The party had been Jungkook's idea—a small gathering to celebrate her finally feeling comfortable enough to socialize after the twins' first birthday. He'd invited colleagues, friends from the industry, and specifically, he'd extended an invitation to a young man from her country who worked in the Seoul office of an international company. He'd thought it would make her feel at home, hearing her native language spoken in their marble-floored living room.

He regretted it instantly.

He watched from across the room, a whiskey glass growing warm in his hand, as she laughed at something the boy said—twenty-five, handsome in an unthreatening way, his eyes lingering too long on Y/n's collarbones where her dress dipped low.

She was glowing, animated, her hand touching the boy's arm as she explained something in their shared language, the words rolling off her tongue in a way that made Jungkook's stomach twist with something dark and violent.

Mine, he thought, the word pulsing behind his eyes. Mine, mine, mine.

He set the glass down with a click that drew the attention of several guests, but he didn't care. He crossed the room in long strides, his face set in the expression that had made reporters tremble during press conferences. The boy saw him coming first, eyes widening, hand dropping from Y/n's waist where it had been drifting.

"Jungkook," she started, turning to him with a smile that faltered when she saw his face. "This is—"

"I don't care who he is," Jungkook said, his voice dangerously soft. He gripped her wrist, his fingers circling the bone with possessive pressure. "We're leaving. Now."

She stumbled after him, protests dying on her lips as he pulled her through the crowd, up the grand staircase, down the hallway to their bedroom. He slammed the door behind them, throwing the lock with a decisive click that echoed in the sudden silence.

"Jungkook, what—"

"Did you like him?" Jungkook asked, advancing on her, shedding his jacket, his tie, unbuttoning his shirt with jerky movements. "Did you like his hands on you? His eyes on what's mine?"

"No, I was just—"

"Liar." He was before her in two strides, his hand fisting in the delicate silk of her gown. "I saw you. Smiling. Touching him. Letting him look at you."

With a savage growl, he tore the gown—fabric ripping loud in the room, the expensive silk parting like paper under his strength. She gasped, clutching at the remains, but he was already lifting her, throwing her onto the bed with enough force to bounce the mattress, to send her hair spilling across the pillows.

"Jungkook, wait—" she breathed, but her eyes were wide, pupils blown, her chest heaving with something that wasn't entirely fear.

He climbed over her, caging her beneath his body, his weight pressing her into the mattress. "You want to know what happens when you make me jealous?" he growled against her throat, his teeth grazing her pulse point hard enough to leave a mark. "When you let other men think they can have what's mine?"

He flipped her onto her stomach before she could answer, his hand coming down hard on her ass—smack—the sound sharp and cracking. She cried out, her back arching, and he hit her again, harder, watching her flesh redden beneath his palm.

"You don't get to hide from me," he snarled, spanking her again, then again, until she was squirming, her legs parting instinctively, revealing the wetness gathering between her thighs. "You don't get to flirt. You don't get to smile at them. You belong to me. This body—" He gripped her hips, fingers digging into the softness, pulling her up onto her knees. "—is mine. Every hole. Every inch."

He positioned himself behind her, his cock heavy and throbbing, and drove into her pussy in one brutal thrust that shoved her face into the pillows. She screamed, the sound muffled, her hands fisting the sheets as he bottomed out, his hips flush against her spanked, burning ass.

"No protection," he gritted out, withdrawing and slamming back in, setting a punishing rhythm. "Not tonight. I want to fill you up. Want you dripping with me. Want you to remember who owns this cunt."

He fucked her mercilessly, his hips snapping against her with wet, obscene sounds, his hands gripping her waist hard enough to bruise. She couldn't breathe, couldn't think, the air knocked from her lungs with every thrust, her face pressed into the mattress while he used her body with a desperation born of jealousy and obsession.

"Look at you," he panted, his pace never faltering. "Taking it. Loving it. You like when I'm jealous, don't you? Like when I lose control?"

"Yes," she gasped, the word torn from her throat. "Yes, Jungkook, please—"

"Please what?" He slowed suddenly, cruelly, grinding deep and staying there, making her feel every throb of his cock. "Please stop? Or please fuck you harder?"

