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βYou like when I call you puppy, donβt you?β
Cw: puppy play, rough deepthroating?, condescending tone/language, βmasterβ kink, sub dom dynamics (I think thatβs it tbhβ
A/N: mainly wrote this for myself tehe. Iβve also only proof read this once so if thereβs any mistake please ignore. Enjoyyyy xx
βHyune!β you shout from the bedroom, hoping he can here you from in the living room over the music that is booming in your shared bedroom.
βYeah baby?β he shouts back, soon appearing in the doorway, resting a hand over his head to keep him propped up against it.
βHave you seen my hairbrush?β you ask whilst your head continues to flit around the room in search of it. A smirk pulls at Hyunjinβs lips as he sees it on the side of the desk, hiding behind a bottle of your favourite perfume.
βWhat.. this one?β he teases, lifting it above your head as you sigh and jump up to grab it. A chuckle leaves his lips as he finds way to much entertainment in watching the way your hands claw for it above your head.
βAw come on Hyune, donβt be a dick!β you scoff but your tone is filled with more humour than annoyance. Jumping up again, you chuckle simultaneously with your boyfriend βstop!β
βOh my god, the way you canβt reach it but still keep jumping. Youβre like a puppy with a toy!β Hyunjin lets out an entertained laugh at the scene in front of him but his brows quickly furrow as he takes in the shy blush creeping up your now burning cheeks as you look down to the floor and hope he doesnβt notice. βOh, no baby, I was just kidding, I didnβt mean to offend you! Iβm sorry..β his words come out in a rush as he hands you the brush and cups both your cheeks and lifts your head up so your eyes can lock with his.
βI just meant you looked cute like a puppy not that you were a-β his words were cut off as you drop your eyes in embarrassment as if you were caught. He cocks his head to the side with a flare of curiosity in his eyes.
βWaitβ¦ you like when I call you puppy donβt you?β He teases with a shiteating grin plastered on his face.
βWhat?! No- thatβs not-β you fumble over your words as you shift in place in embarrassment, wishing more than anything you could hide your flushed face from him but being restricted by his hands on either side of your head.
βAw is puppy embarrassed? Donβt be baby, I think itβs kinda hot. Iβm just surprised you never told me before.β
βI didnβt think-β you start to defend yourself but are soon cut off.
βYou wanna be a good puppy for me?β He coos condescendingly, tilting his head and you nod shyly in response. βThen kneel for meβ he orders as he releases both hands from you, dropping them to his sides.
βHyunji-β
βPuppies donβt talk y/n. Kneel. Nowβ
Your stomach fills with butterflies and your body acts before your head can even keep up and you soon feel the cold chill of the tiled floor under your knees. You fight the nerves youβre currently being drowned by and look up at him. The sight of him towering over you was nothing new but in this dynamic, he was breathtaking. His eyes were filled with a new type of lust youβd never seen before and you smirk at the sight.
βSomething funny puppy?β He raises his eyebrows as the question leaves his lips and you shake your head in response. βThen wipe that fucking look of your face or Iβll do it for youβ He threatens and your pussy flutters at his tone as he slowly undoes the buttons of his jeans, all the while staring down at you with nothing but burning desire. Youβre trying not to salivate at the sight of him but you couldnβt fight the urge to grind your pussy against the seem of your shorts that were sat so conveniently, giving you the slightest bit of friction your pussy was craving.
βIs puppy getting a bit needy?β He asks as he takes in your struggling and you nod shyly as he continues to pull his jeans down to just above his knees. βThen suck masters cock and maybe Iβll make you feel goodβ
He wastes no time in grabbing the back of your head and shoving your face towards his cock. You quickly open up to take him and your eyes widen as he thrusts all the way, hitting the back of your throat instantly. Hyunjin usually allows you to take your time when you suck his cock, allowing you to take his length as quickly or slowly as you would like but not today and he lets out a loud groan as you cough and gag on his cock.
βGood puppy.. fuuuuckβ he says as he thrusts harder into your mouth, tilting his head back in bliss and you try to focus on being good for him. You canβt help the tears that fall from your eyes at the overwhelming stimulation at the back of your throat. It was difficult to take all of him but you would be lying if you said you werenβt enjoying the challenge.
βYouβre being so fucking good for meβ he emphasises, thrusting into your mouth harshly and your stomach clenches at the act. You rest your palms against his thighs and push against him slightly trying to force your head back to get some relief.
βHands!β He threatens and you quickly fold your arms behind your back. He slows his thrusts slightly as he senses your struggle even though he knows you will use your safe word hand gesture if it gets too much.
βIs puppy gonna get masters cum down her pretty throat? Hm?β He chuckles condescending as you attempt to nod your head and his groans fill the room as he shoots his orgasm straight to the back of your throat. You hum around him as you take it and he rides out his orgasm, his thrusts getting slower and more irregular.
When he pulls his cock out of your mouth, he kneels down to your height, cupping your cheeks in both palms. βBreathe angel, breathe. Itβs okayβ he assures you as you try and catch your breath, you chest heaving up and down. His lips press to yours in a sweet and loving kiss, his finger tips running down the sides of your face caressing you and you feel on top of the world.
βWas that okay baby? I wasnβt too rough or anything. You werenβt uncomfortable-β
βHyune, it was perfectβ you say with a smile and his eyes instantly soften.
βOkay. Lie down on the bed baby, im gonna make you feel so good for being such a good puppy for meβ
Ok this bitch gonna suffer smh reader dom him NOW!!!
if you insistttt π
Fight Back Baby
A/n: this is a continuation of you βwanted it roughβ so I will leave part one here
CW: domreader x subinnie SMUT. MINORS DNI!!! Lots of slapping, name calling, condescending reader, choking, mild degradation.
βLittle boyβ is used in this fic, however it does NOT imply age. Itβs used as a degrading term to mean smaller (figuratively speaking) than you, beneath you in a dom x sub dynamic. Just so there is no confusionπ
βSo, you think..β the slap to his face jolting him out of his thoughts to look at you βthat im too soft with you? Hmm baby? That I canβt fight back?β you say in a condescending tone that made Jeonginβs dick twitch, your hand running down from his face to his chest, sending goosebumps running across his body.
βI didnβt mean.. well.. Iβ¦β he stumbled over his words as he tried to make a coherent sentence, however failing, as your fingertips reached the spot on his stomach that hovered just above where his cock was rock hard under you. You nod your head at at him with a faux sympathetic expression and gripped his neck, pressing down slightly on either side and reveled in in the quick in-breath he took.
βYouβ¦ well.. what?β You mocked, running your thumb over the tip of his cock gently with your free hand teasingly and he whimpers beautifully.
βYou thought you would spill in front of me and all the boys tonight, instead of ask me very kindly..β your last words were accompanied by giving a quick jolt of his head to look back at you as his gaze has wandered from embarrassment.
ββ¦to treat you like the desperate little boy you really are hmm? Youβd like that yeah?β¦ To be treated like a desperate little boy? Say yes Mistressβ You smirk as you taunt him and gently slap his cock a few times, giggling as you watched him writhe underneath you.
βYeahhhβ¦. You would like that hmmm? Say it!β A smile was now plastered over your face as you watch Jeongin become a writhing mess of putty in your hands. He lets out a long, aggravated whine as you tease his hard cock.
βYesβ¦fuck-β He mewls pathetically and you look at him dangerously.
βYes what?β You ask, your voice stern and you raise your eyebrows, secretly enjoying his new found submissive role.
βYes.. mistress.β He whispers, his face turning bright red with humiliation. He bites his lip as you, agonisingly slowly, stroke his now leaking cock and he bucks into your hand in desperation. You couldnβt deny that the whimpers he is letting out sent shock waves straight to your pussy.
βGood boy, baby!β you said patronisingly, positioning yourself slowly on top of his cock so his shaft and your clit weβre now touching, slowly rubbing, and his mouth drops agape. You take both your hands off him and grab his flushed cheeks, cradling his bright red face.
βYouβre such a good little boy for meβ you emphasise your words with a smack to his left cheek and felt his cock jump against your pussy.
βSuch a good, desperate little slut for me..β. You slap him again and he lets out another beautiful gasp at the impact. You position yourself just above his tip and aimed his cock at your entrance.
βLook at meβ you demand, and he does, biting his lip again and every single part of your brain was screaming for you to fuck him senseless because all you could think wasβ¦
oh my god, he looks so fucking beautiful and seductive right now. I canβt believe heβs all mine. I need him so fucking bad. Please god, let me have this.
β¦but you didnβt want to give him what he wanted just yetβ¦whereβs the fun in that?
