Sunlight stabbed through the curtains when Koo stumbled into the kitchen the next morning. Hana stood at the stove flipping pancakes in her frumpy robe, hair pulled into a tight bun. Koo yawned dramatically, letting her oversized t-shirt—stolen from Taehyung's drawer—slip off one shoulder. "Smells good, unnie," she murmured, batting her eyelashes.

Hana's mouth flattened. "You can't keep doing this, Kookie." The spatula jabbed toward Koo's bare thighs. "Running around half-naked, breaking hearts. When will you grow up?"

Koo pouted, pouring syrup with exaggerated care. "I don't break hearts. They just... don't fit me." She licked a drop off her wrist, watching Taehyung's knuckles whiten around the newspaper.

"Tae and I have been together five years," Hana said, pride puffing her chest. "We have a system. Shared calendars, date nights—"

Koo's laugh tinkled like shattered champagne flutes. "Sounds thrilling." She leaned against the counter, letting her shirt gape just enough to show she wasn't wearing a bra. Taehyung's chair screeched as he abruptly stood.

"You're impossible," Hana sighed. "Real love takes work. Not just—" She waved at Koo's general existence. "Whatever this is."

Koo's syrup-slick fingers curled around her coffee mug. Oh, she knew exactly what "this" was. The way Taehyung's gaze snagged on her every movement—like a dog salivating over a steak it couldn't reach. She took a slow sip, letting her lips linger on the rim. "Maybe I haven't found my... Taehyung yet." Her toe brushed his calf under the table.

Hana missed the way her husband's breath hitched. "You won't find him in nightclubs," she snapped. "Or by dressing like—"

"Like what?" Koo tilted her head, all faux innocence. The shirt slipped another inch.

Taehyung's coffee cup cracked audibly. "I'll be late," he choked out, fleeing toward the door.

Hana didn't notice the tent in his pants or Koo's victorious smirk. She just kept lecturing—about stability, about respectability, about everything Koo would never be. And Koo? She licked syrup off her thumb, imagining how much better Taehyung's "system" would feel with her curves replacing Hana's sharp angles.

——

By Friday, Taehyung had memorized every creak in the floorboards—the ones that signaled Koo padding to the bathroom at 3 AM in nothing but a threadbare camisole, the ones that meant she was "doing yoga" in the living room with her ass pointed toward his home office. Today's soundtrack? Some bass-heavy track about riding cock until sunrise. He clenched his pen hard enough to crack it when Koo's breathy moan carried down the hallway—fake, obviously, but his dick didn't care.

The half-open bedroom door might as well have been an invitation. Koo sprawled across her bed, one leg hooked over the headboard, the other dangling off the edge like she'd been interrupted mid-thought. Her shorts were so tiny they barely qualified as fabric, and her top? Taehyung swallowed hard. It was sheer enough to reveal the dusky peaks of her nipples, stiffening under his stare. She didn't even glance up from her phone, just arched her back slightly—enough to make her tits jiggle—and sighed. "Unnie's at the grocery store," she murmured, like she was commenting on the weather.

Taehyung's throat went dry. He should walk away. He should— Christ, Koo was rolling onto her stomach now, ass high in the air as she scrolled lazily. The shorts rode up, giving him a perfect view of smooth, plump flesh and—fuck—the barest hint of pink pussy between her thighs. His pulse roared in his ears. Three steps. That's all it would take to—

The front door slammed. Koo's giggle followed him down the hall as he fled, her sing-song voice curling around him like smoke. "Careful, oppa~ You'll trip."

Hana's cheerful humming from the kitchen was salt in the wound. Taehyung adjusted himself violently in the hallway mirror. Behind him, Koo's laughter drifted through the cracked door, mingling with the filthy lyrics still pulsing from her phone.

"You okay, babe?" Hana called.

Taehyung swallowed—his throat felt lined with barbed wire. "Fine," he lied.

That night, he scrolled through work files until Hana's breathing evened out beside him. His thigh muscles ached from how long he'd clenched them today. Then his phone buzzed—an unknown number. Three images loaded in sequence: Koo arched over a bathroom counter, her naked reflection smirking in the mirror. Koo on her knees, pink folds glistening between spread thighs. Koo gripping her own tits, tongue darting out to catch a droplet of sweat.

Taehyung's blood turned to molten lead. His knuckles whitened around the phone as another ping came through. Oops...wrong number oppa 😇 Meant to send these to Jinwoo... Pls delete! A fifth photo arrived mid-text—Koo's finger hooked inside herself, lips parted in a mock-innocent gasp.

The mattress creaked as Taehyung rolled away from Hana's sleeping form. I'll delete them, he typed, knowing damn well he wouldn't. The screen's glow illuminated his frantic jerking of his cock with his hands beneath the sheets. Koo's wetness, her teasing pout—they seared into his retinas. When he came in his pants, it was with his teeth sunk into his own wrist to stay silent.

Across the hall, Koo muffled her giggles in a pillow. Her vibrator hummed between her thighs as she reread Taehyung's last message. Deleted. Liar. She could practically hear him jerking off—the rhythm of his breathing, the creak of their bedsprings. She arched her hips higher, imagining his calloused hands replacing the toy. "Oppa's so bad," she whispered to the dark, even as she came with his name on her lips.

——

Morning light found Taehyung hollow-eyed at breakfast. Koo pranced in wearing his college hoodie—no pants—and plucked the coffee from his limp fingers. "Sleep well?" she purred, knowing full well he hadn't. Her bare thigh brushed his as she leaned over the table, letting the hoodie gape just enough to reveal a fresh hickey. "Oops," she said sweetly when Hana gasped. "Forgot I had this..."

Taehyung's fork bent in his grip. Game fucking on.