Chapter Text
Jeongguk’s fingers are digging into Jimin’s wrist.
Like, nails leaving indents in his skin and everything. Jimin’s teeth are grit together to keep from hissing in pain because getting room assignments as a new pledge is already embarrassing enough, all the older guys staring as they pass, and if he makes any noise he knows for sure that Seokjin, the guy showing them their rooms, is going to turn around and wonder why the fuck the new pledge is trying to draw attention.
But holy fuck, does Jeongguk ever trim his nails? Jimin wonders if he’s bleeding yet. Yes, it’s unnerving that they finally get to be part of the frat after putting their all in going through hazing, but any more and Jimin’s going to have to sue Jeongguk for bodily harm, which is sad because Jeongguk’s the only freshman Jimin has met so far that he really likes.
The younger had sidled right up to him during orientation, introducing himself with endless confidence and a wide smile. It’s not so bad, because having one overly excitable friend is better than none, right?
Seokjin’s mellow voice distracts him from his thoughts then, and Jimin snaps to attention to find that they’re at the base of a long staircase. “This is where you will not loiter,” he says firmly as he begins his ascent. “Don’t leave shit all over the stairs—first rule of living here.”
Seokjin seems like a nice guy despite being in his last year of college, and Jimin’s heard all about upperclassmen that go too far in hazings, horror stories about paddles and streaking, but Seokjin genuinely appears to be sweet, if not a little motherly, petting people’s hair and smiling warmly at other members when they pass.
“Jeongguk, your roommate is going to be Taehyung. He's in his second year, lit major.” Seokjin explains, stepping neatly over a pair of dirt covered cleats left in the middle of the hallway upstairs. From the open doors of some rooms, Jimin deems that the setup is actually quite nice, big and spacious rooms for each roommate pair with a big desk and two decent sized beds against opposite walls.
Jeongguk finally lets up on the death grip he has on Jimin’s arm and he almost sighs in relief. “Good luck,” he mumbles softly to Jeongguk, whose eyes go wide with anxiety. Not that Jimin isn’t feeling it too, but he's always been pretty adept at making friends so he’s not too worried about not getting along with his new roommate.
Still, as Jeongguk waves goodbye and walks into the room to face his new roommate, Jimin’s stomach drops sickeningly with every step he and Seokjin take away from Jeongguk’s room.
“Your roommate,” Seokjin hesitates a little before stopping outside a door a little ways down the hall. “Yours is Min Yoongi. He’s in his last year. My age.”
Jimin is about to ask why Seokjin’s acting like this Yoongi guy is the greatest evil since canned meat, but before he can, the door swings open, revealing a tall guy with a mop of reddish hair and a thin face, clad in only a tank top and briefs, his jeans folded neatly over his arm.
“Oh,” he frets as he spots Seokjin’s frown and Jimin’s shameless stare, “Hello, I was just leaving,” he laughs a little nervously before walking away quickly.
Seokjin’s frown deepens when he leans forward a little and sniffs the air cautiously. Jimin peeks around his tall frame and looks into the room. The window on the far wall is cracked open, and there’s a guy in the disheveled bed under it, faintly smoking cigarette in one hand. He looks up and meets Jimin’s eye from all the way across the room.
Jimin is so fucked.
Min Yoongi may be the most attractive person Jimin has seen since walking onto the campus, and possibly his whole entire life. There’s an earring swinging from one ear, more studs lining both ears, and when Jimin forces his eyes to Yoongi’s face, he finds smooth skin and pretty eyes.
“I wasn’t expecting company,” Yoongi says, lips curling into a little amused smirk. His voice is rougher than Jimin had expected, a little deeper and uncontrolled.
As Yoongi rises from the heap of blankets, they fall away to reveal that he actually is wearing clothing, loose sweats and a dark band shirt, and Jimin thanks god for that because he really doesn’t have the willpower to stop staring right now. Yoongi walks over, all languid limbs, and curious eyes sweeping over Jimin until he feels frighteningly dissected.
Yoongi takes a slow drag of his cigarette, gaze lingering for a second on Jimin’s thighs before they come up to rest on his face. “New pledge?” he guesses, mouth drawing up a little.
“Be nice,” Seokjin chides, “This is your new roommate, Jimin.” Jimin smiles a little weakly as Yoongi flits his eyes briefly over to Seokjin and then back on Jimin. “And don’t smoke inside, Namjoon’s gonna have your ass if he sees you.”