You sink down teasingly slowly onto his cock and you both let out a long, deep moan, simultaneously drowning in the feeling of lust and anticipation. But you were in control tonight and you wanted to torture him by going as slow as possible, no matter how much you wanted it just as much as he did. He embarrassed you.. made you out to be a subby little pillow princess who canβt fight back and tonight you had promised yourself that you were going to show him just how wrong he was. Jeonginβs eyes roll back into his head and his mouth drops open as you sink further and further down on his cock. You can feel his cock throbbing inside you and you let out a chuckle to which he responded with a hushed curse. Admittedly, you had never once been in control when the two of you had sex. Not because niether one of you were uncomfortable with switching, youβd just never been dissatisfied with the dynamic. But you could certainly get used to seeing him in such a submissive stateβ¦
βOhhh, look at that fucking face you just made baby..β You say as you begin to bounce slowly on his cock causing a string of curse words to fall desperately from Jeonginβs mouth. You couldnβt deny you were holding back moan after moan, you just didnβt want to give him the satisfaction.
βAnd such a dirty fucking mouth!β you emphasise your last word with a sharp slap, and he lets out a drawn out whimper, the sound instantly making your clit throb.
βM- Mistressβ¦ please..β he stumbled over his words, his mouth still agape and letting out gasp after gasp. His hands came up to find your waist, squeezing desperately and you waste no time grabbing both of his wrists and pinning them above his head, staring at him with a dangerous look. Jeongin lets out a whine in defiance and looks into your lust filled eyes above him.
βYou wanna touch me? Hmm?β You said condescendingly and mock a pout at him, to which he nods desperately in response. βBut I didnβt say you couldβ¦ you disobeyed me...β
Jeongin shakes his head with a scared look as you take both wrists into one hand so you can run the other down across his cheek, neck and torso⦠his abs like rocks under your finger tips with how tense he was underneath you and goosebumps forming over his body. Your eyes were locked.
βYou want to touch me, you ask for permissionβ you say as you rock back and forth on his cock teasingly.
βYou want to kiss me, you ask for permission. You want to cum.. what do you do?β You say, your tone sounding like youβre talking to a toddler and, consequently, you see Jeonginβs eyes roll back at your torment.
βAskβ¦ permissionβ¦β he speaks through jagged breaths.
βGood boy! See, now youβre understanding. Now weβre getting somewhere. So stop being so fucking disobedient and maybe Iβll let you cum..β
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming
Summary: You find out Hanβs cheating on you and it threatens to wreck everyone involved
Warnings: Cheating, angst, this one fucking hurts (also Han would never cheat, this was just a request)
Word Count: 11.2k, can be multiple chapter if you want more
ββββββββββββ
It still feels a little unreal sometimes, the way you say it in the same sentence as βthe dorm,β like itβs normal to live in a place where eight pairs of shoes pile up by the door and someone is always warming something up in the microwave at 2 a.m.
Itβs even more unreal that itβs yours, too. Not officially, not on paper, not in any way that wouldnβt make managers turn pale. But itβs yours in the ways that matter. Your mug is in the cabinet now. Your shampoo is in the shower. Your hoodie is on the back of Hanβs chair because he always steals it, then pretends he didnβt.
The dorm has its own heartbeat.
A door closing softly down the hall. Laughter in the living room. A burst of music from someoneβs phone. The hiss of ramen being drained in the kitchen, then a chorus of βIs anyone eating this?β like the question hasnβt been asked a million times.
And then thereβs Han.
Heβs always been the warmest part of the room when he walks in, even when he tries to act like he isnβt. Heβs the kind of boyfriend who remembers small things, like the fact you like your tangerines peeled the βlazy way,β and heβll do it for you while heβs half-asleep on the couch. The kind who presses a kiss to your temple without thinking when he passes by you, like a habit, like breathing.
For a long time, your relationship is easy.
Soft. Safe.
Han comes home tired, collapses into your arms, and youβre the place he lands. You bring him water, you rub his shoulders, you listen while he complains about choreography with the dramatic intensity of someone describing a war. He makes you laugh until your stomach hurts. He makes you feel chosen in a way that doesnβt feel fragile.
On nights the others are out, or asleep, or gaming with headphones on, Han and you steal the living room like it belongs to you.
You sit cross-legged on the floor while he strums random chords, humming to himself. Sometimes he looks up like heβs checking if youβre still there, and the moment he meets your eyes, his whole face changes.
Like heβs relieved.
Like he still canβt believe he gets to have you.
βCome here,β he says one night, voice sleepy.
You crawl onto the couch and fold into him. He wraps you up instantly, arms around your waist, chin resting on top of your head.
βI love you,β he murmurs, like heβs talking to himself more than to you.
You smile against his hoodie.
βI love you too.β
He squeezes tighter, like heβs afraid to let go.
Itβs perfect enough that you donβt see the fracture coming.
Not until the warmth starts to thin out at the edges, so slowly you can almost convince yourself itβs your imagination.
β
Youβre in the kitchen, opening the fridge, scanning for something easy. Han is sitting at the table with his phone in his hand, thumb scrolling, shoulders slightly hunched like heβs cold even though the heat is on.
βWhat do you want for dinner?β you ask. βI can make something quick.β
βWhatever,β he says without looking up.
It shouldnβt sting. Itβs not even rude, not really. Heβs tired. Heβs always tired.
But Han usually looks at you. Han usually says, βWhatever you want, baby,β or βLetβs order something, my treat,β or heβll get up and hang on you from behind and insist he can cook even though he absolutely cannot.
Tonight he just stays where he is. Still. Focused on the glow of his screen.
You watch him for a second longer than you mean to.
He realizes. His thumb pauses.
He looks up fast, like heβs been caught.
βYou okay?β he asks, too casual.
You nod, forcing a smile.
βYeah. You just seemβ¦ out of it.β
βIβm fine,β he says immediately. Too immediate. βJust tired.β
You accept it because you love him. Because you live with him, and the dorm has a thousand reasons for someone to be tired.
But it happens again.
And again.
Little things. A hand that doesnβt reach for yours first anymore. A kiss that lands on your cheek instead of your mouth. The way he shifts away when you try to tuck yourself into his side on the couch, not aggressively, justβ¦ subtly. Like heβs making room for air.
One night, you bring it up carefully.
Youβre in your room, the one you share quietly with him, tucked behind a closed door that holds your secret like a promise. Han is changing out of practice clothes, shirt tossed onto a chair, hair damp from a shower.
You sit on the edge of the bed and watch him.
βAre you mad at me?β you ask.
He freezes for half a second, then laughs like you told a joke.
βWhat? No.β
βOkay,β you say slowly. βYouβve just been kinda distant.β
He exhales, rubs a hand through his hair.
βBabe, Iβve got a lot going on.β
βI know,β you say. βIβm not trying to add to it. I justβ¦ miss you.β
His face softens for a moment, like the real Han flickers back in.
He crosses the room, cups your cheek with his hand.
βIβm right here,β he says. βSee? Iβm here.β
You nod, leaning into his palm. You want to believe it.
But his hand drops too soon, like he remembered something.
He turns away, rummages for his charger.
And the warmth flickers back out.
You start asking the others, cautiously.
Not accusing. Not dramatic. Just small, careful questions slipped into normal conversation, like youβre checking the weather.
βHas Han been okay lately?β you ask Chan one afternoon when Han is in the studio.
Chan blinks at you, genuinely confused.
βYeah. Why?β
βI donβt know,β you say, trying to sound casual. βHe just seems stressed.β
Chan shrugs.
βWeβre all stressed. Heβs fine.β
You ask Minho later, when heβs pouring himself coffee.
βHanβs been weird, right?β
Minho squints like youβre speaking another language.
βWeird how.β
βJust quieter,β you say. βNot asβ¦ him.β
Minho hums, then shrugs.
βHeβs always moody. Heβll bounce back.β
It makes you feel a little crazy. Like youβre trying to explain a color no one else can see.
And because no one else sees it, you start doubting yourself.
Maybe youβre too sensitive. Maybe youβre reading into nothing. Maybe he really is just tired.
But at night, when youβre curled beside him and he scrolls on his phone with his back turned slightly away from you, you start staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of distance growing in the dark.
β
You and Han are on the couch, controllers in your hands, a stupid competitive co-op game on the TV. The dorm is loud in the background. Someone is laughing down the hall. Someone is yelling at a screen. Itβs comfortable chaos.
Han is sitting close enough that your thigh touches his. You can smell his shampoo. You want to relax into it, want to pretend the last few weeks havenβt felt like walking on thin ice.
βOkay,β you say, leaning forward. βIf you donβt heal me right now, Iβm literally going to die.β
βIβm trying,β Han says, voice tense. βStop running into them like youβre invincible.β
βIβm not invincible. Iβm just brave.β
He huffs, half laughing.
βMove, Samantha,β he says, eyes glued to the screen. βNo, not there, move!β
Your hands stop moving.
Your character gets taken out instantly.
The sound of the game fills the silence where your voice should be.
Han blinks, still focused. Then he realizes your controller is still.
He turns toward you.
βWhat?β he says. βWhyβd you stop?β
You stare at him.
βWho the hell is Samantha?β
His face drains of color so fast itβs like watching a light switch flip.
