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Despite the fact students pay out the ass every year to study a subject that future employers probably won't care about as much as the fact you’re holding a diploma, it’s not all that often Yoongi saw his hard earned money go to good use at his college.
They’ve got some state of the art projectors in the lecture halls and some pretty nifty looking science equipment in the labs, too. But a laundry room that can cater to the numerous students who live on campus? Unrealistic, impossible, dream smaller dreams little astronaut.
Yoongi wondered whether people bought into the idea that students would most likely wear dirty clothes without caring, or buy fresh underwear because it was more convenient, or even take truck loads of their laundry home for their parents to handle.
And, logically speaking, some students probably did do that.
But not Yoongi.
Because Yoongi was stubborn enough to prove to his parents that a future career in music was not a waste and if that meant he had to get through the next four years off his own merit, then so be it.
But that was an issue for another day.
Because today--or rather, this evening--Yoongi’s issue was a little more pressing than addressing the distant relationship with his parents.
For you see, Yoongi had spent a good couple months at the beginning of the year asserting his dominance amongst his neighbours so that they all knew that 11pm on a Sunday was his laundry hour. Everyone else could fight over the other hours in the week, but 11pm Sunday nights? That was Yoongi’s time.
Okay, so maybe asserting dominance was a bit of an exaggeration.
What Yoongi actually did was spend a month buying off his neighbours with booze and packets of ramen and telling them as politely as he could that he would be using the laundry at 11pm on Sundays and if everyone respected that, then he’d be more than happy to give them more ramen and soju.
For it’s a truth universally acknowledged, you see, that the real currency for struggling college kids wasn’t money, but liquor and noodles.
Yoongi bought off everyone in his building with a saccharine smile on his face too. He wasn’t dumb, after all, he knew he had to live with these people for at least another year. So being sweet and subtly manipulative was better than aggressively demanding and making adversaries out of his neighbours.
He didn’t want to see his mail thrown into the Han River just because he was a bit of an asshole over a washing machine.
Miraculously, for a while, everyone respected Yoongi’s request. He got his clothes washed, dried and smelling all good and feeling all soft for a new week every Sunday night, and there were no issues.
That was, until one big fat issue called Park Jimin waltzed into the empty apartment next to Yoongi’s and ruined everything .
Yoongi’s roommate, Namjoon, had explained very early on that Park Jimin was a transfer student a few years below them and had moved because the dance programme at their university was better than his last one.
Namjoon had also said that Jimin lived alone but didn’t have to pay for the whole apartment by himself because there were no available roommates for him.
Come to think of it, Namjoon talked to Jimin a lot and Yoongi needed to address that.
Because Namjoon was his friend of ten years and Jimin was the enemy .
A thick lipped, sunshine smiling enemy who was the most cunning, bratty snake Yoongi had ever met in his life.
Who was currently stuffing three items into the only good washing machine at exactly 11pm on a Sunday night whilst Yoongi mentally counted to ten to keep himself from exploding in pure frustration.
Three items Jimin needed to wash, meanwhile Yoongi had an overflowing hamper in his arms that was heavier than a tonne of bricks.
Park Jimin was pure chaotic evil.
“Good evening, Yoongi,” Jimin greeted, beady little eyes glistening like obsidian as they ran smoothly over Yoongi’s irritated features. “Can I help you?”
Can I help you, god Yoongi could very well explode.
Nostrils flaring and grip around his hamper tightening, Yoongi purposefully kept his face awash of calm. “I came to do my laundry,” he said. “Like I mentioned earlier, when you were round eating my ramen.”
Like a skilled actor, Jimin feigned a look of shock, knitting his eyebrows together and sticking out his thick bottom lip. “It must have slipped my mind,” replied Jimin, disgustingly sweet. A fake sweet, like artificial strawberry flavourings. “I’m really sorry,” he added, with a look that seemed anything but apologetic.
In fact Jimin looked incredibly triumphant, like his conniving little plan had come to fruition. Not that Yoongi knew what said plan was, unless it was purposefully being a brat and pissing Yoongi off to the point he debated cold blooded murder.
