled under the blanket and trembling. His expression dropped instantly. The blanket pulled to her chin, pale and trembling. Without another word, he rushed out and returned with the thermometer, medicine, and a cold cloth.

When he came back Joshua was sitting on the side of the bed brushing her bangs while Dokyeom tried to joke to get a giggle out of her but she was too tired to even react. Jeonghan crouched next to her, placing the electronic thermometer on her forehead until it beeped.

39.5

A high fever.

“Hyung, call the managers,” Jeonghan said immediately. “We might need to go to the hospital.”

He handed Seungcheol the thermometer and gently nudged Riko. “Maknae-yah, can you sit up to take the medicine, please?”

His tone wasn’t like the usual teasing.

It was tight, worried, slightly panicked.

Riko tried to sit up, but her arms trembled too much. The moment she lifted her head, it drooped forward, and Joshua caught her shoulders quickly.

“Easy, easy,” he murmured. “We’ve got you.”

She blinked sluggishly, eyes glassy and unfocused. Jeonghan slid behind her, supporting her back so she didn’t have to hold herself upright.

“Open your mouth,” he whispered.

She obeyed, barely, swallowing the medicine with a tiny wince.

Jeonghan exhaled shakily, helping her lay down again on the bed. “Good job, sweetheart… good.”

The room slowly quieted again, whispers fading into the low hum of the heater. Someone dimmed the lights. Someone else closed the curtain. The members lingered a little too long around the bed. Riko’s breaths had evened out a little, though every now and then her chest hitched like even sleeping hurt. Joshua had gone to bed on Riko's bed while she stayed asleep on his.

Eventually it was only Jeonghan and Seungcheol left awake.

“Go sleep,” Jeonghan whispered, smoothing the blanket over Riko’s shoulders. “I’ll stay up for a bit to watch her fever.”

“I’m fine,” Seungcheol said. “I’ll take the first shift.”

Jeonghan hesitated. “You don’t have to force yourself. I know you’re still… adjusting to her.”

“I’m the leader,” Seungcheol said simply. “I don’t get to choose who I care for.”

“Wake me up if she feels worse” He brushed her hair one last time before leaving.

Seungcheol didn’t move any closer. He just stood there, staring at the girl curled in Joshua’s sheets.

Her breaths were thin and shaky. Her face was too pale. Sweat clung to her hairline, even after the fever meds.

A knot formed in his chest. I did this, he thought bitterly. Not the fever But everything that came after. The pressure. The frustration.

The way she had looked at him like she was waiting for permission to breathe.He finally moved, pulling the chair from Joshua’s desk and sitting beside her bed. Not close enough to wake her.

Not far enough to pretend he didn’t care.

The manager arrived fifteen minutes later, with a bag of medicines from the pharmacy

“Where is she?” “Here,” Seungcheol whispered.

The manager checked her forehead, frowning. “Still hot. We’ll see if the medicine kicks in. Wake me if it climbs any higher. I’ll be on the couch” 

It was quiet for a long time after the manager left. Too quiet.

Seungcheol sat with his elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the rise and fall of Riko’s chest. Her breathing had steadied… but only barely. Every few breaths, a tiny whine slipped out of her, like her dreams hurt.

He rubbed a hand over his face.

“Kid…” he muttered under his breath. “You’re gonna give me grey hair.”

Then-

A small movement.

Her fingers twitched beneath the blanket.

At first he thought it was nothing, just fever shivers. But then her hand slid out from under the covers, tiny and clumsy, searching across the sheets.

Searching for something it couldn't find.

For someone.

Seungcheol froze.

Her brows furrowed in her sleep, a soft, pained whine catching in her throat. Her hand kept reaching, weakly patting the empty space beside her pillow.

He didn’t think. He just reached out and placed his hand in hers

her fingers curled around him like she’d been falling and finally caught a ledge. Her whole body relaxed, the tension in her shoulders loosening as she let out a tiny, shaky breath.

Seungcheol’s own breath stilled.

She wasn’t awake. She didn’t even know it was him. But the moment she felt a hand, she held on with surprising strength

tight, desperate, almost scared.

He squeezed her hand just once.

A promise to do better. A promise to protect her.

“Sleep, maknae,” he murmured. “You’ve done enough.”

Joshua was a nice guy.

Probably the nicest guy you’ve ever come across. He had been the sweetest to you ever since you had moved into the apartment next to him. It was your first time living alone as an adult, and he had been nothing but helpful since the day you met him. Setting up all your furniture because “What are neighbours for?”, helping you sort out all your stuff from your boxes and arrange everything, convincing your landlord to install a new AC unit, making you homemade meals until your kitchen was set up; you name it and Joshua had probably done it for you. You were nervous to move to a new city where you knew no one, but he made the transition so much easier for you. You found out he was a graphic designer and often worked from home, so he was literally there at your beck and call at even the most insignificant sign of trouble. Not to forget, he wasn’t too hard on the eyes, in fact so pretty it ached your heart- the way his eyes would widen as he laughed or whenever he was confused, the way his arms would bulge out of the black tank top he wore when he was helping you set up your bed, sweat dripping down his face which made you want to take him on the very bed he was arranging right then and there. Yeah, Joshua was such a nice guy.

Or atleast that’s what you thought and what his actions said. Because yeah he’s nice, but he’s not this nice to anyone. He would never admit it, but he’s followed you around like a puppy and helped you out so much because he just wants you so fucking bad. He would stare as your ass whenever you bent down to pick up the boxes, completely unaware of Joshua ogling your ass hanging out of your shorts. It got worse for him when the AC stopped working and all you would wear were stupid low cut tank tops. His eyes would travel to your cleavage, neck wet with sweat. You had to know your tits were out, right? Still, he was somehow coping, dropping his sweatpants down and fisting his cock as soon as he got home, your Instagram post open on his phone in his other hand as he came all over his hand staring at your pictures.

He wanted to be a gentleman, he truly did; but then came that fateful Saturday. Your living room and bedroom were almost set up, and you had asked him to get the blankets and bedsheets from one of your boxes. Now, Joshua would say what happened next was through no fault of his own. Packing is stressful, and one might often put things in the wrong box or label them wrong. Sometimes things might just fall into a box and you might’ve not noticed. So it was really not his fault when he lifted one of the pink sheets and found a red material peak through the bottom. Not thinking much of it, he unfolded the sheets, only to find your delicate red lace panties fall on his feet.