βWhat?β he laughs, too high. βNo, I didnβtβ¦ I didnβt say that.β
βYou did,β you say quietly. Your voice is calm, which scares you more than if you were yelling. βYou called me Samantha.β
He shakes his head, quick and frantic.
βNo. I mean, I didnβt meanβ¦ it was just, like, a random name. Like when people say βdudeβ orβ¦ I donβt know. Itβs nothing.β
βA random name,β you repeat.
His eyes dart away. Back to the TV. To anything but you.
βAvery,β he says too fast, like heβs trying to patch a hole with tape. βI meant Avery.β
βMy name is nowhere near Samantha,β you say. βNot even remotely.β
Han swallows.
βYouβre making it a big deal.β
Your stomach drops.
You hate that line. Itβs a line people use when they want you to shrink.
βThen tell me,β you say. βWho is she?β
He stares at you, and for a second you swear you see panic crack through his expression.
βNobody,β he says, voice sharp. βThere is no Samantha. Youβre doing that thing where you overthink.β
You go very still.
βThat thing,β you echo softly.
He exhales hard, stands up like he needs air. He paces once in front of the couch, hair a mess, hands flexing at his sides.
βIβm tired,β he says. βIβm stressed. It was a mistake. Can we not do this right now?β
Your throat tightens.
A mistake.
He said it like he dropped a plate. Like it was nothing but clumsiness.
But your heart is hearing something else.
Your heart is hearing a name that doesnβt belong in your apartment.
In your mouth, your voice feels small.
βOkay,β you whisper. βFine.β
Han pauses like he expects more. Like he expects you to fight, to demand, to cry. When you donβt, his shoulders loosen slightly, relief slipping in.
He sits back down, picks up his controller.
βCome on,β he says, forcing normal. βAgain.β
You pick up your controller with numb fingers.
But your hands feel far away. The screen feels far away.
And the name keeps echoing in your head, sharp as a bell.
Samantha.
β
After that, you start watching him differently.
Itβs not a choice. Itβs survival.
You watch the way his phone is always face-down now. You watch the way he angles the screen away from you when he scrolls. You watch the way he goes still when his notifications buzz, then checks them quickly, like ripping off a bandage.
You start noticing the way he isnβt as hungry anymore. How he picks at food. How his smile looks practiced. How his laughter doesnβt fully reach his eyes.
You try to kiss him and he kisses you back, but itβs like heβs completing a task. You try to climb into his lap and he lets you, but his hands donβt hold you like they used to.
The first time you try to initiate, you do it carefully. Softly. Like youβre offering something fragile.
Han kisses you, then pulls away.
βNot tonight,β he murmurs. βIβm exhausted.β
You nod immediately. You tell yourself itβs fine. Itβs normal. People get tired.
The second time, itβs the same.
Then again.
Then one night, youβre pressed close to him in bed, fingers tracing along his arm, and you feel him tense.
Not in desire.
In discomfort.
He shifts away. Just slightly. Like he needs distance.
Your chest tightens.
βDid I do something?β you ask quietly.
Han exhales like heβs been waiting for that question.
βNo,β he says, too fast. βGod, no. You didnβt do anything.β
βThen why wonβt you touch me,β you whisper.
The words come out before you can stop them.
Han goes silent. His jaw clenches.
βI do touch you,β he says.
You shake your head slowly.
βYouβre here, but youβre not. It feels like youβreβ¦ somewhere else.β
His eyes flash with something. Shame, maybe. Anger, maybe. Fear.
He sits up, rubs his face with both hands.
βCan you stop?β he says, voice strained. βPlease. I canβt handle this right now.β
You sit up too, heart hammering.
βHandle what? Me missing my boyfriend?β
Hanβs breath catches.
He looks at you like your words hurt. Like you stabbed him.
βPlease,β he repeats. βAvery. Justβ¦ stop.β
The way he says your name feels like a warning. Like a boundary. Like youβre pushing where you arenβt allowed to push.
You fall silent.
Han lies back down, turning away from you.
And you lie there next to him, staring at the back of his neck, feeling the distance between your bodies like an entire ocean.
After a while, you stop trying.
Not because you stop wanting him.
Because you start feeling ashamed of wanting him.
Because every time you reach and he pulls away, it carves something out of you, quiet and deep.
So you become careful.
You become polite.
You become the kind of girlfriend who doesnβt ask for too much, because youβre afraid the answer will finally be the truth.
β
Han steps inside, shoes kicked off, jacket half unzipped. He looks tired, hair mussed, cheeks flushed from the cold.
The smell hits you the second the front door opens.
It isnβt subtle.
Itβs a perfume. Sweet, sharp, undeniably feminine. It clings to the air like it arrived before he did.
He freezes when he sees you in the living room.
Youβre sitting on the couch, pretending youβre watching TV, but youβre not watching anything.
Your eyes land on him.
Then the scent reaches you fully, and your stomach twists.
Han clears his throat.
βHey,β he says carefully. βYouβre still up.β
You swallow.
βYeah.β
He walks in farther, and the scent follows him like a shadow.
Your voice comes out quiet and too controlled.
βYou smell different.β
Hanβs steps falter.
He looks down at himself like heβs checking for evidence.
βWhat?β
βPerfume,β you say. βYou smell like perfume.β
His eyes flicker.
He laughs once, short and forced.
βOh. That. Someone was really close at practice,β he says. βProbably got on my jacket. You know how it is.β
You stare at him.
Because you do know how practice is. You know theyβre close. You know theyβre sweating and moving and packed into tight spaces.
But you also know what perfume smells like. You know the difference between βsomeone brushed byβ and βsomeone pressed into you.β
Han rubs the back of his neck.
βDonβt do that,β he says.
βDo what?β
He gestures vaguely at your face.
βLook at me like that.β
Your chest aches. It feels like your ribs are too tight for your lungs.
βI didnβt say anything,β you whisper.
βYou donβt have to,β he snaps, then immediately looks like he regrets it.
Silence spreads.
Han exhales, shoulders dropping.
βIβm tired,β he says again, like itβs the only explanation he has for everything. βIβm going to shower.β
βOkay,β you say.
He walks past you toward the hallway, and the perfume trails behind him like a confession.
You donβt follow. You donβt demand. You donβt cry loudly.
You sit there, fists clenched in your lap, listening to the water turn on.
And you do the thing you hate most.
You swallow it.
Because if you name it, you might break.
And part of you still believes that if you donβt break, if you just stay good, stay quiet, stay patient, heβll come back to you.
So you let the night pass without a fight.
But something in you changes anyway.
Because now thereβs a smell in your memory that doesnβt belong to your life.
β
When Han asks you to sit down, your first thought is that heβs going to end it.
The fear has lived in your chest for weeks now, a quiet animal with sharp teeth.
You follow him into your room like youβre walking into a courtroom.
Hanβs guitar is already out. Heβs sitting on the edge of the bed, fingers resting on the strings without playing.
He looks nervous.
Which is almost worse, because Han is never nervous with you.
βHey,β he says softly.
βHey.β
He swallows, eyes flicking up to meet yours, then away.
βI wrote something,β he says.
You blink.
βA song.β
Your heart stutters. For a second, hope flares so bright it hurts.
βYou did?β
He nods quickly, like heβs trying to convince himself to do it.
βItβsβ¦ for you.β
Your throat tightens.
βFor me,β you repeat.
He gives a small, shaky smile.
βYeah. I justβ¦ I want you to hear it.β
You sit on the bed, hands folded in your lap so you donβt reach for him too fast.
Han adjusts the guitar. His fingers find chords like muscle memory.
And then he plays.
Itβs beautiful.
Of course it is. Heβs Han. He pours emotions into music like itβs the only safe place for them.
The song feels like warmth returning to a room thatβs been cold too long. Itβs soft, aching, full of little details that stab you in the heart. Your laugh. Your hands. The way you say his name when youβre half asleep. The way you always wait up, even when he tells you not to.
The chorus hits and your eyes start burning.
By the time he finishes, youβre crying so hard you canβt breathe properly.
Hanβs voice breaks on the last note.
He stops playing and looks at you with wide, scared eyes, like he didnβt expect tears.
βAvery,β he whispers.
You wipe at your face quickly, embarrassed, but the tears wonβt stop. Theyβre the kind that have been waiting for permission.
βThat wasβ¦β your voice cracks. βThat was so beautiful.β
Han shifts closer, hesitates, then reaches out carefully, like heβs afraid of touching you wrong.
He brushes his thumb under your eye.
βIβm sorry,β he says.
The words hit you like a slap.
You freeze.
βWhat?β
His hand drops.
He laughs weakly like he misspoke.
βI didnβt meanβ¦ I meanβ¦ Iβm not, likeβ¦ sorry you cried. Iβm justβ¦ itβs a lot.β
You stare at him.
Because the song felt like love, but his eyes look like guilt.
And suddenly, you canβt do this halfway anymore.
