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the misadventures list; 5 (m)

➜ the night shift can be very wild at times. you’ve witnessed so many strange, concerning and absurd situations happen inside the tiny convenience store that you could make a long list with everything that got you stunned - and the situation that takes the prize of being the weirdest of your list is the night a desperate millionaire, for the sake of saving his fortune, asks you to pretend to be his girlfriend.

pairing: playboy!jimin x (f) reader

genre: smut, comedy (?), fluff • fake dating au

warnings: toxic parents. brief mentions of homofobia. alcohol consumption. explicit sexual content (semi-public sex, oral m&f receiving, throat fucking, unprotected sex, praise kink kinda, cum play, dirty talk). made-up celebrities. me trying to be funny i guess

rating: 18+

word count: 20k

A/N: i can't thank you guys enough for waiting for this update! i know it's been a while but i hope you enjoy this chapter as much as i enjoyed writing it!! as always, feedback is MUCH appreciated <3

➜ Chapters: check out masterlist in bio!

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It’s almost 6PM.

Jimin is not happy about it.

The change in his expression as he checks the hour on his phone is subtle, but you see it as clear as day. The smile that remained on his lips and vanished from his eyes. He sighs, putting the phone inside his back pocket, and goes back to saying his goodbyes to everyone at the pier.

It makes you forget for a second that you were in the process of saving your own number on Jane’s phone.

You look down once again, fingers hesitating over the keyboard. Damn. You weren’t supposed to be making friends. Jane is the lesser problem right here - she doesn’t know anyone from Jimin’s family except Jimin himself. The problem is that many of Jungkook’s friends are Jimin’s, too, and they asked for your number or your Instagram. Which, sure, isn’t that big of a deal and isn’t something unpredictable either, but hey, your purpose here is to pretend for just three days. You’re supposed to vanish from Jimin’s life right after it’s over. “Vanishing” doesn’t include making friends with his friends.

“What? You forgot your number?” Jane asks, eyeing you. She’s so drunk that it’s obvious that she’s not seeing you really.

“Yeah, I’m… a little dizzy.” You chuckle awkwardly. That’s a lie, though - you’re not drunk in the slightest. As soon as you noticed that alcohol was making you act weird, you stopped with the cocktails and drank as much water as possible to dissipate it from your system (so much pee). Going to the Park’s private concert drunk is out of question.

Giving in, you type your real number on her phone and hand it back to her. Jane smiles.

“I’m so glad that we met, Y/N! You’re such a great person! For real, like, you have a nice vibe!” Jane says excitedly. Yeah, definitely drunk. “We should meet again before the trip is over!”

It won’t be possible, of course. You’re not free to do whatever you want. But you nod anyway, hoping she won’t remember anything later. “Sure, let’s go out!”

Your little chat is interrupted by Jungkook calling everyone for a group photo. As soon as everyone starts gathering in a spot, you feel Jimin’s hand resting on your waist, pulling you closer to his body. His grip is warm and gentle and heat spreads from the spot he touches. His hair is kind of a mess right now, yet he still manages to look cute. Jimin doesn’t say anything, just sends you a small smile before posing for the camera.

A few clicks later, he leans over to say quietly in your ear: “We really have to go now.”

You nod. Both of you still have to get ready for the concert in a few hours. As Jimin explained, up until now, only his parents’ closest friends arrived; tonight, though, is when the real people will arrive. Not causing a good impression on them is not an option.

You start to make your way out of there, in the midst of saying goodbye to the people you walk past (consciously ignoring the vultures that were around Jimin, though. You ain’t acting nice to them at all). As you both walk past Jungkook, Jimin puts his hand over the younger’s shoulder and sends him a warning gaze.

“You better sober up,” he says. Jungkook only opens a carefree smirk in response.

“C’mon, I’m not even that drunk yet. Don’t worry.” You’re not so sure about that, though; there’s something kind of psychotic about his silly smile. “See you guys later!”

Instead of arguing, Jimin just sighs.

And finally, you’re walking away from the pier.

It’s quieter now, which honestly is such a relief. The temperature started to cool down a bit. The sun has already disappeared behind the horizon line, yet the sky is still clear, painted in beautiful shades of orange, yellow and pink. You just walk in silence, hands behind your back, feeling a little funny. Since you stayed a long time in the water, it feels as if your body is still floating. It’s been a while since you felt this way.

“Jimin, I wanted to ask you a question…” you say quietly after a while.

After not getting a response, you frown and look around. Jimin isn’t beside you.

He’s a few steps behind, holding his phone to eye level.

“What are you doing?”

Jimin smiles. “Registering the moment.”

You quirk one eyebrow up and walk back to where he stands, a little bit confused. Jimin lets you see his phone for a second.

Your jaw drops.

You stand at the very center of the photo he took, your back turned to him, hair swaying with the wind. The beautiful sight of the evening sky serves as an astonishing background, the last beams of sunlight framing your figure beautifully. It’s breathtaking. He made such a trivial moment become something incredible with a single shot.

“What the hell?!” You exclaim, astonished, making Jimin chuckle. “You’ll send me this, right? This has to go on my Instagram feed!”

“Nope.” He says in a cocky manner, sticking his phone to his chest so you can't see it anymore. “I’m gatekeeping this one.”

“Aw, come on! That’s not fair!” You cross your arms and frown at him. "What are you going to do with this photo anyway?"

"It's my lockscreen already." His eyebrows shoot up in a playful expression. "What makes me remember, you should change yours, too. Why didn't we change it before? Such an amateur mistake!" He swiftly takes your phone from your hand and opens the front camera.

"What are you doing-?"

You gasp softly when Jimin pulls you by the waist, sticking your body to his. "Smile, pretty!"

His act was so sudden that you, indeed, end up cracking a genuine smile - at the same moment his lips touch your cheek tenderly.

Click.

Jimin steps away and smiles proudly at the photo. "We look like a real couple here. Come on, set it as your lockscreen."

You take the phone back from his hand, feeling a little dizzy.

Oh well.

You literally made out with him in front of everyone just a few hours ago, in the middle of the ocean. Why does the chaste kiss he planted on your cheek still makes your face burn? Is it because now you're alone, not having to pretend to be a couple anymore, that his act felt much more intimate? But… there was no one else around during your first kiss at the beach, either.

It's because you're head over heels for him already.

You shake your head frantically as if to yank these thoughts away from your head. No no no. I'm not falling that easily. I'm a cold hearted bitch. I'm just flattered because he's cute and hot and rich, but it'll go away. Right?

"Yeah, right." You mumble.

"What?" Jimin quirks one eyebrow up.

"What?" You freeze, realizing that you voiced your thoughts out loud. "I-I mean- I want to ask you something."

"Oh." He puts his hands behind his back and starts walking again. You follow him shortly. "What is it?"

You munch the inside of your cheek nervously. "You can not tell me if you don't want to. But… what happened earlier today? That family meeting, I mean. Is there anything I need to know?"

The carefree glint in his eyes immediately disappears. Jimin looks down at his feet. "Oh."

An uncomfortable silence settles between you, only the sounds of the ocean and voices from the other people at the pier lingering. It makes you regret making that question as soon as the words leave your mouth. "You really don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." You say hesitantly after a few seconds.

"No, it's alright." Jimin reassures, but he's still staring at his feet. He sighs and shakes his head. It's so painful to see him sulking this way whenever his family is mentioned… "Basically, they called me to say that Eunbi's parents are pissed about us."

Your eyes widen in surprise. "Really?" You came prepared to be hated by Jimin's parents, but Eunbi's as well? Shit. As if one billionaire middle aged couple of enemies wasn't enough.

"Really." Jimin nods. You have finally reached the stairs that lead to the street level. This pier is within the resort's property, actually, so you're not that far from the bungalows, and the main building is just a few streets ahead. "They came thinking that the engagement was already settled. Without asking for our opinions, you know. They think that bringing you here is disrespectful to their daughter."

"Oh." You knit your eyebrows. "So… they don't care if you're in an actual relationship. They'd want you to break up so you can get married to someone you barely know… even if you weren't aware of the engagement?"

"Yep. That's exactly how they think." He sighs heavily.

You go up the stairs in silence. Your brain is working furiously. "This won't put you into real trouble, right?"

Jimin chuckles. "Y/N, the whole point of bringing you here was to put me in trouble. I want to stress them. Just don't worry too much, okay? Worrying will give you wrinkles, and you have to look wonderful tonight."

You're finally standing on the sidewalk, where one of the Park family butlers already waits to take you both back to the bungalow (he's wearing a short sleeved dress shirt, at least. Poor butlers, having to wear suits in the summer!). Your stomach twirls in nervousness. Spending the afternoon so freely made you forget for a bit your actual purpose here.

"You go without me, pretty. I'll get ready at Jungkook's place."

You turn to him, frowning in a confused expression. "What? Why?"

The happy gleam in his eyes comes back slowly as he steps closer. "I already explained that today is a little more serious, right? More guests arrived, we have to impress people… so I hired a team to take care of you. Hairstylist, makeup artist and stuff. They're already waiting for you."

"Oh." You feel your face burning for some reason. It should be expected of him to do something like that - even obvious, since all the socialites attending are probably getting the same treatment - but still, you can't help but feel a little flustered. "Okay." You change the weight of your body from one leg to another nervously. "So… see you later, I guess?"

Jesus Christ.

He's doing it again.

Standing directly in front of you with his hands behind his back, a mysterious lip tightened smile and mischief in his eyes, watching your every movement with amusement. If your face was hot a few seconds ago, now your entire body is feverish. Will you ever get used to this? The things Jimin makes you feel without even touching you are kind of amazing. Imagine when he actually touch you the way you want the most-

Hey, pervert. Stop.

"I think I've said this a hundred times already… but it's kinda rude to just stand and stare at people." You say, eyebrows knitted - but you can't manage to sound annoyed at all.

Jimin smirks.

"I want to kiss you."

You're so taken aback that your eyes widen.

"Huh?"

"Don't huh at me." He steps even closer - so close that you feel the heat emanating from his body. He rests his hand in the junction of your jaw and your neck, spreading even more heat from that spot. You don't push him away. All this heat is going to make you melt like a popsicle. "Don't try to look innocent right now. You shoved your tongue in my throat not long ago, missy."

You giggle, avoiding his gaze for a moment. "I already said… I was just method acting."

"Hmm." Jimin nods slowly, biting his bottom lip. The sight makes you weak on the knees. "Sure. So, me kissing you right now means I'm method acting because one of the butlers is watching and we can't look suspicious around them, okay? Because they're my parents' eyes and ears, okay? Not because I want to kiss you." His voice gets lower as he leans in, a faked innocent expression that has you smiling and melting at the same time. "Just to make it clear so there's no misunderstanding. Okay?"

"Okay." You nod.

"Good. I'd hate if you got it all wrong."

Your giggle is muffled by his lips on yours.

Your hands instinctively rest on each side of his waist, while he cups your face with both hands. Oh God… his plump lips are addicting. This kiss is slower and somehow more peaceful than the one you shared in the sea, but it makes your heart race and your senses go crazy nevertheless. Your lips move slowly, in sync with his. You can feel him smiling within the kiss, which causes your knees to feel even weaker.

He breaks the kiss not too long after, aware that you're standing in the middle of the sidewalk, but not taking his hands off of you. Yet again, he bites his bottom lip, analyzing your features carefully. "Hari will be there. You'll have a lot of territory to mark. Be ready."

You throw your head back, laughing. "Sure. You really are enjoying this way too much, huh?"

"I am. Why wouldn't I?" He confesses cheekily, shrugging. He pecks your lips one last time, lingering for a little longer, before finally letting you go. "See you later, pretty."

"See you."

You hope that Jimin doesn't notice that your legs kind of forgot how to walk as you distance yourself from him towards the butler. Because yes, you feel like a poor popsicle melting under the scorching Hawaiian sun. The sun has Jimin's face, which makes you remember the Teletubbies for some reason, earning a quiet giggle from you. The butler eyes you as if you're crazy.

Maybe you are getting crazy.

But to be honest - this insanity is sweeter than any popsicle you could ever taste.

