Tae and Mimi had always been known in their neighborhood. Not just because they were beautiful—though their beauty was something no one could ever ignore—but because they carried themselves with an unapologetic boldness that most women their age shied away from.

At forty, both of them could pass for women in their late twenties. Their skin was flawless, white and smooth like porcelain. Their lips were naturally pink and always glossed, their hair styled to perfection whenever they stepped out. Their bodies were thick in all the right places: big breasts that pushed proudly against the thin fabrics of their tops, rounded asses that bounced under tight skirts, and flat stomachs that betrayed hours spent keeping themselves fit.

They wore clothes that turned heads—crop tops that clung to their curves, low-cut dresses, skirts that barely covered their thighs. At bars, restaurants, and parties, men and younger boys whispered about them, stared openly, and sometimes even dared to try their luck. Tae and Mimi loved the attention. To the world, they were slutty, untamed, divorced women who still knew how to play the game.

But behind all that? They were mamas first.

Tae had her son, Yoongi. Tall, broad-shouldered, and so handsome that even her friends teased her, asking if she was raising a model. He was twenty-two, sharp-eyed yet warm, someone who had inherited both Tae’s good looks and her playful sarcasm. He was protective of her in quiet ways—fixing things around the house, offering to drive her home late at night, glaring at men who stared too long at her cleavage.

Mimi had Jungkook, or Kook as everyone called him. He was just as tall and handsome, his muscles filling out every shirt he wore, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. But unlike Yoongi’s reserved nature, Kook had a boyish charm and a playful energy that made people gravitate to him. He adored his mother, spoiled her with flowers and gifts on random days, and though he pretended to roll his eyes at her slutty outfits, he secretly loved her confidence.

The two boys were inseparable—best friends since childhood. They went to the same college, worked out together, played video games late into the night, and even knew each other’s deepest secrets. Yoongi had once confessed his crushes to Kook, and Kook had shared his too. They laughed about women, about sex, about life. What neither dared to say aloud was the forbidden truth—that Yoongi’s heart secretly beat faster around Mimi, and Kook’s eyes always lingered too long on Tae.

Tae and Mimi’s bond, meanwhile, was unshakable. They had been best friends since they were teenagers. They’d seen each other through marriages, pregnancies, divorces, heartbreaks, and triumphs. When Tae’s ex-husband cheated, Mimi was the one who picked her up off the bathroom floor and poured her wine until the tears dried. When Mimi’s husband walked out, Tae was the one who moved into her house for a week, cooking for her and Jungkook, refusing to let her fall apart.

They called each other almost every morning, often while getting dressed.

“What are you wearing today, bitch?” Tae teased once, smirking at her reflection in the mirror as she adjusted a barely-there black dress.

“A red top so tight Kook nearly choked on his juice when I walked into the kitchen,” Mimi laughed, her voice raspy from last night’s wine.

“You’re wicked.”

“And you’re not?”

Their laughter echoed through the phone.

That evening, Tae’s house smelled of spices as she cooked dinner for Yoongi. Despite her slutty reputation outside, she was a mother who still made sure her son ate home-cooked meals, who folded his laundry and nagged him about his late nights. Yoongi walked into the kitchen, hair damp from a shower, shirt clinging to his toned body.

“Smells good, mama,” he said, kissing her cheek before stealing a taste from the pan.

“Hands off, greedy boy,” she scolded, swatting his arm, though her smile gave her away.

Later, at Mimi’s house, Kook sprawled on the couch while Mimi folded clothes in tiny shorts and a tank top. Her ass peeked out shamelessly, and Kook shook his head with mock disapproval.

“Mom, do you have to dress like that at home too?”

“It’s my house, baby,” Mimi replied, grinning as she tossed a sock at him. “Don’t act like you don’t know I’ve always dressed this way.”

Kook rolled his eyes, but when she turned around, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing again. She was his mother, his best friend’s aunt-figure, but also the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

By the weekend, the two families met like they always did. Tae and Mimi sat on the patio with wine, legs crossed, dresses riding up their thighs. Their boys laughed in the living room, playing a video game.

“Mimi,” Tae whispered, lowering her glass, “do you ever think about what people say? About us being… sluts?”

Mimi smirked, sipping her wine. “Let them talk. We’ve earned our lives. We’ve been through marriages, heartbreak, everything. We’re happy, we’re sexy, and we’re good mothers. That’s what matters.”

Tae smiled softly, her eyes drifting toward the living room where their boys were shouting at the TV. Yoongi’s laugh mingled with Kook’s, warm and boyish. Their bond was strong, unbreakable—just like the bond between the two women watching them.

None of them knew just how tangled those bonds were about to become.

