Episode 16) Da-hee's Heart

Of course I knew.

Ever since the beginning—and even after I came crawling back after being dumped by another man—Oppa Dong-jae's computer had always been filled with netorare porn. The same went for porn sites. Usually, the search history was wiped clean, but on the rare days he forgot, it was flooded with netorare-related keywords.

"Does it really feel that good?"

Perhaps even after nearly losing me forever, his tastes never changed. At first, I hated it. I found it pathetic. After all that regret and pain, how could he still watch those kinds of porn and jerk off when I wasn't around?

It disgusted me.

So for half a year, I refused to sleep with him. A small, foolish hope—that if I held out long enough, maybe his tastes would shift.

"Da-hee, wanna do it?"

Dong-jae would press against me, subtly touching me, asking for sex. Of course, I wanted it too. I'm only human. But I resisted. I thought, Maybe if I do, he'll change.

But he didn't. Instead, as our intimacy dwindled, his addiction to porn only deepened. He'd sneak off to the bathroom in the early hours, jerking off to his phone, or lock himself in the spare room. And yet, I couldn't even blame him.

Because I'm a slut.

A woman who abandoned a man who understood and cared for her, chose another man in the throes of lust, got dumped, and then shamelessly crawled back.

When I first returned, Dong-jae welcomed me warmly, as always. But sometimes, in his eyes, in the way he looked at me—there was a coldness I'd never seen before. Maybe it wasn't even conscious. Just instinct. The unavoidable resentment a man feels toward the woman who left him.

If I had to make excuses, I'd say he dug his own grave.

He posted my pictures online without my permission. Shared lewd photos of me with those disgusting netori bastards. Convinced me to sleep with another man.

I could somewhat understand ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠how his twisted fetish started—some messed-up college fling. But everything after? That was practically a crime. Still, I pretended not to know. Because I loved him. And yet, when everything blew up, the blame fell entirely on me.

And then, not long ago, I found out.

That he had started it all over again.

Dong-jae, exhausted from late-night masturbation, would crawl into bed beside me. I pretended not to notice. One morning, while getting ready for work, I went to turn off his computer—only to see his Twitter account still logged in.

"Ah..."

This time, it wasn't just about me.

He was cheating.

I already knew, from the times he'd mentioned her. Choi Ara. A woman younger than him, who'd transferred in as an assistant manager. He always said she wasn't pretty. A lie. She was stunning. Sexy. And judging by the Twitter account she ran, she was just as much of a freak as me.

Still, even as I saw the photos ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of them fucking, even as I saw him proudly sharing them online, letting other men look—I told myself:

"It's not like I'm any better."

When I came back, if he had just told me to leave, I could've held my head high. But he didn't. And honestly, after I was the one who left him for another man, how could I possibly blame him now? Besides, we'd started sleeping together again recently.

Fine. I'd think of it like starving and then scavenging for scraps. I'd take responsibility. Things had been getting better between us, and that was enough.

But the moment we started sleeping together again, Dong-jae's netorare tendencies came roaring back, more blatant than ever.

"Ah..."

The content on his Twitter grew riskier, more extreme.

Not that it mattered. My body was already ruined. If the videos and photos from my time with Kang Tae-yang ever leaked, I'd long since decided I'd kill myself. So I could endure that much.

But maybe—just maybe—he'd picked the wrong person to mess with this time.

Kang Seong-yeol.

As I read their messages, I dug through my memories. And then, from the faintest recesses, it came back to me.

Min-ho, my first boyfriend and class president back in college, had once complained: "There's this loser in the freshman class—total creep. Can't even stand looking at him."

I couldn't be sure, but I think that was Seong-yeol.

"Seung-dae caught him flipping through his photo album once—just a bunch of screenshots of girls from our department. Their Kakao profiles, Instagram pics. Couldn't even call him out on it, so we just let it slide. But Hyeon-ah and Seul-gi kept getting weird messages lately. Pretty sure it's him."

"That's creepy."

"And that's not even the worst part. Remember those photos from our department trip? The ones we only shared in our group chat? He had them. All of them. Even the ones from that private trip the officers took to Eulwang-ri."

"How the hell did he get those?"

"Exactly. That's why we're suspicious. Anyway, just be careful."

"Got it."

...That was all I remembered. It was years ago, back in college. Maybe he'd grown up since then.

"Oppa, hold me."

So I clung to Dong-jae even tighter. I begged him to hold me morning and night. I initiated sex eagerly.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry for keeping my distance for six months. I thought if I did, you'd lose interest in all that.

But instead, he strayed further.

"So this is who you really are."

I held on even tighter. No more pretending. Of course I knew—if I used the techniques Tae-yang taught me, Dong-jae might enjoy it, but deep down, he'd probably be calling me a slut.

But I was done pretending. Done keeping my distance.

"Just be honest. Give it your all."

I'd give him everything he wanted. So he wouldn't develop any more twisted fetishes about me. I'd love him harder. Take better care of him.

"Choi Ara..."

