𝓜𝓲𝔂𝓮𝓸𝓷 ♡ | 𝓨𝓸𝓾𝓻 𝓣𝓪𝓴𝓮𝓷

The club was pulsing with heavy bass and dim neon lighting, the VIP bar crowded with people nursing overpriced cocktails. You were standing near the marble counter, simply passing time while waiting for Miyeon to return, engaging in brief, polite small talk with a woman sitting nearby.

Emerging from the hallway, Miyeon—wearing an impossibly bold, sheer black mesh top over a delicate crop, her hair styled in soft waves—spotted you from across the room. Her dark eyes widened, her cheeks flushing dark pink beneath her light makeup. Her thumb twitched against her clutch bag.

She froze mid-step. She stared. Her jaw tightened as she watched you laugh at something the other woman said.

Without missing a beat, Miyeon smoothed down her outfit, threw her shoulders back, and marched straight toward the bar in her high heels, her gait carrying a dangerous, slightly tipsy momentum.

Before the conversation at the bar could continue, Miyeon smoothly glided into the tight space between you and the other girl. She turned to face her, planting one hand on her own hip, and flashed a blindingly sweet, picture-perfect idol smile—one that did not reach her narrowed eyes in the slightest.

"Hi~ Sorry to interrupt!" Miyeon announced in a bright, sing-song voice that effortlessly carried over the music. "They're taken. Like... very taken. Extremely taken. As in, totally unavailable for the rest of the night, forever, actually."

Without giving the stunned woman a single second to respond, Miyeon clamped her fingers around your hand, locked her grip tight, and yanked you away from the bar toward a darker, quieter corridor near the private exit.

She stumbled slightly in her high heels along the way, letting out a soft, adorable squeak before catching her balance, tightening her grip on your fingers, and continuing her dramatic march until you were both isolated behind a heavy velvet curtain.

The second you were alone, she spun around on her heel, crossed her arms tightly over her chest, and puffed out her cheeks, trying her absolute hardest to look menacing and intimidating. In reality, with her flushed cheeks and pouty lips, it was entirely endearing.

"You were laughing," Miyeon accused, pointing a sharp manicured nail directly at your chest, her voice laced with dramatic betrayal. "I saw you from all the way across the floor! I leave for five minutes—five minutes!—and you're over there laughing and smiling with her? Do I need to remind you who you actually came with tonight?!"

She dramatically gestured down at her outfit, sweeping her hands over the sheer mesh top as if presenting undeniable evidence in a high-stakes court case.

"Look at this! I am wearing this!" she huffed, her tipsy voice dropping into a slightly dangerous, extremely petty tone as she stepped right into your personal space, poking your chest. "This top is basically see-through! I wore this for you! And you're over there sharing jokes with someone else? Unbelievable. Absolutely unbelievable."

She glared up at you, her bottom lip sticking out in a heavy pout as she tried to maintain her stern expression.

"Explain yourself. Right now. And it better be the best explanation I've ever heard in my life."

The heavy oak door of the private VIP lounge slammed shut, the electronic lock clicking into place with a sharp, definitive beep that cut off the dull thrum of the club's bass outside. Miyeon hadn't said a single word since pulling you off the dance floor, her fingers tightly coiled around your wrist the entire way.

She was still wearing the sheer black mesh top, her chest heaving lightly with breathlessness, her cheeks flushed dark pink from a combination of the alcohol and leftover, simmering jealousy. Her eyes were sharp, bright, and completely fixated on you.

Without giving you a second to adjust, she placed both hands against your chest and shoved you down onto the plush velvet sofa. Before you could even sink into the cushions, she swung one leg over your lap and climbed on top of you, straddling your thighs in her heels while maintaining a deep, exaggerated frown.

"Don’t you dare smile," Miyeon warned, pointing a finger right between your eyes, her voice shaking slightly with dramatic irritation. "I am extremely mad at you right now."

To prove her point, she lifted her hips and ground down hard against your lap once, her weight pressing firmly against your center. But as she did, her eyes widened just a fraction, feeling the unmistakable hardness already straining against your jeans.

She paused mid-motion, her lips parting in utter disbelief as she glared down at your face.

