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Jimin punches in the code to Taehyung’s apartment when his knock gets no answer. Of course, Taehyung isn’t ready when he said he’d be, he never is. Jimin toes his boots off and steps into the living room, the house quiet.
“Tae, let’s go!” Jimin yells, rolling his eyes when he’s met with silence. Jimin steps down the hallway to Taehyung’s room. It’s empty.
Frowning, Jimin walks to the bathroom to see if his best friend might be in there. He isn’t. Jimin turns, seeing another door open. Jimin knocks on the cracked door. “Yoongi hyung?” he calls. “Is Tae in there?”
Jimin hears shuffling, then a grumbly, “No.” When Jimin doesn’t answer, he adds, “He left like five minutes ago, I don’t know.”
“Oh,” Jimin pouts. The two of them were meant to go on a friend’s Valentine’s date. Jimin put on makeup and annoyingly tight jeans for it, only to be ditched, apparently.
“You can come in,” Yoongi offers, which Jimin takes, busting in Yoongi’s room and sitting on the edge of the bed as if he owns it.
He’s lying on the bed, duvet half-off, swallowed in a black hoodie with stains on it. Honestly, Jimin thinks he looks a little bummy, but he's still hot with his perfectly pale skin and dark eyes and pink lips. Jimin hasn't thought much about Yoongi outside of him being Taehyung's hot rapper slash future psychologist(?) roommate that he'd probably fuck if presented the opportunity.
An opportunity hasn't presented itself, yet. Yoongi is hard to get a read on, he seems interested in people as a whole, not necessarily Jimin specifically. Jimin remembers trying to flirt once when they first met and Yoongi didn't take the bait. He just stared past Jimin, not really at him for a few seconds, then walked away, sat next to Namjoon. Jimin had thought for a while that the two of them were a thing—Yoongi and Namjoon, that is—then one day Taehyung mentioned his on-again, off-again situationship with Namjoon and Jimin started thinking maybe Yoongi is just an unavailable person. Sexually, emotionally, friend-ly.
That won't stop Jimin from bothering him, though.
“Tae and I are going on a date,” Jimin informs, as if Yoongi cares, when he probably doesn't, “not, like, a real one. A friend one.”
“Hm,” Yoongi’s brows knit. “Really? ‘Cause he just told me he and Namjoon are back together, for the twentieth fucking time.”
Jimin gasps, snatching his phone from his pocket. Not an hour ago, Taehyung was telling Jimin that he wouldn't take Namjoon back this time, that he blocked Namjoon on every social media site one could think of, including Spotify.
Three messages await Jimin.
dont hate me
ilysm
ill come to urs tomorrow
“I’m gonna kill both of them,” Jimin throws his phone across Yoongi's bed. “I guess I’ll go home and drink. Exactly what every twenty-year-old wants to be doing on Valentine’s.”
Jimin thinks he has soju. He can order food in, or pick some up on his way back home.
“I’m kinda shocked you don't have a date already,” Yoongi says after a while. He's looking at his phone, scrolling and occasionally typing. Yoongi probably isn't thinking once about what he's saying to Jimin, but the words still flatter him. Yoongi does find him attractive, dateable.
“What happened to that boyfriend you had? Uh, Jongho or whoever the fuck?”
Jimin rolls his eyes, grumbling dramatically. “Jong-in. And I dumped him, like, weeks ago.”
Yoongi hums again, noncommittal. But he's listening. “Why? He was kinda nice. Or, I mean, not completely horrible or bad-looking.”
Jimin could lie and say something sad and sympathy-inducing like he got cheated on, or Jongin is bigoted or he was mean to Jimin. It would be simpler than the real reason, really. The real reason will most likely make Yoongi think he's selfish and conceited and terrible. Jimin looks at Yoongi again. He's giggling quietly at something on his phone.
Right, he doesn't give a shit either way.
Jimin decides to be honest.
“To be honest, the sex was bad. Like, genuinely awful. I never came once in that relationship.”
That has Yoongi looking up, a smirk begins growing on his face and Jimin thinks he's going to tease Jimin, make a joke, or a smart-ass comment, so he rushes to continue, to humiliate himself before Yoongi can do it for him.
“Like, is it really that hard to find the clit, when I’ve shown him it multiple times? It's kinda hard to miss, it's literally right there.”
Yoongi is laughing now. Jimin can't tell if he's laughing at Jimin, or with him.
“And then, it's like, I can make myself come if I need to, just let me get on top. But he never even let me do that! Maybe I should stop dating cis guys, none of them know what they're doing. Maybe I should start dating women again.”
Yoongi's not laughing anymore. He's put his phone on the nightstand that has a ton of empty water bottles sitting on it. He cocks his head to the side, like he's thinking.
“Maybe you shouldn't generalize,” he says, and Jimin can't hold back his annoyed scoff. Of course. Of course Yoongi’s thinking not all men or whatever. He's cocky enough to believe he's different from the pack, that he's better.
“Ew, don’t be a man. That's gross.”
“I’m not,” Yoongi defends, shrugging his wide shoulders, “I’m just saying. Not all of us are incompetent.”
