Tae’s alarm didn’t even get the chance to finish the first beep. She slapped it off and rolled onto her back, the sheet sliding down her chest like it already knew what it was doing. Morning light cut across the bed and landed on her skin — that pale, almost milky white that looked expensive even when she was just waking up. Pink lips parted a little. She stretched and her tits shifted, heavy, full, nipples already a little tight from the air-con. She had the kind of body that made people stare even when she was trying to be decent, which she almost never was.

She sat up and let the sheet fall the rest of the way. No bra last night. Never a bra at home. She padded to the bathroom naked, ass bouncing just enough with every step, and stood in front of the mirror while the shower heated up. She turned sideways. Ran a hand down her waist, over the curve of her hip. Yeah. Still ridiculous. She grinned at herself, the same lazy, pretty grin her listeners always said they could hear.

Outfit for today was already hanging on the door. Tiny black skirt that barely covered the bottom of her ass if she bent even a little. Thin white crop top, no bra again, nipples going to show the second the studio got cold. Gold chain sitting right in her cleavage. Heels that made her walk like she was already thinking about getting fucked. She always dressed like this. Studio didn’t care. Listeners ate it up. Half the men who called in were already hard by the second song.

She did her makeup slow — pink on the lips, a little shine, lashes, nothing that hid her face. Then she left the apartment looking like she was going to a club instead of work.

The station loved her. Tae’s afternoon slot pulled numbers nobody else could touch. She was funny, a little mean when she wanted to be, warm when people needed it. She’d talk a heartbroken girl through a breakup and then immediately play something filthy and laugh about it. People trusted her. That was the dangerous part.

Across the city, Kook’s place smelled like last night’s takeout and cheap cologne. One room, mattress on the floor, window that didn’t close right. He was still in yesterday’s jeans, no shirt, sitting on the edge of the bed while Mimi moved around getting ready. She was pretty enough. Good in bed. Knew how to take it when he was in a mood, which was most days. He watched her pull her shirt on and thought, not for the first time, that he should probably treat her better. Then he didn’t.

His phone buzzed. Some guy about a job that paid cash and didn’t ask questions. Kook grunted an answer and hung up. Temper already sitting right under his skin. Always was.

Mimi kissed his cheek before she left. “I’m gonna call that radio girl later. The one you said has the sexy voice.”

He barely looked up. “Do whatever.”

Tae was two hours into the show when the request line lit up.

“You’re on with Tae, what’s your name, baby?”

The girl sounded young. Nervous. “Mimi. Um. I listen every day.”

Tae smiled into the mic, voice dropping into that warm, slightly dirty register that made people tell her things. “Hi Mimi. You sound like you’ve got something on your chest. Spill.”

Mimi talked. Boyfriend who never took her anywhere nice. Short temper. Good in bed but that was about it. Lived in a dump. She loved him but she was starting to feel stupid.

Tae listened, twirling the gold chain between her fingers, crop top riding up every time she leaned forward.

“Okay listen to me,” she said, still smiling. “You don’t owe him your twenties just because the sex is decent. If he’s not trying, if he’s making you smaller, leave. You’re allowed to want more than a mattress on the floor and a guy who only gets sweet after he comes. Break up with him. Tonight. You can do better.”

The studio went quiet for a second after she hung up. Then Tae laughed, shook her head, and queued the next track. She didn’t think about it again. She gave that advice three times a week.

Mimi came home while Kook was eating standing up at the counter. She didn’t even sit.

“I’m done.”

He looked at her. Slow. “The fuck you just say?”

“I called that radio girl. Tae. She said I should leave. So I’m leaving.”

Kook’s face went still. Then ugly. “You broke up with me because some bitch on the radio told you to?”

“She wasn’t wrong.”

He took one step toward her. She flinched. He didn’t hit her — he never had — but the look on his face was enough. She grabbed her bag and was gone in under two minutes.

The door slammed.

Kook stood there breathing through his nose, fists clenched, cock still half-interested because Mimi had been a reliable fuck and now she was gone. Over a voice on the radio. Some girl he’d never even seen.

He pulled his phone out like he wanted to break it.

Typed her name.

Tae.

The pictures loaded and his whole body went quiet for a second.

White skin. Pink mouth. Those tits. That ass in every single photo, like she knew exactly what she was doing. Studio shots, event shots, one of her leaning over a desk in that same tiny skirt. He zoomed in. His cock thickened against his zipper without permission.

A smirk cut across his face, mean and slow.

“You made a mistake, baby girl,” he said to the empty room. “And I’m gonna make you regret it.”

Next afternoon Tae was mid-sentence when the producer waved through the glass. Live caller. She hit the button.

“You’re on with Tae—”

“Yeah I know who I am.” The voice was low. Rough. A little amused. “Name’s Jungkook. You told my girl to dump me yesterday. Mimi. Remember her?”

Tae’s hand froze on the fader. She recovered fast because she was good at this, but her stomach did a stupid little drop.

“I talk to a lot of girls, Jungkook.”

“You told her the sex wasn’t enough. That she could do better than a guy with a mattress on the floor.” A short laugh. “She’s gone. Thanks for that. Now I’ve got no one to fuck and it’s your fault.”

The studio was dead silent except for the low bed of the track still playing.

Tae’s face felt hot. She could feel her nipples against the thin crop top. She crossed her legs under the desk and immediately regretted it because the pressure made her notice how she was sitting.

“This is a live show,” she said, trying to keep it light. “Maybe don’t—”

“You sound even better in person. Voice like that, I bet your mouth looks filthy when it’s open. I looked you up last night. Those pictures. You walk around like that on purpose, don’t you? Tiny clothes, tits out, acting nice on the air so nobody knows you’re the reason some guy’s sitting in his apartment with a hard dick and no one to put it in.”

Tae’s throat worked. She should’ve cut him. She didn’t. Not yet.

“You’re disgusting.”

“Yeah. And you’re wet. I can hear it in your voice already. You gonna hang up on me, Tae? Or you wanna hear what I’m gonna do when I find that studio?”

She slammed the button. Dead air for half a second before the next song kicked in. Her producer was staring. Tae waved him off, face burning, and reached for her water like that would help.

The request line started lighting up again ten minutes later.

First caller: some guy named “Minho.” Voice a little different, but not different enough.

“Hey Tae. Just wanted to request a song and also tell you I’m gonna be outside when you finish tonight. I’m gonna walk you to your car and put you on the hood. Skirt up. No panties I’m guessing, the way you dress. I’ll eat you right there in the parking lot until you forget how to talk into a microphone.”

She hung up so fast the board clicked.

Next one. “Daniel.”

“When I get my hands on you I’m not gonna be nice. You took something from me. So I’m taking it back. I’ll bend you over that desk you sit at, the one in the pictures, and I’ll fuck you until that pretty pink mouth can’t form sentences. You like giving advice? I’ll give you some. Don’t wear anything under that skirt tomorrow.”

Hang up.

Another. Another. He kept changing the name, barely changing the voice. Describing her tits in his hands. How he’d make her keep the headphones on so she could hear herself moan on delay. How he’d come on that white skin and make her go back on air with it still on her.

Every time she cut him. Every time her thighs pressed together harder. By the last call her voice had a shake in it she couldn’t hide and she knew the people still listening could hear it.

She ended the show twenty minutes early.

Sat in the dark studio after everyone else left, crop top stuck to her, skirt rucked up, hand pressed between her legs like that would stop it. She was soaked. She was shaking. She was afraid in a way that made her clit throb.

And somewhere across the city a man in a shitty apartment was already looking up the station address, smiling at his phone like he’d just been given a present.