You canβt keep swallowing it. You canβt keep living with questions that grow teeth in the dark.
Your voice comes out very quiet.
βAre you cheating on me?β
Han goes completely still.
The air in the room changes. The dorm sounds outside your door suddenly feel far away, like youβre underwater.
Hanβs lips part. No sound comes out.
You keep your gaze on him because if you look away, youβll fall apart.
βI need you to answer me,β you whisper. βI can feel something is wrong. Youβve been pulling away for weeks. You called me Samantha. You wonβt touch me. You came home smelling like perfume. And now you write me a love song likeβ¦ like youβre trying to make up for something.β
Hanβs face crumples.
It happens so fast you almost donβt recognize him.
He drops the guitar gently to the side like it suddenly weighs too much, and then he covers his face with both hands.
And he starts to cry.
He folds forward like his body canβt hold itself upright, shoulders shaking, breath catching in jagged pieces.
Your heart stops.
Because you asked for truth, but you didnβt realize how much the truth would look like grief.
βHan,β you whisper, voice breaking. βJisung.β
He shakes his head hard, still crying into his hands.
βI didnβt want to,β he chokes out. βI didnβt want to hurt you. I didnβt want to be that person.β
Your skin goes cold.
Your fingers curl into the blanket under you.
βWho,β you whisper. βWho is Samantha?β
Han tries to inhale. It comes out shaky.
βItβsβ¦ itβs a trainee,β he says, voice wrecked. βNot here, notβ¦ not in our dorm, butβ¦ sheβs around. Sheβs been around.β
You stare at him.
Your chest feels hollow, like someone scooped you out.
βHow long?β you ask.
Han sobs harder, like the question physically hurts.
βI donβt know,β he whispers. βIt started as nothing. I swear it did. It was just talking. Justβ¦ being around someone who didnβt know me like everyone else does. Someone who didnβt look at me like Iβm always supposed to be okay.β
Your vision blurs.
βBut you had me,β you whisper. βIβm right here.β
βI know,β he says, voice breaking. βI know. And thatβs why I hate myself. Because you were right here and I stillβ¦ I still let it happen.β
You swallow, trying not to throw up.
βDid you sleep with her?β
Hanβs sobs stutter.
He nods once, tiny and devastated.
The world tilts.
Your body goes numb first. Like your brain is trying to protect you by shutting everything down.
βOnce?β you whisper, barely audible.
Han shakes his head, crying harder.
βNo,β he admits. βNot once.β
You make a sound that doesnβt feel human.
Han flinches like itβs a gunshot.
βI tried to stop,β he pleads. βI tried. I kept telling myself Iβd end it, Iβd fix it, Iβd come back to you fully, Iβd be the boyfriend you deserve. I kept thinking I could do it before you noticed. I kept thinking I could carry it and youβd never have to know.β
He looks up finally, eyes red, face wet.
βIβm so sorry,β he whispers. βIβm so sorry. I hate myself. I hate myself so much.β
You stare at him.
And the worst part is that you believe him.
You believe heβs sorry.
You believe he hates himself.
But it doesnβt change what happened.
It doesnβt undo the way he let you slowly bleed out emotionally while he had someone elseβs name on his tongue.
Your voice comes out dangerously calm.
βSo the distance,β you say. βThe nights you wouldnβt touch me. The way you looked at your phone like you were guarding it. The perfume. All of it was her.β
Han squeezes his eyes shut, nodding.
βI didnβt want you to find out like this,β he whispers.
You laugh once, sharp and broken.
βHow did you want me to find out?β
Han reaches for you without thinking, hand stretching toward your knee.
You flinch away.
He freezes, hand hovering in the air like heβs been burned.
That tiny movement wrecks him more than anything else. You see it on his face.
He whispers your name like itβs a prayer.
βAveryβ¦β
You stand up slowly, legs shaking.
Han looks up at you like youβre his whole world and heβs watching it collapse.
βI donβt know what to do,β you whisper, voice finally cracking. βI donβt know what Iβm supposed to do now.β
Hanβs face twists.
βIβll do anything,β he says desperately. βAnything you want. Iβll tell the company, Iβll cut contact, Iβllβ¦ Iβll leave, Iβll move out, Iβll do whatever. Please. Please donβt leave me.β
You press a hand to your mouth, trying to keep yourself from making another sound.
Because the tragedy isnβt that you donβt love him.
Itβs that you do.
And now love feels like something sharp.
You step backward, away from the bed, away from him.
Han scrambles up, panicked.
βPlease,β he repeats, voice breaking apart. βPlease, Avery. Please.β
Your tears finally spill.
You shake your head.
βI canβt,β you whisper. βI canβt fix this. I canβt be the one who fixes everything. I canβt.β
Han sobs again, collapsing back onto the bed like his bones gave up.
You turn toward the door, hand on the knob.
And right before you leave, your voice comes out small and ruined.
βWas I not enough?β
Hanβs answer is immediate, strangled.
βYou were everything,β he cries. βThatβs why Iβm destroying myself. Because you were everything and I stillβ¦β
His voice breaks completely.
You close your eyes.
Because βyou were everythingβ doesnβt stop the ache.
It just proves that even being everything doesnβt guarantee being chosen.
You open the door.
The dorm hallway light spills in.
And you step out, leaving Han behind you with a love song still hanging in the air like a ghost.
You donβt go far.
You end up in the bathroom down the hall, sitting on the closed toilet lid with your knees pulled to your chest, shaking so hard your teeth click.
You stare at your phone like it might give you instructions.
What do normal people do when their life cracks open like this?
You want to call someone. You want to scream. You want to vanish.
Instead, you sit there in the sterile bathroom light, listening to the dormβs distant noise, and you realize something awful.
The others donβt know.
Theyβre laughing. Gaming. Eating. Living.
And youβre in here with a secret that is suddenly too big for your lungs.
Your hands tremble as you press your palms to your face.
The tears come in waves. Not dramatic, not pretty, just steady devastation.
After a while, thereβs a knock.
Soft.
βAvery?β a voice calls quietly from the other side.
Itβs Chan.
Your heart jumps.
You scrub your face, inhale shakily, and open the door a crack.
Chanβs eyes scan you in one second and his expression changes.
βHey,β he says gently. βWhat happened?β
Your throat tightens.
You shake your head, unable to speak.
Chanβs gaze flicks past you down the hall, toward your room.
Toward Han.
He doesnβt press, not right away. He just lowers his voice.
βDo you need me to sit with you?β
You stare at him, and your eyes burn again, because the kindness feels like salt.
You swallow.
βIβ¦ I donβt know,β you whisper.
Chan nods like that makes sense.
βOkay,β he says softly. βThen Iβll just be here. Iβm not going anywhere.β
Your shoulders sag.
You open the door wider, and he steps in just enough to give you space while still standing close.
βWhatβs going on?β he asks again, quieter.
Your voice comes out tiny.
βHeβ¦ he cheated.β
Chan goes still.
You watch his face register the words like they physically hit him.
βHan?β he whispers.
You nod, tears spilling again.
Chanβs jaw tightens. His eyes soften with something that looks like anger and heartbreak at the same time.
βOh,β he says, voice rough. βAvery.β
You press your hand over your mouth, shaking.
Chan doesnβt touch you immediately, like heβs waiting for permission. When you finally nod, barely, he pulls you into a careful hug, not tight, not suffocating, just steady.
βIβm so sorry,β he murmurs.
The words break you again, because Chan didnβt hurt you, but heβs apologizing anyway. Like heβs holding some of the weight just because you canβt carry it alone.
You cling to his hoodie for a second, like a life raft.
Then you pull back, wiping your face again.
βI canβt be here,β you whisper. βI canβtβ¦ I canβt breathe in this dorm right now.β
Chan nods immediately.
βOkay,β he says. βDo you want to go somewhere else tonight? Iβll help.β
You stare at him, stunned.
βYouβll help me leave?β
Chanβs eyes hold yours, steady.
βIβll help you do whatever you need,β he says softly. βYou donβt have to decide the rest of your life tonight. But you shouldnβt be trapped in a hallway bathroom with your heart in your hands, okay?β
You nod shakily.
Chan glances toward the door, then back to you.
βDo you want me to talk to him?β he asks. βOr do you want to?β
Your chest tightens. You picture Hanβs face, wet with tears, the guitar on the bed like a weapon, the love song that now feels like a funeral.
βI canβt,β you whisper again. βNot right now.β
Chan nods.
βOkay,β he repeats, gentle but firm. βThen you pack a bag. Iβll make sure nobody bothers you.β
You swallow.
βWhat about the others?β
βIβll handle it,β Chan says. βIβll keep it vague. You donβt owe anyone explanations tonight.β
Your eyes fill again.
βThank you,β you whisper, and your voice breaks on the words.
Chanβs expression softens even more.
βYeah,β he says quietly. βOf course.β
He steps out first, like a shield, giving you a clear path down the hall.
Your legs feel like they donβt belong to you as you walk back toward your room.
