The days after the party dragged like wet cement.

Hajun came home quieter every evening. No more excited rambles about quarterly reports or late-night strategy sessions. He’d loosen his tie, sink into the couch, stare at the TV without really watching. Tae hated it. She’d curl up next to him, head on his shoulder, fingers tracing circles on his chest through his shirt.

“You’ll get it, baby,” she’d whisper every night. “They can’t ignore you forever. You’re too good.”

He’d give her a tired smile, kiss her temple. “I know. Just… feels like I’m invisible up there.”

Tae’s heart twisted. She knew exactly who was making him invisible.

Jeon Jungkook.

Arrogant. Rich. Untouchable. The kind of man who could snap his fingers and rewrite someone’s entire career. And the way he’d looked at her that night—dark eyes raking over her body like he was already fucking her in his head—had left her soaked even hours later. She’d replayed it in the shower, fingers slipping between her legs while Hajun slept: the squeeze of his hand on her ass, the slow tease under the table, the way he’d licked her taste off his fingers like it was dessert.

She told herself she was furious.

But her pussy clenched every time she remembered.

She started wearing even tinier things around the house—crop tops that barely covered her nipples, micro-shorts that rode up her ass cheeks, dresses so short she flashed pink every time she bent over. Hajun noticed, of course. He’d pull her into his lap, groan against her neck, fuck her slow and sweet like he was trying to remind himself she was still his.

And she loved him for it. She really did.

But one evening, around 4:30 p.m., while Hajun was still at the office pretending everything was fine, Tae stood in front of the mirror and made a decision.

She pulled out the tiniest dress she owned: cherry-red, stretchy spandex, spaghetti straps so thin they looked like they might snap. The neckline scooped low enough to show the inner curves of her fat tits, and the hem barely skimmed the bottom swell of her ass. Just a slick of glossy pink on her lips and black strappy heels that made her legs look endless.

She spritzed vanilla between her breasts, fluffed her hair, and grabbed her purse.

It was time to see the devil himself.

Jungkook’s penthouse was in the most exclusive tower in the city—glass and steel, private elevator, doorman who didn’t even blink when she gave his name.

The elevator ride up felt endless. Her heart hammered. Between her thighs, she was already slick, clit throbbing against nothing. She told herself it was nerves. Anger. Anything but want.

The doors slid open directly into his living room.

Floor-to-ceiling windows. The city glittering below like scattered diamonds. Black marble floors. Minimalist furniture that probably cost more than their apartment.

And there he was—Jeon Jungkook—lounging on a low leather sofa in nothing but gray sweatpants and a black tank that hugged every carved muscle. Hair damp like he’d just showered. He looked up from his phone, froze.

For one long second, neither of them spoke.

His eyes dragged down her body—slow, shameless. From the way her tits strained the thin red fabric, to the bare thighs, to the hem that was one wrong move from flashing her thong.

“Fuck,” he said, low and rough. “You really showed up.”

Tae swallowed, clutching her purse like a shield. “I… I wanted to talk. About Hajun.”

Jungkook set his phone down. Stood. Towered over her even from across the room. “Come in, Tae. Don’t just stand there looking like a walking sin.”

She stepped forward on shaky heels. The door closed behind her with a soft click.

He circled her like a shark, eyes never leaving her body. “That dress should be illegal. You wear this for your husband every night, or just when you want something?”

Her cheeks burned. “I’m here for Hajun. He deserves the promotion. He’s been working himself to death.”

Jungkook stopped in front of her. Close enough she could smell his clean skin, the faint cedar of his cologne. “Your husband’s a good man. Loyal. Smart.” He tilted his head. “But he’s not the one standing in my living room in a dress that’s basically underwear.”

Tae’s breath hitched. “Please. Just… consider it.”

He reached out, brushed a fingertip along the strap of her dress. The touch was light, but it sent electricity straight to her clit. “You know what I’m thinking about right now?”

She couldn’t look away from his mouth. “What?”

“How fucking lucky Hajun is. Coming home to these fat tits every night. This juicy ass.” His hand slid down, cupped one cheek through the dress, squeezed hard. “Bet he buries his face in this pretty pink pussy whenever he wants.”