Yoongi waves him off easily. “I have a window open, he’ll never know. Go away, Jinnie, let me get acquainted with my new roommate.”
Seokjin rolls his eyes and steps away, leaving Jimin open and vulnerable in front of Yoongi’s predatory smirk, and Jimin can feel his insides withering as Yoongi finally gets so close that he can smell the elder’s cologne.
“I’m Yoongi,” he introduces himself, and then smiles. Jimin’s worry melts away a little because Yoongi’s smile is bright and nice, the exact opposite of what he’d expected.
“Jimin,” he squeaks, way more high pitched than he’d wanted to sound. “I—I’m Jimin.”
Yoongi taps the side of his head mindfully and smirks. “I know,” he says, and Jimin blushes, because of course he knows, Seokjin had just introduced him a minute ago. “You’re that freshman all the older guys were talking about. The one that won the hazing thing they do with the skirts.”
Jimin doesn’t want to ever remember hazing again, because it had involved a mini-skirt, lip gloss, and stockings that, while they made his thighs look amazing, were intensely uncomfortable. Jimin isn’t exactly feminine, but he knows how his thighs are thick and how good he looks with a little lipstick slathered on his mouth, eyes ringed in black. It hadn’t even been a competition when the guys conducting the hazing had decided he was the prettiest bitch.
Jimin walks past Yoongi into the room and shrugs as he makes his way over to the empty bed. “I think I looked pretty nice.”
Pretending he can’t feel Yoongi’s eyes drop to his legs again, Jimin drops his backpack on the floor and grabs the sheets he’d brought from it. He gets to work trying to put it on the bare mattress as Yoongi walks back to his bed and flops down amongst the heaps of blankets and pillows. He finishes off his cigarette and stubs it out on the ashtray on his nightstand.
“Sorry your boyfriend had to leave.” Jimin says to fill up the silence between them. He shifts a little awkwardly trying to straighten out the last edge of his bedsheet, and then glances over at the bag at the foot of the bed. The majority of his stuff had been brought earlier in the week, but he hadn’t had time to stop by and unpack it.
“He’s not my boyfriend.” Yoongi smiles serenely up from his phone, making Jimin’s stomach flutter strangely. Jimin is waiting for an explanation, but Yoongi goes back to scrolling through whatever he’d been looking for so he doesn’t waste his breath. If Yoongi’s content at leaving it at that, then he is too.
“What are you majoring in, Jimin?” When Jimin turns to face Yoongi, the elder is back under his nest of blankets, only his head visible. Yoongi’s side of the room, he notices, is decorated quite nicely, minimalistic but with a couple photo frames on his desk and a lamp on his nightstand. In comparison, Jimin’s yet to be decorated side looks drab.
Jimin hesitates for a second before shrugging. “Undecided as of now. You?” His parents hadn’t exactly been happy at his decision, but Jimin has no idea what he wants to do with his life yet.
Yoongi’s lips pull into that Cheshire Cat smile again and his eyes go heavy and lidded. “Psychology.” He mumbles before yawning. “Sorry, I think I’m going to take a nap. I’m still kind of worn out from before you got here.”
Jimin’s ears turn pink at the thought of the half clothed stranger scampering down the hall, and he thinks it’s safe to say that living with strange hot psychology major Min Yoongi will be interesting, if nothing else.
-
Jimin’s first week of classes go by in a rush, most of his time spent outside of his room. Most of his days are spent in the library with Jungkook, who has somehow wormed his way more and more into Jimin’s life. He also meets Taehyung, Jungkook’s roommate who he suddenly seems attached at the hip to.
Yoongi, though, stays kind of a mystery. He’s not there most days when Jimin gets back, and when he does come in, it’s late when Jimin is either in bed half asleep, or studying, eyes falling shut. While they don’t get much time to talk, there’s always a little exchange of “hello” and “how was your day?” Jimin is content with that.
Except actually he’s really not content with that. What little contact he does have with Yoongi leaves him wanting more, his stomach fluttering and warmth spreading through his fingertips every time Yoongi smiles at him, eyes all crinkly.
It really isn’t his fault, but somehow within the first two weeks of living together, Jimin finds himself looking forward to seeing Yoongi’s languid sleepy smiles and ruffled hair in the mornings and hearing his quiet “good morning”.