The closer you get, the more your chest tightens.
Because behind that door is Han.
The person you loved like home.
The person who just tore the floor out from under you.
You pause with your hand on the knob.
Your whole body trembles.
Chan waits a few feet away, giving you space.
You open the door.
Han is still on the bed.
His eyes snap to you instantly, red-rimmed and desperate. His face crumples like heβs been holding his breath waiting for you to come back.
βAvery,β he whispers.
You stand in the doorway, not stepping inside fully.
Your voice is hoarse.
βIβm packing a bag.β
Han jolts like the sentence is a knife.
βNo,β he chokes. βPlease. Please donβt go.β
You swallow hard.
βI canβt stay,β you whisper. βNot tonight.β
Han slides off the bed, taking a step toward you.
You step back instantly.
He freezes mid-step, eyes wide with pain.
βI wonβt touch you,β he says quickly. βI swear. I wonβt. Iβll stay over there. Iβll do anything. Justβ¦ donβt leave.β
Your throat tightens.
You hate that he looks like this. You hate that your heart still reacts to his tears.
But you also hate that he didnβt cry like this when he was making choices that could destroy you.
You walk past him toward the closet, hands shaking as you yank open a drawer. You grab clothes without looking at what they are.
Han stays still, like he promised. Like a dog trying not to spook someone whoβs afraid.
He talks anyway, voice breaking apart.
βIβm sorry,β he repeats. βIβm sorry, Iβm sorry, Iβm sorry.β
You donβt answer.
Not because you donβt hear him.
Because if you answer, youβll collapse.
You shove toiletries into a bag. You grab your phone charger. You grab the hoodie he always wears, then hesitate, then drop it back like it burned you.
Han watches all of it like itβs a slow-motion catastrophe.
When you zip the bag, his chest heaves.
He whispers, barely audible.
βDo you hate me?β
You pause.
Your eyes sting again.
βNo,β you whisper honestly. βAnd thatβs what makes it worse.β
Han makes a sound that is almost a sob, almost a broken laugh. He presses his fist to his mouth like heβs trying to swallow the noise.
You lift the bag strap over your shoulder.
Hanβs voice turns frantic.
βPlease,β he says. βTell me what to do. Tell me how to fix it.β
You look at him then, really look at him.
βI donβt know,β you say quietly. βYou were the one who broke it.β
His face collapses.
You turn away before you can change your mind.
Chan is still in the hall, waiting. He sees the bag and nods, steady.
You walk past him.
Behind you, the room is silent except for Hanβs uneven breathing.
You donβt look back, because you know if you do, you might stay.
And you canβt stay in a place where your name stopped being enough to keep him faithful.
β
At first, he just stands there.
The room feels wrong. Too bright. Too quiet. The guitar is still lying on the bed where he left it, one string buzzing faintly from where his hand bumped it.
He stares at the empty doorway like he expects you to walk back in and tell him it was a test, a joke, anything but real.
You donβt.
Something in his chest gives out.
Han sinks to the floor.
It isnβt graceful. His legs justβ¦ stop holding him and he drops, knees hitting the wood hard enough to hurt. The pain barely registers over everything else.
He presses his palms to his eyes. Heβs already cried so much that his head aches, but more tears force their way out anyway. His breathing comes in shallow bursts that donβt feel like air.
He can still hear your voice.
βWas I not enough?β
He hears it over and over, like a broken record, like a curse.
βYou were everything.β
He said it like the truth it is, but the words feel useless now. They hang in the air like smoke, disappearing while the damage stays.
He thinks about the first time he saw you in this room, nervously folding clothes into his drawers. The way you tested the bed springs and laughed. The way you kissed him goodnight like you believed there would be thousands more.
He thinks about this same floor under his knees that night you fell asleep half on top of him, mid-conversation, mouth parted, soft little breaths. He had looked down at you and thought, with terrifying clarity, I could do this forever.
And then he thinks about Samantha.
He wants to claw his own brain out.
It didnβt start with some dramatic kiss in a stairwell. It started stupid.
Jokes. Complaints. Shared exhaustion in a practice room when everyone else left early. Words thrown into the air, bouncing around with the echo of music.
Samantha had smiled at him like she saw something in him besides the idol or the loud one or the one who cracks jokes when things get too dark. She listened when he talked. She laughed at things he was not actually sure were funny.
He had told himself it was nothing.
He had told himself it was safe.
He had told himself you would never have to know.
And then βnothingβ turned into walks to the subway and long messages and accidental lingering touches, and his own stupid, selfish brain kept accepting comfort he had no right to take.
He remembers the first time he kissed her with a kind of nausea that makes his stomach twist. It had felt wrong even as it happened, like his body had split off from his conscience and was moving on its own.
Afterward, he had gone back to the dorm and you were on the couch, half asleep, a drama paused on the screen. You turned when you heard the door.
βHey,β you had murmured, eyes soft. βYouβre home.β
You had stood up and walked toward him like you always did, arms opening automatically, like he was the place you always meant to end up.
He remembers hugging you and wanting to peel his own skin off.
He remembers how you nestled your face into his neck and breathed him in, the way you always do when youβre tired, like his scent is the thing that calms you.
He remembers the guilt feeling like poison in his veins.
He remembers still choosing to stay quiet.
Now, on the floor, he lets out a sound that would scare you if you heard it. A choked noise that does not sound like him.
He digs his fingers into his hair, pulling hard.
βIβm sorry,β he gasps, like thereβs anyone here to hear it.
The words bounce off the walls and fall flat.
The dorm feels different without you in it. Colder. Even the clutter on his desk looks wrong, like your presence rearranged the air and now that youβre gone, everything is in the wrong place.
Thereβs a soft knock on the door.
Han doesnβt answer. He canβt. His throat feels shredded.
The knock comes again, a little firmer.
βItβs me.β
Chanβs voice.
Han squeezes his eyes shut.
Maybe if he stays silent, Chan will go away. Maybe he can stay here on the floor and dissolve.
The door opens anyway.
Han hears it creak, hears footsteps hesitate just inside the room.
Thereβs a long pause.
βJesus, Jisung,β Chan says quietly.
Han doesnβt look up.
He canβt stand to see that look on Chanβs face. Disappointment. Anger. Disgust. Heβs imagined it in his head since the first time he crossed the line with Samantha.
He always knew if anyone found out, this would be the look.
Heβd just never imagined how it would feel to actually face it.
βGet up,β Chan says after a moment.
Han shakes his head, shoulders shaking with each broken inhale.
βI canβt,β he manages. It comes out muffled behind his hands.
Chan sighs, long and heavy. The bed creaks as he sits down on the edge, not touching Han yet, but there.
βI walked Avery to the door,β he says. βSheβs gone.β
Han lets out a low, raw sound that might be βokayβ or might just be pain.
He did that.
He put motion in your steps in the wrong direction.
βWhat the fuck happened?β Chan asks finally.
His voice is not shouting. Itβs not even loud. Somehow that makes it worse.
Han presses his forehead to his knees.
βI cheated,β he whispers, ashamed.
βI know that,β Chan snaps, control fraying at the edges. βShe told me. I asked what happened, not what I already know. Why did you do it?β
Why did you do that to her sits in the space between them, unsaid but heavy.
Hanβs chest tightens.
Heβs asked himself the same question every day since the first time he crossed that line.
Why.
Why when he had someone who loved him like you did. Someone who lived with him, who learned his moods, who waited up for him, who made him feel more human than anything else.
Why wasnβt it enough.
His voice is small when he answers.
βI donβt know,β he whispers. βI donβt know whatβs wrong with me.β
He expects Chan to scoff, to tell him thatβs a cop-out.
Instead, Chan takes a slow breath.
βThatβs not good enough,β he says, calm but sharp. βYou donβt get to blow up her life and then shrug and say you donβt know why.β
Hanβs shoulders curl in tighter.
βI didnβt mean to hurt her,β he says, tears spilling again. βI swear I didnβt. It justβ¦ it just happened.β
Chanβs voice goes hard.
βNo,β he says. βIt didnβt βjust happenβ. You made a choice. Probably a lot of choices. Again and again.β
Han flinches. He deserves every word.
βI know,β he says. βI know. I know. I was stupid. I was selfish. Iβ¦β
He trails off, searching for something that makes sense.
βI felt like I was drowning,β he says finally, voice cracking. βThere was so much pressure. The schedules, the expectations, being funny all the time, being okay all the time. With Avery, Iβ¦ I love her so much it scared me. I didnβt want her to seeβ¦ how ugly it gets in my head. I didnβt want to drag her down with me.β
He laughs once, bitter and wet.
βAnd then there was someone who didnβt know me like that,β he says. βWho didnβt know my worst days, who wasnβt there when I was having panic attacks in the bathroom, who justβ¦ saw me as this cool, confident guy. It felt easy. It felt like I couldβ¦ turn my brain off and just exist without all the history. I kept telling myself it was harmless. Just a break. Just something separate.β
Chan is quiet for a moment.
