Careful as handling glass, he slid his hands to her shoulders—fingers tracing the thin straps of her dress, hooking them gentle, easing the silk down her arms. The fabric whispered over her skin like a lover’s sigh—peeling away to pool at her waist, revealing the tiny lace bra beneath: black, sheer, cups barely containing her full, heavy breasts, dark nipples shadowing the fabric like secrets. Yoongi’s breath hitched sharp—eyes darkening as he drank her in: the soft swell of her tits, the dip of her waist, the flare of her hips in the matching thong that hugged her mound like a promise. Fuck—she’s a vision. Curves like sin, skin like cream. How the hell did that prick not worship this every night?

Mimi flushed deeper—arms crossing instinctive over her chest, shy under his gaze. “Yoongi… it’s been… I don’t look like I used to—”