He had watched criminal minds; he knew how to make it look like an accident.
“You have an awful habit of letting things slip your mind, Park Jimin,” said Yoongi, eyes narrowed ever so slightly.
There was a peculiar little glint in Jimin’s eye; a fiery spark that had a shiver racking down Yoongi’s spine. “I do?” he hummed, looking all pensive and innocent.
Pathetic .
“Yes,” Yoongi bites and Jimin’s eyelashes flutter ever so slightly. “Almost like you’re doing this shit on purpose.”
The sly smirk on Jimin’s lips never once left his face and his fingers danced across the top of the washing machine door. “Why, whatever do you mean?” he asked, all saccharine smiles and all too fake to be realistically sweet.
With a silent exhale of frustration, Yoongi shut his eyes with a mantra of ‘I wouldn’t make it in jail’ repeating over and over in his head.
Jimin giggled as he shut the washing machine door. “If I were to be doing this on purpose,” he began and Yoongi opened his eyes to find Jimin standing just a little closer to him than usual. “What would you do about it?” asked Jimin and his voice whispered out of his plush lips and ghosted across Yoongi’s skin in a shiver.
A minx.
A temptress.
A goddamn succubus sent from hell itself to personally torment Yoongi.
Yoongi’s ears were flushed red, utterly flustered as he tried to compose a nonchalant answer. Because he did not have a crush on Park Jimin. No way, no how. Park Jimin was the enemy . He stole the washing machine every Sunday night at 11pm because he knew that’s when Yoongi used it, and he was an asshole.
A pretty little asshole who was wearing those goddamn grey sweats again. The ones that always hung so low on his hips that whenever he reached above his head Yoongi caught a glimpse of golden skin and a sculptured V line…
“What’s the matter, Yoongi,” Jimin practically purred. “Cat got your tongue?” He was so close in Yoongi’s space now that the air between them sparked with electricity. Whether it was competitive electricity or something else, Yoongi really wasn’t sure about.
But before Yoongi could will his brain to put enough words together to form some kind of sentence, the room began to shake.
The rumbling of the earth filled Yoongi’s ears, the sly look across Jimin’s face bled into panic and the two of them reached out for each other instinctively, trying to grasp onto something steady. Thinking on pure instinct, Yoongi pulled the two of them away from the washing machines to the middle of the room, squating on the floor and tugging Jimin down with him.
Yoongi could feel Jimin’s hand shaking within his own and pulled him a little closer to himself, making sure that both of their heads were covered.
There’s just no time for rivalry when faced with an earthquake.
The rumbling of the earth and the shaking of the room sent Yoongi dizzy, squeezing his eyes tightly shut in the hope that it would ground him in a situation that’s impossible to be grounded in. He could hear the shattering of the low hanging laundry room lights across the floor, body instinctively pushing Jimin tighter against his chest, praying to any god that was listening that no lights fell on their heads.
There was only so much their hands could protect them from. The tables had been removed three weeks ago after a drunk gaggle of students had defaced them with profanity that would make even the most liberal human being blush. So besides their own body parts, there wasn’t much that could protect the two of them from falling debris.
It felt like forever before the earth finally stilled. The squeaking of old, broken washing machine doors rocked in the aftermath. The remaining lights from overhead swung back and forth and cast the room in odd shadows like an old detective drama. They flicked ominously for a few seconds before the power went out completely and threw the room in darkness. The only source of light came from the glowing green emergency sign.
Jimin was still shaking when Yoongi found the strength in his legs to stand up, turning his phone flashlight on. The grip the younger had on Yoongi’s hands tightened ever so slightly, just enough for Yoongi to wonder if maybe he’s just imagining it.
After all, Jimin clearly had it out for him, why would he want to be holding Yoongi’s hand for any longer than is necessary?
“I’ll check the door,” muttered Yoongi, legs wobbling over to the automatic doors and tapping against the open button a few times. As suspected, they don’t open. He tried the sensor next, but it simply flashed at his movements but didn’t open.
