Tae stood before her closet’s cracked mirror as dusk bled into full night. The fluorescent bulb overhead flickered. She’d chosen the dress deliberately—a scrap of shimmering black fabric that barely covered her ass and plunged so deep in front her nipples threatened to peek over the edge. She smoothed it down over her hips, watching the fabric cling to every curve.

Cheap perfume choked the air, strawberries mixed with something sharper. Her reflection stared back: smudged eyeliner, swollen lips bitten raw, pink nipples hard against the thin material. She hadn’t worn underwear. The clock ticked loudly. 9:58. Two minutes.

***

The knock came at exactly ten. Sharp. Authoritative. Tae’s pulse leapt into her throat. She took a breath, pulling her shoulders back, letting the dress ride higher. The door opened silently.

Jungkook stood framed in the dim hallway light. His eyes, dark and unreadable, swept over her—the clinging dress, the exposed skin, the deliberate invitation. He didn’t speak. Just stepped inside, his large frame filling the cramped space instantly. The door clicked shut behind him.

He bypassed the cluttered desk, moving straight to the small, worn sofa. He sat heavily, the springs groaning. His gaze never left her. "Three months," he stated flatly, his voice gravel scraping stone. "The money, Tae. Where is it?"

She drifted towards him, hips swaying deliberately. "Just… a little more time?" Her voice was breathy, pleading, but her eyes held his steadily. She stopped inches from his knees. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off him, smell the lingering woodsy cologne mixed with something sharper—sweat? Anticipation?

Without breaking eye contact, she lowered herself slowly onto the sofa beside him. The worn cushion dipped. Her bare thigh pressed against his jeans-clad leg.

She shifted deliberately, letting the swell of her breast brush against his thick forearm through his rolled-up sleeve. She felt him tense, saw the slight flare of his nostrils. His knuckles whitened where they gripped the sofa arm.

"Daddy," she murmured, the word dripping honey-dark and deliberate. "Maybe I can pay… another way?" Her hand slid down his thigh, fingers curling boldly over the hard bulge straining against his zipper. She squeezed. Hard.

A low, choked groan ripped from Jungkook’s throat. His head snapped back against the sofa, eyes squeezing shut for a fraction of a second before fixing on her with stunned, blazing intensity.

"Christ," he rasped, his voice thick with disbelief and raw arousal. "You filthy little slut."

Tae just smiled, slow and wide, her fingers tightening possessively around the thick ridge beneath the denim. The cheap strawberry perfume hung heavy in the charged silence.

Her free hand drifted up, tracing the straining tendons in his neck, nails scraping lightly. "Need it, Daddy?" she breathed, leaning impossibly closer, her lips brushing the shell of his ear. Her breath hitched theatrically.

"I've got such a tight little pink pussy down here… wet and hungry for your fat cock. Bet you wanna shove it deep into my greedy little pussy, don’t you? Stuff all three holes full?"

She pressed her breast harder against his arm, grinding her palm over his trapped erection. "Use me. Fuck the rent right out of me."

Just as Jungkook’s hips bucked upwards against her hand, a sharp, high-pitched voice sliced through the thin door from downstairs.

"*Jungkook-ah!* It’s time to sleep! Are you listening? JUNGKOOK!" Sana’s call was shrill, impatient.

Jungkook froze, his entire body locking tight as a coiled spring, raw fury flashing across his face. Tae felt the immense tension vibrating through him – the interruption was a physical blow.

She didn't flinch. Instead, she leaned back just slightly, letting her fingers loosen minutely on his cock.

A slow, knowing, utterly slutty smile curved her lips. "Go on, Daddy," she murmured, her voice dripping saccharine poison. "Be a good husband." Her thumb rubbed a deliberate circle over the straining bulge through the rough denim.

"But… come back when she’s asleep." Her gaze locked onto his, heavy with promise. "I’ll be waiting… wet." She gave him one final, hard squeeze through his jeans, feeling the thick length pulse against her palm.

Jungkook shoved himself off the sofa with a violent jerk, breathing harshly through his nose. Tae rose fluidly beside him.

Before he could fully turn away, his hand shot out, catching her hard across the left cheek of her barely-covered ass with a sharp smack. The sound echoed in the small room.

Tae gasped, arching her back instinctively, a loud, wanton moan spilling from her lips – pure theatre, pure provocation. "Ohh, fuck, Daddy!"

He grabbed a handful of her ass, squeezing brutally through the flimsy fabric, fingers digging into the soft flesh. His eyes burned into hers, inches away. "Don't," he growled, low and guttural, "you fucking lock this door tonight."

The implication hung heavy and undeniable. He released her roughly, turned, and strode out without another word, slamming the door behind him so hard the framed mirror rattled on the wall.

Tae stood breathing heavily, the sting on her ass a delicious counterpoint to the throbbing heat between her legs. Downstairs, Sana's nagging voice continued, oblivious. Tae touched her stinging cheek, a triumphant, filthy smile spreading across her face. He was coming back. For her.