As a kid, you always fantasized about being Mia from The Princess Diaries. Call it escapism if you want - fantasizing about a perfect life while yours was awful - but it was a dream of yours. Imagine: finding out your grandmother is a queen? Going from a regular loser to a crown princess? Who wouldn't want that?

You haven't thought of that movie in years. Now, as you stand in front of the mirror, it suddenly pops up in your head. Yes, Mia's iconic "transformation" scene.

Except you didn't think you were ugly before, which means right now, you're feeling like a literal goddess.

Maybe that's why God didn't make me rich, you think. Maybe he knew if I looked like this on a daily basis, I would be the most unbearable human being in this world.

"Did you like it?" The hairstylist, Christine, asks, eyeing you expectantly.

If I liked it?! I look like the hottest bitch you'll ever see in your life!

But instead of letting everyone see your God complex, you just nod and smile politely. "I loved it!"

Your eyes focus on the mirror again.

Jimin suggested you'd both wear black tonight as an evil joke. Traditionally, the dinner followed by the private concert is a more "informal" event, so everyone should dress accordingly with colorful outfits (you're in Hawaii, after all). Let's wear black. It represents me grieving my freedom, he said jokingly at the mall. You chuckled and thought he was being dramatic back then, but after everything you've witnessed for the past 48 hours, you realize that Jimin wasn't really joking when he said that.

The Yves Saint Lauren dress you two picked is quite simple: a short, strapless and sleeveless dress with a straight neckline. It's perfectly balanced between sexy and elegant: it enhances your curves the right amount, not enough to be considered vulgar by the aunties. Although it's strapless, it doesn't squeeze your boobies up so the uncles won't get "distracted" (ew). It's so simple but fits your body so well that you can't help but stare at your own reflection in awe. Simple black Givenchy sandals complete the outfit.

Being a (poor) fashion enthusiast, this whole experience is like heaven to you. One thing is to see new collections and judge new trends; another completely different thing is to get to wear a piece from a high fashion house. It's not only about prices and status. This dress is so well cut and woven that it seems to be alive, as if it knows where to be tight and where to be loose.

Doing your own makeup and hair was never a problem and you could do a pretty good job by yourself, but professionals doing it is on another level. Christine styled your hair back, carefully parting it and tucking it behind your ears, so your face is highlighted. Marco (the makeup artist) made your skin look impeccable, as smooth as baby butt cheeks (it's crazy how makeup can lie, huh?); the winged eyeliner, albeit simple, enhances the natural shape of your eyes. The lashes are subtle and make your eyes appear bigger. He completed the look by placing tiny little glitter dots under the waterline, one for each eye, so they kinda look like shiny tears (you suggested it, by the way, being carried away by the whole "grieving" concept. Talk about drama). He chose a lipstick color close to the natural color of your lips, making them appear shiny, plump and healthy.

And finally - the jewelry.

Mr. Zhou arrived at the bungalow a few minutes ago, carrying a leather, medium sized suitcase. You greet each other politely. Jimin texted saying that he would bring the jewelry you'd wear tonight - and you were anxious all along, because while you planned the outfits, he had already said you'd wear jewelry, but he didn't tell which jewelry; didn't show a single photo of what you'd wear, simply asked you to trust him. Although you learned to trust his fashion sense pretty fast, you don't like surprises at all. What if it's something extravagant that would ruin the look?

"Mr. Jimin picked those pieces from the Park jewelry collection himself," Mr. Zhou explains as he puts white gloves on (oh shit - this is so expensive that he has to wear gloves to touch it?!). "He said they would suit you fine - and I agree."

The chief butler opens the suitcase and takes the biggest black velvet case from inside, opening it.

It takes all of your self control not to gasp.

It's a gorgeous diamond necklace (yes, diamonds, fucking real diamonds!); it looks like a thick chain, actually, and at the center of it, sits a bigger emerald (yes, an emerald, a fucking real emerald!). Inside the box there are also subtle emerald earrings framed by tiny diamonds; since the necklace is already too much, the earrings have to be subtle to accompany them.

“I present you The Serpent’s Eye.” Mr. Zhou explains eloquently. “Tiffany & Co., designed by Paloma Picasso and acquired by the Park family in 2006.” He takes the necklace from the velvet case carefully. "If you'll allow me…"

"Of course." You say, turning around and facing the mirror again - but you do so hesitantly, because being the fashion enthusiast you are, you recognize the name Paloma Picasso, and the fact that you’re about to have one of her original designs around your neck scares you. You’ve been very well aware that every piece of clothing you wear is worth thousands, but these pieces must be worth much more than everything else combined.

Mr. Zhou stands behind you and places the necklace around your neck, the cool touch of metal and diamonds making you shiver. The necklace sits just above your collarbones. The name of the design is understandable - it indeed resembles a small snake tangled around your neck. He also helps you put the small earrings on.

Finally, Mr. Zhou steps aside.

"You look astonishing, Miss. Y/N," he says, and honestly, he sounds like he means it.

Yeah, I do, it’s what you want to say - but instead, you say “Thank you.”

It’s exactly what Jimin intended: elegance. If you’re too extravagant, his parents would hate it, and it’d make you look cheap no matter how expensive your clothes actually are. If it’s too simple, it’d look like you have no fashion sense. This look is the perfect balance. Your natural beauty is the focus, everything else just meant to highlight you.

You look like a celebrity.

You look like them. Like someone’s rich daughter. And yes, it’s conflicting, because you never wanted to look like them - but you can’t deny that you like what you see in the mirror.

You understand Jimin better now. Of course - he's an old money child, he doesn't know any lifestyle other than this. You're just having a little taste of what this life is. Yet, you can understand why he's so desperate to not lose his portion of the Park family fortune. Who wouldn't want to live such a lavish life? Who wouldn't want to look their absolute best at any opportunity, to wear clothes worth thousands just because they can?

Mr. Zhou looks at the watch on his wrist. “Now that you’re ready, I should take you to the event hall as soon as possible.”

“Am I late?” You ask in a worried tone.

“Fashionably late. I’m sure everyone will understand. It takes time to look your best.” Mr. Zhou reassures. Why is he being so nice today? “I will wait for you outside, Miss Y/N.”

You nod. As Christine and Marco pack their things, you don’t forget to thank them over and over again for their wonderful job. They seem like pretty nice people, actually, and you'd like to get to know them better, but you have no time to. Two other butlers will assist their exit. You take the small black clutch that literally can only fit your phone and a small lipgloss before walking out of the bungalow where Mr. Zhou already waits.

No golf car today. Instead, that same Mercedes Maybach from yesterday is parked outside. Mr. Zhou politely opens the door for you and helps you get inside the car before taking his place on the driver's seat.

Another wave of nervousness hits your stomach as he turns the car on and finally starts making his way towards the hall - a separate building within the hotel's property, sitting in front of the ocean, not far from the pier. The ride will take probably 5 minutes. You exhale heavily, checking yourself again with the front camera, before tapping Jimin's contact.

you: i'm coming

He replies almost instantly:

jimin: waiting for you outside

Oh. You didn't think he'd already be there. You put the phone inside the clutch again and look out the window, chewing the inside of your cheek.

"Are you nervous, Miss Y/N?" Mr. Zhou asks out of sudden, snapping you back to reality. He keeps the formal tone; his voice is soothing.

"A little bit, I'll admit." You say with a lip tightened smile.

"Tonight, you'll be meeting Jimin's parents' close friends and allies from other companies." He continues. He always speaks as if he's picking his words carefully. "It's quite important to them. It's not just a celebratory event, you see… they reassure their place within society and business today."

You frown slightly.

Mr. Zhou never talked this much. Although he keeps that formal persona, you see that he's trying to tell you something very specific, just avoiding the direct words to do so.

And yes, you get the message.

"You don’t need to worry, Mr. Zhou.” You say, crossing your arms, your expression hardening like stone in seconds. “I won’t embarrass the Park family in front of their friends.”

You see the butler nodding. “You’re smart.” He remarks. “Intelligence is important if you want to be accepted in the family.”

I would never in a million years want to be part of this family, you think. Instead, you just gulp and grip your arms, trying to ease the growing anger.

Finally, he parks in front of the events building. Yet, instead of immediately going out - and stopping you from opening the door yourself, since you’re already annoyed, Mr. Zhou turns around on his seat to look at you directly.

His expression is serious.

“I don’t want you to take my words badly, Miss Y/N.” He says in a quiet, yet stern voice. “I have been watching over this family even before Jimin was born. I know each of them very well, and I know how dysfunctional they are. When I say you have to be smart around them and watch yourself very carefully, I don’t say it to belittle you; I say it because I know what they would be capable of doing if you offend them somehow.”

“Are you trying to scare me?” You lean forward a bit, getting defensive. “Did they tell you to threaten me?”

“No.” His voice and expression don’t change despite your obvious outrage. “I am warning you because I see that you’re not quite aware of the type of people you’re dealing with. And because you seem like a respectable young lady.” Mr. Zhou’s eyes soften a bit. “I see that Jimin likes you a lot. I’m not quite sure of what your relationship with him really is, and I’d be happy if it’s genuine, because he really needs it in his life. But I know Jimin very well…” Mr. Zhou tilts his head to the side, frowning a bit. “...and I’d hate it if you're somehow harmed because of his immaturity.”

He sends a last significant gaze before finally opening the door.

You just have these short seconds to recover your breath before he opens the door for you. Shit. What he said actually gets you. Call it naivety or whatnot - but you didn’t stop to consider that Jimin’s parents are actually powerful people that could mess up your life if you annoy them enough. But… Jimin wouldn’t have asked for your help if he knew his parents would try anything serious against you, right?

Mr. Zhou knows Jimin better than you do and he just called him immature.

Oh shit.

The butler opens the door and offers his hand for you to walk out of the car. Now, you’re not just nervous - you’re worried.

Thankfully, the temperature dropped - it's still considerably hot, but much more comfortable than hours ago. You stand up, inhaling the fresh nightly air, and look at the gigantic building in front of you. Important events happen here quite frequently. Large marble stairs lead to the entrance of the hall. There is a gathering of women and men dressed elegantly slowly making their ways inside, greeting each other politely as they walk in, as well as many security guards. You stand on the sidewalk and nervously look around, searching for Jimin.

You spot him before he spots you.

He's standing at the corner, kind of hidden, close to the first steps, absently checking his phone. You already knew what he would be wearing tonight, but to see him in the outfit makes your brain malfunction.

Obviously, Jimin wears all black: a silk turtleneck under a black glitter Louis Vuitton blazer that fits him marvelously. The turtleneck is tucked into the dress pants. On his feet, leather black boots. His hair is pushed back, a single strand falling on his forehead, and he uses a pair of shades to complete the look. Instead of the usual dangly earrings, he wears small hoops tonight that match the outfit very well. Once again, you're left astonished at how this man is doing basically nothing - just standing there with one of his hands tucked inside the front pocket of his pants, checking his phone with a blank expression - but Gosh, he's gorgeous. His posture is perfect: he has the elegance of a swan, the grandeur of an eagle, and the confident gaze of a tiger about to slash you to pieces. In fact, he looks so good that you even forget the short talk you had with Mr. Zhou a minute ago.

It takes him around three seconds to lift his gaze from the phone and spot you.

It's funny, because you see the exact moment he freezes.

The shades slide down the bridge of his nose. He looks at you with slightly widened eyes and parted lips. It's like he's in shock.

Then, a smile breaks its way and lightens his face.

Jimin shoves the phone inside the pocket of his pants and rushes to you in a second. Nervousness bubbles within your stomach at every step he takes. It doesn’t help that he walks with the stance of a model - he’s definitely doing this on purpose. Handsome men that know they are handsome are the most dangerous type. Jimin is not only very well aware of his appearance, he uses it to his advantage all the time.

And when he stops in front of you, checking you out from head to toe - it’s like you can’t even breathe.

It’s a different feeling from yesterday. There’s no playfulness in his eyes at all. Only that same electricity hanging in the air you felt earlier today at the yacht - when you sat on his lap, when you kissed. This electricity is getting more and more intense, it’s like you’ll start seeing sparks around you at any moment. Fuck, he didn’t even touch you yet. You don’t know how much longer you can resist…

Honestly, you’re not sure if you want to keep resisting at this point.