A normal person who was unaffected by you would just pick them up and put them right back in the box or in your drawers, as if they hadn’t even noticed them. But, he can’t for his life explain or justify what he did next, as he picked up the lace in his hand and brought it up to his nose without a thought, sniffing the soft material as he immersed his nose in the faint vanilla scent. Make no doubt, Joshua was not usually a panty sniffing creep; in fact till this very moment the thought hadn’t even occurred to him but even though your panties were washed and clean, he could practically feel the fragrance of your cunt and the taste of your essence. Your voice calling him from the kitchen brough him back to reality and as if his rational part of the brain had stopped working, he quickly shoved them in his pockets. As soon as you both were done for the day, he rushed to his room- a very familiar scene on his bed with his boxers still on him, just barely pulled down to take his cock out as he stroked it up and down eagerly as he moaned out your name with the newest addition of his face buried in your stolen panties.

Joshua feels so so guilty. He feels so bad for stealing your panties and then wrapping the warm material around his dick and covering them in his cum, ruining them. What he feels worse about is even though he feels guilty he cannot stop because there’s something so sick in him that loves it. He loves marking them. Loves to think of marking you the same way, marking him as yours. And what he feels even worse about is that ever since that day, whenever he goes over to your apartment to help you, he ends up stealing another pair, and another, and another to the point you’ve gotten concerned over your lack of panties. He's heard you complain to your friend over the phone that maybe you forgot to pack them since so many of them were missing but poor you, unaware of the fact they’re right across your wall in your sweet neighbour’s bedside drawer.

“Joshua, I think there’s a problem with my stove.” You call out to him.

“Wait, let me check.” He says, walking towards you. “Step back a bit.”

He checks the gas valves and calls the gas company to get it checked, which results in you finding out that the pipes need to be changed.

“Y/n, this won’t be changed until tomorrow morning.” He says as calmly, booking an appointment on his phone for a handyman.

“Why can’t anything go right!” you groan out as you fall on the coach, your head in your hands. “Maybe I wasn’t ready to live alone yet.” You mumble. “Fuck! Should’ve gotten a roommate, my mom was right.”

“Hey, this happens to everyone.” He says as he sits down beside you. “When I first started living alone I literally set my house on fire the second day, not even kidding, you’re doing much better than I am.” You laugh as his words comfort you.

“I’ll make dinner at mine today, okay?”

“No way Josh, I’ll just order something. I’ve already troubled you so much I can’t-”

“C’mon it’s no fun eating alone.” He says with a pout. “I bet once you’re fully set you won’t even want to hang out with me, let me enjoy the last few days I have left cooking for you.” He teases you as you laugh.

"No way i'm leaving you alone shua, you're gonna be cooking for me all the time." You giggle.

Now Joshua had called you over for dinner so sweetly and nonchalantly, but between all this crisis management he had totally forgotten about the fact that your panties, that he stole, were littered all over his room because he wasn’t planning to bring you over tonight. But unaware Joshua just let you stroll into his apartment as you settled in there, talking to him as you “helped” him cook for the both of you. You weren’t really helping. Just letting him do all the work and whenever he did ask you to do something, you messed it up some way or the other so you just opted for sitting on the counter rocking your legs back and forth as you explained in detail the seven part Hailey Bieber stalker series from Youtube.

“Right? Okay so Selena has this ‘g’ tattoo behind her ear after her sister Gracie, and guess what! Hailey got the same-”

“You said that you would help me y/n.”

“I am helping! I’m entertaining you shua, if it wasn’t for me you’d just get bored.” You say as you shrug your arms. “Plus you don’t know about this triangle! It’s was all over my feed a few months ago, why are you such a boomer.” You whined, frustrated at the lack of his knowledge of pop culture.

“Okay, I’m sorry” he says as he adds seasonings to the pot. “Tell me what happens next, she copied her tattoo?”

“She DID copy her tattoo, but you’re so ungrateful I’m not telling you anymore.” You say, getting off the counter. Before he can protest, you say, “I’m going to the bathroom.” Heading towards his room.

As you enter the bathroom in his room, it is only natural for you to be curious as to what he has in there. You check all his cabinets and drawers. A cleanser? Tick. A shampoo that is not a 4 in 1 atrocity? A win for you. An actual moisturizer? You are very pleased. Once you get out, you examine his room. Books on his bed side table, laptop neatly shut on his work desk, a few clothes scattered on his bed but nothing too out of the ordinary. But as your eyes scan the bed, what do you see but something very familiar and very missing from your boxes under one of his shirts, before your hand is reaching down to grab it.

Now, it finally hits him. Joshua FINALLY remembers that he had left you alone his room, and if his memory serves him right, he had left a pair of your baby blue panties on his bed. Shit. Did you see it yet? Are you horrified at him? Do you hate him? Now it was time for him to panic as he turns the stove off and hurries towards his room hoping you weren’t out yet, only to find his worst fears come true as he opens the door, panties dangling from your hand as you stand in front of his bed, eyes wide and lips slightly apart, staring at him.

“Are these mine shua?” you ask innocently, even though you know the answer all too well.

“Y/n wait let me explain I-”

“How many more do you have?” not a single note of anger in your voice, but rather curiosity.

“I-” Joshua doesn’t have any words to explain his situation. How does he tell you he’s been stealing you panties and sniffing and cumming in them? He tries to find the words to not make you mad and think of him as a creep before he sees you walking towards him, standing so close to him that he can feel your breathe on his face as you reach up, your panties still bundled in your palm, and the next second you lips are on his, taking him by surprise as his eyes widen. He first stands there frozen, but is quick to keep up with you as he deepens the kiss, pushing you back with his hands on your waist. He can hear his heart beating in his ears and it’s insane how worked up you’ve gotten him over just a kiss. He feels your nails trance over his neck, making his shudder. You pull away, deliberately letting out a sensual sigh.

