The door slams shut behind her with a sharp bang that echoes through the dimly lit apartment like a gunshot. Jiwoo doesn’t even bother turning on the lights. She just kicks her sneakers off with an angry thud, the oversized black hoodie slipping off one shoulder as she stalks forward, chest still heaving.
“Fucking idiots,” she growls under her breath, voice low and edged with pure venom. The sweet, composed leader of Hearts2Hearts that the world sees on stage is nowhere to be found. In her place is the Jiwoo, now exhausted, furious, and radiating a dangerous, barely-contained energy that makes your pulse spike.
She spots you on the couch, exactly where you always wait for her after a long schedule. Her dark eyes lock onto yours, narrowing with intent. A slow, predatory smirk curls her lips, the kind that promises you’re about to be her personal outlet.
“Get up.”
You stand without hesitation. Before you can even open your mouth, she’s on you, shoving you back against the wall hard enough that the impact knocks the breath from your lungs. One hand fists in the front of your shirt, yanking you down to her level. The other palms you roughly through your sweats, feeling you twitch and harden instantly under her touch.
“They think I’m too busy playing with my friend to give a shit about the group?” she hisses, nails digging into your chest through the fabric. Her breath is hot against your neck. “They think I don’t have control? That I’m some careless bitch who can’t handle being leader? What kind of fucking name even is ‘Deep Green’???”
Her knee presses between your thighs, forcing your legs apart as she grinds her palm harder against your growing erection. You’re already throbbing for her, just from the fire in her eyes and the raw frustration rolling off her in waves.
“Strip. Right fucking now.”
Your hands move on autopilot, yanking your shirt over your head and shoving your sweats and boxers down in one frantic motion. They pool at your ankles before you kick them away. Jiwoo steps back just enough to watch, arms crossed under her chest, still fully dressed in that hoodie and tight leggings that hug every curve. She circles you slowly, like a predator sizing up its meal, then shoves you backward onto the couch so you land seated, legs spread wide.
She climbs onto your lap without warning, straddling you. The heat of her core hovers teasingly just above your aching cock, close enough that you can feel it but not nearly close enough to touch. Her hands brace on your shoulders, pinning you in place.
“Look at me.”
You do. Her gaze is dark, stormy, and absolutely ravenous.
“Today I’m not sweet old Jiwoo,” she says, voice low and venomous. “I’m not the girl smiling pretty for the cameras while they rip me apart online. Tonight I’m a pissed-off bitch who’s going to use this big fat cock until every last hateful comment is fucked out of my system.”
She leans in, lips brushing your ear, voice dropping into a dangerous whisper. “And you’re going to thank Mommy for every fucking second of it.”
Her fingers wrap around your cock, a tight, firm, unrelenting grip.
She strokes you once, then twice, painfully slow, thumb swirling over the leaking tip until you groan. She squeezes harder at the base, cutting off the building pleasure just enough to make you throb desperately.
“No cumming until I say so. Understand, baby?”
You nod, breath already shaky. “Yes.”
Jiwoo’s smirk is cold and beautiful, dripping with satisfaction.
“Good boy.”
She sinks down onto you in one brutal, fluid motion, taking you to the hilt in a single stroke. The wet, scorching heat of her pussy envelops you completely, so tight and dripping that your head falls back against the couch with a choked moan. She doesn’t move at first. She just sits there, fully seated, walls fluttering and clenching around every inch of you while she watches your face twist with need.
“Frustrated?” she whispers, rolling her hips in one tiny, cruel circle that makes your cock twitch violently inside her. “That’s exactly how I felt reading K-netizens’ bullshit. Scrolling through every single person calling me out of control. Calling me selfish.”
She starts riding you. Hard and fast and punishing. One hand locks around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges. The other braces on your shoulder for leverage as she fucks herself on your cock like it’s the only thing anchoring her rage. Every downward slam of her hips is angry and possessive, her slick walls gripping you mercilessly, the wet sounds of her riding you filling the room.
You can’t stop the words from spilling out. She feels too good, too tight, too wet, too perfect as she uses you.