He chastises himself every time he catches himself though, because who knows what kind of problems there would be if he develops an actual full blown crush on his roommate?
But still, he can’t deny that something is building between them. Just a couple days ago, Yoongi had praised how pretty Jimin had looked when he’d smeared a little lipstick on in preparation for going out with Jungkook.
Yoongi had been the one to blush then, and quickly made an excuse before leaving the room. Jimin had finished coloring in his lips with slightly unsteady hands, ignoring the red flush of his face.
And this morning, when Jimin had come back to the room with only briefs on after his shower, and Yoongi, always the last in the house out of bed, had peered at his ass over the edge of blankets. Jimin thinks it’s safe to say Yoongi is at least a little interested, but he has no opportunities to prove it, and he doesn’t want to go take the chance and fuck up the friendship they’ve managed to form.
At least, he thinks he doesn’t.
-
Yoongi’s late as usual, Jimin already in his bed by the time he comes in, smelling of expensive cologne and smoke.
Usually, Jimin would turn and greet him sleepily, but he’s too tired after studying for four hours straight, so he decides to just stay silent, feigning sleep.
And it’s a good idea, too, right up until Yoongi decides to jerk off.
Jimin hates the universe. He hates every past life he might have lived because his possible crush is on the bed only a couple feet from his suddenly making little breathy noises and Jimin is facing the other way. What kind of horrible karma must he have to deserve this?
The light is off, Yoongi hadn’t bothered to turn it on in case it woke Jimin, but Jimin can hear the sudden slick noises as Yoongi’s hand must slide down the length of his dick.
Jimin’s fingers curl so hard into his blanket that they ache, teeth sunk into the inside of his bottom lip to keep from making noise. Yoongi probably thinks he’s asleep, but holy shit, he’s right there on the other side of the suddenly too small room, hand wrapped around his cock.
Jimin’s chest feels tight, his breath fast as he struggles to keep still. If he could just turn and slit his eyes open just a little, Yoongi would be that much more in reach. He can’t risk it though, so he settles for squeezing his eyes shut and pretending he can’t hear the slick noises of Yoongi’s hand around his erection.
Yoongi moans then, choked off and quiet, and Jimin feels his own cock twitch in interest, and this is so not what he wanted out of joining a fraternity. Jimin’s hand slides down the front of his pajama bottoms where he knows Yoongi can’t see and presses the heel of his palm against it. God, he wants so badly to be able to see because Yoongi’s making those little noises again, tiny groans and sharp exhales.
Yoongi moans again, and suddenly Jimin gets an image imprinted onto the inside of his eyelids. Yoongi, face drawn up in concentration, pushing him into the mattress and fucking him into submission until Jimin can’t move anymore.
Before Jimin can help himself, there’s a little weak whine bubbling through his lips at the thought. Everything goes silent at once, both Yoongi and Jimin, who freezes immediately, face burning with shame from his mistake.
“Jimin?” Yoongi’s voice is a little rough, coming across the dark of the room.
Jimin bites his lip and calls back warily, “Hyung?”
The dim light is being flicked on then, washing the room warm golden. Jimin blinks and turns, unused to the light. Yoongi’s sat up in his bed, and Jimin’s face is still burning under his dark eyes. “You’re hard.” Yoongi’s eyes trail down his torso and then lower to where Jimin knows his arousal is obvious. “You got hard from listening to me. You were thinking about me.”
Jimin doesn’t even try to deny it, knowing that any lie he could try would be fruitless. “I didn’t mean to, I accidentally—I just,” Jimin cuts himself off frustratedly. Yoongi’s curious stare is making him even more flustered.
Yoongi’s next words take him by surprise. “Come over here,” he says, beckoning at Jimin with one hand. The other is still under the covers, and Jimin presumes it’s covered with lotion or lube or something of that sort.
Half of Jimin wants to turn tail and run away, maybe screaming, but Yoongi’s face is soft and open, so he gets up and crosses the room, extra aware of the way the front of his pajama bottoms sticks up obscenely. He settles at the very end of Yoongi’s bed and looks up through his eyelashes.
Yoongi is examining him back, coolly and analytically, until Jimin feels like he’d being dissected. “Okay,” he finally says softly, “This is how I want this to go. You’re going to drop your pretty little self over here and suck me off. Feel free to disagree.” Yoongi waits for Jimin’s refusal, but when it doesn’t come, he raises an eyebrow and continues. “And then I’ll do whatever you want. Efficient, right?”