“Could’ve just asked me for them, why’d you steal, hmm?” you say as you lean in once again, this time slipping your tongue into his warm mouth, his hips pressing into you from under, making you gasp as you feel his hardened length against your lower abdomen.

“Not very gentleman like of you shua.” You say teasingly.

Eager to assert control over him, you push him towards the bed, your feet stumbling and stepping over his as the back of his knees meet the edge and he sits down, legs spread wide before you’re sitting in his lap, legs on either side of him. When you pull away from his lips the sight in front of you is one to see, Joshua under you in his stupid white tank top this time (another one of your favorites) that clings to him so tight you can see his chest bulging out, sweat droplets on his forehead, cheeks flushed and a fucked out look in his eyes. You get off of him as you kneel down beneath him, but not before handing him the very panties he had stolen from you. You pull his sweatpants down, watching his half hard length trapped in his boxers.

“Y/n, please.” He whimpers above you. It’s funny really, how you’re under him yet the one to hold all the control. Your lips ghost over his boxers, and he can practically feel himself burst when he opens his eyes only to see your big doe eyes in front of his trapped length, before you’re reaching down to wrap your lips around his clothed member, mouthing at it as a wet patch forms on his boxers.

“What do you do with them?” you ask with a small smile on your face as you tilt your neck slightly, eyes so innocent that if he himself wasn't there he would never believe the words coming out of your mouth.

“It’s embarrassing.” He whispers only loud enough for you to barely hear him.

“I won’t let you fuck me if you don’t tell me.” You say as you finally lower his boxers, his hips lifting to help you. “Do you sniff them?” your fingers rub his tip teasingly, spreading around the pre-cum.

“I- fuck, yes! I do.” He finally confesses.

“Mhm, what else?” you say, one hand still running along his hard length while the other reaches to play with his balls, making him moan out loud in surprise.

“Shit I- I wrap them around me and jerk off!” he says which apparently pleases you because you wrap your plush lips around his tip, sucking softly as your hand wraps around his base in a light grip and he sighs in relief; but that only lasts so long before you’re pulling away once again.

“Did you cum in them?” you ask, stopping all your ministrations and placing your hands in your lap.

“Y/n, please-”

“I won’t do anything if you don’t answer me.”

“I did, fuck please! Need your mouth.” He says and you decide not to torture him anymore, wrapping your lips completely around him as you take more than half of him in one go, and it was NOT as easy and effortless as you made it look because Joshua is bigger than you expected. You run your tongue all around, feeling the ridges and veins popping out and you might just cry out of happiness because you actually think his cock is the prettiest you’ve ever seen.

You just rest it against your tongue for a while, letting him feel the warmth before you’re pulling it out, only to deep throat him at once and oh, the sound he lets out is music to your ears. You continue to bob up and down on his dick, as it hits the back of your throat repeatedly whilst your hand pumps the part that you can’t fit, his head thrown back in pleasure and yours in a fucked-out state as his hand grab your hair a makeshift ponytail, manoeuvring your mouth on him as he pleases. His eyebrows are furrowed, eyes closed as the sounds of your gagging and his moaning fill the room. After a point, you give in to him, letting him use you as he pleases, like a doll- only for his pleasure, and you don’t mind it one bit.

“Fuck Y/n, you’re so much better when you shut up for once, doing so good for me.” He grunts out.

His other hand roams around the bed, finding the blue lace before he brings it up to his nose, taking in your scent. All you see when you blink up to him is his buff chest rising up and down, teeth biting down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood but that still isn’t enough to make control his moans. He’s shaking now, so so close to his high as his mind goes blank and he gives a particularly sharp tug at your hair, making you flood your panties beneath your denim shorts, your slick travelling down and escaping the fabric as you rub your thighs.

“Thought about this so many times, fuck!” he groans as he feels your throat close up around him. his heavy cock stretches your lips out completely as you struggle to keep him in, your jaw aching accommodating his cock. Tears begin to form in your eyes as his hips increase his face, his moans signalling how close he is to his release. His breathe turns erratic and his grip in your hair tightens, as his voice breaks and his warm cum fills your mouth with no warning. He rocks your head back and forth amidst it slowly as he’s still cumming in your mouth, his seed travelling down your throat as you gag on it further, tears streaming down your face and eyes rolling back. When he’s finally spent, he pulls you off of him, a string a saliva still connects you to the head as dribbles down to your chest and you see him smirk, your panties still bunched in his palm and your tears dried on your cheeks.

“Open.” He demands with a light tap on your cheek as you open your mouth, tongue out to show him his cum smeared on his lips and tongue, and you can feel the dynamic shift already.

“Good girl, swallow.”

He pulls you up to give you a messy kiss, as if he didn’t just cum in your mouth and it kind of warms you from the inside and makes your chest flutter because even amidst this, he does act like a gentleman (as if he didn’t just literally fuck you throat seconds ago). You’re flipped onto your stomach in a second as you see him rid himself of his bottoms. One second you’re begging for him to come back to you, next he’s on top of you, pressed against you so close, hands travelling along the curve of your spine before coming down to rest against your hip, pulling you up as he forces you on your hands and knees. You hear him kneel behind, murmuring out “fuck” quietly to himself as his hands reach forward to unbutton your shorts, pulling them down just below the curve of your ass as they fall to your knees and he’s face to face with your soaked covered center.

His long fingers reach between your thighs, pushing them apart just slightly as to look at the mess you’ve made when he’s barely touched as they make contact with your slick covered soft skin. And before you know it,

smack!

his hand is pulled away from you as it comes down to hit your plush ass, your entire body stumbling forward with the impact as a loud cry erupts from your throat in surprise. He’s pulling the lace material above your cheeks, his hand rubbing it gently, soothing your skin.

“You good baby?” he asks from behind- one hand stabilizing your body with its tight grip on your hips while the other continues to caress your ass. There’s a change in his tone, voice turning raspier and deeper, much different than the Joshua you knew but not that you were complaining. And it’s embarrassing for you to explain how much wetter you felt yourself get at his actions as he brings up the hand resting on your hips up your back, grabbing your hair from behind and pulling you towards him.

