Tae sat cross-legged on her dorm bed, her laptop balanced on her thick thighs, the screen glowing in the dim light of her room. It had been a week since the breakup, and the initial wave of heartbreak had ebbed into a simmering rage that kept her up at night. She chewed on her pink lower lip, scrolling aimlessly through social media, her mind racing with ideas for revenge. Slash his tires? Too petty, and she didn’t even know where he parked his fancy Lamborghini these days. Spread rumors about him? But who would believe her over the campus playboy with endless cash to throw around? Hack his accounts? She wasn’t tech-savvy enough for that. No, it had to be something that hit him where it hurt—his ego, his perfect little rich-boy world. But how? She slammed the laptop shut in frustration, her big boobs jiggling slightly under her tight tank top, the thin fabric doing little to hide her hardened nipples from the cool air. “Ugh, think, Tae,” she muttered to herself, flopping back onto the pillows. Her slutty little shorts rode up, exposing the soft, pale skin of her ass cheeks, but she didn’t care. Revenge was all that mattered.

The next day, during a break between classes, Tae wandered the bustling college quad, her platform heels clicking against the concrete as she sipped a coffee. She was dressed in her usual eye-catching style: a sheer white blouse that clung to her generous curves, unbuttoned just enough to show a hint of her lacy black bra, paired with a mini skirt that barely skimmed her thighs. Her long hair swayed with each step, and more than a few guys stole glances at her juicy ass as she passed. But Tae’s mind was elsewhere, lost in thoughts of Sehun’s smug face when he’d shrugged off their breakup like it was nothing.

That’s when she overheard them—a group of rich sorority girls huddled near a fountain, their designer bags scattered around them as they gossiped in hushed, excited tones. Tae recognized a couple from Sehun’s circle; they’d always looked down on her, calling her “that orphan girl” behind her back. She paused, pretending to check her phone, close enough to eavesdrop.

“Oh my god, did you see Sehun’s mom at that gala last weekend? Yeji Jeon is such a bitch,” one girl whispered, flipping her hair. “She literally yelled at the waiter for spilling a drop of champagne. Total gold-digger vibes.”

Another giggled. “Yeah, but his dad? Jeon Jungkook? Holy shit, he’s a total catch. Like, tall, broad, and that face—mmm. I’d climb him like a tree. Too bad he’s stuck with her. I heard their marriage is basically for show now.”

Tae’s ears perked up. Sehun’s family? She’d never met them—Sehun had always kept her at arm’s length from that part of his life, saying they were “too busy” or “not into meeting girlfriends.” But now… his dad? The words echoed in her mind. A total catch. She didn’t think much of it at first, just a fleeting curiosity as she walked away. But by the time she reached her next class, it had clicked like a puzzle piece snapping into place. His dad. What if she could hurt Sehun through his family? Make him feel the betrayal she felt. Her heart raced at the audacity of it, but the seed was planted.

That evening, back in her dorm, Tae couldn’t shake the idea. She opened her laptop, her fingers hovering over the keys before typing “CEO of Jeon” into Google. The results loaded instantly: articles, photos, bios. And there he was—Jeon Jungkook, the billionaire tycoon behind Jeon Industries. Tae’s breath caught in her throat as she clicked on the first image. He was… breathtaking. Tall, at least 6’2” from what she could guess, with broad shoulders that filled out his tailored suit perfectly. His face was chiseled perfection: sharp jawline dusted with a hint of stubble, piercing dark eyes that seemed to stare right through the screen, and salt-and-pepper hair that gave him an air of sophisticated power. A small smile played on his lips in the photo, exuding confidence and kindness in equal measure. Sehun? He looked like a boy next to this man—a pale imitation of his father’s handsomeness.

Tae’s cheeks flushed hot, her heart pounding so fast she could hear it in her ears. “Oh god,” she whispered, slamming the tab closed. What was wrong with her? This was Sehun’s dad, for crying out loud. But the image lingered, burned into her mind, making her squirm on the bed. Over the next few hours, the thought refused to leave her. She reopened the browser, this time searching for Sehun’s mom—Yeji. Articles popped up immediately: tabloid headlines about her lavish parties, her rude outbursts at events, her obsession with luxury. YouTube videos of her at red carpets, snapping at photographers or flaunting diamond necklaces that cost more than Tae’s entire tuition. “Just like Sehun,” Tae muttered, her anger flaring. Arrogant, selfish, treating people like disposable toys. Videos of Yeji berating staff, gossip columns calling her a “modern-day ice queen.” It all fit—Sehun had inherited her worst traits.