Jimin takes your hand and makes you twirl around, earning a soft giggle from you. He bites his bottom lip, that mischievous smirk making you feel weak on the knees.

“Just so you know,” he says in a low voice, putting his hand on your waist, “If I make a fool of myself in front of everyone, I’m blaming you. Because I won’t be paying attention to anything else tonight.”

You giggle again, tentatively touching the lapel of his blazer. It’s beautifully embroidered with circular patterns; you can only see them if you stand close enough, though. Your sight lingers on his lips (for long seconds; they’re so plump and glossy and delicious) before you look into his eyes again. “I could say the same thing, Mr. Park.”

Jimin’s smirk widens and he tilts his head to the side. “I knew The Serpent’s Eye would suit you.” He touches the necklace with his fingertips. The action makes you gulp - this necklace seems to weigh tons and you’ve been painfully aware of it all the time, your anxious brain already making up scenarios of you losing the millionaire design and Jimin’s parents making you pay with your life.

“Why did you choose it, by the way?” You quirk one eyebrow up in a teasing expression. “Are you calling me a snake? Should I be offended?”

Jimin chuckles. “Of course not. Serpents are astute and smart animals… just like you.” Sir, the actual smooth person here is you, not me. “Not everyone can pull off such an aggressive design. I knew none of my mother’s friends would dare to choose it.”

Jimin hooks your arm around his and slowly starts to guide you towards the stairs. “So your mom lets her friends borrow her jewelry?” You ask.

“From the family collection, yes.” Jimin nods in a gracious movement. “The most expensive pieces, only to the closest and most important guests. It’s a sign of trust and respect.”

“But your mother surely doesn’t respect me.” You say between gritted teeth, aware of the people around you.

“Don’t worry, she won’t say a word about it. It’d be weird if the guests noticed that her daughter-in-law isn’t wearing one of the pieces. Like I told you… this event is about appearances. She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect.”

Daughter-in-law. This makes you shiver. You've been her fake in law for barely 48 hours and it already feels like hell. Imagine being her real in law… Jieun must’ve done some awful things in her past life to deserve this, honestly.

You’re forced to pay attention to your real surroundings before you can overthink more, though, when you realize you’re the center of attention.

This is probably the closest you’ll ever feel to being a celebrity. It’s not unusual to be the center of attention when it’s your birthday, for example. But this… this feels different. You don’t know most of these people, just some familiar faces from earlier today - yet, it seems that they already know you, they measure you up and down, they smile and greet you before you can. Sure… your arm is hooked with one of this event’s hosts, the Park’s youngest son. Yet, you see that people are also actually seeing you. You’re not just Jimin’s accessory.

Is this good? You’re not sure. This means they’ve heard from you somehow. In the span of less than 48 hours, these unknown people have been talking about you.

They approach you with curious smiles; they greet you and Jimin, make some shallow - almost diplomatic - comment about the weather or how long they haven’t seen Jimin or about the outfits or I’ve heard a lot about you, Y/N! (how the hell did they hear a lot about you in such a short time, though?) or you make a gorgeous couple! (you know they’re not lying about this bit; you do look gorgeous). They do not look at you disapprovingly, so you can confirm that the outfit choice was indeed appropriate for the event, albeit dramatic.

“You’re great at this, did you know that?” Jimin compliments after yet another middle aged couple walks away, leaning a bit closer to your ear so only you can hear. “You even remember their names.”

“I have a good memory,” you say between a gritted-teeth smile. “Also, working on customer service teaches you a few things.”

“Really? You weren’t this charming when we met at that convenience store.” He says in a teasing way, cocking an eyebrow up.

“First of all, I met you sitting on the floor behind a fridge. You looked like a freak.” He lets a giggle at that. “Second, I’ve moonlighted as a waitress many times. And event hostess. Never any event of this level, of course.”

The last sentence was spoken in a quieter tone. Once again, you’re a bit scared of how Jimin - and everyone else - don’t seem to be bothered by the absolutely luxurious environment around. The immense hall is decorated in similar white and cream tones from the dinner yesterday (there’s a reason for that; Jimin’s parents are celebrating their 30th anniversary, the Pearl anniversary, apparently). Even waiters and waitresses, walking around with silver platters in hands and pretty smiles on their faces, wear cream uniforms. There are literal cascades of white lilies and roses so beautifully entangled that you’re intrigued at how they managed to arrange that. The round dinner tables are also decorated with white flowers at the center. There is a massive ice sculpture of an open oyster with a pearl in it at the entrance of the hall; the presence of pearls and oysters is almost everywhere in the decoration. The hostesses and waitresses even have small oyster shaped pins on their hair. At the very front, there is a stage; it’s barely lit yet, but you can see musicians discreetly preparing their instruments for the concert later. Professional photographers walk around the hall, recording and taking pictures of anything remarkable.

It’s jaw-dropping.

You feel weird inside.

It doesn’t matter that you look like them; you don’t feel like them. You don’t belong in this place, and it feels that everyone will notice it too if you do the slightest thing wrong. It’s clear in the way you’re astonished (outraged) at how someone can spend so much money on flowers (do you even know how much a single bouquet costs? Can you imagine thousands of flowers?!) while these people walk around with hundreds of thousands of dollars hanging from their ears or around their necks, and to them it’s just another weekend.

Oh boy. Mr. Zhou was kinda right. You will have to be very careful not to embarrass Jimin or his family in front of these people.

You walk around with your arm hooked around Jimin’s for a while, making silly small talk with the guests. Jimin quietly whispers who they are and their importance as they approach. It’s always some over the top shit like Biggest LG Shareholder or Co-Founder of This Very Famous Car Brand or CEO of This Very Rich Food Company and it makes your stomach drop every time. It seems that half of the country’s GDP is hanging around in this hall. A bunch of old guys with their (1) same age, but full of obvious cosmetic procedure wives or (2) much younger wives that of course married them out of true love.

Jimin complimented you earlier, but it’s him who deserves the most compliments. He’s really good at this. It’s so easy for him to engage in a superficial but polite conversation. Hello! I acknowledge your presence here! I am thankful that you came but I do not care enough to talk more than two minutes with you! Yes the weather is nice! See you later! All that with the prettiest smile and most genuine fake laughter you’ve ever seen (sounds contradictory but that’s exactly that). And they all fall for that. He’s so unbearably charming.

Which makes you wonder.

Jimin said that the whole purpose of bringing you to Hawaii was to upset his parents. But… he’s not really acting like someone willing to do that. Of course - maybe he knows that if he goes too far, his parents might really cut him off of their sweet sweet money fountain. Yet, it doesn’t match with what he stated earlier. Does he really want to piss his parents off? Or does he want to play the good boy so his parents leave him alone with this engagement thing? Those are opposites, he can’t want both.

Does he even know what he wants?

You’re unsure.

Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have accepted this insanity, the little anxious voice in your head says. Maybe he really is too immature and is about to fuck me up.

Jimin gives a little pat on the hand that holds his arm and smiles.

“We’re doing really well, pretty. I’m relieved that you’re here.” He says quietly. “This kind of event always stresses me out, but you’re making this easier.”

Don’t go around saying cute shit like that while I doubt you!

You avoid his gaze and sip a little bit more of the champagne you picked earlier from a waiter. “It doesn’t look like you’re stressed at all.” He shrugs.

“I’m method acting, too. Kinda used to it at this point.”

And there it is. That quiet sadness in his eyes.

Goddamnit.

All the questions in your head crumble to the ground, and you immediately want to comfort him like a baby.

That’s not a baby. It’s a grown ass man. Get yourself together.

The voice in your head is angrier now - and she’s kinda right, to be honest.

Jimin sighs and pats your hand again.

“Okay, we’ve wandered around enough. Food will be served soon… so we have to get seated.” He doesn’t even try to pretend he doesn’t despise the idea of having to sit with his family for another torturously long dinner.

“Okay.” You nod, placing the now empty champagne glass on another waiter’s platter. You inhale, trying to gather more confidence. “Let’s go.”

So, you start walking towards the table at the front of the stage - the most important one where everyone can see from all directions.

They’re already there, surrounded by their closest friends.

At every step, you try to gather more and more anger within yourself - this anger will fuel your confidence and muffle the nervousness (in theory). Fuck this middle aged billionaire couple. Fuck their matching cream outfits - Mr. Park Hyunjun wears a very traditional (read: boring) cream suit, while Mrs. Park Eunji wears a long, flowy dress with blue details in it and beautifully embroidered with silver patterns that seem to remember a soft breeze. A beautiful pearl necklace adorns her neck and modest cleavage. Their outfits are very “age appropriate” and posh, indeed, and they are an attractive couple, but everything about them is so painfully traditional.

Also fuck the way they look at you two with disapproval.

Another nauseatingly fake scene unfolds in front of your eyes - Mrs. Eunji giggles and side hugs Jimin, gushing over how handsome he looks (she can’t hide the obvious distaste for his black outfit, though).

“What an… interesting choice,” she says, touching the embroidery on his blazer with her fingertips. “Rather dramatic, I’d say.”

Jimin smiles. “Everyone looks good in black, you know. Also, I didn’t want to stand out.”

Bullshit. No one else is wearing black because it goes against the dress code. The way he said it so innocently would make any unsuspecting ears believe him, but his mom is certainly not one of those - neither are you.

“Of course, black can make anyone look presentable at least. Y/N is live proof, isn’t she?”

She eyes you from head to toe and smiles sweetly.

Holy fucking shit. I hate her. I hate her. I hate her.

Her tone. The way she looks at you. Her awful Tom Ford perfume that makes you want to vomit as she approaches and - gasp - side hugs you too, like a good and loving mother-in-law. You smile and give her some soft pats on her back, but God, you can’t act as well as her at all - although you force yourself to do your best, well aware that all eyes and ears are focused on the Park family.

“You look astonishing tonight, Mrs. Park,” you say between gritted teeth. “This color really suits you.” Cream is boring. Like old paper. You almost smell like mold, too, rattlesnake.

“I’m glad you think so.” She’s not glad you think so. “See, me and Elie spent a long time choosing the color palette for this dress… he did such a wonderful job in the end.” She widens her eyes slightly. “Oh! My apologies, you can’t possibly know who I’m talking about…”

“Elie Saab.” You promptly say. Of course Elie Saab himself designed a dress for her. “Yes, I know his work.”

“Really?” She raises one eyebrow and this small movement spreads anger through your system. So much disdain, and she just said a word. “I didn’t think you’d know such a highly regarded fashion house, since you seem so… humble.” She has the audacity to eye you up and down with disgust again. “A wonderful trait to have, you see! Our Jimin definitely needs someone in his life to teach him some humility.”

In all honesty, you don’t even know how to respond to this.

Your wanted reaction is to reach for the nearest fork and stab her face with it. Which is, unfortunately, socially inappropriate. You also think of calling her by the ugliest names in existence, which, unfortunately is also socially inappropriate (won’t take you to jail, at least).

But all you can do is keep that smile plastered on your face and anger in your eyes.

This level of contempt is not unusual.

Alpha High taught you to get used to it. The giggles, side glances, or straight up offenses spoken out loud so everyone could laugh at your expense, too. It taught you to accept it silently, because you knew no one would stand up for you; you didn’t have enough money or a heavy surname to back you up. You weren’t important enough. Who cared if you had an excellent academic performance? It wasn’t as cool as having a summer manor in Greece anyway.

You hate that no clever response comes to your mind. You hate that you can just stand there and awkwardly look at her - this woman that made you feel cheap even though you have diamonds sitting around your neck. You hate that, deep down, you’re feeling as cornered as you were as a defenseless fifteen year old standing on the school hallway.

Not a fun feeling at all.

And things just start getting progressively worse.

Before even Jimin gets time to say something, another couple approaches - and your blood freezes. You’ve seen them yesterday at the reception dinner and earlier today, now feeling a little stupid that you didn’t make the simple connection. They’re followed shortly by another person, a much familiar and hated face.

Eunbi’s parents, apparently; Mr. and Mrs. Jeong.