“You want more, or should I stop?” he whispers, mouth resting just above your ear as he towers over you. When you turn your head to face him, you see his lust driven eyes as he looks down on you- hand still in your hair before he’s reaching down to press a kiss to your lips once again. This one much different than the way he’s kissed you before- full of impatience and hunger. You manage to moan out a “more” into the kiss as he’s pulling away and forcing your face into the pillow once again.

He's returned to slapping your behind, stopping occasionally to rub against your skin to ease the sting. Your loud cries and the sound of his hand hitting you fills the room, but what is harder for you than to bear the pain is controlling how turned on you are right now, as you feel your wetness dripping down your thighs and you’re pretty sure he sees it too, one of his hands coming down to run the tip of his finger along your slit.

“Joshua, mhm, please!” you whine out, but it seems he’s not stopped with the teasing as his fingers gently graze against your clit for second before pulling away again, continuing to play with your folds.

“Fuck, you’re dripping all over.” He murmurs to himself. “You like being spanked? That’s what got you so wet? Prettiest cunt I’ve ever seen baby.” He laughs cruelly, looking at you only to see you hiding your face in the pillow out of the embarrassment.

“What? Not so bold anymore Y/n?” he teases you. “Don’t be shy baby, it’s only me.” he says, spreading out your folds with his fingers as you clench around nothing, feeling another glob of your slick leaking out, the cool air near your warmth making you shiver. A familiar warm and giddy feeling runs through your chest and makes its way down your stomach, making you flutter and moan out in surprise as you feel him spit right on your heat. Without a warning, he’s pushing 2 of his fingers in at one go- your back arching and hips pushing behind, begging for more out of his fingers. His thumb is navigating its way through your folds, making contact with your enlarged nub as you moan out his name, fingers scissoring inside you in a steady pace.

“Joshua, more!” you grunt, your arms losing strength every passing second and the band in your gut getting closer to snapping as he continues to edge you, slowing down just as he feels you getting closer to cumming every time. Your legs are probably shaking at this point, your pleads and cries filling the room every time you feel his knuckles make contact with your insides curling them just enough to make your entire body jerk at his touch. You’re breathless, gripping the sheets clenching around his fingers hard enough to crush them as your legs tremble beneath, a high-pitched loud moan leaving your throat, bucking into his hand right as you’re about-

And he stops. Fingers stopping all their movement as they’re still inside you, knuckles just resting at your opening, but that doesn’t last long either as he’s pulling them out in one go and that’s enough to break you as you feel tears wet the pillow under you, whining out and complaining to him as the loss of contact.

“Want you to cum around my cock pretty.” He justifies, voice dripping in honey as if he’s not done the filthiest things to you just seconds before. You gather the strength to lift your upper body, palms laying flat on the sheets as you turn your head to look at him teary eyed, hoping he’ll show you some mercy, only for him to lock his gaze right into yours and licking your essence off his fingers. It’s obscene really, you watch him swirl his tongue around his fingers, tasting all of you as he moans out.

“Gonna eat you next time baby.” He coos as he pulls your hips towards him by force, your back arching in reflex, pushing yourself onto him. He’s taking his length in his hand and tapping it’s head against your spent core, digits reaching to draw 8 figures on your clit, making you squeak as you hear a low deep throated chuckle from behind you. He keeps running his tip up and down your slit, teasing you till no return and all you can do is whine and beg him to give you more.

With no warning, he’s shoving his entire length inside you- giving you no time to adjust as you jerk forward, a loud cry erupting from you as he groans out due to the warm feeling. You can practically feel him throb inside you because of how deep in he is, and just as a tear is about to drop from your lashes you feel him pulling more than halfway out, only to slam right back into you until you hear his balls make contact with your cunt. Your fingers cramped from the way you’re holding onto the sheets as his hand travel up your spine and grab your hair once again.

Joshua loves your pussy. Now that he’s had it once he’s not sure he can go without it. Your tight walls are clenching around him so hard he might come right then and there. He musters up some strength in him, rocking his hips into you at a steady pace at first as to not overwhelm you with his length, but you’re apparently not satisfied, begging him “harder, more!” under him. And who was he to say no to you? he laughs with a particular strong thrust of his hips into yours, showing you no mercy. He fucks you hard, fucks you fast, fucks you like a man depraved. Because all this time he had been dreaming of your warm wet cunt wrapped around him, and now that he had you he wanted to savor every second of it.

His grip on you in tight, chants of “good girl” leaving him as you mutter out incoherent nonsense. Tears are streaming down your cheeks, overwhelmed with the pleasure that overpowers the pain of his hardness slamming inside you again and again. And he feels so close to his edge, so he chases it- skin slapping against yours as his hand on your clit speeds up, your hips rocking back to meet him instinctively. Your eyes roll back, the knot in your stomach tightening as you begin to tense up. Brows furrowed as he repeatedly hits the very spot that drives you over the edge.

“Fuck shua! Gonna- gonna cum!” you whine out. “Please baby, please- oh!” and with that you’re letting go, eyes going blank, limbs going numb as you crash head onto the pillow as you cum with a broken sob, squeezing him so hard that his hips too falter, as he paints your insides white, not a care in the world that he’s not wearing a condom. You’re probably on birth control, right? Even if you’re not, he would love to see you swell with his baby. But he’ll cross that bridge when he comes to it.

He pulls out of you, his cum leaking down your thighs as he falls besides your completely spent body. You turn onto your back, running your hands through his hair as he kisses you, much gentler than before this time.

“You did good.” He murmurs against your lips with a slight smile looking at your tear-stained cheeks.

“Fucking pervert.” You tease him.

“What? As if you didn’t stare at my chest whenever I helped you lift boxes.” He says, hands running against your back. “I felt objectified!”

“Hey! I didn’t steal underwear!”

“Want me to beg for them next time?”

He is a nice guy after all.

Now though, you could feel that same worry creep up on you again, from the time when everything was new and you were still figuring Jihoon out. Nowadays, you were more confident in your gestures, but this…. you had no clue what to expect. You half imagined him to be disgusted, half annoyed at the suggestion, but dear god, you had to try. You had been mulling over this fantasy for so long. The worst that could happen was you apologizing profusely, him breaking up with you, you changing your identity and moving to another country.

Okay so maybe you were being a bit dramatic.