Perhaps it was a safety feature in the event of a natural disaster?
Pretty fucking stupid one though if you asked Yoongi.
“I’ve got no signal,” Jimin said, still crouched in the middle of the room.
Yoongi lifted up his own phone, knowing before he checked it that there was no service. “There’s never any signal down here.”
“Fuck,” Jimin breathed, pushing his fingers through the strands of his unruly honey brown hair. “What are we supposed to do?”
“Wait,” came Yoongi’s blunt reply.
Jimin worried his lip between his teeth. It was probably the first time Yoongi had ever seen him looking anything but confident and cunning. It pulled a snarky smile to Yoongi’s face, hands slipping into the pockets of his sweats. “What’s the matter, Park?” he asked, and revelled in the fact the tips of Jimin’s ears turned red. “Places to be?”
Turning his head away from Yoongi, Jimin let out a small irritated huff. “What’s it to you?” he spat, voice unusually quiet.
A breathy cackle escaped Yoongi’s chest, shoulders rising and falling with his laughter. “Sorry if I touched a nerve,” he teased, zero remorse in his words.
Without a word, Jimin pulled himself to his feet and sat himself in the furthest corner of the room, back facing Yoongi.
And despite the somewhat daunting situation they’ve found themselves in, Yoongi couldn’t help but smile as he sat himself down opposite Jimin.
For the first time in weeks, he felt like he'd won a few points in their little war.
_______
Two hours have passed, and no one has bothered to see whether anyone is trapped in the laundry room.
Two hours have passed, and Yoongi’s phone was on 10% battery life. They’ll lose their only source of light in the room within no time at all and be stuck in eerie green tinted darkness if the power doesn’t kick back in soon.
Two hours have passed, and the AC hasn’t shown any signs of rumbling back to life so Yoongi was sweating like a sinner in church.
Two hours have passed, and neither Jimin nor Yoongi have said a single word to each other.
The silence wasn’t as welcoming as Yoongi envisioned it.
In fact it felt incredibly awkward.
Perhaps that had something to do with the fact neither of them particularly liked each other and their entire relationship was built on spite and sharp words.
Jimin was still facing the wall like he was a scolded school kid in time out. Every now and then he would shift uncomfortably where he sat and run his fingers through his hair. He was looking more and more dishevelled with each passing second and Yoongi found his eyes entranced with watching beads of sweat trickle down the smooth golden expanse of Jimin’s neck.
Fuck, this was hell.
____________
At the four hour mark, the electricity kicked in so suddenly it stung Yoongi’s eyes to be bathed in light again.
Jimin let out a long sigh of relief, jumping to his feet and stretching his arms above his head. His thin T rose ever so slightly to reveal a thin slither of golden skin and Yoongi swallowed thickly, throat dry, needing to look away.
He tried the door again, but it still didn’t budge.
“It must be 3am about now,” mumbled Jimin. “Why has no one come looking for us?”
Yoongi didn’t really have an answer for him, he hadn’t bothered telling Namjoon where he was heading off to that evening, considering the basket of laundry in his hands was an obvious enough context clue. Namjoon was a smart lad, surely he wasn’t upstairs frantically worrying over the fact Yoongi hadn’t checked in with him.
The fact Jimin lives alone didn’t help the situation either.
Jimin rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, turning just a little towards Yoongi’s direction and for the first time in hours, Yoongi could see the younger’s face. It was red, probably from the heat, and his bottom lip had been bitten red raw in worry.
There was a small pang of guilt that stabbed at Yoongi’s gut. He felt a little bad for the snarky remark he had made earlier; it wasn’t the time nor place to carry on with petty rivalries.
“Hey,” Yoongi murmured, eyes downcast to the floor. Jimin made a hum of acknowledgement and Yoongi could feel the tips of his ears tint red. “Sorry, about making fun of you earlier.” His voice was quiet, soft like a whisper. “That wasn’t right of me to do, considering the circumstances.” He sighed, fists clenching and unclenching in his lap as he did his best to be the bigger person. “So try not to worry too much, okay? We’ll be out of here soon.”