Tae whimpered—soft, involuntary. Her thighs pressed together. Wetness trickled down her inner thigh.

Jungkook’s smirk was filthy. “You’re dripping already, aren’t you? Just from me talking about your body.”

She shook her head, but it was weak. “I’m here for my husband.”

“Sure you are.” He stepped even closer, voice dropping to a growl. “Here’s the deal, sweetheart. I’ll give him the promotion. Next week. Big office, fat raise, the works.”

Her eyes widened. Hope flared.

“But,” he continued, “I get to fuck you. Whenever I want. However I want. You come when I call. You spread these thick thighs. You let me use this slutty little body until I’m done.”

Tae’s pussy clenched so hard she gasped. A fresh gush of slick coated her folds.

She told herself it was for Hajun. For their future. For the smile she wanted back on her husband’s face.

But her body knew the truth.

She nodded—small, trembling. “Okay.”

Jungkook’s eyes darkened. “Good girl.” He stepped back, sat on the edge of the sofa, legs spread wide. The thick outline of his cock strained against the gray sweatpants. “Now strip for me. Slow. Make it good. Convince me you’re worth the trouble.”

Tae’s hands shook as she reached for the thin straps. “I… I’m only doing this for him.”

He laughed—low, dark. “Keep telling yourself that, filthy wife.”

She slipped one strap down her shoulder. Then the other. The dress caught on her nipples for a second before sliding lower, baring the heavy undersides of her tits. She shimmied her hips, letting it drop inch by inch—past her waist, over the flare of her hips, pooling at her heels.

She stepped out of it carefully.

Now she stood in nothing but the black lace thong she’d actually put on last minute—and those heels.

Jungkook’s gaze burned. “. The thong. All of it.”

She hesitated, arms crossing over her chest. “I… I feel so shy.”

“Bullshit.” He leaned forward, elbows on knees. “I can see how wet that thong is from here. Turn around. Show me that fat ass.”

Tae bit her lip. Turned slowly. Bent just a little—enough to make her cheeks spread, the thong string disappearing between them. She shook her hips once—soft jiggle, teasing.

“Fuck,” he breathed. “Take it off.”

She hooked her thumbs in the sides. Peeled the thong down slowly—inch by inch—until it slid past her thick thighs and dropped to the floor. She stepped out, kicked it aside.

Naked except for the heels.

She turned back to face him.

Jungkook stared at her fat pussy—puffy outer lips, glistening pink slit, clit swollen and peeking out. Then up to her heavy tits—full, round, nipples dark and hard.

“Jesus Christ,” he muttered. “Did you get surgery for those? They’re obscene. P*rn-star tits on a married woman. You sure you’re not meant to be getting railed on camera instead of playing house?”

Tae’s face flamed. But her pussy dripped—literally. A clear bead slid down her thigh.

She gasped, thighs pressing together.

Jungkook smirked. “Look at that. Dripping like a faucet just because I called you a slut.”

He stood, walked around her again. Stopped behind her. Grabbed two handfuls of her ass, spread her wide. “This fat ass was made to bounce on cock. Hajun ever fuck it?”

She shook her head frantically. “N-no…”

“Not yet.” His voice was pure sin. “But he’s getting that promotion because of this body. Because you’re standing here naked, leaking for your husband’s boss.”

He slapped one cheek—sharp, stinging. She yelped, then moaned.

“Say thank you,” he ordered.

Tae’s voice came out small, trembling. “Thank you… for considering it.”

Another slap. Harder. “Louder. And say it right.”

“Thank you, Mr. Jeon… for giving my husband the promotion.”

He groaned, pressed the hard length of his cock against her ass through the sweatpants. “Good girl. You’re gonna earn every fucking cent of it.”

He stepped back. Sat again. Palmed himself through the fabric—slow, deliberate.

Tae stood there trembling, naked, dripping, heart racing.

Jungkook’s eyes locked on hers. “Get on your knees, Tae. We’re not done negotiating.”

She sank down slowly—knees hitting the cool marble.

And somewhere deep inside, the part of her that still loved Hajun screamed.

But the rest of her?

The rest of her was already gone.