Koo’s penthouse bedroom was a shrine to excess: black silk sheets rumpled from earlier restless tossing, floor-to-ceiling windows framing the glittering skyline, a vanity littered with lipsticks and vibrators half-hidden under silk scarves. She lay sprawled on the bed in nothing but the aftermath of her earlier orgasm—thighs slick, fingers still glistening, chest heaving. The phone buzzed again on the nightstand. Tae’s message stared back at her:

Wrong number? 😳

Her heart slammed against her ribs. The nude still glowed on the screen—his body a sculpted masterpiece, every ridge of muscle carved from marble and sin, that thick, veined cock standing proud and leaking, the fat mushroom head flushed dark, a pearl of pre-cum beading at the slit like an invitation. She’d already come once staring at it, fingers buried knuckle-deep in her fat pink pussy, imagining that monster splitting her open instead of Namjoon’s familiar girth. Now her clit throbbed again, demanding more.

She typed back with trembling fingers, lying through her teeth:

Yeah… wrong number haha. Already deleted it, don’t worry Taehyungie 🫣

Sent.

Across the city, in the dim glow of his bedroom, Tae lounged shirtless on his king bed, low-slung gray sweats riding dangerously below the deep V of his hips. The read receipt popped up, then her reply. A slow, wicked smirk curled his full lips, dimples carving deep as he read her lie.

Deleted it, my ass, he thought, cock twitching hard against the soft cotton. No woman deletes a dick like mine. Hell, no woman forgets it. He palmed himself through the fabric, squeezing the thick length once, twice—feeling it swell heavier, imagining her staring at the photo right now, thighs clenched, pussy weeping for what she couldn’t have yet. You’re already ruined for him, Aunt Koo. Just don’t know it.

He typed back, playing the perfect innocent boy:

Omg I’m so sorry Aunt Koo 😭 I was sending it to… someone else. Pls pls delete it, I’m mortified. Promise I won’t bother you again tonight.

He hit send, then tossed the phone aside, grinning into the dark like a predator who’d just scented blood.

Koo read it, bit her swollen bottom lip hard enough to sting, and lied again in her head: I should delete it. Instead she screenshotted the photo—twice, just in case—then saved it to a hidden folder labeled “Inspo.” Her pussy gave a traitorous flutter. She couldn’t stop seeing him: those carved abs glistening, the heavy hang of his balls, the way that cock curved just slightly upward like it was made to hit every filthy spot inside her. Namjoon’s dick suddenly felt… average. Boring. God, what is wrong with me? He’s Mimi’s baby boy.

But wrong or not, she couldn’t forget. Every “accidental” run-in these past weeks replayed on loop: his bulge grinding her ass at the gym, the eggplant comparison in the grocery store, his foot teasing her soaked folds under the barbecue table. Each touch had left her dripping, nipples aching, mind fogged with young, forbidden heat. She told herself it was harmless flirting. Her body screamed otherwise.

The next evening, the Kim mansion smelled like Mimi’s famous slow-braised short ribs, sesame oil, garlic, comfort. Tae found her in the kitchen, apron tied over her dance leggings, humming softly as she stirred the pot. He slid up behind her, wrapping long arms around her waist, chin on her shoulder like always.

“Mom,” he murmured, voice soft and boyish, “I’ve been thinking.”

Mimi turned in his arms, eyes bright with that endless love. “About what, baby?”

“I wanna do a part-time internship. In fashion design.” He kept his face earnest, eyes wide and hopeful. “I know it’s not architecture, but… I’ve been feeling this pull lately. Like I wanna learn something creative, just on the side. Occasionally.”

Mimi tilted her head, studying him. “Taehyungie, you’ve never mentioned fashion before. You sure this isn’t just a phase?”

He shrugged those massive shoulders, muscles rolling under his tight tee. “Maybe. But I wanna try. Worst case, I hate it and go back to blueprints. Best case… I discover something new.” He flashed the dimpled smile that always melted her. “Please?”

Mimi sighed, fond and helpless. “You know I can never say no to that face. I’ll look for the best designer in town—”

“We already have one,” he cut in smoothly. “Aunt Koo. She’s literally the queen of slutty—uh, sexy—fashion. Koo Designers is huge. She’d be perfect.”

Mimi laughed, swatting his chest. “Language, young man. But yes, of course. I’ll text her right now—”

“No need,” Tae said quickly, already backing toward the stairs. “I’ll ask her myself. Face-to-face. More professional that way.”

Mimi beamed, proud. “My responsible boy. Go get ’em.”

Tae took the stairs two at a time, cock already half-hard at the thought.

That night, 10:47 p.m., Koo’s phone lit up with an incoming FaceTime from “Kim Taehyung 💪.”