βAnd then,β he prompts.
Han swallows.
βAnd then I crossed the line,β he whispers. βAnd once I did, it was likeβ¦ something broke. I kept thinking Iβd stop. Iβd stop tomorrow. Next week. After comeback. After this one schedule. I kept thinking I could climb back over the line and pretend it never happened.β
He shakes his head, disgusted with himself.
βIβd come home and see Avery,β he says softly, βand sheβd look at me like I hung the moon, like I was someone worth waiting up for, and Iβd feel like I was made of garbage. So I started pulling away because I hated myself so much I couldnβt stand how much she loved me.β
He wipes his face on his sleeve, words tumbling out now that the damn has cracked.
βI thought if I distanced myself, Iβd protect her somehow,β he says. βLike if she loved me a little less, it would hurt less when she found out. Or when I eventually told her. Or when I screwed up so badly I couldnβt hide it.β
He chokes on a sob.
βBut the whole time I was telling myself that, I kept going back,β he whispers. βI kept choosing the thing that made me hate myself more. Just because it was easier in the moment, because it made the noise in my head shut up for a while.β
He drags in a ragged breath.
βIt wasnβt worth it,β he adds, voice broken. βNothing about it was worth what I just did to her. To us.β
Chan is quiet.
Han finally risks a glance up.
Chanβs expression is a mix of emotions so strong Han almost has to look away again. Anger. Hurt. A bleak kind of disappointment that cuts deeper than shouting ever could.
He looks tired.
βYou know what Avery said to me in the hallway?β Chan asks softly.
Hanβs stomach twists.
βWhat?β he whispers.
βShe asked me if there was something wrong with her,β Chan says. βIf she wasnβt enough. If she did something to make you look somewhere else.β
Han feels physically ill.
βI told her no,β Chan goes on. βBecause I know that girl. I see how sheβs been here for you. I see how she fits into this dorm like she was meant to be part of it. She asked me why youβd do this if she wasnβt the problem, and I didnβt know what to tell her.β
Han covers his face again, sobbing.
βIβm the problem,β he gasps. βItβs me. Itβs all me.β
Chan sighs, rubbing a hand over his face.
βYeah,β he says. βIt is.β
Thereβs no cruelty in it. Just honesty.
βBut that doesnβt help her much right now,β he adds. βAll she knows is that the person she trusted most in this building made her feel disposable.β
Hanβs chest clenches so hard it hurts.
βSheβs not,β he insists desperately. βSheβs not disposable. Sheβs the only person Iβ¦β
His voice breaks.
He canβt say it. Not because it isnβt true, but because the weight of it feels like a joke now.
Chan watches him.
βSo what are you going to do?β he asks.
Han stares at him, confused.
βI already lost her,β he whispers. βShe left.β
Chan nods slowly.
βMaybe,β he says. βMaybe for good. Maybe not. Thatβs up to her, and you donβt get to pressure her either way. But whether you get her back or notβ¦ you canβt stay like this. You canβt keep being the person who did this.β
Hanβs breath stutters.
βI donβt know how to be anything else,β he says quietly.
Chan gives him a long, searching look.
βYou start by being honest,β he says. βWith yourself, with us, with the company if you have to. You cut it off with that girl. Completely. No messages, no βclosureβ, no nothing. You tell her it was wrong and itβs over.β
Han nods, tears still leaking down his cheeks.
βOkay,β he whispers. βI can do that.β
βYou get help,β Chan continues. βReal help. You talk to someone about why you thought you needed this. About why you couldnβt just come to Avery and say you were drowning. Because whether sheβs in your life or not, youβre still going to be in that head of yours. And if you donβt deal with it, youβll hurt someone else. Maybe yourself.β
Hanβs throat tightens.
βI donβt want to hurt anyone,β he says.
βI know,β Chan says. βBut wanting isnβt enough. You have to choose differently. Every day. Or else wanting is just a pretty word.β
Han nods miserably.
Chan leans forward, elbows on his knees, hands clasped.
βAnd as for Avery,β he says, voice softening, βyou give her space. You donβt text her apologies at three in the morning. You donβt show up at whatever friendβs place sheβs at. You donβt make this harder by making your guilt her responsibility.β
Han swallows.
βWhat if she never talks to me again?β he whispers.
Chanβs face tightens.
βThen thatβs what you live with,β he says gently. βThatβs part of the consequence. You loved her and you betrayed her. You donβt get to decide how she heals.β
A fresh wave of tears hits Han.
He nods, shaking.
βOkay,β he says hoarsely. βOkay.β
Chan watches him for a long moment.
βIβm pissed at you,β he says frankly. βIβm really, really fucking disappointed. And Iβm going to be angry for a while.β
Han nods, accepting the blow.
βBut Iβm not going to abandon you,β Chan adds. βThat would just add more damage to the pile. Iβm going to hold you accountable. Iβm going to make you think about what you did. Iβm going to be annoying as hell about you going to therapy. But Iβm not leaving you alone in this dorm to rot. That wonβt fix what you did to her.β
Something in Hanβs chest loosens and aches at the same time.
He doesnβt deserve that kind of loyalty.
But he knows Chan enough to know arguing about it wonβt change anything.
Chan stands up.
βGet off the floor,β he says quietly. βTake a shower. Drink some water. You look like youβre about to pass out.β
Han hesitates.
βWhere is she?β he asks. The words slip out before he can stop them.
Chanβs jaw flexes.
βSafe,β he says. βThatβs all you need to know.β
Han flinches but nods.
βCan youβ¦β he swallows. βCan you tell her Iβm sorry?β
Chan meets his eyes, and for the first time since he walked in, thereβs something almost kind in his expression.
He shakes his head.
βNo,β he says. βYou already told her youβre sorry. She believed you. That doesnβt change what happened. Iβm not going to be your messenger boy so you feel better.β
Han nods, shame flooding him again.
Chan softens just a fraction.
βIf she asks how you are, Iβll tell her youβre a mess,β he says. βBecause you are. And because she deserves to know youβre not just moving on like nothing happened.β
Han swallows past the lump in his throat.
βOkay,β he whispers.
Chan moves toward the door.
He pauses with his hand on the knob.
βYou know,β he says slowly, without turning around, βyou didnβt cheat because she wasnβt enough. You cheated because you werenβt brave enough to sit in your own pain and let someone love you through it.β
The words land like a blow.
Chan opens the door.
βFigure out how to be braver than that,β he finishes, and steps out.
The door closes softly behind him.
Han is alone again.
He stays on the floor for a long time, staring at the space you used to fill.
Eventually, he forces himself to get up. His legs shake. His head spins. He stumbles toward the bathroom like heβs learning to walk for the first time.
In the mirror, his eyes are swollen, hair a wreck, face blotchy.
He looks like someone he wouldnβt trust.
He turns on the water.
Steam begins to fog the glass.
He steps under the spray and leans his head against the tile, letting the water hit his shoulders hard enough to sting.
He closes his eyes and sees you standing in the doorway with a bag over your shoulder.
βDo you hate me?β
βNo. And thatβs what makes it worse.β
He presses his fist against his mouth and lets himself break again.
Because the truth is, you were enough.
You were always enough.
He just wasnβt.
And now, in a dorm that suddenly feels too big without you, he finally understands that there are some mistakes you donβt get to come back from, no matter how many songs you write.
Youβre out there somewhere, heart cracked, trying to breathe.
Heβs in here, finally drowning in the consequences he tried so hard not to face.
And for once, he canβt run.
β
Heβs in the bathroom still, water pounding against his back, eyes raw.
And suddenly Chanβs words pin him right where he stands.
You cut it off with that girl. Completely. No messages, no βclosureβ, no nothing.
He turns the water off with a shaky hand.
The mirror is fogged over. He doesnβt wipe it clear. He doesnβt want to see himself again yet.
He stumbles back into your, his, room in a towel, heart hammering.
His phone is on the bed where he dropped it earlier.
For one wild second, he thinks about throwing it into the wall until it shatters.
Instead, he picks it up.
His hands are still damp. The screen blurs from the moisture as he unlocks it.
The chat thread is right there, second from the top.
Samantha π«
He stares at the name.
His thumb hovers.
He opens it.
The messages sit there in ugly, normal rows. Little jokes. Little complaints. Pictures. Voice notes.
Proof.
Proof of every decision he made to step a little further away from you and a little closer to something he shouldβve never touched.
His stomach flips.
She texted a few hours ago, before everything exploded.
Sam: howβs rehearsal baby?
Sam: you coming over later or nah?
He squeezes his eyes shut.
He takes a breath that feels like broken glass.
His thumbs start moving.
Jisung: weβre done.
Jisung: Iβm serious, Sam. I cheated on someone I love and Iβve hurt her enough. Iβm not doing this anymore. It was wrong from the beginning. Iβm ending it now.
He stares at the words.
