The club was heat and chaos. Music throbbed like a pulse under your skin, neon lights flickering over sweaty bodies grinding in the dark. The air smelled of liquor, lust, and too many bad decisions waiting to happen.

And you walked in like you were the baddest decision of them all.

Your dress barely counted as fabric — a thin, black slip clinging to your tiny frame, hem riding up so short it showed the swell of your ass every time your hips swayed.

Your tits bounced with every beat, heavy and shameless, nipples stiff under the material, daring anyone to look. Thick thighs glistened under the neon, curves pressed together in a way that made men stumble just trying not to stare.

You knew. You fucking knew what you were doing.

And up in the VIP balcony, Jeon Jungkook noticed.