She was lounging on her chaise in the walk-in closet-turned-dressing-room, fresh from a shower, skin still damp and glowing. She’d slipped into one of her own designs: a sheer black babydoll nightie, lace cups so thin her dark nipples showed through like shadows, the hem barely skimming the tops of her thighs, no panties because why bother when she was alone and aching? Her fat tits strained the lace, heavy and full; her ass spilled softly against the velvet cushion.

She answered on the third ring, angling the phone so the lighting hit her cleavage just right—instinct, not intention.

Tae’s face filled the screen: tousled dark hair, bare torso gleaming under low lamp light, those midnight eyes smoldering even through pixels. He was shirtless, sweatpants slung low, the waistband teasing the deep V that disappeared below frame.

“Aunt Koo,” he purred, voice velvet and innocent at once. “Hope I’m not interrupting.”

Koo’s breath caught. “Taehyung. No, just… winding down. What’s up?”

He leaned closer to the camera, biceps flexing as he propped an elbow on his knee. “I wanted to ask you something kinda big.”

Her pussy clenched at the word big. She crossed her legs, trying to ignore the fresh slickness. “Shoot.”

“I’m thinking about doing a part-time internship in fashion design. Just to explore. Mom said you’re the best, obviously. Would you… maybe teach me? Show me the ropes? I promise I won’t be a pain in the ass. I’ll do whatever you say.”

Koo groaned inwardly. Bad idea. Terrible. Dangerous. His voice was doing things to her—low, respectful, but that body… those eyes… the memory of his leaking cock. Her nipples tightened painfully against the lace.

“Tae, I’m swamped at the office—”

“Please?” He pouted, full lips ridiculous and devastating. “Just a few hours a week. I’ll be your perfect student. I learn fast.”

She bit her lip, thighs rubbing together. “It’s… not a great idea.”

His hand dropped casually to his lap—out of frame at first—then he squeezed. Once. Twice. The thick outline of his cock jumped under the gray cotton, fat and heavy, stretching the fabric obscenely. Koo’s eyes dropped instinctively. Her face flamed.

Tae pretended not to notice, but his smirk flickered. “I’ll make it worth your while, Aunt Koo. Promise.”

She swallowed hard, pussy throbbing so violently she felt it in her clit. “Fine,” she breathed. “Yes. We can… try. Starting next week?”

His face lit up—pure, boyish joy that made her heart stutter and her cunt drip. “You’re the best! Thank you thank you thank you!” He squeezed again—deliberate this time—cock visibly thickening. “I owe you big time.”

The call ended after a few more pleasantries. Koo dropped the phone, legs falling open. She yanked the nightie up, fingers diving straight into her soaked folds—three at once, stretching herself, thumb grinding her swollen clit. She pulled up his saved nude, zoomed on that leaking head, and fucked herself to the image of him splitting her open, groaning his name into the dark as she came hard, walls pulsing, juices soaking the chaise.

The next afternoon, a discreet hotel suite—same one Namjoon always booked for their “meetings.” Floor-to-ceiling windows tinted, king bed stripped to white sheets, air scented with his cologne and her perfume.

Koo straddled him naked, tits bouncing as she tried to ride. Namjoon’s thick cock was buried inside her, hands gripping her hips, but something was wrong. She was barely wet—her pussy sluggish, walls not gripping like usual. She rolled her hips mechanically, mind miles away.

Tae’s cock. Tae’s body. Tae squeezing himself on FaceTime. Tae’s voice saying I’ll do whatever you say.

“Fuck, Koo—move like you mean it,” Namjoon growled, thrusting up harder. “What’s with you today? You’re dry as a desert.”

She winced, forcing a moan. “Just… distracted. Work stuff.”

He slapped her ass—hard. “Focus on my dick, slut. Ride it like you usually do.”

But she couldn’t. Every bounce made her think of a different cock—thicker, longer, younger. Her clit barely tingled. Namjoon’s grunts sounded… annoying. Possessive. Boring.

After ten frustrating minutes, she lifted off him abruptly, his cock slapping wetly against his abs, still rock-hard and glistening with only traces of her arousal.

“I—I have to go,” she stammered, grabbing her dress from the chair. “Urgent thing from the office. New supplier crisis.”

Namjoon sat up, incredulous, dick throbbing angrily between his legs. “Are you fucking kidding me? We’re not even close—you’re leaving me like this?”

She didn’t look back, slipping into heels. “Sorry, Joon. Rain check.”

The door clicked shut.

Namjoon fell back against the pillows, hand wrapping around his frustrated length, stroking hard and fast—but it wasn’t the same. He came with a curse, cum splattering his abs, mind spinning with confusion and rage. What the fuck is wrong with her?

Meanwhile, Koo sped through traffic, thighs clenched, pussy finally waking up again at the thought of one name.

Taehyung.