She still bothered me, though. If she was the type to sleep around with random men on Twitter—what about STDs? Could I get infected through Dong-jae? The thought terrified me so much I went and got tested. Thankfully, nothing was wrong.

"Ah..."

I knew. That hollow look in Dong-jae's eyes as he moved above me—he was imagining himself as someone else. I'd read about it in one of his tweets.

So I moaned louder on purpose. Took him more eagerly. Twisted my body, imagining his cock was some other man's—someone better at sex.

"Spit in my mouth..."

I swallowed his saliva. Right now, he was overlaying someone else's face over his own as he looked at me. Who was it today?

Kang Tae-yang? Min-ho? Someone from his office? A friend? Or someone from my company?

And then—deep inside me, something twitched in response.

"Huh?"

Back when I was with Tae-yang, every single day was drenched in the thrill of immorality.

On Friday nights, I'd text Dong-jae: [Goodnight, Oppa ♥]—then hop into a taxi headed for Tae-yang's place. Sometimes, I'd even go straight there after work.

Weekends were an endless marathon of sex. I'd cancel plans with Dong-jae last-minute, feeding him every excuse in the book.

On Monday mornings, I'd commute to work with Tae-yang's cum still in my mouth, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hidden behind a COVID mask. If I had to talk or answer a call? Gulp. Down it went.

The same lips and tongue that had spent the weekend licking his toes, sucking his ass—I'd use them to kiss Dong-jae during our Monday night dates.

After work on weekdays, I'd slip into Tae-yang's car, parked in some deserted alley near the office. No thrusting—just the clench of my pussy milking him dry. Then, with his cum soaking through my panties, I'd go home and curl up in Dong-jae's arms, pretending nothing happened.

The stimulation was too intense. The guilt of betraying him, the thrill of crossing a line I shouldn't—I'd clamp my eyes and mouth shut, trembling as I squeezed every ridge of Tae-yang's cock with my pussy, desperate to feel him deeper, harder, more.

"I love you, I love you—"

"Hah, more than your boyfriend?"

"More than him."

Every word he demanded was a new kind of high. A filthy, depraved pleasure I could never get from sweet, loving sex with Dong-jae. The more vulgar it got, the better it felt.

In his apartment, I became even filthier. One summer, I sucked Tae-yang's unwashed cock, gagging slightly at the salty, sour taste. Eventually, I got used to it—even started preferring it. Clean cock just tasted bland.

"Suck it better, you bitch."

"Yes."

I studied. Practiced. Asked for advice on anonymous forums—How to please your man in bed.

I was an adult, but I knew nothing. Just the act of sucking cock had so many techniques. Of course, I never used any of them on Dong-jae. I just lay there, eyes shut, letting him pleasure me like always.

But with Tae-yang? Different story. I wanted to give him everything. Do anything for him.

Once, I even transferred my entire paycheck to his account.

That's how much I wanted to please him.

Because it made me so happy.

Not that I was completely oblivious. Of course, that sense of immorality—the guilt of betraying a man who loved me purely—was part of the thrill. Tae-yang used that.

Before sex, he'd say, "Tell me how sorry you feel about your boyfriend."

Or he'd play a recording of Dong-jae saying "I love you, Da-hee" on loop while he fucked me.

The feeling of reaching mind-melting orgasms, of being creampied by Tae-yang while Dong-jae's sixth-anniversary message and flower bouquet video played endlessly—

It was like electricity melting my spine, my neck, my brain. The cum dripping between my thighs felt like it was replacing my very thoughts.

And then, when Tae-yang told me the truth—that all of this had been a collaboration between him and Dong-jae—

I trembled with the most vicious sense of betrayal.

Sure, I was the one who'd actually betrayed him. But the fact that Dong-jae had deceived me, that he'd known about all my lies and filthy actions—

I wanted to die.

I wanted to kill him.

So I clung to Tae-yang even harder.

...Anyway, that day, I thought I'd never feel that "joy of immorality" again.

But then—

A jolt of electricity shot up from between my legs, lightning-fast, straight to my head. I bit my lip, barely holding back.

It wasn't because of Dong-jae's cock.

It was because—

Right now, he's imagining himself as another man raping me. And the thought of who that might be—

That's what turned me on.

I realized it then.

Dong-jae wasn't the only one addicted to netorare.

It wasn't over.

Both of us—we still craved that thrill.

So I let go.

Admitted it cleanly: I'm a slut, too. Addicted to the rush of betrayal.

"Da-hee, wanna do some roleplay today?"

"Who as?"

This wasn't just "playing along with his fetish."

We were both enjoying it now.

Dong-jae looked hesitant, guilty—but inwardly, I smiled.

Because I was happy.

"Let's do Tae-yang Oppa."

"What scenario?"

"No condom, no birth control. We leave the front door open, fuck in the living room. Since it's an open hallway, someone might see—so I have to work extra hard to make you cum fast."

"Ah..."

The detailed setup—of course it came from experience.

"Does it turn you on more when I whisper in your ear like this?"

"Yeah."