His pride snarled in the back of his head, hating the fact he had to apologise to Jimin after the torment the younger put him through these past few weeks. His pride resented the idea of apologising to the conniving son of a bitch considering he’d made it his life mission to just be a dick to Yoongi for no valid reason.
All Yoongi wanted to do was wash his laundry in peace on a Sunday night and Jimin just wouldn’t let him have that.
After a while, the silence got a little too much and Yoongi stole his eyes away from the floor to Jimin’s face… and wished more than anything that he could take back his apology.
Because there was that smug smile tugging at Jimin’s plush lips again, his arms were crossed triumphantly about his chest and his eyes were sparkling with that heated fire once more. “Cute,” he cooed, mockingly. “You thought I was worried?”
Yoongi ground his teeth, his eyes narrowed.
And Jimin giggled, a twinkling melodic sound that in the current situation sounded more like nails on a chalkboard. “Adorable,” the younger teased, flipping his hand casually in the air. “You’re such a good hyung .”
Something snapped within Yoongi, like a rubber band pulled too tight, and he stormed to his feet, fists balled at his sides. “What the hell is your problem?”
There was a fake innocence across Jimin’s features, bottom lip red and puffy as it stuck out in a pout. “I don’t have a problem,” he hummed casually.
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Bullshit,” he snapped, taking three long strides across the room to get up in Jimin’s face. “You’ve been purposefully being a dick ever since we met.”
Jimin backed up against the washing machine behind him, hands sliding into his pockets. “Is this because I’ve been using the washing machine on Sunday nights?” he asked, taunting gleam in his eye. “Because I think the rules are first come first serve and you need to learn to be a bit more flexible.”
“This is more than just the washing machine,” Yoongi bit back, his body had propelled him forward until he was no more than a few centimetres away from Jimin. “Though I suppose that’s what started it.”
“The world doesn’t revolve around you,” Jimin replied, licking across his bottom lip. Yoongi watched the action with a ragged breath caught between his teeth, forgetting momentarily that the two of them were in the middle of an argument. “Other people have to do their washing too.”
“Yes but other people know that I do my laundry at 11pm on Sundays and are more than happy to work around that.” Yoongi stuttered out all in one breath, eyes still caught on Jimin’s lips.
There was a narrow to Jimin’s eyes, like he was the cat who caught the cream. “I can’t be bought off with ramen and soju,” he snickered, pushing himself off of the washing machine and closing the distance between the two of them.
Not that there was much distance left, and suddenly Yoongi found himself with Park Jimin pressed up against his front.
“You’re such a fucking brat,” said Yoongi, breathlessly.
“Am I?” hummed Jimin, artificially sweet.
Yoongi’s heart thumped loudly in his chest. “You know you are.”
Jimin giggled again, softer this time, eyes carefully watching the way Yoongi’s mouth downturned into a pout. “Then I ask you again, hyung ,” Jimin whispered into the charged silence of the laundry room, lips ghosting ridiculously close to Yoongi’s ear. “What are you gonna do about it?”
Yoongi’s mind blanked, his ears filled with white noise and his body was overcome with the sudden need to wipe that smug look off of Jimin’s devilish face.
He moved on pure instinct, pushing Jimin right up against the washing machine and surging forward until he claimed Jimin’s lips for his own.
There was nothing pretty or heart-warming about their kiss, it was a lot of push and pull, a lot of tongue and teeth, but it was heated, so incredibly heated . It stoked the flames of arousal in Yoongi’s gut so easily, a little too easily, in fact, considering he hated Jimin so much.
Jimin’s hands slid into Yoongi’s raven locks, his fingernails scratched at the nape of his neck and sent shivers running down Yoongi’s spine. Jimin is forceful with his kissing, pushing Yoongi over an edge that he refuses to fall over.
Their kiss was a battle for control, for the upper hand, and fuck did that do things to Yoongi. With a guttural growl, Yoongi’s grip on Jimin’s hips tightened. He removed his mouth from Jimin’s pillowy soft lips to suck bruising marks into that taunting golden expanse of his neck.
