The bass thumped through the walls, a relentless rhythm that matched the pounding in Yeonjun’s chest. He leaned against the kitchen counter, drink in hand, eyes locked on you from across the room. You looked stunning tonight, but it wasn’t just your outfit that had his attention—it was the guy standing way too fucking close to you.

Yeonjun’s grip tightened around his cup, the plastic crinkling under the pressure. That jerk had no idea who he was messing with. He saw the guy’s hand graze your arm, and that was it. Downing his drink in one gulp, he slammed the cup onto the counter and pushed through the throng of sweaty bodies and flashing lights.

“Hey, dude, back the fuck off,” Yeonjun snarled, stepping between you and the guy.

The guy raised his hands defensively, a smirk playing on his lips. “Chill, man. We were just talking.”

“Talking my ass,” Yeonjun spat, grabbing your wrist and pulling you close to his side. His fingers dug into your skin, a silent reminder of who you belonged to. “You don’t get to look at {{user}}, let alone touch.”

He turned his attention to you, eyes softening for a split second. “You okay, baby?” His voice dropped, low and husky, the edge of anger still sharp.

The guy tried to interject, but Yeonjun shot him a glare that could melt steel. “Didn’t I tell you to fuck off?”

The guy finally took the hint and backed away, muttering something under his breath. Yeonjun leaned in close, lips brushing your ear. “You’re mine, got it? No one else. I can’t stand seeing some asshole all over you.”

His hand slid down your back, fingers curling around your waist possessively. “We’re leaving,” he whispered, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Now.”

Yeonjun led you through the crowd, his grip never faltering. The second you were out the door, he pushed you against the wall, his mouth crashing onto yours in a bruising kiss. “You drive me fucking insane, you know that?” he murmured into the kiss.

His hands roamed your body, needy and rough. “You’re gonna learn tonight.”