Now that you look at the three of them, the silly part of your brain wonders who Eunbi inherited her beauty from, because they don’t share much of it with her, let’s say. They’re impeccably well dressed, of course, but their daughter’s beauty steals all the attention. She wears a rosé pink minidress (is it MiuMiu?) with a straight neckline and thin straps. On her ears, diamond earrings that seem to resemble raindrops; around her neck, a diamond choker necklace. Everything combed with the subtle makeup gives her a young, cute look.

You measure each other up and down like two rival lions about to fight. Complete opposites, black and pink.

The tension is so extreme that it’s almost visible - like some kind of fog.

Jimin is the one to break the ice, stepping closer to greet the couple, and you do the same, glad that you don’t have to look at Mrs. Rattlesnake even for five seconds - though this other lady also hates you, apparently. It’s kind of amazing how Jimin can act like the heavy tension isn’t there at all.

The seven of you stand there smiling for long and silent five seconds. It looks like a smiling contest. You can’t tell who’s angrier.

“So… Y/N, right?” Mrs. Jeong says. She looks like an eggplant, some part of your brain remarks silently, almost making you (very inappropriately) giggle. “It’s such a surprise that you and our Eunbi were classmates. We would’ve never guessed.”

If that’s even possible - your anger levels increase. It might’ve sounded like a pretty normal thing to say, but her tone and the way she measured you up and down makes it clear that what she really meant was we would’ve never guessed that a nobody like you also studied in Alpha High.

“We were surprised, too.” Eunbi says before you can, smiling sweetly. “We haven’t seen each other in years.”

“This is a great excuse for you to come with us to a day at the Spa tomorrow, isn’t it, Mrs. Park?” Eunbi’s mom says, eyeing the other woman knowingly.

“Of course! Y/N and Eunbi must have a lot to catch up after all these years, right? Y/N, you have to come with us tomorrow.” Rattlesnake hisses- (oops) says.

You look at the two other women with uneasiness.

First of all, this doesn’t sound like an invite, but a summon. You simply know you can’t say no. Second of all - these three despise you, they wouldn’t want you there if they didn’t have second intentions. What do they actually want?

You want to say no thanks, but it feels like you’re handcuffed in this situation.

“Sure. It sounds refreshing,” you finally agree with a painful smile. It didn’t even happen yet, but you know tomorrow is already ruined. Don’t let these bastards get to your head, your inner voice advises; don’t show weakness. You can deal with them.

Yeah, right.

You notice that, surprisingly, Eunbi looks very uncomfortable with the whole idea; she avoids her mother’s gaze and looks down, smile faltering a bit. She doesn’t want to be around you as much as you don’t want to be around her, apparently. At least you can agree on something.

Your thoughts are interrupted by Mr. Park stepping closer once again, placing his hand on his wife’s back. “Dear, dinner’s ready and about to be served. We should take our places.”

“Of course. I’m sure all of us are hungry enough.” She turns around to the other guests to announce it loudly, and somehow all the nearly one hundred people manage to hear it, walking to their respective seats.

Respective seats.

The seats are all charted - something you only saw in movies before, but you should’ve expected it at this point. Coming closer to the round table, you notice that over every beautiful white and blue porcelain plate, there is an elegant tag name in golden lettering on top of it. Mr. and Mrs. Park; Hyungsik and his wife sit by Mr. Park’s seat, while Jimin’s place is by his mother…

And by Jimin’s seat…

You freeze. Jimin freezes, too.

Jeong Eunbi’s name tag.

Feeling your stomach drop, you look around, searching for your own name tag - but there’s none to be seen, and it’s getting increasingly embarrassing as everyone else sits down while you and Jimin remain standing.

Your throat gets dry.

“She’d rather die than let people think her family isn’t perfect,” Jimin said as you walked inside the hall. This made you think she wouldn’t want to embarrass you.

Oh, Jimin. How wrong you were.

“Hm, there must be a mistake.” Jimin speaks up. The smile is still there, but his eyes hardened and his breath gets deeper as the visible anger fills him. “Where is Y/N’s seat?”

“Oh! Jimin, dear… this is a bit unpleasant,” his mother says, stepping closer with clasped hands and (fake) apologetic eyes. “You know that we planned this event months prior… the charting was already made long ago. We didn’t know Y/N would be here today. Unfortunately, there was no time to tell the catering staff to provide one more seat at our table.”

Funny how your legs start feeling cold all of sudden.

It’s the second time you’re at a loss of words tonight, this time much worse than before. You grip Jimin’s arm just a little tighter, feeling how the situation is starting to get people’s attention. Mrs. Park isn’t trying to be quiet right now. Your legs are cold, but your neck and face suddenly warm up with embarrassment as the guests on the main table whisper among each other in confusion.

“We found a vacant seat, of course, right over there, Y/N,” Mrs. Park continues - for fuck’s sake, she just continues - pointing over to the other side of the hall. “With the Kim family. You’ll love them, I know it!”

Your brain can’t process a coherent sentence.

With the corner of your eye, you notice Eunbi standing a few steps away awkwardly. She has the decency to look embarrassed, at least. Everyone else at the table is already seated.

You’re… you’re supposed to be their daughter-in-law. Their younger son’s girlfriend, the first girl he ever brought over. Yet… they refuse to let you sit by Jimin’s side on the main table, the hosts table, and want you to sit alone on the back so they can set up Jimin and Eunbi. And they’re doing it publicly.

This is the type of humiliation you wouldn’t expect from an adult, a mature person. But it’s happening nevertheless, and you want to sink and disappear. You can’t think of a quirky comeback, a way out that would make you feel less humiliated - even though Jimin isn’t even your real boyfriend and these people aren’t your real in-laws. This trip feels like a mistake, like a bad idea, like Mr. Zhou was absolutely right in his warning.

You’re so overwhelmed by this sour feeling that you don’t notice how Jimin’s smile disappears.

He sighs heavily, looking at his feet, jaw clenched.

“Okay.” He looks up at you - and you’re taken aback, because you’ve never seen Jimin angry before. “Y/N, let’s go back to our room.”

And he starts walking away, taking you along by the hand.

“What? Jimin- where’re you going?” Mrs. Park says, making Jimin stop. “Dinner’s about to be served.”

You see the warning in her eyes and gritted teeth and hardened smile, but for once, Jimin doesn’t play along. Doesn’t smile. Doesn’t speak louder, but when he does speak, it’s in a hard and serious tone.

“If Y/N doesn’t have a place here, neither do I. I don’t see why we should stay in this situation.” He doesn’t bother to whisper, aware that he has the table’s attention. “Now, if you’ll excuse us...”

Oh shit. He’s angry and offended. Jimin turns around again, holding your hand tightly.

In the midst of all the bad feelings, this is so satisfying. You’re simply happy that Jimin didn’t leave you on your own, didn’t lower his head to his parents. He stood up for you and is genuinely pissed! His mother is still babbling - she for sure didn’t expect Jimin to want to leave like this - and even Mr. Park got up from his seat; Eunbi is pale, her parents watch in disapproval, similar to Jimin’s older brother, who glares at him as if he did something wrong.

“Wait, Jimin, please,” someone else says, which catches both yours and Jimin’s attention: Mr. Hwang. He’s gotten up and looks between you and Mrs. Park cautiously. “I am sure we can solve this situation very easily. There’s no need to miss this amazing night.”

Mrs. Hwang also gets up; her eyes are widened with worry and an uneasy smile. “I am sure everyone at this table can move a little so Y/N can sit with us.” Murmurs of agreement echo around, much to the Park’s displeasure. “Waiter, please? Could you assist us?”

You and Jimin eye each other as Mrs. Hwang politely asks a nearby waiter to bring another chair, while the guests start getting up with no protest to open a little spot by Jimin’s side. In no time, there is one more chair at the table; another waitress hushes to bring a new set of plates and cutlery.

“See? It’s done! Not a big problem at all.” Mr. Hwang says happily; the guests at the table also seem content.

“I guess we can all sit now, right, Jimin?” His wife says. “We all would hate it if this lovely young lady missed the concert.” And to your surprise - the table agrees.

You look at Jimin again. He doesn’t look happy - not at all - but it seems that he softened up a bit because of the Hwang couple; same goes for you. If this was a competition for Best Middle Aged Couple, the Hwangs would’ve won it by far.

He raises an eyebrow at you - a question. You shrug and nod in small movements. Although you’d rather not be here, at least Mrs. Park looks infuriated that her silly little plan didn’t work and she in fact caused a ridiculous scene. Her attempt at embarrassing you completely backfired.

Jimin sighs heavily and, instead of saying anything, walks back to the table once again. The guests sigh in relief; Eunbi looks even more awkward; the Parks are fuming. Jimin pushes the chair for you to sit, and as you do, a little spark of victory fills your chest.

“I’m glad this is solved,” Mrs. Park says, glaring at you as if she wants to stab you with the nearest knife, a lip tightened smile. “I hate unforeseen events.”

You are the unforeseen event. About to be the worst she could ever imagine.

“It’s alright, Mrs. Park. Everyone makes mistakes sometimes.” You say sweetly. Jimin does his best not to laugh; she definitely wants to stab you.

Me 1 x 0 Rattlesnake

A win, at last.

Everyone at the table does their best to forget The Seat Incident for the sake of a good mood.

Lighthearted conversations. Good (amazing) food. The band plays soft background music. Understandably so, neither you and Jimin talk much - he is still visibly upset; chooses to just respond whenever someone mentions him or makes quiet comments in your ear from time to time. You, on the other hand, don’t talk much because the person sitting by your left side is Eunbi and you’d honestly rather swallow nails than willingly have a conversation with her.

All things considered, everything is going alright. They’re asking fewer questions than yesterday, which is great, so you can focus on whatever the name of this thing you’re eating is - taking small bites and chewing slowly so you don’t look impolite and desperate for food. Your stomach twirls every time you hear Jimin’s parents' voices, though, which makes you enjoy the taste less.

You’re doing great, you mentally pat yourself on the back. A few more hours and you’ll be back in your room. Just get this over with.

After pretty much everyone is done eating - your stomach is so full that the dress becomes uncomfortably tight -, Mr. Park gets up from the chair and softly clicks the side of a knife on a crystal glass, enough to call everyone’s attention. You notice when a waiter swiftly places a mic on the table for him.

The band stops. Everyone goes silent. Mr. Park Hyunjun takes the mic, a soft smile adorning his features, as the spotlight focuses on him.

“Good evening once again, my friends.” His deep and elegant voice echoes softly through the speakers. The whole hall greets him back. “I hope everyone enjoyed this amazing dinner prepared by Chef Mauro Bianchi. Mr. Mauro, it is a pleasure to have you with us once again.”

A round of applause. An aggressively Italian man with a cook outfit politely bows and smiles as the spotlight focuses on him in the back of the hall, close to the kitchen doors. Of course Mr. Park only acknowledges the worldwide famous, I-don’t-know-how-many-Michelin-stars holder Chef, but not the entirety of the staff that helped organize and serve everyone.

“As most of the friends present here already know, me and my dear wife prepare this event every year not only as a celebration of our union, but also as a celebration of all the many achievements and challenges we win throughout the year.” He makes a dramatic pause, his eyes scanning the crowd to make sure everyone is paying attention - and everyone indeed is; despite your hatred for the man, you can’t deny that with this level of oratory, he could’ve easily been a news anchor.

He offers his hand to help his wife get up from the chair as another round of applause echoes. Mrs. Rattlesnake has a pretty smile, you have to admit. Once again - yeah, they do look great together, and otherwise you’d think this is all too sweet, but there’s just something inherently wrong with this scene… too poised, robotic - trained to detail.

“And past year was indeed one of the most significant of our lives. After much work, Aurum ranked fifth place as one of the biggest steel companies in the world. We’ve achieved heights my parents would’ve never imagined.” He continues. More applause. What does it even have to do with his marriage? “Unity. This is the word for our 30th anniversary. Everything we’ve made and built, we did together - and I’m sure we wouldn’t have gotten this far if we were apart.” Oh, so your fortune was “achieved” because of your wife? I thought it was because of the already rich company your dad left on your hands.

