Professor ~ Yoonmin ff~

Yoongi’s POV:

I couldn’t take it anymore. The sight of Jimin laughing and leaning into that guy, Yuhan, sent a surge of possessiveness coursing through me. I didn’t know why, but I was tired of watching them be so comfortable around each other. So I decided, right then, that I’d confront him.

I made my way to the library, waiting for him to show up. I could feel my heart pounding in my chest as I walked past the rows of books. I can’t let this happen, I thought, even though I couldn’t understand what exactly I was feeling.

I didn’t wait long. A few minutes later, Jimin walked in, looking as carefree as ever. But when he saw me, his expression shifted. He seemed to sense something was wrong. He took a few steps closer, and I wasted no time.

Before he could say anything, I grabbed his wrist and pulled him toward the back of the library, away from prying eyes. I slammed his back against the wall, my hand still gripping his wrist as I leaned in close, my face inches from his.

"Why were you so close to him?" I asked, my voice low and dangerous. "I don’t like it, Jimin."

I could see the shock on his face. His eyes widened, and his breath hitched slightly. He didn’t know how to react. He stood there frozen for a moment, and that only made my grip tighten.

“W-What?” he stammered, trying to look up at me, but I wasn’t having it.

"You heard me," I growled, my grip now on both of his arms as I leaned in even closer. "I don’t like seeing you with him. You’re my student. And you’re mine to deal with, not him."

I could feel the tension between us growing with every word, but when Jimin’s lips parted in surprise, I did something I hadn’t planned. I leaned in—closer, until our faces were almost touching. His lips were so close to mine, and I could hear his breath hitch as if he knew what was coming.

But then I stopped myself. Reality hit me like a slap in the face. What the hell am I doing? He is my student. I can't do this. My breath caught, and I pulled back, suddenly ashamed of my actions. I didn’t know what I was feeling—why I had acted like that, why I had been so possessive.

I looked into Jimin’s eyes for a long moment, and I could see the confusion in his gaze. His lips were parted as if he was waiting for me to say something more. But I couldn’t say anything. I was too angry with myself. And at him—for making me feel this way.

Without a word, I let go of him and stepped back, turning to leave.

“I don’t know why it bothers me,” I muttered, more to myself than to him, before walking out of the library without another word.

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