With a breathy whine, Jimin’s body went pliant in Yoongi’s hold just as his lips sucked a particularly harsh mark under Jimin’s ear.
Both of their chests rose and fell sharply, Yoongi’s hot breath cascaded across Jimin’s heated skin and he felt the younger full body shiver under his touch. Jimin whined, hand twisting in Yoongi’s hair and tugging lightly. “You fight dirty,” he pants, rolling his hips against Yoongi’s.
And holy fuck was Jimin hard?
Yoongi looked up at the younger’s pink tinted face, pulling back with a cock of his eyebrow. “Are you all riled up from a little kissing?” he teased.
“Don’t flatter yourself, baby,” Jimin scoffed, biting down on his bottom lip.
“Then what’s your explanation for this?” Yoongi asked, hand cupping Jimin’s crotch and revelling in the hiss that escapes through the younger’s teeth.
For the second time that evening, Jimin was rendered speechless and Yoongi loved that. Jimin’s hand came up to his mouth, biting down around a digit as Yoongi fondled the boy’s incredibly hard dick through his sweatpants. “Did you get a little too excited, Jiminie?” Yoongi whispered into the shell of the younger’s ear. “It’s okay, don’t be embarrassed.”
Pathetic little whimpers escaped Jimin’s mouth despite his best attempts at keeping his noises at bay. And Yoongi feels the power shifting in his favour.
“Cute,” Yoongi snickered, hand stilling around the entirety of Jimin’s dick. “You fit all nice and snug in my hand.”
Suddenly, Jimin let out a long, loud moan, burying his face in his hands, equal parts turned on and equal parts utterly embarrassed. His hips rocked in Yoongi’s still hold, seeking friction, seeking attention and seeking something a little kinkier too, it would seem.
Yoongi felt like he’s hit the jackpot. “You like that?” he snickered, reaching out with his spare hand to still Jimin’s movements. “You like being shamed?”
The petulant little whine Jimin replied with has Yoongi preening. “N-No, why are you stopping?” Jimin complained, bottom lip pulled between his teeth.
“Because I’m waiting for you to answer my question,” Yoongi replied, removing his hand completely and smirking at the look of utter frustration across Jimin’s face. He snickered, smile wicked. “Oh how the turned tables.”
With an irritated huff, Jimin pushed against Yoongi’s chest until the elder was stumbling backwards on his feet. “You did not just quote a Jonas Brothers meme at me, at a time like this .”
Yoongi said nothing, cocking a cheeky eyebrow and licking across his kiss swollen lips.
“Fuck this,” Jimin exclaimed, and Yoongi can practically see the moment the younger snapped. “You’re insufferable.”
“I could say the same thing about—” began Yoongi, but Jimin was on a roll, like a runaway stone of a can of fizzy drink that was about to explode.
“With your fucking huge hands and your sharp eyes looking at me like you want to eat me whole and then hanging me up to dry,” Jimin groaned, striding across the room to take Yoongi’s face in his hands. “Like what the fuck, who the fuck do you think you are?” he breathed against Yoongi’s lips. “I’m Park Jimin, I’ve never had to work so hard for dick in my life …”
And suddenly, they were kissing again and Jimin was pushing Yoongi to the floor, his ass slapping against the dirty flooring with a muted thud, head spinning in every direction. Jimin straddled his lap, and continued pushing him backwards until Yoongi was laying on the floor.
What in the fuck was happening?
“Touch me,” Jimin begged, pleaded , between kisses. “I’m hard and horny and I need you to just fucking touch me .” With a roll of his hips against Yoongi’s crotch, the elder was groaning, all logic, reason and confusion flying out the window.
“God, you talk too much,” Yoongi grumbled, teeth biting into the fat of Jimin’s bottom lip. His hand slipped under the waistband of Jimin’s sweats, fingers digging into the fat of Jimin’s ass.