“And the oyster, my friends, is the perfect symbol of unity; it summons up our life as a couple very well.” He looks at his wife sweetly. You have trouble telling if Mrs. Rattlesnake’s glossy eyes are fake or not. “An oyster. Two shells, pressed together - working together to create the most beautiful pearl. And our pearls, our jewels - the biggest gift this marriage brought us both - is our two sons.”

My God.

You want to vomit.

The applause is a bit louder now as the spotlight focuses on both Jimin and Hyungsik. Both of them smile and wave to the public. If you hadn’t spent the most uncomfortable hours of your life around this family, you would’ve fallen for Mr. Park’s sweet words - but hell no. I mean, it might be true about Hyungsik - but Jimin? The dear son they very publicly disrespected only barely an hour ago, by ignoring his partner? The dear son they mock constantly, scold, disrespect, and want to force into an arranged marriage against his will?

These people genuinely make you sick.

You’re a bit surprised as Jimin grabs your hand under the tablecloth, where no one can see. You take it and squeeze softly. He wants to vomit as much as you do.

“You two are live proof of our love, and we are so proud to know you’re our children.” The applause continues as Mr. Park speaks this time. Kind of funny how he says that while Jimin himself stated that he sees his parents once a year. That’s not the behavior of someone that cares this much.

“Unity. Family. Love. Friendship. It’s what we’ve been harvesting together for the past 30 years, and I couldn’t be more happy and grateful.” He squeezes his wife’s hand sweetly. “Now, let us celebrate together, my dear friends.”

The lights go off while the hall applauds; the band starts playing again, way louder this time - a melody you’re familiar with - and when all the spotlights focus on the stage-

You gasp loudly.

“What the-?!” You whisper in utter shock. Jimin chuckles.

The woman standing on the stage is… is Kim Gain.

Like, why are you even surprised at this point? What, you thought the Parks would’ve hired a bar singer for their super expensive wedding anniversary? But even so, you didn’t expect to be seeing the 90s love songs’ legend Kim fucking Gain standing a few meters away from you, wearing a gorgeous long silver dress, her beautiful and powerful voice filling the hall as she sings her all-time smash hit Flower Hill. This woman doesn’t even do concerts anymore! You can’t even imagine the insane amount of money they must’ve paid her to do a private concert.

She sings looking directly at the main couple, and God- despite the age, her voice sounds even better live than recorded. It makes you forget for a while all of tonight’s awful events. You quietly hum along to the lyrics of Flower Hill word by word - it’s impossible to not know this song, not only because it’s a classic, but because it’s your mother’s favorite song and she hammered it into your head.

Your memories are as clear as the blue sky; your mother played her CD over and over again - this song specifically - while she prepared lunch. You helped her peel the boiled eggs, standing on a stool so you’d get tall enough to reach the sink, while she cut cabbage swiftly. You both sang along to Flower Hill. Even your father would hum along eventually as he put the dried bowls on their respective cabinets.

It’s a good childhood memory. One of the few. You remember thinking that your mother looked so beautiful when she wasn’t frowning and angry at you.

And all of sudden - sadness hits you like a truck.

Funny how being humiliated in front of these people didn’t even get close to making you cry the way just thinking of your mother does.

You sigh and look down, that familiar heavy thing growing in your chest, stubborn tears that you blink away before they can even come. Shit shit shit. Don’t you dare to cry here, Y/N, you scold yourself harshly. But goddammit- Mrs. Kim Gain sings really well, and when the chorus hits, you always melt away.

It’s moments like this that remind you that you are, in fact, not indifferent. And you are, in fact, far more hurt that you can put into words.

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s hand for comfort.

He eyes you quietly, confused - but chooses to not make any comment.

You elbow Jimin’s side, eyes squinted, as if unsure of what you’re seeing.

“What?” He asks, relaxing on the chair next to yours, now sitting on a table at the external part of the hall. Finally some cool night air; from the external part, you have a wonderful view of the immense garden that goes down the hill directly to the sea. You can see the pier down there; it’s full of parked yachts - much more than during the day - but there’s some in the distance as well, shining against the otherwise pitch black sea like little stars.

“Am I crazy,” you say after sipping more champagne from the glass, “or that’s Kim Minju?”

You discreetly point to a certain girl standing inside the hall. She’s tall and gorgeous, wearing a green sundress. You’re not really into idols - you don’t have time to keep up with celebrities at all - but even someone like you can recognize Kim Minju, the new “it” girl from the new “it” group everyone’s been talking about lately.

Jimin squints his eyes as well, and when he sees who you’re pointing at, he nods. “Yep, it’s her.”

You raise one eyebrow up. “Why are your parents friends with teenage celebrities?”

“They’re friends with her mother.” Jimin sips from his own glass of champagne. He took his blazer off and rolled the shirt up to his elbows, looking much more relaxed now that he can finally stay away from his family.

Kim Gain finished her concert, which meant people were allowed to just hang around and talk again, while the band kept playing background music. You decided to leave the main table as soon as you could, finding this almost-hidden table at the external balcony (you’re glad it’s this hidden, because it’s getting hard to sit all lady-like with your feet hurting like this. These Givenchy sandals were way too expensive to be this uncomfortable to wear). Jungkook was hanging out with you two minutes ago, but suddenly something “very important” happened and he had to leave (in other words: some hot girl passed by and he went after her).

“And her mother is…?”

“One of MNET’s biggest shareholders, basically. Why do you think Minju is the most popular member? Her mother pays for her to be the center, to have the best clothes… this kind of thing.” He speaks in a low voice, aware of the people around. “Most popular idols are only popular because their families pay for their popularity.”

“Oh.” Makes sense. You look him up and down, the hint of a playful smile on your lips. “You could’ve asked your parents for help in this area, Jimin. You would’ve made a great idol.”

Jimin chuckles and pushes his hair back. “I know, right? But I don’t think I would survive a day in this life. I mean- a dating ban?” He scowls. “Just no.”

You chuckle too, resting your chin on your palm. You’ve only been sipping champagne - though they’re serving other interesting drinks, too -, afraid to get even slightly intoxicated and embarrass yourself (and Jimin) in front of these people. Even so, this champagne is starting to make you feel a little funny inside. Maybe I should stop.

“How do you even know this dating ban thing is real?” You raise one eyebrow at him. Jimin huffs.

“I had a thing with this idol girl for a while.” He says nonchalantly - then interrupts himself, as if he just realized he said something he shouldn’t. He eyes you apologetically.

“I don’t care if you talk about other girls.” You assure, rolling your eyes. And you actually don’t. It’s not like you have anything real going on for you to care. (You’re quietly blaming your rage fit against Hari earlier today on the alcohol).

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why would I?”

Jimin looks at you in silence.

“Kinda hoped you’d be jealous.”

You laugh it off, furiously ignoring the butterflies in your stomach. “Just tell the story, Jimin.”

He seems dramatically disappointed, which makes you giggle again. Jimin sips more champagne and tilts his head.

“So… me and this girl. Whenever we went out together, we had to literally - I mean literally - hide. Wearing masks, sunglasses, hoodies, all this stuff. At the beginning it was kind of fun, but then it got unbearable. Her manager kept calling her all the time to know where she was. One time, a paparazzi caught us and I had to pay them a shitton of money to not release the photos.”

“Why didn’t she pay for it? Or her company?” You ask, genuinely curious.

“Because her company didn’t know. She didn’t tell them, scared of getting punished or whatever. And she didn’t have the amount they asked for. So I paid for it.” He shrugs. “Then I broke up with her. I mean, I wasn’t doing anything wrong, why did I have to hide?”

“Yeah, sounds like a strict life. I don’t think I could take it, either.”

You notice the way Jimin’s eyes glint with playfulness again; a mischievous smirk adorns his lips. He comes even closer to you and looks around, making sure the people aren’t paying attention to the conversation.

“Back on the topic of Kim Minju,” he says in that quiet tone that means gossip. “Her mother is lesbian.”

Your eyes widen slightly. “Really? How do you know?”

“I know a lot of things about a lot of people.” He discreetly points to an elegant woman standing near Kim Minju - maybe just a bit younger than Mrs. Park. “That one.” You squint your eyes to analyze her. “She’s been ‘single’ for around ten years, since her divorce with Minju’s father. She’s, like… the most famous closeted lesbian I’ve ever seen. In terms of how much people I know she fucked, she must be only behind Mr. Junghoon.”

Your eyes widen even more. “Jungkook’s dad?!”

Jimin nods vehemently. “Yep. He must’ve fucked at least half of this hall. All those pretty younger wives.”

You eye Junghoon - standing in the middle of the hall, laughing at something someone said. “Like father, like son, I guess.” Jimin chuckles at this. “I mean, he is very hot for his age.”

“That’s not even the craziest person here.” Jimin narrows his eyes, looking for someone into the crowd. You find yourself entertained by his sudden will to spill people’s lives on you - it even makes you forget how much your feet hurt for a while. When he finds them, he elbows your side lightly. “That couple over there? The Kwons?”

You take around three seconds to find them- a middle aged couple, a bit older than Jimin’s parents, perhaps. They seemed very polite (considering you talked for less than two minutes).

“Yeah?”

“They host massive orgies.” You look at Jimin in pure shock. He looks back at you with his eyebrows raised in that I know, girl expression. “They have a mansion in Malibu only for this purpose. They invite dozens of people to participate.”

You sip more champagne. That conservative looking couple host orgies? They look like the type of people that think women showing their ankles is a sin. Appearances really mean nothing around here! “Were you ever invited?”

“Thank God no. And I wouldn’t go anyway. Not into voyeurism.” Jimin makes a disgusted scowl. “But I know some people that went there. They’re pretty creepy, actually. Just… stay away from them, okay?”

“Noted.” You’ve watched enough documentaries about how rich people can be creepy to know Jimin isn’t kidding.

“There’s also, let’s see… oh! Jinwoo, over there.” He points to a man in his early thirties that you briefly greeted earlier today. “His marriage was arranged, too. I heard he has a severe humiliation kink. He likes to be treated like shit by women.” You cover your mouth with your hand, trying to hide the bubbling giggle. Not to kinkshame anyone, but wow. “But his wife is not into it at all. From what I’ve heard, they even live in separate houses. So Jinwoo has to pay women to satisfy him.”

“I wouldn’t think that of him… he looks like the type that calls women females.” You remark.

“People around here look nothing like they actually are.” Jimin sips more champagne. You expectantly wait for him to tell you more - (1) because you like gossiping (2) because this is the most fun you’ve had the entire night. “Oh! Minho and Krystal. Over there.”

Said couple is standing quite far, talking to Jimin’s brother and his wife. They must be in their early thirties, too; an attractive couple that haven’t stepped away from each other the whole time. You briefly remember thinking they looked cute together.

“Yeah?”

“They’re in a forced marriage, too. Minho is gay.”

You pause. “They look genuine.”

“They’re not.”

“How can you be sure?”

“I met him in a bar last year in Berlin. He hit on me. Insistently. He’s friends with my brother, so I turned him down. But yeah, I saw him with other guys there.”

You look back at Minho in silence.

Oh.

This one’s kinda sad.

“So… he was forced into marrying a woman even though he’s gay.” You reason out loud. “Does his family know?”

“Probably not. At least, they pretend they don’t.” Jimin sips more champagne with a sour expression.

“That’s fucked up in so many levels.” You’re starting to get angry just talking about it. “He’s trapped with this woman, having to pretend his entire life? All for the sake of appearances? What, are we stuck in the XVIII century and nobody told me?”

“I told you that’s how things work around here.” He says, staring at the bubbles in his champagne glass.

And he actually told you. In your third encounter, back at the convenience store. But you didn’t believe him. It felt too far from your reality to be taken seriously. Now, though - after finding out that most of these pristine looking people, the “role models” of society are in secret what they most demonize - you truly realize how awful everything is. This much hypocrisy feels repulsive, overwhelming.

Is this how Jimin has been feeling his entire life?

“What about you, Jimin?” you ask quietly, any hint of playfulness gone from your face and voice.

“What about me?”

