The hospital rooftop was quiet, only the hum of the city below filling the air. Jungkook leaned against the railing, waiting. Yoongi came up a few minutes later, his coat unbuttoned, eyes dark.

“You wanted to talk?” Yoongi’s voice was sharp, tired, still boiling with anger.

“Yeah,” Jungkook said evenly. “About Mimi.”

Yoongi stiffened immediately. “Don’t.”

Jungkook didn’t flinch. “You’ve been avoiding her since you came back. She’s broken, Yoongi. She thinks you don’t want her anymore.”

Yoongi’s jaw clenched, his fists curling. “She fucked my father, Jungkook. My father. How the fuck am I supposed to look at her the same way again?”

Jungkook stepped closer, voice low but firm. “She did it because she was jealous. Because she wanted to feel like you cared. I sent interns to Tae, and Tae let me—because that’s who we are. We test boundaries. We share, we push, we get off on it. And Mimi? She wanted you to push her too. When you didn’t, she broke.”

Yoongi’s eyes flickered, his breathing uneven.

“She loves you, hyung,” Jungkook continued. “She’s obsessed with you. Even when she was on her knees for your father, she was crying your name. I saw the video. I know you saw it too. You weren’t just angry—you were turned on.”

Yoongi’s nostrils flared, shame flickering across his face. “Fuck you.”

Jungkook smirked faintly. “Don’t deny it. You stroked your cock to it, didn’t you? Just like I did when Tae spread her pussy for those interns. We’re sick men, Yoongi. We love our wives, but we also love them being ruined. And that’s okay. Because at the end of the day, they crawl back into our beds, begging for our cum.”

—

Yoongi’s hands gripped the railing so tight his knuckles turned white. His chest rose and fell heavily, his face twisted in conflict.

Finally, he let out a raw groan. “She’s mine, Jungkook. No one else’s. Not my father, not anyone. She’s mine.”

Jungkook nodded slowly, stepping closer, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “Then fucking show her, hyung. Don’t push her away. Punish her, love her, break her if you have to—but don’t ignore her. Because ignoring Mimi? That hurts her worse than anything.”

Yoongi’s eyes darkened, his voice dropping to a growl. “I’ll make her remember who she belongs to.”

Jungkook smirked, satisfied. “That’s the Yoongi I know.”

—

They stood in silence for a moment, the tension shifting from anger to understanding.

Yoongi finally exhaled, rubbing a hand over his face. “You’re right. I was… I was punishing her with silence. But it only made her run to you, didn’t it?”

Jungkook’s smirk widened knowingly. “She cried in my arms. But even then, she was crying for you, hyung. Not me.”

Yoongi’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, guilt and desire twisting in his chest.

“I’ll go to her,” he muttered. “Tonight.”

Jungkook squeezed his shoulder once before stepping back. “Good. And hyung? Don’t hold back. She doesn’t want gentle. She wants her husband. She wants Yoongi.”

Yoongi’s lips curled into the faintest, darkest smile. “She’s going to regret ever touching him.”