You watched the back muscles shift under your boyfriend’s shirt as he tinkered with the complex board of controls in front of him. His headphones were soundproof, you knew this, and his body formed a broad silhouette under the harsh glare of the three huge screens in front of him. You were lazing on the couch behind him, fiddling with your phone, scrolling a bit and then getting lost in thought again while staring at him work. You knew being in the studio with him was dangerous, considering how attractive you found him like this. Relaxed but laser focused, that brilliant mind of his moving a thousand miles a minute to come up with whatever new masterpiece he was constructing. Occasionally, he would hum under his breath, smooth and clear, and your attention would land on the back of his head again, long black tresses pushed away from his face by the headphones, just brushing his shoulders.

Something in your core throbbed. You contemplated - again - bringing up your little fantasy in front of him. Again, you felt apprehension zip through you.

Jihoon was passionate. He was an attentive and giving lover. So far, there was nothing he wasn’t open to trying. But this was different. This was his space, an almost sacred one at that. How would he react when you told him you wanted him to bend you over his setup and rearrange your insides while the keys dug into your skin?

You shook your head and sighed, almost involuntarily clenching your thighs. You had chickened out on telling him about this for months. Months. It was almost eating at you, and with how consumed he was in his work as of late, you barely had any alone time with him at home. Showing up to the studio was the next best option. Jihoon had warned you that he would be busy and couldn’t exactly talk, but you had been more than happy to just lounge around, occasionally be his soundboard and just exist in the same space as him. You were mildly regretting the decision now though. With how starved you’ve been for him lately, your mind was running wild, and the thought of desecrating this place with him, of tainting it with your presence forever so he would think only of you as he worked, the image of the two of you moving, writhing, moaning….

“Jihoon?” He couldn’t hear you, obviously, and you stood up to move closer to him, legs almost shaky, eyelids blinking a little too fast. You gently lay a hand on his shoulder so as to not startle him, but he still stiffened, pulling the headphones off quickly to turn and look up at you. You could hear faint music bleeding through the earpieces, watching him squeeze his eyes shut once and open them again, trying to adjust to the lack of light as he turned away from the screens. He gave you a small smile, reaching for your hand and running a thumb over the back of your hand. Even that subtle touch seemed to set your skin on fire. You fought to focus.

“Everything okay?”

You hummed noncommittally, leaning against the desk. Jihoon pressed a few buttons and the music stopped, swiveling in his chair to give you his full attention. One look at your freaked out expression and his eyebrows were furrowing, lips forming a thin line.

“What is it?” His voice was lower.

You let out a breath, almost a mirthless laugh. “It’s- sorry, it’s not a bad thing, so don’t worry. But there’s this thing I’ve been wondering about a lot….”

Ah, fuck. You shouldn’t have brought this up. Immediate regret. But you couldn’t chicken out now. He wouldn’t let it go until you told him. And there’s no way you could lie. He was too perceptive for that. And he hated being lied to.

“Have you ever thought of…. having sex here?”

Jihoon blinked, expression blank. “Here?”

You nodded shakily. It seemed all other words just chose to die in your mouth then, because you didn’t say anything more, even when Jihoon kept looking at you expectantly. He then looked around the room, contemplating, and you felt his eyes linger on the couch.

“Uh, n-no.” You knew where this was heading. Your face felt hot. You really would have to spell it out. “I meant here.”

You gestured lamely at the desk, letting your hand fall back to your side as you begged the ground to swallow you whole. You watched as it dawned on him, realization flooding his face.

“Oh. Here.”

Had you not been freaking out, you would have noticed the way his voice had dropped a few octaves, gotten just a bit breathier, or how his left hand gripped the arm of his chair just a bit harder.

“It’s- we don’t have to!” You looked everywhere but him. “I know this is a bit out of the blue and we don’t really do it anywhere except home so this is unexpected. Bonkers, really-” Your voice died when Jihoon slowly started standing up. His chest rose as he breathed deep, running one hand through his hair. He hummed a bit, and you couldn’t, for the life of you, figure out what was going on in his head. Same old Jihoon. Expressionless, quiet. So fucking hot.

He placed his hands on the edge of the desk, on either side of your hips, leaning close to you. You froze, stiff as a board as his lips met the shell of your ear.

“Right now?”

The feeling of his breath on your skin sent a shudder down your spine, and you clenched desperately, failing to alleviate the pressure between your thighs. A mild form of relief flooded through you as well. And as his hand brushed over your side, crowding your space even more, lips still brushing over your neck, you felt how hard he was against your leg, and you had to bite your lip to stop from moaning out loud. He wanted this. Just as much as you. Something in your chest swelled, wondering how bad he wanted this, but it was dismissed quickly as you felt your confidence grow a bit.

“Yes. Right now. Been so long, Jihoonie. I miss you.” You cooed in his ear, pushing our leg a bit to dig into his crotch, making him hiss and sigh.

“Dirty girl.” His voice was so low, and your eyes nearly rolled up in your head at the sound. At his words. “How long have you been thinking about this?”

This was rare. Jihoon being playful, Jihoon engaging so early on in dirty talk. He usually built up to moments like this, and only verbalized at the very height of passion. You caught a glimpse of his ears, so flushed they were nearly maroon, and his hairline, slightly shiny with a very thin layer of sweat already building up, and you felt almost giddy. He was unraveling already. This was driving him crazy. You brushed your cheek against his.

“How long have you?” You shot back, validation making you bolder than you usually were.

You felt his chest shudder where it was pressed to yours, and not even a moment later, his lips were meeting yours in a bruising kiss, nearly knocking the air out of you, keeling back at the force of it but returning it not even a second later with equal fervor. Your hands flew up into his hair, obsessed with how soft it was between your fingers, and you rounded them into fists, tugging slightly. His groan was deep and reverberating, large hand gripping hard at your thigh and pulling it up to wrap around his waist. It gave him perfect leverage to grind smoothly against you, and you realize with glee that there would be nothing soft or slow about this. This was fueled by fire, you had goaded him, and he would make sure you knew what that would land you into.