Jimin’s face is probably full on red by now, but he’s been imagining it for so long, Yoongi’s cock, Yoongi moaning his name, Jimin, Jimin, Jimin. Somehow, Jimin manages to nod and choke out, “Th—that’s fine.”
Yoongi looks expectantly at the floor next to his bed, and Jimin slides off the mattress, knees hitting the wood with a soft thud. The realization strikes him suddenly, that Yoongi’s dick of all things, is going to be in his mouth.
Yoongi sits on the edge of the bed, legs on either side of Jimin, and Jimin’s struck by how much he wants. Yoongi’s cock is hard and thick and leaking from how he’d been jerking off before, and Jimin’s mouth waters just looking at the threads of precome pearling at the head.
Yoongi’s fingers thread into his hair, guiding his head forward. “You’ve done this before, right?” he asks suddenly.
Jimin looks up through his eyelashes and swallows thickly. “A couple times, yeah,” he says honestly. He’s had his share of boyfriends through high school, but none of them affected him like Yoongi does, like liquid lightning streaking down his spine the second their eyes meet.
Yoongi makes a little noise of acknowledgement and then his cock brushes Jimin’s lips, smearing hot precome over the seam of Jimin’s mouth. Jimin’s tongue flicks out to lick it up before he can help himself, and he tastes Yoongi on his tongue, bitter and thick.
Jimin wonders how this is going to affect them in the long run as he open his mouth and actually attaches it over the head of Yoongi’s cock, but such thoughts are banished to the far corners of his mind when Yoongi lets his head drop back and the most beautiful noise Jimin has ever heard spills from between his pink lips.
Eager to please, Jimin’s mouth slides down, taking in more and more until he can’t anymore. What he can’t fit, he strokes at with a tentative hand, feeling the way the vein on the underside of Yoongi’s cock pulses against his fingertips.
Jimin’s eyes are teary but he blinks and takes more down until his throat is aching for relief, but Yoongi’s little whimpers make up for any mild pain, so he keeps going.
What he hadn’t expected out of Yoongi at all if the fact that he talks. A lot. As Jimin’s tongue works over his cock, there’s an endless stream of praise falling from Yoongi’s mouth, everything from “Good boy, fuck baby, you use your mouth so well,” to “how long have you been thinking of this? Did you want me to fuck your mouth like this?”
Jimin hadn’t pegged himself down as one for dirty talk, but when it’s Yoongi’s gravelly voice, it shoots straight to his dick. He snakes a hand down between his legs and presses it over where his cock is leaking through the thin flannel of his pajamas.
It doesn’t go unnoticed by Yoongi, who murmurs, “You’re getting hard from just sucking me off? Jesus fuck, Jiminnie.” It’s the first time Yoongi has called him that, and that makes Jimin’s cock twitch, a muffled moan escaping his mouth around Yoongi’s cock.
Suddenly Yoongi’s hands in his hair tighten and his hips jerk. Jimin’s taken by surprise, but somehow when Yoongi’s strained voice asks, “Can I fuck your mouth?” Jimin pulls back and nods eagerly. There’s saliva down his chin and all over his mouth, and while it’s messier than he’d like, Yoongi is still looking at him reverently, so Jimin doesn’t even mind.
The next time Yoongi’s cock slips between his lips, it’s not because his head is bobbing, but because Yoongi’s hips jerk minutely, the fingers in his hair tightening until Jimin’s roots ache pleasantly. “God,” Yoongi groans, “You’re so fucking pretty, let me come on you, please, let me fucking come on you.”
Saliva wells up in Jimin’s mouth at the words because holy shit he wants that so bad, and he swallows it all down with some difficulty. His throat convulses in protest when he does, and it contracts around Yoongi’s dick, cutting off what he’s saying.
Yoongi’s cock slips out of his mouth with an obscene noise, and it rubs across his cheek, smearing hot precome and saliva across the smooth skin. Then Yoongi’s hand is fisting his own cock, jerking off quick, eyes focuses intensely on Jimin’s face. Jimin licks over his raw lips, watching Yoongi’s pretty slender hands work over his cock.
“So pretty,” Yoongi mumbles, “Wish I could have seen you at hazing, seen you in that skirt, fuck,” and Jimin kind of wishes Yoongi had seen him during his hazing too, because all of a sudden all he can think about is Yoongi seeing him in those ridiculous stockings and explicit looking panties they’d put him in.
