YoU ArE OnLy MiNe || YOONMIN~FF ?

? Part - 37 ?

That night in the bar. The way Yoongi had looked at him like he was nothing more than something to own. The way he had dragged him away, taken him against his will, made him his without a second thought.

Even now, he was still trapped in this world. Still under Yoongi’s control.

So why was he feeling soft toward him?

Jimin shook his head violently, as if trying to shake the thoughts away. No. I can’t do this. I can’t be weak. I can’t forget who he really is.

His husband wasn't some caring man. He wasn’t kind. He didn’t love him.

Yoongi only wanted him—his body, his submission. That was all.

Jimin took a shaky breath, gripping the sheets beneath him. "I hate him," he whispered, as if saying it out loud would make it true.

But then why…

Why did his chest feel so heavy? Why did the memory of Yoongi’s soft touches make him feel warm? Why did he feel like something inside him was breaking apart?

Jimin hated him.

Didn’t he?

Like this he slept.

The morning sun streamed softly through the curtains, casting a golden glow over the bedroom. The air was crisp, carrying the lingering scent of fresh soap and cologne.

Jimin sat before the mirror, his delicate fingers smoothing lotion over his legs, the cool touch grounding him. His white, silky shirt clung lightly to his damp skin, the upper buttons left undone, revealing a teasing glimpse of his collarbones and soft chest. His black shorts barely reached mid-thigh, the fabric hugging his skin just enough to be comfortable.

He wasn’t thinking about anything in particular, just lost in the rhythm of his morning routine.

Behind him, on the bed, Yoongi stirred. A deep breath, a slight shift under the covers, and then his eyes blinked open. The world was still hazy with sleep, his mind slow to process his surroundings. But then—

His gaze landed on Jimin.

And suddenly, Yoongi was wide awake.

Jimin was mesmerizing.

Sitting in front of the mirror, completely unaware of the effect he had, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, his lips slightly parted. The soft morning light kissed his skin, making it look even more delicate—almost glowing. His bare thighs were smooth, inviting, the way they shifted slightly with every small movement sending an unfamiliar warmth through Yoongi’s chest.

For a moment, Yoongi simply watched.

Watched the way Jimin’s hands glided over his skin, the way he pushed his damp hair back, his fingers grazing the exposed curve of his neck.

It was hypnotizing.

Without even realizing it, Yoongi moved.

Silent as a shadow, he rose from the bed and stepped forward, drawn to Jimin like a force beyond his control. He came to a stop just behind him, his presence looming, his breath steady yet deep.