And then he felt something soft and silky, somewhat lacey and delicate and Yoongi found himself chuckling into Jimin’s mouth. “Park Jimin,” he taunted. “Are you wearing lace panties?”
God, Jimin just looks so delectable with his face all flushed pretty in pink and his eyelashes fluttering. “A-and what if I am?” he stuttered, chest rising and falling harshly in time with Yoongi’s own breathing.
Yoongi pushed Jimin upright just a little, hands fumbling to tug down the boy’s sweats and reveal the sinful red panties that were hidden underneath.
“Fuck, Jiminie,” Yoongi gasped. “Did you get all dressed up for me?”
Jimin rolled his hips, clearly frustrated with the achingly slow pace they were progressing in. “Do you like what you see, hyung ?” A hiss escaped Yoongi’s teeth, his neglected dick enjoying the friction. That bratty giggle was back as Jimin ran his hands down Yoongi’s chest towards the waistband of his own sweats. “Does it make you feel good thinking I got all dressed up for you?”
Words caught in Yoongi’s throat; a whimper bubbled passed his lips.
“Dirty hyungie,” Jimin continued, a sweet mocking giggle to his words.
The grit of Yoongi’s teeth aches his jaw, apples of his cheeks burning red. “Shut up,” he grumbled.
But Jimin didn’t stop, mouth running away with him as always. “What would you do if I told you that I spend hours teasing myself before I come down here on Sunday nights?”
“J-Jimin—” Yoongi stuttered, losing his mind, his sanity slipping.
Jimin’s hands tickled under Yoongi’s shirt and splayed against his heated abdomen. “You’re not touching me right, hyung ,” Jimin whined, frustration getting the better of him. “Am I supposed to do all the work here?” he complained, circling his hips in a taunting slow rhythm. “I’m offering myself on a silver platter and you’re just laying there like a dead fish.”
“Park Jimin,” Yoongi spat, eyes wide and hands gripping around Jimin’s waist in a bruising grip. “Don’t be a brat.”
“I have to be a brat,” Jimin huffed. “Because you’re all talk but no bite.”
“Shut up .”
“Make me.”
Yoongi’s hand came down hard on Jimin’s ass and the sudden sting has the younger yelping. “Turn around and lose the sweats.”
There was glee in Jimin’s eyes, a sly smirk on his red lips. “What if I don’t want to?” he taunted.
Yoongi’s hand came down once more on Jimin’s ass, short and sharp, a warning. Jimin’s face lost its cockiness and his mouth fell into a pliant little O.
“I said,” Yoongi repeated, voice gravelly deep. “Turn the fuck around.”
There was no telling Jimin again, the younger full body shivered as he shuffled around in Yoongi’s lap. It took a little awkward manoeuvring for Jimin to get his sweatpants off, but eventually he was leaning over Yoongi’s crotch, peachy round ass jiggling in Yoongi’s face.
“Now what, hyungie ?” Jimin sing-songed over his shoulder. “Are you gonna make me suck you off? I bet you’ve daydreamed about my lips wrapped around your dick. Do you like it nice and sloppy, hyungie ?”
“Noisy,” Yoongi grunted, giving another quick smack to Jimin’s slowly reddening cheek.
Jimin scoffed, fingers teasing across the waistband of Yoongi’s sweats. “Will you cum down my throat, hyungie ?” Jimin asked, and Yoongi choked on his own saliva. “Will you choke me with you dick and make good on that promise of shutting me up?” Through his groans, Yoongi willingly lifted his hips up so Jimin could swiftly push his sweats down just enough so that his neglected dick could spring free. “No underwear?” Jimin snickered. “So dirty .”
“It’s laundry day,” Yoongi gasped, feeling the tips of Jimin’s fingers brush against the base of his dick. So achingly close .
God Yoongi was so wet, precum leaking down his shaft like he hadn’t been touched in months. And the noises he was making was pathetically desperate, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care.
He just needed to be touched.
His hips bucked upwards, pleading for Jimin to do something , anything , other than just staring at his crotch.