"Harder," she whimpered, pushing back against him, her body betraying her terror with its need. "Please, harder."

He gave her everything. Flipped her onto her back, her legs over his shoulders, and drove into her so deeply she saw stars. He didn't let her catch her breath, his mouth covering hers, swallowing her cries, his tongue fucking her mouth while his cock destroyed her pussy. He fucked her through one orgasm, then another, not slowing, not gentling, his stamina endless, his need insatiable.

"Not enough," he growled against her breast, his teeth closing around her nipple, biting hard enough to make her scream. "Need more. Need all of you."

He pulled out suddenly, leaving her empty and aching, and flipped her again, pressing her face into the pillows, lifting her hips high. She felt his thumbs spreading her, felt the cool air on her most private place, and realized with a jolt of terror what he intended.

"Jungkook, wait, I've never—"

"Mine," he snarled, and pressed the head of his cock against her tight, virgin entrance. "Every part of you. Say it."

"Yours," she gasped, clutching the sheets. "I'm yours, Jungkook, please—"

He pushed in.

The pain was blinding—stretching, burning, her body fighting the intrusion as he forced himself into the tight, resistant heat of her ass. She screamed into the pillow, her back arching, her hands trying to push back against his thighs, but he didn't stop. He couldn't. He groaned, long and guttural, feeling her muscles clamp around him, feeling the impossible tightness that was his alone to claim.

"Relax," he commanded, his voice strained, sweat dripping from his chin onto her back. "Take it. Take my cock in your ass like a good girl. Show me you belong to me completely."

He began to move, slow, devastating thrusts that dragged through her sensitive walls, each movement sending sparks of pain and pleasure through her nervous system. She sobbed into the pillows, her body trembling, overwhelmed, but she didn't tell him to stop. She pushed back, accepting him, taking him deeper.

"That's it," he praised, his pace increasing, his grip on her hips bruising. "Fuck, that's it. So tight. So perfect. No one else gets this. No one else will ever have this."

He fucked her ass with the same intensity he'd used on her pussy—relentless, possessive, claiming her in the most primal way possible. When he reached beneath her to find her clit, rubbing rough circles, she came with a scream that tore her throat, her body convulsing, her ass pulsing around his driving length.

The sensation broke him. With a roar, he buried himself to the root, his cock jerking as he spilled inside her, pulse after hot pulse filling her ass, marking her, owning her. He collapsed over her, his weight pressing her into the mattress, his cock still buried deep, still hard, still twitching with aftershocks.

He didn't pull out.

Instead, he maneuvered them onto their sides, spooning her from behind, his cock remaining lodged in her ass as he softened slightly. His hand found her breast, palming the weight of it, his thumb circling the nipple until it peaked. Then he lowered his head, taking the sensitive flesh into his mouth, suckling gently, his tongue laving the abused peak.

"Sleep," he commanded, his voice rough, his arm heavy across her waist. "Don't move. Don't try to clean up. I want to wake up inside you. Want to fuck you again in the morning. And the next morning. And every morning until you forget any other man exists."

She was trembling, exhausted, her body used thoroughly, her ass throbbing around his softening cock, her breast in his mouth. She should have been terrified—he'd been brutal, relentless, had taken her virginity in a way that bordered on violence. But as his arm tightened around her, as he sucked gently at her nipple and murmured possessive praises in Korean against her skin, she felt only safety. Only belonging.

"Yours," she whispered, her eyes closing, her body surrendering to sleep even as he remained inside her.

"Forever," he growled against her breast, his teeth closing gently around the nipple, marking her even in sleep. "Don't ever forget it."

Outside, the party continued, guests wondering where their host had gone. Inside, Jungkook slept with his wife impaled on his cock, his mouth full of her flesh, his obsession complete. The boy from her country would be sent back tomorrow, transferred to another office, another city, erased from their lives. Jungkook would make sure of it.

She was his. Every hole. Every breath. Every dream.

And he would spend the rest of his life proving it.