As quickly as the kiss had started, it was ending already, before Jihoon pulled back enough to spin you around, your hips digging into the edge of the table. You blinked a few times, disoriented, before a pressure between your shoulder blades was pushing you forward, bending you over, and you felt the dig of the cold surface over your clothed torso. Weight on your back pressed you down even more, Jihoon’s erection digging insistently into your ass, his lips at your ear once more.

“Like this?” It was a rhetorical question, obviously. But it proved more how badly this was affecting him. He was not one to babble unnecessarily. But here he was, indulging you, indulging himself. A hand snaked between your thighs, pressing harshly into your clothed cunt, and your gasp was immediate.

“Yes.” You replied anyway, feeling mouthier than usual as well. “Please, don’t tease. I can’t-”

Coherent thought flew out the window when you felt him tug your pants and panties off in one go, realizing he was just as impatient right now. There was a rustling of clothes and then something hard was pressing at your entrance, Jihoon’s weight settling on you again, hands gripping at your ass tightly. Your eyes nearly rolled up as he pushed inside, the stretch of it slightly stinging. No prep, which was also not like Jihoon at all. He always loved taking his time with you.

How long had he been wound up like this? Obviously his schedule was taking a toll on him too, and maybe you were the one who broke the dam. Maybe this fantasy, taboo, thrilling, hot as all hell, was going to be his undoing as well as yours.

His groan was breathy and shaky, and you heard him swear quietly, but you were more focused on how your legs were already giving out, grateful for the desk, for his grip on your hips holding you in place. You clenched desperately around him and he gave you a warning squeeze.

“You wanted this, baby. Don’t make me bust too quickly.”

God, that was so hot. The thought that he was fraying around the edges already. You hadn’t even started. Jihoon chose that moment to rectify that last bit, pulling out just enough to leave the tip inside before he was thrusting back in, hard, hard enough to jolt you up on the desk, to make the edge dig into your hips and thighs, to make your hands scramble to find purchase before he set a rough pace.

Your mouth dropped open and you finally moaned freely, unable to hold back at the delicious feeling of his cock hammering inside you, angled just perfectly against the one spot you needed him the most. He didn’t beat around the bush, choosing to stimulate you hard and fast, sending stars shooting into your eyes as you felt your breath struggle to leave your lungs. Your hands couldn’t find a good grip, slipping over the keys and buttons, trying to settle anywhere, to keep up with Jihoon’s brutal ministrations. You could already feel the tightening at the base of your stomach, and you almost couldn’t believe how quickly you were coming towards the end.

“Jihoonie, I’m- I can’t-”

“Do it.” His voice was strangled, his weight draped on you, making it difficult to breathe as his muscles shifted and moved against your back, holding you in place to do with your body as he pleased. You felt like you were on fire, enveloped in his touch and his scent, his hair brushing over your cheek where your head was turned to the side, and you didn’t waste a moment more in letting the feeling take over, washing you like a tidal wave, twitching and gasping as you rode out the orgasm. He didn’t stop for one second, prolonging your high with the constant stimulation, and when you finally went limp, he snaked a hand round your waist, pulling you up until you were nearly standing.

Your legs had given out on you, but you didn’t need them. Strong arms held you up with almost no effort, and the shift in angle pressed Jihoon’s cock harshly into you, making you cry out. His hand reached up until it was gripping your jaw, tilting your head back until your vision was filled with the image of the dark ceiling. Teeth nipped at your earlobe, before his hand was tilting your head to the side and his lips were meeting your cheek. It was tender almost, a respite in between your harsh fucking, a peek at the usual Jihoon, before he was grinding hard and slow into you. You felt your toes curl.

He started moving again, shallow but fast, and his grip tightened just slightly around your throat, you felt a tear slide down your cheek, and you felt his tongue lap it up from behind you. When his other hand slid between your legs, pressing into your clit, you nearly sobbed. Instinctively, you gripped the wrist of the hand playing with your clit, overstimulation making you clench harder around him until he groaned deeply again.

“One more. Give me one more, baby.”

And you couldn’t say no. Not when he sounded like that, like he needed this more than anything else in the world, not when his cock was still plowing into you, now rushed and frantic, chasing his own release, and not when his skilled fingers coaxed you closer and closer to the edge. You came again with a broken sob, vision nearly going white as your body seized, one hand reaching back to grip harshly on Jihoon’s hair while the other dug into his wrist in a desperate attempt to ground yourself. Jihoon stilled inside you with a final shaky moan, breathing hard against your shoulder and body stiffening completely. Your head was filled with cotton, and you were almost sure your ears were ringing.

The silence following afterward was quaint, the charge in the air now broken, replaced with a blanket of satisfaction. Heat filled your cheeks as you eyed the desk, the screens, the discarded headphones, and the feeling of Jihoon pressed into your back, his hands now gently running over your stomach and waist. You felt him shiver just a bit as he pulled out, drawing a soft sigh out of you as you turned around to face him. His hair was a mess, his neck and ears flushed, his forehead shiny with sweat.

He looked beautiful.

You couldn’t hold back the urge to kiss him, feeling him melt into it, lips nipping slightly at yours. A thought formed in your head, and you knew you had to float the idea now. He was most agreeable right after having sex.

“Next time, we do it in your chair.”

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

Seungcheol was deep in sleep, the kind that felt like sinking into a void after weeks of exhaustion. His phone buzzed relentlessly, dragging him awake. He squinted at the screen—3 a.m., Y/N’s name flashing. Annoyance flared immediately. What the hell does she want now? He answered, ready to snap, but the voice wasn’t hers. It was a bartender, shouting over blaring music and chatter.

“Hey, this is the club on 5th. Y/N’s here, and she’s wasted—like, can’t even talk straight wasted. Keeps dancing, but we’re worried. Someone might recognize her, and she’s alone. Can you come get her?”

Seungcheol’s groan was guttural, his temper spiking. “Yeah, fine. I’m coming.” He ended the call, fury bubbling up. Why the hell would Y/N pull this now? Doesn’t she know we’re all barely functioning? He yanked on a hoodie, his mind racing with irritation. She was out causing a scene, risking their reputation, when they were all drowning in fatigue.

He stormed into Joshua’s room, flicking on the light. “Get up. Y/N’s drunk at some club, and we gotta go get her.”

Joshua blinked, confused but already moving. “What? Why’s she out there alone?”

