The parent-teacher conference had been scheduled for 6 PM, a time that required careful coordination with the nanny to manage dinner and bedtime for the twins.

Y/n had dressed carefully—modestly, she thought—a navy blue dress that fell to her knees, long sleeves, a modest neckline. She'd pulled her hair back in a neat bun and worn simple pearl earrings, the picture of a respectable mother attending to her children's education.

Jungkook had watched her dress with dark eyes, his gaze following the slide of fabric over her curves, the way the material clung to her waist and hips despite its modest cut. He'd said nothing, but she'd felt the weight of his attention, the possessive hunger that never truly slept.

The classroom was small, designed for intimate discussions about first-grade progress. Soo-min's teacher, Mrs. Park, was kind and efficient, showing them examples of their daughter's artwork, her emerging literacy, her kindness toward classmates.

Jungkook sat close to Y/n, his hand resting on her thigh beneath the table, his thumb tracing patterns that made it difficult to concentrate on phonics assessments.

Then Mr. Han arrived.

He was the father of one of Joon's classmates, a businessman in his forties with silver at his temples and an easy smile. He'd come alone—his wife was traveling for work, he explained—and when he entered the classroom to wait for his own conference, his eyes had found Y/n immediately.

"Mrs. Jeon," he'd said, bowing slightly, his smile warm. "I've heard so much about Soo-min from my son. He says she's the smartest girl in class. And the prettiest, though I suspect she gets that from her mother."

The compliment was innocent enough. The kind of thing said at school functions everywhere. But Jungkook's hand tightened on Y/n's thigh, his fingers digging into the soft flesh hard enough to leave marks she would find later.

"Thank you," Y/n said politely, shifting slightly, trying to put distance between herself and the heat radiating from her husband. "Your son is very sweet. Soo-min mentions him often."

"Perhaps we could arrange a playdate," Mr. Han suggested, his eyes lingering on Y/n's face, on the richness of her skin, on the fullness of her lips. "The children seem to get along well. And it would give us a chance to get to know each other better."

"Her schedule is full," Jungkook said, his voice cutting through the room like a blade. He stood, his posture radiating danger, his hand moving from Y/n's thigh to her shoulder, gripping possessively.

"Our family's schedule is private. And full. Thank you for your interest in our daughter."

The temperature in the room dropped. Mrs. Park looked up from her papers, alarmed.

Mr. Han blinked, realizing too late that he'd crossed an invisible line, that the man before him was not merely a protective father but a predator guarding his mate.

"I meant no offense—" Mr. Han began.

"Of course not," Jungkook said, but his smile didn't reach his eyes. "You meant nothing at all. Because you don't know her. You don't know us. And you never will."

He pulled Y/n to her feet, his grip on her arm firm, his body positioning itself between her and Mr. Han like a shield. "We're leaving," he announced to Mrs. Park. "Soo-min is doing well. We trust your judgment. Good evening."

He propelled Y/n from the room, down the hallway, past the other parents waiting for their conferences. She could feel the tremor in his hand, the barely controlled violence in his movements. He didn't speak until they were in the car, the doors locked.

"Take off your dress," he commanded, his voice low, rough with the same jealousy that had consumed him for over a decade.

"Jungkook, we're in the parking lot—"

"Now." He turned to her, and the wildness in his eyes took her breath away—the same madness she'd seen that first night, when he'd torn her clothes and claimed her, the same desperation that had never truly healed. "I need to see you. Need to feel you. Need to erase his eyes from your skin."

She obeyed, her hands shaking, reaching for the zipper at her back. The dress pooled around her waist, and his hands were there immediately, pulling it lower, exposing her breasts, her stomach, the softness of her hips. He groaned, the sound torn from his throat, his mouth finding her neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark that would last for days.

"Every time," he growled against her skin, his hands roaming her body with desperate possession. "Every time we go out. Every time another man sees you. Sees what I have. What I stole. What I keep."

"You didn't steal me," she whispered, though her body was already responding, arching into his touch, her nipples tightening under his rough palms. "I came to you. I stayed. I chose you."

"Choose me again," he demanded, his hand sliding between her legs, finding her wet despite her protests, despite the public setting, despite the years that should have dimmed this hunger.

"Choose me now. Here. Let me take you in the parking lot like an animal. Let me remind you who you belong to."

He freed himself from his trousers, his cock thick and throbbing in his hand, and pulled her astride him, guiding her down onto his length in one deep thrust that made them both cry out.

The car was spacious, designed for privacy, but still they were cramped, her knees digging into the leather seats, her head bumping against the roof as he gripped her hips and began to move her.

"Look at me," he commanded, his eyes burning into hers, his face flushed with the intensity of his need. "Only me. Never them. Never anyone else."

"Only you," she gasped, her hands finding his shoulders, her body moving with his, taking him deep, grinding against him with the desperation that matched his own. "Only ever you, Jungkook. No one else. No one—"

He captured her mouth in a brutal kiss, his tongue claiming her as his hips thrust upward, filling her completely, hitting that perfect spot inside her that made her vision blur. The car smelled of sex and leather and their combined sweat, the windows fogging with the heat of their bodies, the sounds of their joining muffled but unmistakable.

He fucked her with the same intensity he'd shown her at twenty, at thirty, the years having done nothing to dim his stamina, his need, his obsession. His hands gripped her ass, spreading her open, pulling her down harder onto his cock, his mouth moving to her breasts, sucking her nipples into his mouth with greedy pulls that made her head fall back, her cry echoing in the confined space.

"Mine," he growled against her skin, his thrusts becoming erratic, savage. "Say it. Say it while I'm inside you. Say it while you're coming on my cock."

"Yours," she screamed, the orgasm crashing over her, her body convulsing, her cunt clamping down on him in rhythmic pulses that pulled his own release from him. "Jungkook, yours, yours, yours—"

He spilled inside her with a roar that vibrated through his chest, pulse after hot pulse filling her, marking her, claiming her in the most primitive way possible. He stayed there, buried deep, his arms wrapping around her waist, his face pressed between her breasts as they both trembled with the aftermath.

The car was silent except for their breathing. Outside, the parking lot was filling with other parents leaving the conference, walking past their fogged windows, unaware of the claiming that had just occurred within.

Jungkook whispered against her skin, pressing gentle kisses to her sternum, her collarbone, her throat. "Still obsessed. Still can't breathe when I think about losing you."

"You won't lose me," she promised, her hands stroking his hair, her body still joined to his, his seed warm inside her. "I'm here. I've always been here. I'll always be here."

He looked up at her, his eyes wet, his expression raw. "Take me home," he said softly. "Feed the twins. Put them to bed. And then let me love you properly. Slowly. All night."

She smiled, her heart full, her body sore and satisfied. "That's a promise I intend to hold you to."

He helped her dress with trembling hands, his touch gentle now, reverent, his obsession having found its temporary satiation. But she knew, as they drove home through the Seoul night, that it would flare again tomorrow, and the next day, and every day for the rest of their lives.

And she wouldn't have it any other way.