“Jiwoo—fuck, Jiwoo—”
Her palm cracks across your cheek in a sharp, stinging slap that snaps your head to the side. The burn blooms hot across your skin, but your cock jerks hard inside her, betraying exactly how much you love it.
She grabs your jaw roughly, yanking your face back to hers. Her eyes are blazing.
“Wrong name, baby,” she snarls, grinding down deep and slow, clenching around you so viciously you see stars. “You don’t get to call me Jiwoo when I’m using you like my personal fucktoy. When I’m this fucking angry and this wet. Try again.”
You swallow hard, face throbbing, voice wrecked. “Mommy—”
“Louder.”
“Mommy,” you gasp, the word coming out broken and desperate.
She smiles. Slow, satisfied, and utterly cruel…then slams back down onto you with renewed fury.
“That’s right. Mommy’s the only thing you’re allowed to call me while I fuck every last bit of stress out of my system on this perfect cock.”
She rides you like she’s punishing every single netizen who ever doubted her, hips snapping down with bruising force. The drag of her soaked pussy is mind-melting, every slick slide pulling you deeper, her walls fluttering and squeezing in perfect rhythm. The pleasure hits you like a freight train.
Your hands fly up uncontrollably, fingers digging hard into the soft flesh of her hips as you try to pull her down even harder, chasing that devastating friction, desperate to feel her take you deeper.
But then her palm cracks across your cheek again. Sharper this time, the sting blooming hot and immediate. She doesn’t miss a beat, still bouncing on your cock like she owns it.
“Hands off, you greedy little slut,” she hisses, voice low and dangerous as she grabs both your wrists in one iron grip and pins them above your head against the couch. “You don’t get to touch Mommy unless I say so. This isn’t about you. This is about me using you to forget every single asshole online who thinks they can drag me.”
She keeps your wrists locked tight, using the leverage to ride you even harder, her nails digging into your chest with her free hand as she grinds her clit against you on every downstroke. Your cock throbs helplessly inside her, the denial of touch only making the ache worse.
Her nails rake down your chest, leaving bright red lines that sting deliciously. She leans forward, teeth sinking into the side of your neck, then your shoulder, sucking dark marks into your skin as she moans filthy commands between gasps.
You feel it building fast—dangerously fast. The tight, slick drag of her pussy, the way she clenches every time she bottoms out, the sheer fury in every roll of her hips. Your balls draw up tight, thighs trembling as you teeter right on the edge.
“Mommy—fuck, I’m so close—”
She stops dead.
Lifts herself completely off your cock in one smooth motion.
You feel the orgasm you were a single heartbeat away from crashing into a brick wall.
Your length slaps wetly and heavily against your stomach, throbbing angrily in the cool air, glistening with her juices and your own precum. That white-hot peak you were teetering on is ripped away at the last possible second, leaving your entire body screaming in protest.
A raw, broken whimper tears from your throat as the ache in your balls intensifies into something sharper and punishing, a deep, throbbing pressure that radiates up into your gut like someone’s squeezing them in a vice.
Your hips buck up violently into nothing, chasing the scorching heat that’s no longer there, desperate and pathetic. Your cock twitches and jerks wildly on its own, leaking a thick, humiliating bead of precum that slides down your shaft in a slow, torturous trail. You can feel the blood pumping in every vein, your tip flushed an angry red and swollen to the point of pain, pulsing helplessly in the open air like it’s begging, no pleading, for just one more stroke, one more second of her tight heat.
You were right there, right on the fucking edge, muscles locked and ready to explode, and now there’s nothing but this cruel, empty ache that makes your eyes sting and your abs clench hard enough to hurt. Your thighs shake uncontrollably, hips still twitching upward in tiny, useless thrusts as your body refuses to accept that the release has been stolen from you.
“Oh no, babyy,” she purrs, voice dripping with mock sympathy as she watches your cock twitch and leak all over your abs.
“Mommy didn’t say you could cum. You think you get to finish that easy after the day I’ve had?”
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