Now Jimin’s laughing. Really, he finds the confidence as hot as he does annoying. Yoongi looks just sheepish enough for Jimin not to hit him, cuss him out, or leave.
“So you’re telling me you can find it?”
Yoongi shrugs again. He likes doing that. “I’ve never had any complaints. It's not like you need the clit to come, though. Not if you know what you're doing.”
Jimin can't help but roll his eyes again. He's never even seen Yoongi with a boyfriend, or girlfriend, or a hookup at least, and he's supposed to buy Yoongi being some expert on vagina?
“No,” Jimin disagrees. “I can't orgasm internally. Most can't. They were faking it.”
“You can't or you just haven't anyone who knows how to make you?”
“Oh, and you can?” Jimin says, snarkily.
Yoongi looks away. He wasn't ever really looking directly at Jimin, but he looks away for a second when he says, “Well…”
Jimin wants to hit him. Instead, he says, “You wanna bet?”
Shock rushes over Yoongi's face for a second. He quickly schools his expression, running his tongue over his pink, cushy bottom lip and raising his eyebrows the slightest bit. “If I win?”
“If I win,” Jimin insists, because he will, “you're buying me chicken once a week for a month.”
“From that place you like? Shit’s expensive,” Yoongi complains. He's complaining, which means he knows he’ll lose. Jimin smiles. It seems to piss Yoongi off because he turns away.
“Okay. If I win, you're doing my gen chem assignments for a month.”
“Why are you in gen chem in your senior year?” Jimin asks.
“You're deflecting,” Yoongi accuses.
“I'm not,” Jimin denies. “And I’ll win.”
Yoongi avoids Jimin's eyes, looks at his lips instead. Instinctively, Jimin licks them. “Come here, then,”
Next thing Jimin knows, he's on his back, head on a pillow that smells like Yoongi's cologne, with Yoongi pulling his jeans and underwear down. The duvet has been thrown to the side.
“Put your knees up,” Yoongi instructs, pulling off his hoodie and t-shirt, revealing lean muscle under smooth, pale skin. Jimin obeys easily, flushing when he feels cool air hitting his exposed skin.
Yoongi positions himself between Jimin's spread legs, leaning down to consume Jimin's mouth, tongue licking into him before their lips have a chance to meet. He runs his hands under Jimin's shirt, hands stopping to grip his waist, then going up to his chest, pinching nipples between his fingers.
That makes Jimin jump, pushing his crotch up into Yoongi's groin, where he can feel Yoongi hard and leaking, straining against his basketball shorts. He tries to push harder, but Yoongi shoves his hips down. A wet patch is left where Jimin’s bare cunt meets Yoongi’s shorts.
Jimin detaches their lips to whine, “Please.”
“I’m gonna finger you, and you're gonna come just like that. I won't touch your clit, and I win,” Yoongi says. He's asking, though it doesn't come out like a question.
“Okay,” Jimin whines, squeezing his legs together. He's already so wet and they haven’t even done anything. Jimin has never gotten worked up so easily. It could be Yoongi's voice, or the way he commands Jimin, or the way Jimin can see that he's worked up too, he's affected too from so little.
Yoongi spreads his thighs, two fingers going between his folds to gather the embarrassing amount of wetness leaking from his hole, using it to sink in Jimin’s warmth. He's so wet that they slide in easily and when they’re fully sheathed in, Jimin gasps, reaching out to grab Yoongi's forearm, he wants to make sure Yoongi stays there. Jimin turns his head to hide his face in Yoongi's pillow, humping his hips up to meet the thrusts of Yoongi's hand. Yoongi curls his fingers as he fucks Jimin, fingertips pushing against a spot that no one, including Jimin, can ever seem to find on every pump.
“That good?” Yoongi asks. He says it like he knows the answer.
“F-fine,” Jimin tries to make his voice even, but it comes out as a gasp.
Yoongi hums, and Jimin can imagine the little cocky smirk on his face. He adds a third and Jimin whines at the stretch. Yoongi's fingers are so thick, and so long that they stretch and fill his cunt like a cock, and he's only into the second knuckle. It makes Jimin wonder what else Yoongi has that's long, and thick.
“Y-yoongi,” Jimin moans, begging. He wants Yoongi to go deeper, harder.
“Hm?” He asks.
Jimin whines again, throwing his head to the other side of the pillow in frustration.
“Make me come,” he demands (begs).
Yoongi chuckles. “‘M gonna.”
Instead of thrusting, Yoongi buries his fingers as far as they’ll go, curling them and begins massaging that spot, stroking it until Jimin shakes.
It makes Jimin moan out a little, “Oh!” and grip Yoongi's arm tighter.
“Getting close,” Jimin breathes, hips unable to keep still.
When Jimin uses his other hand to reach out and touch his clit, Yoongi grabs it, pinning his arm to the bed. “Don't need that.” He mutters lowly.
With every stroke of Yoongi's fingertips, Jimin’s moans pitch louder and louder, hips gyrating for more friction that he won’t get.
“Yoongi, I–” Jimin cuts off, stiffening for a beat as he comes, then relaxing with a shudder.