“What if you’re stuck in this situation? I mean, I remember what you told me back then. What if you want to marry a guy? Your parents would be against it… are you going to end like Minho? Having to pretend for the rest of your life? Can you accept this?”

Jimin sighs and hangs his head back, closing his eyes. You hate it because for a moment all you can look at is his half parted plump lips and your brain malfunctions for a sec.

“Let’s not talk about me, please?” He asks in a whiny, raspy voice.

“Why not? I’m worried about you. Can’t I be worried?” You put one hand on your hip, somehow starting to feel offended.

“No, you can’t.” He still hasn’t opened his eyes.

Yeah, you’re offended now. “Okay, then. I’m sorry for caring.”

Jimin looks at you with half opened eyes.

His voice drops.

“Don’t do this to me.”

“What?” You raise one eyebrow up.

“Act like you actually care.”

“Why do you think I’m acting?” You slightly push the empty champagne glass away, so nothing is between you two. Because he’s quieter, you unconsciously drop your voice, too.

“You said so. Method acting.”

You’re getting tired of this “method acting” thing. You inhale heavily. “Well, I’m not acting right now.”

Jimin drops his eyes to his own empty champagne glass, drumming his fingers on the table softly. He makes a small pout. His lips are so damn attractive. “You know, I’m conflicted about you.”

“Please elaborate.”

“I know I shouldn’t be expecting anything real from you at all, since I hired you to be here. But why do I feel that something real is going on?” He looks up at you again. “But then, sometimes, I feel like it’s not? I don’t know what to think of you.”

Holy Shit.

He went straight to the point.

You feel goosebumps on your spine (though you try to blame it on the cool breeze hitting your back, not on Jimin’s piercing gaze, of course). It’s kind of creepy how Jimin can balance being silly and cute in a moment and then boom - painfully straightforward a second later. He didn’t beat around the bush at all.

And yeah, you get what he meant.

You can’t tell if something real is going on. It’s way too early to say something “real” - whatever it is - is happening; you barely even know Jimin. At the same time he doesn’t know if you’re serious, you don’t know if he is being serious; many times, it feels like he’s acting, putting up a character around you. The way you’re rapidly getting attached to him is scary - what if you’re getting attached to a character? What if you’re surprised by Jimin’s real persona in the worst way possible?

You have no idea about any of that.

What you know, though - something that is very real, is almost visible - is the undeniable attraction you feel for each other.

This isn’t deep. You don’t have to think much about it.

And right now - with the alcohol subtly fogging your judgment and making you feel hot inside; the accumulated tension - you don’t really want to fight back anymore. You don’t want to think of consequences. All you can think of is his pretty plump lips.

You smirk, resting your face on your palm again. You see how this single look of yours affects him. You’re not the only one that can do this, Jimin.

“You know,” your voice is very quiet right now; half lidded eyes that stare back at him with the same intensity. “Knowing everything isn’t fun. I think it’s better this way.”

You’re still in public, but it’s like everyone else becomes distant.

Jimin smirks, too.

“Let’s play a game, then.” He says all of sudden, getting even closer to you, on the edge of his seat. “I’ll ask a few questions. You can answer them or not.”

You feel his hand on your leg, under the tablecloth.

This makes you widen your eyes, surprised, looking around discreetly. “What are you doing?”

“You said your feet hurt, pretty.” Oh shit. That mischievous tone, playful smile, glinting eyes. You’re a popsicle melting under his heat. You cover your mouth with your hand, trying not to giggle, as Jimin rests your left leg over his own legs. “Free massage.”

You’re kind of hidden - your leg is fully under the tablecloth - but you still look around frantically, trying not to make any weird face. “Jimin- they’ll see us.”

Jimin clicks his tongue at the same time he swiftly unbuckles your sandal and places it on the floor. Your heart beats faster with adrenaline - if any auntie sees this, they might want to arrest me! “They’re not paying attention to us.”

Indeed, no one is. Mr. and Mrs. Park are having a dance in the center of the hall; most of the crowd surrounds them. The place became dimly lit as the spotlight focuses only on the couple as they sway to a romantic tune and everyone watches them.

You’re about to make another complaint, but as both of his hands hold your aching foot, pressing it - you have to fight back what would be an obscene moan. It feels too good. Jimin chuckles.

“So, back on the game.” It’s criminal how he acts like he’s doing nothing wrong as his hands massage your foot. “Did you want to hook up with Hoseok?”

This comes so out of the blue that you freeze. “What made you think that?”

“I saw the way you looked at each other.”

Well. It’s not like Hoseok tried to pretend when he first saw you. “No. He’s hot, but no.”

Jimin nods. He seems satisfied with the answer. His hands work around your feet miraculously, pressing on the right spots, easing the pain.

They go a bit up. On your ankles now.

Oh God.

“Did you want to hook up with Jungkook?” Still not looking at you.

“No.” You chuckle. “What got into you? Are you jealous?”

“I don’t know, am I?” He raises his eyebrows and shrugs, making you smile. “I’d only be jealous if something real was going on between us, right?”

His hands are traveling up your leg, still massaging as they do. You gulp heavily. Your heart beats faster.

“Right.”

Your thigh.

You gasp quietly as, in a sudden movement, he pushes you even closer to his body. The chair scratches on the floor. You’re glad the music is loud enough to mask the noise.

His hands are warm. His smirk widens.

Jimin massages your thigh slowly. You don’t make any attempt to stop him. His hands are resting just a little distant from the hem of your dress.

You want them to be under it.

Yes, you are very much aware of all the people standing around, the things they’d think if they notice what is going on. But Jimin’s hands are on your thigh and you feel hotter inside every minute and his delicious lips are right there and holy fuck he’s enjoying torturing you as much as you enjoy being tortured and- you don’t even remember what you were worrying about a second ago.

“You’re so soft.” He says in a quiet, sultry voice that makes your insides quiver. “Are you feeling better now, pretty?”

“Mmmh-hmm” you say quietly as your breath gets deeper - which makes Jimin smile even more. “You’re good at this, did you know that? You have a hidden talent.”

He chuckles darkly, lifting his eyes to meet yours. “I could show you what else I can do with this talent of mine.”

His fingers - slowly, hesitantly - travel just a bit upwards, while he eyes you tentatively. He sees no disapproval or discomfort in your expression, which only ignites his excitement. He smirks and shakes his head slightly.

“I’m actually going insane because of you, Y/N.” The smirk in his voice makes yet another goosebump run through your system. In response, you tilt your head to the side, eyeing him innocently.

“Why? I’m not doing anything.” You bite the tip of your tongue while smiling, which makes Jimin gulp.

Oh, the electricity. It almost sparks in the air with the power of a lightning. And to think you were trying to act all chaste not long ago, gaslighting yourself into thinking that doing anything with him would be equivalent as “selling yourself”.

Who fucking cares?

“Last question.” He says quietly, leaning even closer to you until his lips are right by your ear, sending shivers of excitement down your body.

“Will you let finally let me fuck you?”

The words get stuck in your throat.

Jimin hasn’t been this obscenely straightforward up until now. It makes your mouth water, your heart beat faster. His voice wasn’t demanding. It was pleading. Like he was desperate for you and couldn’t take it anymore.

And that’s your last straw.

You lean away just enough to look at him. Fuck, he’s got pleading eyes, too. Your panties feel humid, you remember the last time you had sex was three months ago, you feel his warm hand on your thigh, dangerously close to your intimacy.

You smile and, in a swift movement, move your leg away from his hand.

Jimin looks confused for a moment, his smile faltering, as you take the sandal and put it on your foot once again. He looks even more confused - maybe thinking you got offended? - when you get up and adjust your dress.

Then you look at him.

“Excuse me. I need to go to the toilet.”

Without looking back, you take the clutch from the table and make your way inside the hall.

The main couple is still having their moment in the middle of the hall - and for the first time you’re thankful to them, because no one even bats an eye as you discreetly make your way to the restroom. The dim lights hide you, not even waiters or security guards or photographers notice you.

As you get into the black marble restroom - completely empty - you have around five seconds to look at your reflection in the mirror before Jimin walks in and shuts the door.

His lips on yours shut you mid-giggle.

Jimin grabs the back of your neck and glues his body on yours with the other hand as he hungrily kisses you - the kiss tastes like the cherry from your lipgloss and expensive champagne. You grab both sides of his neck as Jimin and you stumble to one of the stalls and you close the door clumsily. Holy fucking shit, it’s getting hot. The kiss is deep and desperate and full of desire.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he says in a breathy voice that makes you smile seductively. “Why you gotta do this to me?”

You unconsciously squeeze your thighs on one another as he leaves a wet kiss on your neck; you grab his shoulders for support. “I’m not doing anything yet.”

He chuckles darkly against your skin, his hot breath increases your temperature even more. His hand travels down your back to squeeze your ass, making you gasp lightly. He leaves one more wet kiss, and another, and another.

Jimin leans away so he can look at you. His lips are reddish, wet and a bit swollen.

“You don’t need to.” He parts your legs with his own. Your insides bubble with excitement. “Look at you… all dolled up. The prettiest of all of them out there.” He licks his lips slowly. “I want to make a mess of you, Y/N. I want to see how pretty you look with your hair and makeup ruined by me.”

His knee presses on your intimacy, making you involuntarily sigh; the pressure is still too soft, not even close to satisfying the raging fire inside your body, but it already makes you gulp and breath heavier. God, you want this man inside of you. You need him.

Jimin notices your change in expression and his smirk widens as he moves his knee against you, making you sigh again. You kiss him eagerly. There’s still music out there, but all you can hear is the kissing sounds and breaths and Jimin’s deep humm of approval.

“This is the face I wanted to see the most.” He whispers on your lips, his leg pressed against you, his hands caressing your waist and hips. “Let me make you feel good, pretty… please?” He pecks your lips. “Hmm?” He bites your bottom lip lightly, passing his tongue on it right after. “Can I fuck you now?”

Shit shit shit. It’s embarrassing how you already feel this wet while you barely even started. Were you this much touch starved? Or is it because you’ve been wanting this as much as him since the beginning?

You kiss him again.

“Not here.” you whisper in a breathy voice.

Jimin nods. It’s obvious. Anyone could walk in at any moment.

Back to your shared bungalow? It’s too far from here - only five minutes by car, yes, but you don’t think you can wait this long. Not to mention Mr. Zhou would be the one to drive you both back and you don’t want to look at that old man’s face before having sex.

Inside some car? But which car? This place is full of butlers and security guards, anyone would notice what’s going on. Just no.

As you’re about to ask where you could head to - Jimin’s eyes glint in that way that tells you he had an idea.

His smirk widens.

He steps back and grabs your hand with a boyish, playful expression.

“Let’s go.”

You have time to grab the forgotten clutch from over the sink before Jimin drags you out of the restroom - luckily, the hall is still dimly lit and there aren’t many people back here. Discreetly, you two make your way towards the back exit - avoiding butlers and photographers at the main entrance - stepping out of the hall towards the stairs.

You finally realize where Jimin is heading to when you get to the sidewalk and he takes a turn to the left.

The pier.

Dozens of parked and empty yachts just around the corner.

You’re both laughing childishly as you run towards the pier - stopping only so you can yank those sandals off; who the hell could run in stilettos? - not caring to look back, feeling excitement and just the sheer joy of doing something you know you shouldn’t. The pier is quiet, there aren’t many people around; most yachts are dark. Jimin doesn’t drop your hand as he squints his eyes trying to find a specific one. When he does, he sprints towards it, dragging you along.

Jungkook’s yacht.

Completely dark. Cleaners, bartenders, all the staff are long gone, having finished their shifts long ago.

There is a security guard standing in front of the entrance stairs, though.

He frowns as you two approach.

“Hey!” Jimin says in a happy voice. “You’re… Steven, right? Remember me? We were here earlier today.”

By the looks of it, his name is Steven, and he looks shocked that Jimin remembers it. “Good evening, sir. Did you need something?”

“You see, Steven, I might have forgotten something very important in the yacht.” Jimin says. You want to laugh. “I’d like to go check it out.”

“Of course, sir. Tell me what it is, I can ask another guard to check it for you-“

Jimin steps closer.