"…Are you serious?" Miyeon muttered, her voice dropping into a breathless, indignant huff. "Why are you hard already? That is not helping my point at all! You're supposed to be feeling guilty!"

Despite her complaints, her hands moved with impatient, practiced speed, tugging at your belt and working your pants open. She didn't bother taking off her sheer top—she wanted you to see every inch of her skin beneath the dark mesh as she lifted herself up, guided you to her entrance, and sank all the way down in one smooth, breathless motion.

"Ah—fuck..." A sharp, gorgeous gasp broke from her throat, her head tilting back for a brief second before she snapped her gaze back onto yours, her hands resting firmly on your shoulders as her hips began a tight, frustrated roll.

"I bet she doesn’t look as good as me," she declared petulantly, her voice wavering between a stern scolding and soft, helpless moans as she set a deeper pace. "Say it. Say I look a hundred times better than her right now. —Fuck, go harder!"

She rode you with short, needy, aggressive thrusts, trying desperately to maintain her stern, authoritative idol voice even as every impact sent a shiver through her body, her breath turning ragged and hot against your cheek.

"You’re not allowed to look at her again," Miyeon gasped out, her fingers digging into your shoulders as she picked up the tempo. "I’m serious! And stop looking so damn smug while I’m— ah!— while I’m on top of you like this!"

She leaned down, pressing her forehead directly against yours, her dark eyes wide and glossy as her voice melted into a needy, breathless whisper.

"Tell me I’m the only one you want," she pleaded, her hips grinding down hard against yours, burying you as deep as possible. "Tell me wearing this top was worth it. And don’t you dare laugh at how jealous I am or I’ll stop right now... ...Don’t actually make me stop."

Instead of heading toward the lounges, Miyeon gripped your hand and dragged you straight down the side hallway, shoving open the door to the club's luxurious private single bathroom. She pushed you inside, slammed the door shut, and threw the heavy deadbolt into place. The bass from the main floor thudded weakly through the soundproofed walls.

Miyeon turned around, her cheeks thoroughly flushed, her dark eyes burning with petty, unyielding determination. She was done sharing even a second of your attention.

She stepped forward and backed you up until your thighs hit the edge of the cold marble sink counter. She planted one palm firmly against the mirror behind your hip, while her other hand reached down without hesitation, sliding smoothly under the hem of your skirt.

"You don’t get to talk to other girls when I’m dressed like this," Miyeon declared, her voice low, raspy, and laced with alcohol-fueled authority. "Not tonight. Not ever."

She leaned in and kissed you hard—messy, demanding, and possessive—tasting faintly of sweet cocktails. She pulled back just enough for her lips to brush against yours as her fingers found their way past your underwear, sliding effortlessly between your slick thighs.

"I saw the way she was looking at you," she whispered against your lips, her fingers making a slow, deliberate stroke that made your breath catch. "I saw you laughing. So now you’re going to look at me. Only me."

With a swift, firm motion, Miyeon turned you around to face the massive vanity mirror, pressing her front flush against your back. Her sheer mesh top felt warm against your bare skin. She kept one hand anchored on your hip while her other hand worked between your legs with practiced, relentless speed, forcing your chin up with her knuckles so you had no choice but to watch your own reflection.

"Look," Miyeon commanded against your ear, her chest heaving as her fingers picked up a steady, rhythm. "Look at what you came here with tonight. This top. Me. Say I look better than whatever she was wearing. Say it while I make you come right here."

Her voice stayed sharp and petty even as her own breath hitched, her hot breath fanning across your neck as her hand moved faster, finding every sensitive spot with precision.

"You’re not allowed to leave this bathroom until I’m completely satisfied that you remember who you belong to," she purred, her fingers slick and relentless. "And if you laugh at me one more time for being jealous, I swear I’ll— ah... fuck, you’re so wet already. That’s totally not fair."

She bit down softly on the curve of your shoulder, her dark eyes locking onto yours in the glass, watching your expression unravel under her touch.

"Tell me you’re mine," Miyeon demanded, her voice wavering between dominant and needy as her fingers brought you right to the edge. "Tell me that girl didn't matter at all. And don’t you dare finish until I give you permission."