Jimin’s head flops over, tears leaking from his eyes. His chest is moving up and down rapidly, loud sighs leaving his mouth on every breath. Yoongi slips out carefully, Jimin watches him flop back on the bed. He stretches his hand, like he’s trying to get a cramp out, then wipes Jimin’s spend on his shorts.
For a long while, Jimin lies there, legs still bent in the air, shaking. He's sure he's never come so hard, especially so fast, especially from penetration alone.
“Wow,” Jimin breathes, letting his legs fall and sink into the bed.
“So?” Yoongi says, and Jimin snaps out of his post-orgasm haze.
Right.
Jimin came so hard he forgot about the stupid bet.
He sits up, going over to crawl in Yoongi's lap. They kiss gently, with Yoongi running his hand up Jimin's back comfortingly. Jimin’s relaxed and pliant, hardly even kissing back, just letting Yoongi lick and bite and suck.
“You have to do it with your dick, too, if you wanna win,” Jimin mutters against Yoongi's lips.
They reposition on the bed, Yoongi sat against the headboard with Jimin working awkwardly to get his shorts and boxers off. Yoongi's cock is red and throbbing, precum leaking from the slit. Jimin stares, then shakes his head with a scoff.
“I knew it,” He says quietly.
Yoongi is long, and thick. It’s almost a little scary.
“What, what?” Yoongi asks, as Jimin uses Yoongi's shoulders to brace himself so he can sink onto Yoongi’s cock. He needs to be careful taking him, he's never taken anyone as big as Yoongi.
The tip of Yoongi's cock slips through Jimin's folds and he lets it pierce his hole, not quite sliding in when Yoongi stills his hips.
“Condom?” he says, and Jimin's eyes widen.
He’d forgotten about that, too. But he's so desperate, if they stop now, Jimin thinks he might cry.
“Do we need one?” Jimin blinks up at Yoongi, hoping he'll agree.
Yoongi does a thing with his head and Jimin can't tell if it's a nod or a shake. “Okay, that's—okay.”
Yoongi's grip changes then, guiding Jimin to sink on his length. Jimin’s soaked, the slide slick, a squelch when their hips slap together.
“Good. That’s good,” Jimin answers Yoongi's question from earlier, full and satiated.
Jimin is peeking at Yoongi through fluttering lashes, head ducked, nails digging into muscled shoulders as he bounces, groaning at the way Yoongi slides pleasantly against every nerve in Jimin’s cunt.
Yoongi pulls him close so their chests touch, putting Jimin's head on his shoulder, wrapping both his arms tight around Jimin's body.
“You're so fucking tight, so wet,” Yoongi breathes against Jimin’s ear, panting and praising.
Jimin whines, nodding. Jimin grinds even harder and Yoongi thrusts up to meet it.
“Too full,” Jimin slurs, voice slightly muffled in Yoongi’s shoulder.
“Mhm,” Yoongi hums, “but you’re taking it so well,”
“Yeah,” Jimin moans, “harder.” He demands.
Yoongi obeys, holding Jimin still so he can fuck up into Jimin’s pussy. Jimin is loud, even through the muffling of his voice, Jimin can still hear how loud his moans are, they cover whatever noises Yoongi is making. He can feel the pressure building up in his abdomen, intensifying every time the head of Yoongi's cock hits deep. He moves Jimin's hips back, changing the angle so he can stroke past that spot, ghosting over it and it gets better than Jimin could've ever imagined.
“Right there!” Jimin exclaims, hips squirming.
He keeps the pace, and soon Jimin’s cunt is tightening around Yoongi's cock. He whines and whines until, once again, his muscles constrict with his orgasm. His walls clench so tightly that it restricts Yoongi’s movement, stuck as Jimin rides out his orgasm.
Yoongi begins pistoning in and out of Jimin’s hole as soon as he relaxes, Jimin can feel Yoongi’s cock twitching with every clench of his pussy as he comes down from his orgasm, teetering on the edge of pain when Yoongi doesn’t slow his pace.
“That’s—a lot,” Jimin gasps, but he lets Yoongi continue.
Jimin comes out of Yoongi’s shoulder to connect their lips, and they lick into each other sloppily, filthy smacking noises sounding out.
“Grind on me, baby,” Yoongi commands, and Jimin ignores the overstimulation to do so, working his hips as best as he can, the fluttery pulse of his cunt hurts, but it's all but forgotten when he feels Yoongi stiffen as he comes.
Jimin feels warm, and he should probably be freaking out about Yoongi coming inside, but he's too orgasm-high to care.
They're gross and sweaty when they separate and Jimin can feel fluids coming out of him and needs to pee, but instead he lies down, just for a minute, letting himself come down before it gets awkward.
“I guess I have to brush up on my general chemistry,” Jimin says, when the silence becomes too heavy for him to handle.
“Nah,” Yoongi grabs Jimin's hand with both of his, playing with his fingers. “Just help me study or whatever.”
“But you won,” Jimin pouts. He has integrity. He won't let Yoongi refuse his prize.
Yoongi laughs then. “I just wanna go out with you. Let that be my win.”
Jimin smiles.
His Valentine’s Day wasn't so bad after all.