“No, Steven. I need to check it out. It’s kind of personal, you know?”

Steven eyes you and Jimin back and forth.

The penny drops. His frown deepens. You’re not even embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, sir. I can’t let you in.” He says in a mix of hesitance and annoyance. “This is private property.”

“I know, Steven, and I’m glad my friend hired such a diligent security guard. You’re very professional.” Jimin is a bastard, isn’t he? “I promise I won’t get you in trouble. Just let me check, okay?”

Steven looks around. “I’m sorry, sir… I really can’t.”

Jimin nods.

He drops your hand for the first time, reaching for the inside of his back pocket.

You watch with your jaw dropped as he opens his wallet and puts a stack of money on Steven’s hand.

Jimin casually walks around with stacks of money in his wallet.

The security guard’s eyes are as widened as yours. That much money must be double - shit, triple - of what he’ll get for this shift. You see as his annoyance dissolves and his resolve to not let you in disappears.

“It’s a really tiny thing I’m looking for, so it’ll take, I don’t know… an hour?” Jimin looks back at you up and down and reaches for his wallet again. He takes another stack just as big and puts it on Steven’s hand. “Two hours, actually, to check the whole place.”

Steven gulps. It seems he’s furiously fighting against his work ethic - but the money on his hand is heavier.

Steven steps aside, finally giving up. “Okay, sir.”

Jimin smiles and grabs your hand again. “Make sure to keep the other guards away, okay? Thank you so much!”

You two sprint up the stairs - you have time to mumble an embarrassed “thank you” - towards the deck.

The yacht is completely dark, except for some emergency lights. Jimin guides you around it. You know there are actual bedrooms here, but both of you are way too impatient to go up one more flight of stairs - so before you can even process what’s happening, Jimin has thrown you against the bar counter and is kissing you again.

You drop the sandals and the clutch on the wooden floor before entangling your arms around Jimin’s neck. He presses his body on yours so hard that you lean back, your back hits the counter. And to think you were right here a few hours ago, surrounded by a bunch of people; it’s a completely different vibe with the lights off, silent, the darkness of the sea around you.

It’s your turn to squeeze Jimin’s ass, which makes him chuckle against your lips. He leans away for a moment and seems to be searching for something; with a click of his, the glass top of the counter lits up - there are red led lights under it. Both him and you are painted red.

Jimin looks at you with hungry eyes, out of breath. That damn smirk.

“You have no idea how much I’ve been wanting this, pretty.” He pushes you closer again, grabbing your hair and leaving noisy kisses on your neck.

“I think I do.” You say cockily. You’ve been aching for him all this time - and it’ even embarrassing to admit it to yourself -; it’s embarrassing that Jimin is everything you learned to hate (filthy rich, arrogant, a fuck boy) from your past experiences, but shit, you’ve been wondering how he would feel inside of you all this time, you’ve been craving him since that night in your tiny apartment… and you’ve been wondering if he fucks as good as he talks.

Your hand bravely travels to his front. You rest your palm on his crotch, gently pressing it - earning a soft sigh from him. He’s stone hard. It makes you chuckle cockily against his ear, and the sensual sound sends shivers down Jimin’s spine.

“No, no, no… you don’t really know.” His lips are on your ear as he speaks quietly and deeply. While one of his hands are still tightly entangled in your hair, the other travels down your back - which already almost makes you melt - to rest on your ass; in a slow but unhesitant movement, he grabs the hem of your dress and pulls it up to your hips, fully exposing your ass. “Ever since that time at the store…” he massages your asscheeks with both palms and squeezes it gently. You lick his neck in response. “When you looked at me with such disdain… you were reading a fucking text book behind that counter, looking at me as if you were so much better than me… I imagined fucking you over that same counter, pretty.” Goosebumps. He grabs one of your thighs and you instinctively wrap it around his waist; when he humps his clothed core against yours, you can’t fight back a soft moan. “I imagined fucking you over and over again. Such a hard-working girl…” He humps again, stronger this time. “So pretty…”

Your impatient fingers search for the lapel of his blazer, and you help him take it off, dropping it on the floor; you grab his face with both hands and your lips are pressed again in a hot dance, while he still humps slowly and sensually; each rub on your clothed clit sends electricity and heat through your veins. Your lower part is almost totally uncovered, except for the black lace thong you wear, and the cool ocean breeze makes the tiny hairs on your body raise. Everything is red and hot. Some sane part of your brain registers that if there’s anyone inside the neighbor yachts, they will totally see what’s happening - and it only adds to the excitement.

Jimin breaks the kiss and leans back slightly with half lidded eyes. His lips are shiny and stained with your lipgloss. He’s so sexy that the vision itself makes you feel pleasure.

He grips your ass tightly and watches intently as his movements make your breath get deeper each time, makes you sigh and moan softly. His breathing is deeper, too; his Adam’s apple moves when he gulps. He licks his bottom lip sensually, feeling the taste of your sweet lipgloss. He keeps you glued to his body as both of you move your hips against each other, rubbing your clothed intimacies to a more urgent pace; there are already droplets of sweat starting to cover his forehead.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He whispers, watching you whimper.

“Touch me.” Your voice sounds strangled and slightly out of breath, which makes Jimin smile darkly. “Please.”

“Baby, you don’t need to beg.” He’s so visibly proud of himself and excited that he’s almost glowing more than the red led lights. The hand that supported your leg swiftly travels to your front and he unashamedly presses it on your clothed core, feeling the lace with his fingertips and the wetness underneath. The smile widens. “I’m going to give you anything you want tonight. Anything.”

Your head drops back when he starts to move his fingers in circular movements over your clit. He watches your every reaction intently with that same darkened gaze and smile. With the other hand, he grabs the back of your neck and once again glues his lips to your ear:

“I want to hear you moan for me, baby.”

He says as his fingers slip under the fabric of the thong.

You shiver and an obscene whimper leaves your lips when his cool fingers make contact with your warm, wet intimacy. He hums in approval - and the deep sound makes your legs shake -, feeling your arousal, before once again putting pressure on your clit and moving his fingers in provocative circles. That’s a man that knows what to do with a clit, by the way. You entrance tightens around nothing.

“You like that?” He whispers. You nod, eyes closed, lips half parted. “Hmmm…” is all you can say. His smile widens.

Instinctively, you start to buck your hips, following the movement of his hand. He increases the speed of his movements, noticing your eagerness. You feel the fire spreading from your core down your legs and stomach.

With a quiet chuckle, he suddenly wraps his other arm around your waist. You let a surprised gasp as Jimin lifts you from the ground with ease and makes you sit over the counter (you hadn’t realized that Jimin is that strong, which is kind of hot).

He stands between your legs and kisses you again. Your fingers run through his smooth hair; he massages your thighs, back and ass. You softly bite his delicious bottom lip, and it’s sick how you know he’s smiling before even opening your eyes.

“You want me so bad, baby. It’s kind of cute.” He breathes amidst a quiet chuckle.

“You’re talking too much.”

He chuckles again as his fingers search for the zipper on the back of your dress. “I can’t shut up when you’re around.” The quiet sound of the zipper somehow sounds loud right now. “I want you to pay attention to me and only me.”

“You have all of my attention now. Let’s see if you deserve it.” Jimin finds it sickening how you sound innocent and sweet as you say this, gazing at him with the most daring eyes he’s ever seen. He shakes his head in disbelief.

“Yeah, let’s see.”

Usually, you’d worry about taking the dress off, scared to damage it somehow, but as Jimin helps you lift it and put it over your head, you couldn’t care less. You’re not wearing a bra. Your chest is fully exposed; you rest your hands back on the counter, gazing at Jimin sweetly, as he almost drools over your body.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” He breathes heavily, mesmerized. Without wasting a second, he cups your breasts with both hands and squeezes them gently, earning a hum of approval from you. He kisses your neck, making his way down - slow, wet, loud kisses -, tasting you; you grip and massage his smooth hair, pulling it softly in ways that make him shiver.

When he hungrily mouths one of your hardened nipples, you bite your bottom lip and a soft moan escapes. Just the vision of his plump lips wrapped around your nipple makes you wetter. He swirls his warm, wet tongue around it, while his hand still works on your other breast, massaging it in delicious movements. He sucks your nipple, making a loud noise, before biting it gently - earning a hiss from you.

“I like that sound.” He says against your skin, looking up at you with a smile. “God, you’re delicious.” He kisses a spot on your stomach, under your breast. “You smell so good…” Another kiss. Lower this time. “I want to eat you.”

You giggle, biting your lip provocatively - as if his actions aren’t making you go insane. “Then do it.”

It’s his turn to laugh as he shakes his head; his smile is angelical - even though, right now, with the red light painting his face as he helps you position your feet on the counter - your hands supporting the weight of your body as you lean back slightly, totally spread and exposed for him -, he looks like a hungry demon.

God. You never had sex in such an open place before. The ocean breeze hits your body, making you shiver, at the same time that you’re burning from the inside, trembling in expectation. Jimin takes the hem of your thong and helps you take it off slowly, well aware of how painful making you wait is. He drops the last piece of clothing to the floor before grabbing the insides of your thighs, spreading you even more.

You’re naked and open over a bar counter, where anyone from the neighboring yachts can see you, with a million dollar necklace around your neck - and you’ve never been so aroused before.

Jimin licks his lips, eyes locked on your cunt. “You’re so wet for me, baby.” You bite your bottom lip hard when his fingers press on your clit in circular movements again for some moments before spreading your pussy lips with his index and pointed finger. “I can’t wait to be inside of you.”

He wraps his lips on your clit.

You throw your head back and actually moan this time.

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck - his plump lips around your clit feel like heaven, much better than what your dirty mind could think of. He sucks softly and licks you, from your entrance to your clit again, flicking his tongue over it (once again - that’s a man that knows what to do with a clit). His warm, wet muscle moving against your most sensitive part makes waves of heat and raw pleasure run through your body, completely clouding your mind, as your fingers grip his hair and moans and hisses escape through your lips. Your sounds of pleasure, the wet noises he makes as he sucks you and the ocean waves create the most obscene and beautiful symphony you’ve ever heard.

“Fuck-“ you manage to breathe out somehow. If he weren’t busy sucking your clit, he would’ve smirked cockily. “Feel so good, baby…”

He leans away for a moment, actually smirking this time. His lips are so wet that the sight makes you more wet. “Shit, if you call me like that again, I will cum in my pants.”

This makes you smile - but your smile goes away quickly as he carefully introduces two fingers inside of you, making you moan and bite your bottom lip. You’re so wet that they slide in easily - but you’re also very tight due to not being penetrated in a while, which makes Jimin move slowly. He watches your cunt with the attention of a professional. Fuck, he might be a pro at this, actually.

He curls his fingers inside of you slowly, making you lose your breath; Jimin pays attention to your every reaction. “You like that, pretty?”

“Y-Yeah,” you moan, nodding, still biting your bottom lip. Jimin looks up at you with a fog in his eyes.

“You look so fucking hot right now, Y/N.” Somehow, the way he calls your name in that low tone instead of pretty sends goosebumps down your spine. He keeps eye contact while his fingers keep moving inside of you. He starts pulling them in and out, and you close your eyes for a moment, feeling shockwaves of pleasure every time he does so. Your breath gets shallow and quick, and out of instinct, you start bucking your hips, following his movements.

He mouths your clit once again while his fingers are still busy, making you moan louder. “R-Right there, Jimin-“ you stutter in a breathless voice. “Just like that…”

You don’t need to ask twice - he keeps hitting the same spot as his mouth works on your clit, sucking and flicking his tongue over it, slurping all of your juices. You grip his hair for dear life, incapable of doing anything but moan and hiss and sweat, feeling your legs shake. You also think Jimin looks so fucking hot right now - head between your legs, hair an absolute mess (your fault), wet lips and the hungriest eyes you’ve ever seen in your life.

