Y/N's POV
The next two days were rather ordinary. I met with Stela, and Jimin met with Suga. We ate breakfasts together and watched TV before going to sleep.
On Saturday I woke up early and couldn't go back to sleep. I kept thinking about having to take the Man in Black to meet my parents. A few weeks back I had been afraid they'd die from his hand, and now he was about to meet them.
When he finally woke up, I could start preparing, pretending everything was fine. I went to the closet to rummage through my stuff in search of the perfect outfit, completely forgetting that all the best ones had been left on Sicily. Resigned, I collapsed to the soft rug, staring at the hangers, and hiding my face in my hands.
"Everything all right?" I heard Jimin ask as he leaned on the doorframe.
"Nothing but the standard dilemma of half the women in the world: I don't know what to wear," I replied, frowning.
Jimin took a sip of the coffee in his mug, keeping his eyes on me, as if subconsciously feeling that it wasn't the clothes that were the problem.
"I have something for you," he said finally, walking to his part of the closet. "It arrived on Friday. Taehyung's pick, so I hope you'll like it."
He reached up and took out a hanger covered with fabric sporting a Chanel logo. Delighted, I jumped to my feet and immediately unzipped the cover. I gasped, seeing a short nude silk dress. It had short sleeves and a very deep, creased neckline. It was perfect—simple and modest, but at the same time extremely sexy.
"Thank you," I said, turning to Jimin and kissing him on the cheek. "How can I ever repay you?" I asked, slowly dropping to my knees and stopping with my face on the level of his crotch. "I'd love to show you how grateful I am."
Jimin leaned his back against the closet and grabbed me by the hair. I pulled his pants down and opened my mouth, allowing him to decide the course of action. The Man in Black watched me with eyes full of desire, but didn't move a muscle. Impatiently, I tried catching his cock with my mouth, but the hands in my hair tightened their grip, immobilizing me.
"Take off your top," he said, holding me in place. "Now open your mouth. Wide."
He slid into my throat slowly, so I could feel each inch of him on my tongue. I purred with delight and started sucking. Blowing him was something I loved to do—I adored his taste and the way his body responded to my touch.
"Enough," Jimin said after a dozen seconds or so, pushing away and pulling his pants up.
"You can't always get what you want. Also, you'll be late to the hairstylist."
Staying on my knees, frowning and horny, I watched him leave the closet. Why did he give up his pleasure? It was no accident—I was sure. I glanced at my watch and realized it really was getting late, so I rushed down to the kitchen, gulped some tea, and grabbed a sweet roll from the table. After the first bite, I felt nauseous. I sprinted to the bathroom, nearly toppling Jimin over on the way. A while later, I heard knocking on the door, rinsed my mouth, and left.
"Everything all right?" he asked, looking me up and down with a worried expression.
I dropped my head, resting my forehead on his torso.
"It's stress. The thought of you meeting my parents scares me. I don't know why I told them we'd come," I blurted out. "I'm nervous and tense, and I'd just like to stay home today."
Jimin smirked, seeing my resignation.
"Will you feel better if I fuck you so hard you won't be able to sit down?" he asked, his expression comically serious.