Eventually Jimin reached out and swirled a finger around the tip of Yoongi’s dick, playing with him like he was nothing more than a toy. “So sensitive ,” Jimin marvelled, pressing a chaste kiss to the top of Yoongi’s dick.
“Fucking get on with it ,” Yoongi growled.
Another taunting giggle escaped Jimin’s lips. “Patience is a virtue.”
“You were the one complaining that I’m just laying here like a dead fish, fucking suck my dick or I’ll have you choking on it,” Yoongi demanded, fingers digging so tightly into the flesh of Jimin’s round ass that he was certain it would leave bruises tomorrow.
Another shiver racked down Jimin’s spine. “Tempting,” he purred. “Maybe next time.”
“Won’t be a next time if you don’t— fuck —”
All teasing and toying thrown out the window, Jimin sunk down on Yoongi’s length smoothly, taking as much of him into his mouth as he could. Yoongi wasn’t big, but he was girthy, and he knew that the stretch of Jimin’s jaw right now must be fucking sinful .
Why in the fuck did he think this position was a good idea.
“U-up,” Yoongi ordered, patting at Jimin’s ass. “On your knees.”
Jimin pulled off of Yoongi’s dick with a loud, wet pop. “But I thought you wanted me like this?”
“Changed my mind,” Yoongi huffed, feeling like he’d had the air knocked out of his lungs. “Get on your knees,” he demanded once more, practically pushing Jimin off of him.
With an indignant huff, Jimin did as he was told, slipping off of Yoongi and kneeling beside him. Like someone had just electrocuted him, Yoongi sprang to his feet and wasted no time tangling his fingers in Jimin’s hair. “Needed to see those fucking beautiful lips wrapped around my dick,” he explained, fingernails scratching against Jimin’s scalp.
“And what about me?” the younger pouted, eyes downcast to his crotch. His little dick stood straight against his belly, head caught in the waistband of his pretty red panties and staining them wet with precum.
Yoongi snickered, tugging on Jimin’s hair and eliciting a hiss from the younger. “Be a good boy and you’ll get your reward.”
Jimin looked wholly unconvinced. “But I’ve been horny for hours , I’ve been waiting so long to have you in me and you’re just going to—”
“Noisy,” Yoongi huffed again, pulling Jimin’s face towards his crotch and wasting no time in feeding the boy his dick once more. “You just never shut up do you?”
Groaning around his mouthful, Jimin’s eyes fluttered shut, mouth stretched obscenely around Yoongi’s girth that it had Yoongi’s breath catching in his throat. His lips were so red, his cheeks hollowed and pink as Yoongi slowly pushed further and further into Jimin’s mouth.
“I don’t think brats deserve to be treated nice, do you?” Yoongi asked, a fire in his eye and arousal swimming in his belly. Jimin’s eyes widened, breath falling harsh through his nose as Yoongi pulled out to the tip just to shove himself back into Jimin’s mouth once more.
The younger choked around his mouthful, hands coming up to grip at Yoongi’s hips, but he showed no signs of resistance. In fact, with each thrust into Jimin’s mouth, Yoongi felt the younger urge his hips closer, as if begging Yoongi to let Jimin choke on more of him.
And who was Yoongi to deny Jimin what he wanted?
With a curse, Yoongi slowed his thrusts and slowly pushed his hips forward until Jimin’s nose tickled along Yoongi’s pubic hair.
Fuck , Yoongi didn’t know if he could hold out much longer. Not with the way Jimin was swallowing around the tip of his dick.
“I’m, I’m gonna—" Yoongi warned and Jimin pinched his hips, letting him know it was okay before swallowing around Yoongi one last time. Yoongi cursed, eyes blowing wide as he felt Jimin hollow out his cheeks and slowly, ever so slowly, pull back along Yoongi’s length, running his tongue along the vein on the underside of Yoongi’s dick for good measure.
And Yoongi felt himself tumbling over the edge.
With a silent cry, he spilled into Jimin’s mouth, grip tight on the younger’s hair as he moved the boy’s head up and down his dick, using the boy to milk every last drop of his orgasm from him.