Thereβs a part of him that wants to soften it, explain, apologize to her too. To make himself look less like the villain in at least one version of this story.
He doesnβt edit it.
He hits send.
The βdeliveredβ check mark appears.
He doesnβt have to wait long.
The typing bubble shows up almost instantly.
Sam: wtf?
Sam: are you serious right now
Sam: after EVERYTHING?
Sam: youβre just dumping me over text?
His chest tightens.
He types again.
Jisung: I should never have started this. Iβm sorry. Itβs over.
Another bubble.
Sam: because your little dorm girlfriend found out?
He flinches like she reached through the phone and slapped him.
He types.
Jisung: donβt talk about her. This is my fault, not hers.
Jisung: Iβm not going to argue. Itβs over.
The three dots flash, disappear, flash again.
Sam: wow. π
Sam: so I was just what? some stress relief?
Sam: you said you were unhappy
Sam: you said she didnβt get it
Sam: you said we had something real
His vision blurs again.
He doesnβt deny it.
Because that would be another lie, and heβs finally choking on the ones heβs already told.
He types with shaking fingers.
Jisung: I was wrong. I was selfish. I lied.
Jisung: Iβm not making excuses anymore.
Jisung: I am ending it now. Please donβt contact me again.
He hits send before he can rethink it.
The typing bubble pops up instantly.
Then his phone starts to ring.
Her name lights the screen.
He stares at it, throat closing.
He declines the call.
It rings again. Immediately.
He hits decline again, faster.
Again.
His heart is beating too fast. His hands are slick.
Sheβs not going to let this go easily. He knows that. He knew it the second he felt the tone of her messages change from flirty to furious.
He does the only thing he can think of.
He opens the contact.
His thumb hesitates over βBlock Caller.β
The flash of guilt is quick and strange. He did this. He made this mess. Blocking her feels like cutting off responsibility.
You didnβt get to block the damage. You didnβt get to block the pain.
He presses the button anyway.
The ringing stops.
He lets out a breath he didnβt realize heβd been holding.
The quiet in the room feels weirdly loud now. His ears ring with it.
Then his phone buzzes again.
He frowns.
Notification banner.
Instagram: 1 new DM request
His stomach drops.
He opens the app with a sense of dread.
There it is, at the top of the βRequestsβ section.
samantha_sky wants to send you a message.
He taps it.
The message appears, angry words in a neat little box.
Sam: oh. so you BLOCKED me?
Sam: you really think you can just walk away from this like that??
Sam: must be nice being Han Jisung, huh? everything for your image π
Another line pops up.
Sam: if you wonβt answer me, maybe your FANS will. or your company. bet theyβd love to know how youβve been spending your nights
His vision tunnels.
The room spins a little.
Another message.
Sam: I have pictures. screenshots. you think theyβll still eat up your little love songs when they see how you really are?
His pulse pounds in his ears.
He can see it. Headlines. Articles. Threads. Your face dragged into it, even if she doesnβt know your name. People speculating. People blaming you. People blaming her. People tearing apart every moment of your relationship looking for clues.
And the group.
The members.
Years of work.
All hanging over a cliff because he couldnβt keep his fucking boundaries.
His hands start to shake so hard he almost drops the phone.
He types, fingers clumsy.
Jisung: Sam, please donβt. This isnβt just about me.
Jisung: Iβm not talking to you because itβs WRONG. Not because I donβt care that youβre hurt. I do.
Jisung: But going public will just hurt more people who didnβt do anything.
He hits send.
The βseenβ mark appears.
The reply comes fast.
Sam: you shouldβve thought about βwho youβd hurtβ BEFORE you crawled into my bed.
Sam: do not tell me whatβs wrong after all that.
His breath stutters.
Sheβs right.
He doesnβt have the moral high ground here. He never will again.
He types again anyway, desperation bleeding into every word.
Jisung: I know. Youβre right.
Jisung: But I am ending this now. Iβm taking responsibility.
Jisung: Please donβt drag other people into it.
Jisung: Iβll do whatever you need me to do to make this right, but going public will only make everything worse for everyone, including you.
Typing bubble.
Sam: maybe I want everything to be worse.
Sam: maybe I donβt mind if people know what you did.
His throat closes.
He sees your face again, asking if you werenβt enough.
He sees Chanβs face, exhausted and disappointed.
He feels the ground tilt under his feet.
He doesnβt know what to say that wonβt sound like another manipulation. Another attempt to control someone elseβs pain.
He stares at the screen until the messages blur.
Then his body moves on its own.
He gets up.
He walks out of the room, gripping the phone so tight his knuckles hurt.
The dorm feels like itβs listing sideways.
He finds Chan in the living room, sitting on the couch with his laptop open, replying to emails, trying to pretend the world is functioning.
βHyung,β Han croaks.
Chan looks up.
His expression shifts immediately when he sees Hanβs face.
βWhat happened?β he asks, standing halfway before he even finishes the sentence.
Han walks over like someone pulled all his strings out.
He holds the phone out with a trembling hand.
βSheβs threatening to out it,β he says, voice cracking. βTo expose everything. She says she has proof, screenshots, pictures. Sheβ¦ she might go public. I blocked her number and she went to my Instagram..β
The words tangle up and collapse.
He presses his free hand to his mouth to stop the sob thatβs threatening to rip out of his chest.
Chan takes the phone from him gently.
βSit,β he says quietly. βSit down, Jisung.β
Han shakes his head, tears already spilling again.
βI fucked everything up,β he chokes. βItβs not just Avery now, itβs.. itβs the group, itβs you, itβs the fans, itβs..β
βSit,β Chan repeats, more firmly, guiding him down onto the couch.
Han collapses into the cushions, hands shaking.
Chan lowers himself beside him, thumb already moving over the screen, scrolling through the messages.
Han watches his leaderβs face tighten, eyes flickering quickly as he absorbs the situation.
He feels like a kid who broke something priceless and is handing the shattered pieces to the only adult in the room.
A sob escapes his throat.
βIβm sorry,β he whispers again. βIβm sorry, hyung. Iβm so sorry.β
Chan doesnβt respond right away.
He finishes reading, then locks the phone and sets it on the coffee table like heβs putting down a loaded weapon.
He turns back to Han.
βHey,β he says quietly. βLook at me.β
Han drags his gaze up, vision swimming.
Chanβs expression is serious, but not panicked.
That alone keeps Han from completely losing it.
βFirst,β Chan says, βbreathe.β
βI canβt,β Han gasps. βSheβs going to tell everyone, sheβs going to..β
βJisung,β Chan cuts in, voice calm but firm. βIf you pass out on me, Iβm going to have even more problems, okay? Breathe. In. Right now.β
He inhales shakily, then exhales, chest hitching.
βAgain,β Chan says.
Han obeys.
In. Out. In. Out.
The tears donβt stop, but his lungs start cooperating again, at least enough to keep him conscious.
Chan waits until his breathing is less ragged.
βOkay,β he says. βNow we figure this out. One step at a time.β
Han blinks at him.
βHow,β he whispers. βHow do you fix something like this?β
Chanβs mouth presses into a tight line.
βYou donβt fix it,β he says honestly. βYou manage the damage. And you take responsibility. And you protect the people who didnβt ask to be in the blast radius.β
Hanβs throat tightens.
βAvery,β he whispers.
Chanβs gaze softens.
βYeah,β he says. βAvery. The members. The staff. Even this girl, to an extent. Sheβs hurt too, even if sheβs making bad choices with that hurt.β
Han drops his eyes, shame choking him.
Chan speaks more gently.
βThreatening to expose someone is wrong,β he says. βBut you put her in a position where she feels like you tossed her aside to salvage your image. Thatβs on you. Weβre not going to call her crazy. Weβre not going to make her the whole villain. Not when we know why sheβs angry.β
Han nods miserably.
βI know,β he whispers.
Chan picks up his phone again, turning it over in his hands.
βYou ended it, right?β he asks.
Han nods.
βI told her it was over,β he says. βI blocked her number. She started messaging on Instagram and saying she wants to tell everyone.β
Chan hums, thinking.
βOkay,β he says slowly. βSo, first: youβre not replying to her anymore. At all.β
Hanβs head snaps up.
βBut..β
βNo,β Chan cuts in gently but firmly. βEvery message you send now becomes another screenshot. Another weapon. Youβve said what you needed to say. You ended it. Anything else you say will either look like youβre trying to manipulate her or cover your ass.β
Han swallows.
βBut what if ignoring her makes her angrier?β
βIt might,β Chan says. βBut engaging her when everyoneβs emotions are this high will almost definitely make things worse. Right now, you protect yourself legally and professionally by pulling back, and you let people who are trained for this decide the next moves.β
βTrained,β Han repeats, stomach dropping.
Chan nods grimly.
βWeβre telling management,β he says. βSoon. Like, tomorrow morning soon. Maybe tonight, if this escalates. They need to know thereβs a potential problem before it blindsides them. They need to see the messages.β
Hanβs entire body tenses.