Then Yoongi isn’t talking at all, his hand speeding up on his cock, lips parting, and with a little groan, he comes, each upstroke painting a new streak across Jimin’s face.
Of all the blowjobs Jimin’s given, he’s never had anyone come on his face before, but as hot spurts of it land on his cheeks and across his lips, Jimin feels cathartic. After watching Yoongi for so long, debating with himself over whether or not to make a move, Jimin finally feels like something’s falling into place.
Yoongi fists his cock until he’s bordering oversensitivity, pulling his hand away and letting his shoulders slump. Jimin watches the unsteady rise and fall of his chest quietly, one hand still palming his own achingly hard cock. Yoongi watches with hooded eyes as Jimin swallows thickly, blinking rapidly.
Jimin knows how vulgar he must look, face covered with come and getting off on it, but Yoongi’s eyes are focused on his hand as he rubs himself through his shorts and he can’t bring himself to stop. He just needs a little push, he’s so close, but Yoongi won’t open his damn mouth now.
He’s so frustratingly aroused that there are tears pooling in the corners of his eyes, hand pressed between his legs without any kind of rhythm, hips jerking senselessly against his palm until he thinks he’s going to explode.
“Gonna come in your pants for hyung, Jiminnie?” Yoongi’s low voice cuts in, “You wanna come listening to my voice, baby?”
Jimin whimpers at the words, eyes squeezing shut and hips stuttering, and suddenly he’s coming, white exploding behind his eyelids. The knot in the pit of his stomach breaks and everything gives way to white hot pleasure, streaking like lightning though his body. His forehead falls forward onto Yoongi’s thighs, chest heaving with heavy breathes as Yoongi threads his fingers through his hair.
Yoongi pets his hair absently until his breathing slows and goes back to normal. Jimin looks up slowly, chin still digging into Yoongi’s leg. His lips feel raw and his throat isn’t exactly in top shape, but it’s worth it because he can feel Yoongi’s come on his cheeks and mouth.
Yoongi tugs him up then, tilting his head up for a kiss. Their lips fit together just right, but it’s all too brief because Yoongi sighs and pulls away, pushing gently at Jimin’s shoulder. “Get cleaned up and go to sleep, you’ve got class tomorrow.” Yoongi licks at his lips and Jimin doesn’t realize what he’s doing until he sees the white that Yoongi’s tongue gathers. Jimin licks his own lips, suddenly conscious of how there must be white smeared all over it.
Confusion must be written all over Jimin’s face, but he does as asked, standing on slightly shaky legs. On his way across the room, he stops by the box of tissues to wipe the streaks of white cooling on his face. When he looks back at Yoongi, he’s already turning his attention elsewhere, eyes scanning his phone.
Jimin’s not hurt exactly, but there’s disappointment settling in the pit of his stomach. Did Yoongi not find that as hot as he had? Suddenly afraid of rejection, Jimin’s blood goes gold, anxiety washing through him. “Hyung,” he whispers quietly when he’s changed his pants and tucked back into his own bed, blanket pulled up all the way under his chin.
“Hmm?” Yoongi glances over and asks, “What’s wrong?” as if he hadn’t been calling Jimin baby two seconds earlier.
“That wasn’t—?” Jimin cuts off, suddenly unsure about what to say.
Yoongi finally seems to get his frustration because he says, “We’re roommates, right? This kind of shit is bound to happen. Don’t make anything big about it. You liked it too didn’t you?”
“I mean, I—I liked it but isn’t that sort of, I don’t know, weird?” Jimin watches Yoongi’s face stay carefully blank as he glances over. Yoongi’s face usually expresses how he feels so well; it feels odd to see him like this.
“Not if you don’t make it weird,” Yoongi says mindfully, “We’re friends, right? We don’t have to do anything like that again if you don’t want to.”
The words we’re friends play again and again in Jimin’s head. Yoongi’s probably completely used to friends with benefits, judging from the couple times Jimin gets home late to find yet another random man exiting their room, or all the times Yoongi gets back late with unfamiliar cologne faint on him, hair mussed, lips swollen and red.
“Yeah,” Jimin mumbles softly. “Okay.”
Something inside him feels trampled and broken and rejected but Jimin doesn’t want to look over at Yoongi and prove himself right.
Instead, he quietly turns over to face the blank white wall and waits for sleep to find him.