Jimin’s eyes were fluttering, hands falling to his lap, cum dribbling down the corners of his lips as he struggled to swallow it all down.
“Don’t choke,” Yoongi warned, head clearing enough to remember to let Jimin breathe.
With a muted whine, Jimin opened his mouth and stuck out his tongue, proudly showing Yoongi the mess that had been left in his mouth.
Fuck, the sight alone was enough to have Yoongi’s poor spent dick twitching in interest once more.
“Swallow it,” Yoongi demanded and Jimin shuddered once more, nodding his head pliantly before closing his mouth and swallowing down his meal. He licked at his lips slowly, eyes never once leaving Yoongi’s heated gaze. “You’re fucking dirty , Park Jimin.”
The blush that painted across Jimin’s cheeks was oddly innocent given the circumstances. “Look,” he began, eyes averted to the floor. “I know what I want and I’m not afraid to stoop to low means to get it.”
With a hum, Yoongi tucked himself back into his sweats. “You referring to the fact you went out of your way to rile me up these last weeks?” he asked.
“Jungkook said you were hot when you’re angry and I needed to know whether your beautiful fucking hands were as talented as I imagined them to be,” Jimin exclaimed unabashed, ears deep red.
Yoongi choked on his words, pink dusting his own cheeks. “I’m going to eat all that muscle pigs’ coco puffs the next time I’m around there.”
“Namjoon-hyung said you hadn’t got any in months and that a strong gust of wind would probably get you hard so imagine my fucking surprise that it’d take three weeks , to get anywhere with you,” Jimin added, folding his arms across his chest.
“I see,” Yoongi replied, cold, eerie calm washing through his veins. “I see I must go on a rampant murder spree throughout our apartment building.”
“Shut up,” Jimin scoffed. “You just got your dick sucked, stop being so salty.”
Yoongi rolled his eyes. “Do you have any other personality besides being a brat?”
“Do you honestly expect me not to be a little petulant right now?” Jimin asked, pouting. “I just got you off and I still don’t know what those hands can do.” Yoongi swallowed thickly. “I was expecting you to play me like a fucking piano, hyung, and yet here I am, still hard in my overpriced panties.”
“I mean,” Yoongi mumbled, hand scratching at the back of his neck. “I’ve been told that I’m better with my tongue…”
Jimin groaned, crumpling to the floor like a burned piece of paper. “ Stop . My dick can not take it .”
Before Yoongi could offer to perhaps show Jimin the wonders of his tongue, the doors to the laundry room slid open and both boys snap their heads towards it.
“Fuck, there you are!” Namjoon panted, hands on his knees and breathing like he’d just ran a marathon. “I’ve been so fucking worried and—” his words stop short, eyes blowing wide and face turning beetroot. “Min mother-fucking Yoongi! Were you fucking our hot neighbour down here whilst half the campus frantically worries that you’re fucking dead ?”
Humiliation clung to the back of Yoongi’s neck, hand slapping against his face exasperatedly. “You watched me leave the apartment with my laundry in hand, how did you not know I was here .”
“Jungkook says you’re a genius or something, Namjoon-hyung,” said Jimin, pulling the hem of his shirt over his crotch. “Why did it take you this long to find us?”
“Jungkook needs to shut his mouth,” grumbled Namjoon.
Yoongi sighed. “Agreed,” he said, turning back to Jimin. “Still hard?” he asked, not afraid to admit that he took some joy in the look of pure shame that creeped across Jimin’s face.
“I do not need to hear this,” came Namjoon’s exasperated voice before the sound of the laundry room doors closed once more.
“What do you think?” Jimin spat through his teeth, pulling up the hem of his shirt and giving Yoongi a front row show of his hard little dick in his pretty lace panties.
“Don’t be a brat,” Yoongi warned with a roll of his eyes, kicking the younger’s sweats over to him. “Else you’ll never know what my tongue can really do.”
And with a promise for something more and a triumphant kind of feeling in his chest, Yoongi picks up his dirty laundry and leaves Jimin high and dry to enjoy the wonders of his right hand.