"Knock me up, Oppa."

"Ah..."

"Impregnate another man's girlfriend."

"Aah..."

Slowly, I climbed on top of Dong-jae, gripping his small, cute cock—pretending it was Tae-yang's thick one—and clenched around him as I rocked up and down.

"Honestly, I like you more than my boyfriend. If I get pregnant, I'll make him take responsibility—but my heart will belong to you and your baby."

"Ah... fuck..."

Of course, true to netorare fashion, Dong-jae came embarrassingly fast from just a little dirty talk.

Honestly? Kind of lame.

But gradually, he got better at fully embodying another man, degrading me with filthier words. And that was genuinely hot.

"Which do you prefer—my ass or your boyfriend's lips?"

"Your ass. But you know this is real, right?"

"Huh?"

"I've kissed you with the same mouth that sucked Tae-yang's ass—no brushing, plenty of times."

"Ah..."

Back then, I'd been so disgusted by his netorare fetish that I spent half a year only holding hands.

Looking back, that was its own kind of torture.

Anyway, when I noticed Dong-jae starting to stray again, I threw myself into satisfying his kinks, thinking maybe it'd curb his netorare urges.

But it backfired.

The more I indulged him, the deeper his netorare obsession grew.

And I—

The guilt I'd tried to erase came rushing back, vivid as ever.

"This is all your fault, Oppa."

I decided to make myself feel better.

While Dong-jae stepped out briefly, I spoke up.

"I know everything."

Seong-yeol gave me a puzzled look but kept his composure, asking what I meant. I didn't bother beating around the bush.

"My Oppa is really careless. I read all your Twitter DMs. I know about the photos with that woman from his office. And—I know who you are, Seong-yeol. We went to the same school. You're my junior."

His reaction was milder than I expected, but he still sighed, "Damn it." I continued.

"You've gotten a lot hotter since college."

"Went through a lot. Got some work done, too."

"That's why I was surprised when you walked in. Didn't recognize you at all."

I pulled off my top, leaving only my bra. Seong-yeol let out a soft exhale.

"Am I pretty?"

He swallowed lightly.

"Yeah. Even more than back in school."

Maybe it was the alcohol, but his casual compliment lifted my mood. Now that I thought about it, Dong-jae hadn't praised me lately. A petty spite crept into my voice.

"I can't be the only one suffering here."

Seong-yeol chuckled.

"So we're making Dong-jae the target of our 'operation' now?"

I nodded.

"He already agreed to it anyway. And if I get to relive that thrill one last time, why not? But we're getting married soon. I know myself. I know his personality. If we keep doing this, we'll end up breaking up eventually. So let's make this the last 'operation' of our lives. Make it so intense that neither of us ever craves it again."

That was my honest thought.

Let's enjoy this one last, electrifying time. So both of us—Oppa and ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I—can move on without regrets or obsession.

Seong-yeol smirked.

"Then I'll have to get 'serious' too. Honestly, I was a little disappointed that you'd already gone all the way with another man before—and now you're here again."

"What, because I'm a slut?"

He laughed lightly, then nodded after gauging my reaction.

"Sexual tastes rarely change. At most, you grow numb or desensitized to the stimulation. And for a guy like me, sharing a beautiful girlfriend like you with another man? That's a rush in itself. So if we're really doing this, we need to push it to the limit. To the point where even we think it might be dangerous."

I swallowed without realizing it.

"What kind of 'dangerous' stimulation are we talking about?"

"First, obviously, the fear of 'What if my girlfriend really falls for another man?' But you've already been through that once—and yet here you are. So that level isn't enough anymore."

"Then?"

He grinned, dodging the question.

"We'll figure that out as we go. I've got ideas, but..."

"But?"

"First, we need to see if we're even compatible. You're gorgeous, sure—but pretty and good in bed are two different things. If the sex sucks, this whole 'netorare operation' will be boring. And you'd be disappointed too."

Well, yeah, but—

"Anyway, Dong-jae will be back soon. So for now, we'll pretend we don't know each other?"

"He needs to think he's in control. If he gets nervous and switches targets, I'm screwed."

At the mention of "switching targets," Seong-yeol made a strange face before nodding. "You keep pulling me into 'serious mode,' Senior."

"Should we start today?"

He seemed slightly surprised, but given how far things had already gone, there was no point delaying.

Just then, Dong-jae returned. He froze at the sight of me in just my bra.

"Uh..."

Seong-yeol studied his dumbfounded expression, then smiled.

"Dong-jae, Da-hee says it's fine. Mind if I take her out tonight?"

Dong-jae looked like he was about to refuse—until I backed Seong-yeol up.

"You told me to do this, Oppa."

And then, Dong-jae made the most ridiculous counteroffer.

"Can I come too?"

Ah...

So this was his version of "getting serious."

I felt another flicker of disappointment and worry as I glanced at Seong-yeol. He smiled faintly and nodded.

Whether it was permission for Dong-jae to join—or reassurance for me—I wasn't sure.

< To be continued >