But then Tae’s searches shifted to Jungkook. She couldn’t help it; curiosity mixed with something deeper, hotter. Pages upon pages of his achievements: building a tech empire from scratch, philanthropic donations to orphanages (that hit close to home for Tae), interviews where his deep, velvety voice discussed billion-dollar deals with calm authority. And the photos… god, the photos. One from a recent gala showed him in a black tux, his broad chest straining the fabric, a watch worth millions glinting on his wrist. Another was a candid shot at a beach event, shirt unbuttoned just enough to reveal toned abs and a trail of hair leading down… Tae felt a warmth pooling between her legs, her pink fat pussy throbbing under her shorts. She shifted, pressing her thighs together, but it only made it worse.

Her hand trembled as she clicked through more images—Jungkook in boardrooms, at charity events, even a rare shirtless one from a company retreat, his muscular arms flexed as he played volleyball. He was a god, she thought, her breath coming in short gasps. Without thinking, her fingers slipped under the waistband of her shorts, brushing against the soft, slick folds of her pussy. She was already wet, soaking through her panties just from looking at him. “This is crazy,” she whispered, but she didn’t stop. She zoomed in on a photo of his face, those intense eyes seeming to lock onto hers. Her middle finger circled her swollen clit, slow at first, then faster as she imagined his strong hands on her body, pinning her down, claiming her.

Tae arched her back, her free hand cupping one of her big boobs, pinching the nipple through her tank top. “Jungkook… oh fuck,” she moaned softly, dipping a finger inside her tight, pink hole, feeling the wetness coat her. She added another, pumping in and out, her hips bucking against her hand. The room filled with the wet sounds of her arousal, her mind flooding with fantasies: him bending her over his desk, that deep voice growling her name as he fucked her senseless. “Yes, daddy… harder,” she whimpered, her thumb rubbing her clit in frantic circles. The orgasm hit her like a wave, her pussy clenching around her fingers as she came hard, juices squirting onto the sheets. “Jungkook!” she cried out, her body shaking, face flushed with embarrassment and pleasure. She pulled her hand away, staring at her glistening fingers, mortified. “What the hell, Tae? He’s twice your age… Sehun’s dad.” But the afterglow left her flushed and wanting more, a guilty thrill coursing through her.

She tried to distract herself by watching videos of him. A press briefing on a new billion-dollar merger: Jungkook stood at the podium, tall and commanding, his voice smooth as silk as he outlined strategies, answering questions with sharp intelligence. “Our goal is sustainable growth,” he said, and Tae hung on every word, mesmerized by his poise. Random clips followed—him at TED-like talks, discussing innovation; a funny outtake from a company video where he laughed, deep and genuine, crinkles forming at his eyes. He was everything Sehun wasn’t: mature, kind, powerful in a way that made her knees weak. “He’s a god,” she murmured, her heart still racing from her earlier release.

As her searching grew more intense—diving into forums, old articles, even fan pages (apparently, he had a cult following among business enthusiasts)—she stumbled upon something unexpected. A link buried in a gossip thread: “Billionaire sugar daddies hiding in plain sight.” Curious, she clicked, and there it was—a profile on a discreet app called Elite Arrangements. The username: JK_Exec. The photo was unmistakably him—a professional headshot, the same piercing eyes and handsome features. The description was brief: “Successful executive, 45, seeking discreet companionship. Generous, respectful, no drama. Real connections only.”

Tae stiffened, her eyes widening. Was this fake? Some catfish using his image? But the details matched—height, location in Seoul, even a subtle reference to tech interests. She refreshed the page, heart pounding. If it was real… oh god. The idea hit her like lightning: seduce his dad. Make Jungkook hers, parade it in front of Sehun somehow, shatter his world like he’d shattered hers. Revenge, pure and simple. (Though deep down, in ways she didn’t yet understand, it would blossom into something far more profound—love, obsession, a bond that consumed them both.)