βYouβre going to show them,β he whispers.
βYes,β Chan says. βBecause itβs not just you and her anymore. Itβs the companyβs reputation, the group, fans, Avery. Hiding it now would make everything worse when, and if, it comes out.β
Han nods slowly, tears still slipping down his face.
It feels like walking into a fire on purpose.
But he knows he deserves the burn.
Chan shifts closer.
βAnd Iβm going to be the one who goes with you,β he adds. βIβm not asking you to do it alone.β
That cracks something in Han again.
His shoulders shake.
βI donβt deserve you,β he chokes.
Chan sighs.
βI know,β he says softly. βYou donβt deserve Avery either. But this isnβt about what you deserve right now. Itβs about what needs to be done.β
Han lets out a broken laugh that isnβt really a laugh.
Chanβs expression softens further. He reaches out and pulls Han into a hug, one arm around his shoulders, hand cradling the back of his head like heβs trying to anchor him.
Han falls into it like heβs been starving for it.
This is how he shouldβve leaned on people when he was drowning. Here. With family. With someone who loves him enough to tell him no.
βIβm scared,β he whispers into Chanβs shoulder.
βI know,β Chan murmurs. βMe too.β
The admission makes Hanβs chest ache in a different way.
Heβs not the only one this hurts.
Chanβs whole body is tense. Heβs already calculating in his head, trying to protect everyone he can with limited options.
βWhatever happens,β Chan says quietly, βweβll face it. Okay? Weβll talk to the company. Weβll get legal to monitor her account and messages. If she leaks something, weβll handle the fallout as best we can. Weβll tell the others enough so theyβre prepared, but not every detail. And weβll keep Avery out of the spotlight as much as possible.β
Han squeezes his eyes shut.
βTheyβre going to hate me,β he says.
Chan doesnβt lie.
βSome people will,β he says softly. βSome might forgive you eventually. Some wonβt. Thatβs part of what you signed up for.β
Hanβs throat burns.
βAnd Avery,β he whispers. βWhat if this blows back on her? What if people find out who she is?β
βThen our priority is protecting her identity,β Chan says. βIf the company has any decency, theyβll keep her name out of their mouths. And if anything does leak, we push back hard on victim-blaming. You hear me?β
Han nods, jaw clenched.
Chan pulls back enough to look him in the eyes.
βAnd you donβt reach out to her,β he repeats. βNot about this. Not to warn her, not to apologize again, not to check if sheβs seen anything. If something happens that affects her directly, Iβll make sure she knows through someone she trusts. But you are not that person right now.β
The words land like a stone in his gut.
Not that person.
He used to be the person you trusted most.
Now heβs the one who has to stay away for your sake.
He wipes his face on his sleeve again, nodding.
βOkay,β he whispers. βI wonβt.β
Chan watches him for a long moment, then nods back.
βGood,β he says quietly. βThatβs the first smart choice youβve made in a while.β
Itβs half-tease, half-truth.
Usually, Han would snort. Pretend to be offended. Playfully shove him.
Now he just nods again, stunned and hollow.
Chan releases his shoulder, but stays close, a solid presence pressed against his side.
He reaches for the phone again.
βScreenshots,β he says. βWeβll back them up. Iβll email them to myself too, so thereβs a trail. If she threatens more or actually posts anything, weβll have timestamps and context.β
Han watches as Chan does what he should have done from the start, treat this like a problem to be handled honestly instead of damage to be hidden.
It feels like sitting in front of a wreck you caused while someone else tries to keep the fire from spreading.
βHyung,β Han says suddenly.
βYeah.β
βIf she does it,β he whispers. βIf she leaks it. If everyone finds out. Do you think Avery will hate me then?β
Chan exhales slowly.
βI think,β he says carefully, βthat if Avery sees you being honest, taking responsibility, actually doing the work to become a better personβ¦ sheβll still hurt. Sheβll still be angry. She might still leave you forever.β
He pauses.
βBut I donβt think sheβll hate you,β he finishes. βYou hurt her too deeply for this to ever be simple. Hate doesnβt grow where there used to be love like that. Not cleanly. It usually just turns into something complicated that sheβll carry for a long time.β
Hanβs eyes burn again.
βI donβt want her to carry anything,β he whispers.
Chan gives a sad half-smile.
βItβs too late for that,β he says. βYou already handed it to her. The only thing you can do now is not add more weight.β
Han nods, fingers twisting in the hem of his hoodie.
Chan sets the phone down with one last decisive tap.
βOkay,β he says. βScreenshots done. Messages preserved. Youβre not responding anymore.β
He looks back at Han.
βNow go put some clothes on,β he adds, a little softer. βThen weβre going to sit down with a notebook and make a plan. Tomorrow we talk to management.β
Hanβs stomach flips.
βRight,β he says weakly.
βHey,β Chan says gently. βOne thing at a time. Clothes. Water. Plan. Then the rest.β
Han pushes himself up from the couch like heβs moving through thick mud.
He takes a step, then hesitates.
βHyung.β
Chan looks up.
βThank you,β Han says, voice rough. βForβ¦ staying. Even when you want to kill me.β
Chan huffs out a humorless laugh.
βDonβt thank me yet,β he mutters. βYouβre still on my shit list.β
But then he softens, just a bit.
βIβm staying because thatβs what leaders do,β he says. βAnd because Avery loved you. The least we can do, you can do, is become someone worthy of that, even if she never sees it.β
Han nods, throat tightening again.
He turns and walks back to the room that still smells like your shampoo and his mistakes.
Behind him, Chan picks up the phone again, jaw tight, eyes sharp.
Outside, the city goes on. People laugh, sleep, scroll, live. No one knows yet that somewhere in one dorm, a boy is trying, and failing, not to fall apart, and that somewhere else, a girl is trying to remember how to breathe without him.
And in the digital space between, a name that never shouldβve been in his mouth keeps blinking at him in the form of a DM request, waiting to explode.
So Iβve been thinking HEAVILY about Jeonginβs recent performance at Le Gala des Pieces Jaunes and cannot stop thinking about how much of a dom Jeongin isβ¦ this isnβt proof read so sorry if thereβs any mistakes
CW: SMUT. MINORS DNI!!!! slapping, spitting, mild choking, pet names (slut,doll) mean jeongin, overstim. Think thatβs it xx
I canβt stop thinking about how you would act up whilst youβre with him and the other members, flirting, giggling and touching the boys just to get a rise from jeongin
I canβt stop thinking about how he would grab you by the arm and throw you down onto your bed, straddling you and already undressing you with your eyes.
I canβt stop thinking about how he would pin both arms above your head and stick his fucking tongue in his cheek and say βnot so fucking cocky now are you slut, hmm?β
I canβt stop thinking about how he would grab your neck and say ββ¦ I said open your fucking mouth!β and as you do, he stares into your eyes so deeply so you donβt dare look away and spits harshly, slapping you afterwards. βswallow. itβ
I canβt stop thinking about how he would actually rip your panties off you and say βrelax, Iβll buy you some new onesβ accompanied by an eye roll with a confidence that secretly has your clit throbbing.
I canβt stop thinking about how he would hold a vibrator to your pussy until your legs are shaking. βLook at me y/n and donβt you dare fucking look away! you look so cute shaking for me princess awww.β he would say condescendingly whilst laughing at your writhing body underneath him.
I canβt stop thinking about how much pleasure he would take in seeing you blab nonsensically, attempting to beg for him to let you cum. βwhatβs that baby? I canβt tell what youβre sayingβ¦ enunciate dollβ
I canβt stop thinking about how his cocky smirk would look over the top of you whilst your jaw is open wide with absolute bliss and torture. You donβt dare throw your head back in worry of what he might do. Both your eyes are LOCKED.
I canβt stop thinking about how he would fake a sympathetic pout as you beg for him to just let you cum. βKeep looking at me as you beg dollβ¦ god it turns me on so fucking muchβ¦ good girl.. look at meβ he would say as he turns up the vibrator setting even more.
I canβt stop thinking about how when he would finally let you cum, he would push the vibrator down onto your clit just to watch you beg for mercy from overstimulation. βinnie- stop ah! stop- fuck!β and he would just laugh in response.
βI know youβve got more left in you doll. Letβs see how many orgasms my good girl can have..β
some gifs that inspired my feral thoughts for this eveningβ¦
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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bang chan is the man who will always make sure you're never worried about your weight
bang chan is the first to reassure you whenever you're insecure about 'being too heavy' or 'too big'
bang chan asks how much you weighed that morning before he left for the gym. an hour later, he sends a video of him lifting your weight with ease (plus a few kg)
bang chan is the one to train with you as his weight, barely struggling, just to prove his point, doing far too many reps for reassurance.
bang chan is the one to throw you over his shoulder and keep you there, whether its teasing or...not
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
β Live Streamingβ Interactive Chatβ Private Showsβ HD Qualityβ Free Actions
Free to watch β’ No registration required β’ HD streaming