“No idea, but I’m pissed,” Seungcheol snapped, then barged into Jeonghan’s room. “Jeonghan, up. Y/N’s causing trouble. Club. Now.”

Jeonghan groaned, rolling out of bed with a scowl. “Are you kidding me? What’s her deal?”

The three of them piled into a car, the drive tense and silent, each stewing in their own annoyance. At the club, the music hit them like a wall, the crowd a blur of bodies. They spotted Y/N instantly—swaying wildly on the dance floor, her tight dress catching every light, her face flushed and eyes glassy. She was a mess, and the sight only fueled their frustration.

Seungcheol pushed through the crowd, dropping his jacket over her shoulders. “Y/N, let’s go. Now.”

She laughed, shoving him away, her voice slurred. “Nooo, I’m having fun! Leave me alone!”

Joshua tried next, his tone gentle but firm. “Come on, Y/N, it’s late. You’re drunk. Let’s get you home.”

She swatted at him, stumbling. “I don’t need you! I’m fine!”

Jeonghan’s patience, usually endless, was fraying. He stepped closer, his jaw tight. “Y/N, stop it. You’re making a scene. Let’s go.”

She pushed him too, her movements clumsy but defiant. “You don’t get to tell me what to do!”

Seungcheol’s temper snapped. He scooped her up in one motion, ignoring her protests, her fists weakly hitting his back. “Enough. We’re leaving.” Jeonghan and Joshua flanked him, draping their jackets over her to shield her from prying eyes, their faces set in grim irritation. She was wearing that damn dress, and they weren’t about to let anyone snap a photo that could haunt them later.

Back at the dorm, they dropped her onto the couch, her body slumping as she mumbled incoherently. The noise had woken the others, and soon the living room was crowded with sleepy, annoyed faces—Jun rubbing his eyes, Mingyu frowning, Wonwoo looking like he’d rather be anywhere else. Seungcheol stood over her, hands on his hips, his voice sharp.

“What the hell were you thinking, Y/N? Going out alone, getting trashed like that? What if someone recognized you? You know how much trouble that could’ve caused?”

Jeonghan crossed his arms, his usual calm replaced by a scowl. “We’re exhausted, Y/N. We don’t have time to babysit you when you pull stunts like this.”

Joshua, softer but still firm, chimed in. “You could’ve gotten hurt. Why didn’t you just stay here?”

The others piled on, their voices overlapping, each one laced with frustration. “Do you know how hard we’re working right now?” Mingyu snapped. “And you go make things worse?”

“What even got into you?” Seungkwan added, shaking his head. “We’d all have to clean up your mess if this got out.”

Y/N stirred, her head lolling as she let out a bitter, drunken chuckle. She pushed herself up, swaying, her eyes blazing through the haze of alcohol. She pointed a shaky finger at them, tears streaming down her face as her voice cracked with raw hurt.

“You… you… all of you!” she slurred, her gaze sweeping the room. “You forgot my 25th birthday! Five days ago! Not one of you said a word! Not one of you asked why I’m quiet, why I’m like this!” She stumbled, catching herself on the couch, her sobs breaking free. “I’m always there for you! Every birthday, every single one, I’m up at midnight, writing letters, getting gifts, making you feel special! Even when I’m dead tired! But you… you thirteen… you just forgot me!”

Her voice rose, trembling with pain. “A decade together, and you didn’t even notice! You just cared about sleep, about schedules, about everything but me!” She collapsed back onto the couch, her body giving out, tears pouring as she mumbled, “My 25th… and you didn’t care…” Her words faded into soft, broken sobs, her head dropping as she passed out, tears still glistening on her cheeks.

The room froze, the air thick with a silence that crushed them all. Seungcheol’s anger drained away, replaced by a sickening realization. Joshua’s eyes widened, his hand covering his mouth. Jeonghan stared at the floor, his jaw tight. One by one, they pieced it together—April 12, six days ago. Y/N’s birthday. The day they’d been too tired to notice, too buried in their own exhaustion to remember.

Minghao whispered, “Oh no… we forgot.”

Mingyu ran a hand through his hair, his voice small. “How did we… all of us?”

Woozi’s face was pale, his usual stoicism gone. “She loves birthdays. She always makes ours huge. And we…”

Seungcheol exhaled sharply, guilt settling like lead in his chest. They’d fucked up—badly. They knew how much Y/N poured into their birthdays, how she lit up at celebrations, how she made every moment count. And they’d let hers pass without a single thought.

Jeonghan moved first, kneeling beside her, gently brushing her hair back. “We need to get her to bed,” he said quietly, his voice heavy. Seungcheol nodded, lifting her carefully, her body limp in his arms. They carried her to her room, tucking her in as her tears dried on her face, her breathing uneven even in sleep.

Back in the living room, the silence lingered, each member lost in their own guilt. “How do we fix this?” Joshua asked, his voice barely above a whisper.

“We can’t undo it,” Woozi said, his tone flat but pained. “But we have to do something. She deserves that much.”

They sat there, thirteen brothers who’d failed their sister, knowing they’d broken something precious—and unsure if they could ever make it right.

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

The next morning, Y/N woke to a pounding headache and a heart that felt like it had been trampled. Her room was dim, the curtains still drawn, and the events of last night crashed over her like a wave. She remembered everything—her drunken outburst, the tears, the way she’d pointed at each of them, spilling her hurt. And their faces. Not concern, not guilt, but irritation, exhaustion, annoyance. The memory burned, twisting the knife deeper. She lay there, her makeup smudged and streaked, still in the tight party dress that now felt like a costume for a night she wished she could erase.

She dragged herself to the mirror, wincing at her reflection—mascara tracks down her cheeks, lipstick smeared, hair a tangled mess. Pathetic, she thought, her throat tightening. A shower was the only thing that made sense. She stood under the hot water, letting it wash away the makeup, the sweat, the lingering scent of alcohol, but it couldn’t touch the ache in her chest. She felt hollow, betrayed by the thirteen people she’d trusted most. They hadn’t cared about her last night—not really. All they’d worried about was the group’s reputation, the headlines that could’ve followed if someone had recognized her. “What if someone saw you?” Seungcheol’s voice echoed in her mind. “We’re tired, Y/N.” Not once had they asked if she was okay.