It might be because you’ve been touch starved for a while, or because Jimin eats pussy too well, or because you’ve been dreaming of this moment with him - but you already feel the orgasm building up. “Don’t fucking stop,” you beg him - and he obeys, sucking and licking mercilessly; maybe even Steven down there can hear the squelching noise your pussy makes every time his fingers move, or your moans that make Jimin feel the hardest he’s ever been. A small pool of your juices forms on the glass under you, dripping from your entrance. Jimin works on your cunt like his life depends on it. You feel the overwhelming heat building up in your stomach, your body shaking, your lungs failing-

You grip Jimin’s hair hard and yank him away from your pussy as the orgasm hits (you pulled so hard that it hurt his scalp - and he loved it); he also loved how tight you clenched his fingers as the orgasm made you convulse, just imagining how it would feel to be inside you. He watches you with pride, all covered in sweat and helpless, your face contorted in pleasure.

He takes his fingers out of you slowly, standing straight again to press his lips on yours - and you don’t care to taste yourself on his lips. Your legs are still weak and trembling when one of his arms once again wraps around your waist and he helps you stand up on the floor, never breaking apart.

“Baby, I need you around me.” He whispers between kisses - and it almost sounds like a whimper, which makes your legs even weaker. “Will you get on your knees for me? Hmm?”

It’s your turn to obey promptly - Jimin ate you out so good that he deserves it. Without saying anything, and still keeping eye contact, you get on your knees, batting your lashes prettily at him while your fingers work on his belt. Jimin takes some strands of hair away from your face, mesmerized; ever since you first met, he always looked at you in a way that made you feel attractive, and right now it has just increased tenfold.

Jimin unzips his pants and frees his cock from his black boxers. You gulp at the sight of his girthy, veiny cock; he’s stone hard, pulsating, and you wonder exactly how long he’s been hard already. He pumps himself slowly, while you once again lock eyes.

“Shit- you look even better than I imagined.” He says in a low, breathy tone. Just the fact that your usually fierce and unbashful persona is obediently kneeled down in front of his dick, looking up at him with sweet round eyes (you’re too good at this), eyes clouded still recovering from your high, almost sends him over the edge.

You stick your tongue out and lick his pink tip, immediately earning a hiss of pleasure. Your lips wrap around the tip and you suck gently at first, teasing him, never breaking eye contact, while he still pumps himself. Jimin gulps, licking his wet lips; the sight itself makes you tighten your pussy around nothing.

“Open your mouth for me.” He says - and this time it doesn’t sound like he’s asking, meaning he’s more desperate. You promptly do so, sticking your tongue out again. He slaps his cock against your tongue, hissing - and it’s fucking evil how you’re smiling right now, he thinks - while his other hand grips the hair at the top of your head firmly.

He pushes in. Fuck - he’s big and fat and you gag around him, but at the same time, he tastes delicious, if it even makes sense. Jimin closes his eyes and throws his head back, starting to roll his hips against your face, as his hand still keeps your head in place and your lips tighten around his cock.

“Shit– you look so good with my cock stuffed down your throat,” he hisses, increasing the speed of his thrusts. Drool and spit drip from the corners of your mouth, you gag and whimper, but it’s the daring gaze locked on his that tells Jimin he can just keep going. “So obedient, baby, taking me like a big girl… fuck– I want to cum all over your face.”

You hum with his dick in your mouth, sending vibrations that make him groan with pleasure. His balls slap on your chin every time he thrusts, and you keep your lips tightened around him, trying to give him the pressure he needs. There’s something sensual about you being naked while he’s still fully clothed - and you never thought you’d feel this way for anyone. He looks so hot with sweat covering his forehead, strands of hair falling over eyes, half lidded eyes and parted lips in a face of pure pleasure; fuck, you’d let him fuck your throat whenever he wanted, you’d suck him forever if it meant you would have this sight every time you did it.

His grunts and moans and hisses make you melt every time, even though his movements become more and more uncomfortable as he stuffs himself in your throat in quick thrusts that make you whimper and feel tears grow in your eyes. As if sensing this, Jimin yanks you off his cock and you gasp for air. He smiles at how messy you look right now, with drool dripping from your mouth and a thin layer of sweat over your forehead.

“C’mere,” he breathes out, helping you get up and hurriedly guiding you towards a nearby sun lounger. Closer to the yacht’s balcony, the ocean breeze hits your body harder, making you shiver. “How do you want me to fuck you, hm?”

Without saying a word, you smile devilishly before getting on your fours for him; you arch your back and purr like a cat, ass up, chest touching the lounger. You're still smiling and biting your lip when you look at him from over your shoulder, mesmerized by the sight of your stretched pussy.

Jimin steps closer and massages your asscheek before slapping hard, earning you a soft hiss. “You’re amazing. Can’t stop saying that. You’re perfect, baby.” He grips your hip with one hand while the other guides his cock to your entrance, getting the tip wetter with your juices. “You’re so good that you make me wanna fuck you raw, baby.”

Truth is - you didn’t even think of protection, and you couldn’t care less in this moment, as wrong as it is - but God, when Jimin finally pushes in, stretching your pussy as both of you moan in pleasure, you couldn’t be more thankful that his cock is uncovered so you can feel his skin purely.

Your breathing fails and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight, adjusting to the pressure and the slight pain it causes. Jimin pushes balls deep in, slowly at first, throwing his head back in delight. “Your pussy is so fucking tight, pretty…”

He starts to thrust in and out, making you moan each time with the glorious friction you desired so much. “Fuck– f-feel so good, Jimin…” you purr, arching your back even more. He grips both sides of your hips firmly, increasing speed with each thrust; the sound of skin hitting skin repeatedly is everything you can hear beside yours and Jimin’s moans and grunts.

Every nerve in your body seems to be on fire. His cock punches deep into your pussy, pushing you closer and closer to actual insanity as your mind becomes incapable of noticing anything but the feeling of him hammering inside of you over and over again, his strong grip on your hips, stuffing you even better than you had fantasized. Sweat covers all of your body now, and the necklace hurts your collarbones since you’re pressed against the lounger, but you couldn’t care less right now.

“I love hearing you moan, pretty.” He sounds out of breath and sexy. You gasp in surprise when, suddenly, he grips your hair and pulls it, forcing your head back. It burns your scalp; you hiss in pain, but the pain mixes with the overwhelming pleasure and somehow doubles it. “Fuck– this pussy’s all mine. You’re all mine.”

You never thought Jimin was the possessive type, but people babble whatever comes to their minds when they fuck, right? That’s why, mindlessly, you have the audacity to agree: “Y-Yeah, baby, I’m all yours– ah!”

He pulls your hair even harder at the same time he takes it all out just to slam himself balls deep in again in a way that lets you see stars and drool. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck– he’s merciless, relentless in his quick pace, ruthless in the way he grips you and spanks your ass - but, at the same time, his mouth is full of praises, grunting how good you feel or how pretty you are.

You whine in protest when he pulls out entirely without warning. “Turn around, I want to watch you getting fucked.”

Once again, you do as he said without complaints - but instead of immediately laying back again, your hurried fingers unbutton his shirt and you make him take it off, which Jimin does gladly, since the fabric was already glued to his body due to how much he was sweating. You lay back; Jimin grabs your legs and puts both knees over his shoulders.

He takes his cock with one hand while the other holds one of your thighs, slapping it on your clit a few times. You watch his face distort with pleasure when he pushes inside of you again. Jimin picks a fast pace from the beginning, holding both of your thighs, focused as if he’s on a mission; all you can do is moan and whimper helplessly, massaging your own breasts while Jimin drives both of you closer to your highs.

He watches the way your tits bounce with each thrust, your face covered with sweat, the way not even the ruined makeup makes you look ugly - and the fact that you’re wearing anything but diamonds somehow arouses him even more. You clench around him, pushing Jimin closer and closer to the edge. Neither of you are worrying about being quiet right now, and you can only hope that the ocean will be your ally in muffling your desperate moans.

But you’re suddenly forced to worry about it.

The sound of voices and steps yank both of you back to reality at the same time.

Jimin stops moving. You and him look to the stairs barely five meters away at the same time.

Two voices coming closer.

“Sir, please-” you hear. It’s Steven’s voice - worried, almost freaked out.

And the second voice-

“B-But I’m sure I left it here somewhere…”

You both recognize it instantly.

A very drunk Jungkook.

You look back at Jimin with horror, eyes open wide, as he lets go of your legs and lays on top of you instead, shushing you.

“Sir, please,” Steven’s panicked voice echoes again. “As I told you, the upper floors were waxed… you can’t go upstairs, it’ll ruin your shoes,” yeah, he came up with a smart excuse. But Jungkook keeps babbling about losing something, too drunk to understand.

If he comes upstairs, he’ll immediately see you. You’re not in a hidden spot at all. You want to get up and hurry away-

But then you look at Jimin again and he’s smirking devilishly.

He thrusts again, sending bolts of pleasure through your body.

Before you can moan - he covers your mouth with his hand.

Your eyes talk. Are you seriously doing this?

His eyes talk back. Yeah.

He thrusts again.

And again.

Your eyes roll back, you entangle your legs around his waist. Fuck, these men down there could come upstairs at any moment. They can hear you if you’re loud enough. If they come upstairs and see you in this situation, you don’t know if you’ll get over the embarrassment. But Jimin’s cock is stuffing you so deep and so good. He hits your spot again, and again, and again, and his dick is thick and heavy, and he could tear you open that you wouldn’t mind - so you don’t push Jimin away. No, you tighten your legs around him because don’t he dare stop; you grip his back, you bite your bottom lip in an attempt to keep quiet, but the fact that Jimin can still hear your muffled moans against his hand makes it hard for him to endure this much longer.

He hides his face on your neck in an attempt to muffle his own moans, biting your shoulder in a torturous slower pace now - if he goes too hard, the sound of skin hitting skin will be heard from the floor below. A part of your mind registers that Steven is desperately trying to lead Jungkook out of the yacht, while all the other parts are focused on Jimin’s member inside of you, his weight over your body, his teeth sinked on your shoulder. You can’t stop, neither does he. It’s like you’re in some type of trance.

After long, torturous minutes, you hear the voices going away.

Jimin is ruthless.

He lets go of your mouth and supports his body with his forearms on both sides of your face, pounding in despair; neither of you can take this much longer, it’s getting painful.

“F-Fuck, pretty, you did so well-” he somehow manages to breathe out, smirking in boyish excitement. “Such an obedient girl, hmpf, keeping quiet while I fuck you good…”

“Oh my God–” you whimper, feeling the second - and more intense - orgasm building up in the pit of your stomach. “D-Don’t fucking stop, Jimin–”

“Yes, baby, I’ll make you cum again–” he swiftly leans away and places one leg over his shoulder again, spreading you in an even better angle. “You deserve it, baby- shit, shit, shit–”

He punches inside of you over and over and over again until your walls are clenched and convulsing and your toes curl and your eyes roll and you grip the fabric of the lounger tight and your whole body shakes in an explosive orgasm. You’re breathless, weak; it was an almost out of body experience. Did you ever cum this hard before? You don’t think so.

And it’s not time to think of yourself, actually, because when your brain starts recovering from the high, you realize that Jimin had pulled out and is pumping his cock desperately, trying to reach his high. You grab his wrist, stopping him, and - Jimin almost loses it - you meow: “C’mere, come in my mouth.”

You sit up and he kneels over you until his member is on your face and, without wasting a second, you put it all into your mouth until you feel him in your throat, sucking him eagerly. Jimin moans and grips your hair while you pump your head over his length, producing loud suction noises. You just want him to cum as hard and good as he made you.

“Fuck– fuck, Y/N, I’m coming–” he warns in pant, pulling his cock out of your mouth.

You still keep it open, though, sticking your tongue out, as Jimin blows his load on you. You feel his hot seed dripping on your face, feel it on your lips and tongue. You patiently wait until he’s milked dry. Then, you open your eyes.

Jimin’s hair is an absolute mess. He’s all sweaty, panting heavily, face flushed, shaking slightly; you’ve never seen him look so glorious.

He opens a tired smirk.

And, with your gaze locked with his, you lick your lips and swallow.

It’s like he came again just seeing you do this.

“You’re gonna be the death of me, Y/N.” He shakes his head in disbelief.

It is your turn to chuckle.

Yeah.

Maybe you will.

You let cum drip on a million dollar necklace.

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