Tae and Mimi had always been known in their neighborhood. Not just because they were beautiful—though their beauty was something no one could ever ignore—but because they carried themselves with an unapologetic boldness that most women their age shied away from.

At forty, both of them could pass for women in their late twenties. Their skin was flawless, white and smooth like porcelain. Their lips were naturally pink and always glossed, their hair styled to perfection whenever they stepped out. Their bodies were thick in all the right places: big breasts that pushed proudly against the thin fabrics of their tops, rounded asses that bounced under tight skirts, and flat stomachs that betrayed hours spent keeping themselves fit.

They wore clothes that turned heads—crop tops that clung to their curves, low-cut dresses, skirts that barely covered their thighs. At bars, restaurants, and parties, men and younger boys whispered about them, stared openly, and sometimes even dared to try their luck. Tae and Mimi loved the attention. To the world, they were slutty, untamed, divorced women who still knew how to play the game.

But behind all that? They were mamas first.

Tae had her son, Yoongi. Tall, broad-shouldered, and so handsome that even her friends teased her, asking if she was raising a model. He was twenty-two, sharp-eyed yet warm, someone who had inherited both Tae’s good looks and her playful sarcasm. He was protective of her in quiet ways—fixing things around the house, offering to drive her home late at night, glaring at men who stared too long at her cleavage.

Mimi had Jungkook, or Kook as everyone called him. He was just as tall and handsome, his muscles filling out every shirt he wore, his jawline sharp enough to cut glass. But unlike Yoongi’s reserved nature, Kook had a boyish charm and a playful energy that made people gravitate to him. He adored his mother, spoiled her with flowers and gifts on random days, and though he pretended to roll his eyes at her slutty outfits, he secretly loved her confidence.

The two boys were inseparable—best friends since childhood. They went to the same college, worked out together, played video games late into the night, and even knew each other’s deepest secrets. Yoongi had once confessed his crushes to Kook, and Kook had shared his too. They laughed about women, about sex, about life. What neither dared to say aloud was the forbidden truth—that Yoongi’s heart secretly beat faster around Mimi, and Kook’s eyes always lingered too long on Tae.

Tae and Mimi’s bond, meanwhile, was unshakable. They had been best friends since they were teenagers. They’d seen each other through marriages, pregnancies, divorces, heartbreaks, and triumphs. When Tae’s ex-husband cheated, Mimi was the one who picked her up off the bathroom floor and poured her wine until the tears dried. When Mimi’s husband walked out, Tae was the one who moved into her house for a week, cooking for her and Jungkook, refusing to let her fall apart.

They called each other almost every morning, often while getting dressed.

“What are you wearing today, bitch?” Tae teased once, smirking at her reflection in the mirror as she adjusted a barely-there black dress.

“A red top so tight Kook nearly choked on his juice when I walked into the kitchen,” Mimi laughed, her voice raspy from last night’s wine.

“You’re wicked.”

“And you’re not?”

Their laughter echoed through the phone.

That evening, Tae’s house smelled of spices as she cooked dinner for Yoongi. Despite her slutty reputation outside, she was a mother who still made sure her son ate home-cooked meals, who folded his laundry and nagged him about his late nights. Yoongi walked into the kitchen, hair damp from a shower, shirt clinging to his toned body.

“Smells good, mama,” he said, kissing her cheek before stealing a taste from the pan.

“Hands off, greedy boy,” she scolded, swatting his arm, though her smile gave her away.

Later, at Mimi’s house, Kook sprawled on the couch while Mimi folded clothes in tiny shorts and a tank top. Her ass peeked out shamelessly, and Kook shook his head with mock disapproval.

“Mom, do you have to dress like that at home too?”

“It’s my house, baby,” Mimi replied, grinning as she tossed a sock at him. “Don’t act like you don’t know I’ve always dressed this way.”

Kook rolled his eyes, but when she turned around, he couldn’t stop himself from glancing again. She was his mother, his best friend’s aunt-figure, but also the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.

By the weekend, the two families met like they always did. Tae and Mimi sat on the patio with wine, legs crossed, dresses riding up their thighs. Their boys laughed in the living room, playing a video game.

“Mimi,” Tae whispered, lowering her glass, “do you ever think about what people say? About us being… sluts?”

Mimi smirked, sipping her wine. “Let them talk. We’ve earned our lives. We’ve been through marriages, heartbreak, everything. We’re happy, we’re sexy, and we’re good mothers. That’s what matters.”

Tae smiled softly, her eyes drifting toward the living room where their boys were shouting at the TV. Yoongi’s laugh mingled with Kook’s, warm and boyish. Their bond was strong, unbreakable—just like the bond between the two women watching them.

None of them knew just how tangled those bonds were about to become.