Back in her room, she pulled on an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, her stomach growling but her pride too bruised to face the kitchen. She was hungry, but the thought of seeing them, of pretending everything was fine, made her sick. She curled up on her bed, staring at the wall, the hurt festering into anger. A decade together, she thought, tears stinging her eyes. I’ve given them everything—every birthday, every late night, every moment I had. And they couldn’t even remember mine. The unfairness of it choked her, and she buried her face in her pillow, willing herself not to cry again. But the tears came anyway, silent and bitter.

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Meanwhile, the dorm was stirring with a different kind of energy. Jun, Minghao, and Wonwoo were the first awake, gathered in the kitchen, their voices low as they replayed last night. Y/N’s words hung heavy in the air, each one a dagger they couldn’t dodge. “You forgot my 25th birthday… not one of you asked why I’m quiet…” The guilt was suffocating, and the sight of her closed door down the hall felt like a silent accusation.

“How did we let this happen?” Jun asked, his voice quiet, his hands fidgeting with a coffee mug. “All thirteen of us. Not one of us remembered.”

Minghao sighed, leaning against the counter, his usual calm frayed. “She’s always the one who makes our birthdays special. The letters, the gifts… and we couldn’t even give her a damn ‘happy birthday.’”

Wonwoo stared at the floor, his jaw tight. “She was crying last night. Drunk, sure, but those weren’t just drunk tears. We hurt her. Badly.”

The others trickled in, each face etched with the same shame. Seungcheol rubbed his eyes, looking like he hadn’t slept. Jeonghan sat at the table, unusually silent. Even Hoshi, always the spark of energy, was subdued, his shoulders slumped. They all glanced at Y/N’s door, the weight of their failure settling deeper.

“We can’t undo it,” Seungcheol said finally, his voice rough. “Her birthday’s gone. But we have to do something. We owe her that.”

Minghao nodded, grabbing his jacket. “Jun and I will get a cake. Something she’d love—chocolate, with those little sprinkles she always picks off and eats last.”

“I’ll handle food,” Mingyu said, already pulling out his phone to order her favorites—fried chicken, tteokbokki, that spicy ramen she could never resist. “We’ll cook, too. Make it a spread.”

“Gifts,” Joshua added, glancing around. “We’ll each get her something. Doesn’t have to be big, just… personal. Something that shows we know her.”

They split up, a quiet determination driving them. They knew it wouldn’t erase the hurt, wouldn’t change the fact that they’d fucked up in a way that cut deep. But they had to try. Y/N wasn’t just a member—she was their sister, their heart, and they’d let her down.

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Hours later, the dorm was transformed. The living room was filled with the smell of food, a chocolate cake with sprinkles sitting proudly on the table, balloons tied to the chairs despite the late celebration. Gifts were piled in a corner—small boxes, handwritten notes, things they’d scrambled to find that screamed Y/N. A playlist of her favorite songs played softly, curated by Woozi, who’d spent an hour agonizing over the order.

But Y/N’s door stayed closed. The boys exchanged glances, the silence heavy. Finally, Seungcheol approached, knocking gently. “Y/N? Can you come out? We… we need to talk.”

No response. He knocked again, his voice softer. “Please, Y/N. Just… give us a chance.”

Inside, Y/N sat up, her heart pounding. She wanted to stay hidden, to nurse her anger, but something in his tone—raw, almost broken—pulled at her. She wiped her eyes, steeling herself, and opened the door. The sight hit her like a punch: the boys standing in a loose circle, the cake, the food, the gifts. Her breath caught, but she crossed her arms, her face guarded.

“What’s this?” she asked, her voice flat, though it wavered at the edges.

Seungcheol stepped forward, his eyes searching hers. “We fucked up, Y/N. We forgot your birthday—your 25th. There’s no excuse for that.”

Jeonghan joined him, his usual smirk gone, replaced by raw sincerity. “You’ve always been there for us, every single time. Your letters, your gifts, the way you make us feel like we’re the only ones who matter. And we… we let you down.”

Her lips trembled, but she held her ground, the hurt still raw. “Five days,” she whispered, her voice cracking. “Six now. Not one of you noticed. Not one of you asked why I was quiet, why I was… breaking.”

Mingyu’s voice broke as he spoke, his eyes glassy. “We were so caught up in ourselves, in being tired, that we didn’t see you. And last night… we weren’t worried about you, not like we should’ve been. We were assholes, Y/N. I’m so sorry.”

The tears she’d fought all day spilled over, hot and unstoppable. “I tried so hard to believe you didn’t forget,” she choked out, her voice shaking. “I kept smiling, waiting for the surprise, telling myself you were planning something. But you didn’t. You just… forgot. After ten years, how could you all forget?”

Hoshi stepped closer, his own eyes red. “We don’t deserve your forgiveness, not after this. But you’re our family, Y/N. We love you. We were stupid, blind, but we love you.”

She sobbed, her knees buckling, and Joshua caught her, pulling her into a hug. “We’ll spend every day making this up to you,” he murmured, his voice thick. “We promise.”

One by one, they joined, surrounding her in a group embrace, their apologies overlapping—Seungkwan’s shaky “I should’ve known”, Dino’s quiet “You deserve better”, Woozi’s hoarse “I’ll never let this happen again”. Y/N cried into their arms, the hurt pouring out, but their warmth, their voices, started to stitch something back together. It wasn’t fixed—not yet—but it was a start.

They pulled back, guiding her to the table. Minghao lit the candles on the cake, his smile soft. “It’s late, but… happy birthday, Y/N.”

She stared at the flickering flames, her heart a mess of pain and tentative hope. She blew them out, her wish simple: Let us heal. The boys cheered, but it was gentle, their eyes still heavy with guilt. They ate, laughed, handed her gifts—a bracelet from Vernon, a journal from Wonwoo, a goofy plushie from DK that made her smile through tears. Each note, each gesture, was a step toward reconciliation, a promise to never let her feel invisible again.

As the night wound down, Y/N looked at them, her family, and felt the first flicker of forgiveness. It would take time, but they were hers, and she was theirs. And that, at least, was worth fighting for.

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