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Cupcakes of Forgiveness

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A faint, rhythmic tremor quivers through the dark enshrouded wall. And Jimin is ninety-nine percent sure it’s not an earthquake.

Even through his heavily sleep laden mind, Jimin can clearly pinpoint the source of the noise that so rudely jolts him out of his deep slumber. And he’s not really sure he’s altogether comforted by the knowledge that it’s not a natural disaster.

He’d rather take the earthquake, thank you very much.

Sobbing with unresolved angst and everlasting misery that resonates with the pains of having been imposed to weeks of forceful sleep deprivation, Jimin clutches the pillow desperately over his head in an attempt to muffle out the sounds that keep him awake. But it does little to block out the wanton moans and vulgar noises that even the plastered wall is powerless to hold at bay.

The rhythmic thumping continues, unbroken. And Jimin kicks his frustrations out on the mattress because there’s nothing else he can particularly do. It’s slowly grating on his nerves and sanity. Jimin violently strangles his pillow, before chucking it across the dark room to hear it flop softly on the carpet.

He’s not altogether certain which is the greater evil of the two, the fact that he has to endure them fucking constantly like horny little rabbits, or the fact that he may be just a tad bit turned on. Because Jimin is woefully single, and his own sex life all but nonexistent. So yeah, this entire situation is just one big ball of mortifying disaster that draws up a steaming flush on Jimin’s cheeks that gradually deepens with every moan, every thump against the wall.

In the silence of his room, the sounds are amplified tenfold.

Perfect.

After a brief moment of temper tantrum that relieves nothing of his anxiety, Jimin glances blearily at the little red numerals blinking on his alarm clock.

3:21

Jimin exhales a heavy sigh, rubbing his face tiredly as he mentally calculates how many hours he has remaining before his morning class. Slowly ticking up to the hour, and counting it out again because he’s pretty sure he’s skipped a number or counted the same one twice, Jimin spends the next three minutes quietly reciting the hours to himself before giving it up as a lost cause. It’s way too early for math anyways.

All he knows is that there are only so many hours remaining. And if Jimin falls asleep in class, again, he’s going to throttle his blasted roommate and his obnoxious boyfriend to death until even their ancestors feel his glorious wrath from their graves.

In the midst of mentally destroying his roommate and everything he holds close and dear, a particularly loud thump rattles Jimin straight through his bones. It sounds like metal clanking against the wall, quite possible a metal bedframe. And Jimin hurtles out of his bed immediately, crashing onto the floor in a tangle of limbs and sheets in his haste.

A long, unrestrained moan can be heard leaking through the lath and plaster, followed by a stream of lewd, indecent words that Jimin is not meant to hear, neither does he wish to.

Taking that as his cue to leave, Jimin pushes himself onto his feet quicker than an Olympic sprinter. He dashes out of his room rather haphazardly, shoulder glancing off the doorway in the process.  And he scrambles through the darkened living room in a blind terror until he’s falling out the front door without even bothering with his shoes.

Free at last.

The slap of cold, fresh air washes over him like a cooling salve as Jimin clings lifelessly to the metal rails of the staircase that leads to the apartment lower levels. He gulps in the cool air, pressing his forehead against the rail as he slides down into a crouch on the cement floor. Taking a moment to calm his nerves, Jimin allows his legs to give way and collapses onto his rear.

He turns to rest his back against the rails, stretching out his legs and staring blankly at the wide flung door. With a soft frown, Jimin leans over to grapple for the edge of the door and carefully eases it shut.

Finally, Jimin relishes in the peace and quiet, tensed muscles relaxing to the soft symphony of chirping crickets and gentle breeze that settles over the dark world. He gazes up into the brilliant moon, just a shade clipped off from its perfect orb, and marvels at its luminous beauty.

Jimin isn’t really sure how much time passes as he watches the millions of twinkling stars scattered across the velvet sky, neither does he care to find out. He’s absolutely content with just sitting out here, tracing over the constellations and breathing out puffs of translucent white air that slowly drifts into the sky.

But the cold seeps through the thin material of his pajama pants. And Jimin belatedly realizes he absolutely ran out into the dead of winter in nothing but his flannel pants and a threadbare t-shirt, worn out with one too many spins in the wash cycle because he’s a poor college kid too cheap to buy proper winter clothes.

If catching death and perishing from pneumonia were not an issue, Jimin wouldn’t be averse to sleeping exactly where he sits. As it were, Jimin is not indestructible. And he has much to live for, despite his current pitiable state of being.

So with that rather not so comforting thought in mind, Jimin slowly rises onto his feet, grasping the rails for leverage. He stares at the front door, caught in the midst of indecision because he’d rather not go back inside for fear of them.

But it is cold, and Jimin does need to sleep.

So self-preservation wins out in the end. And Jimin takes a cautious step towards the door, only to find himself knocking on the door beside, belonging to his neighbors, in quick, staccato raps that reverberates throughout the silent night.

Jimin knocks, and he knocks, and he knocks again internally begging the heavens to look kindly upon him and show him mercy.

“Please, please, please,” Jimin whispers to himself as he continues to knock, but nobody answers the door. And every knock subsequent slowly fades in intensity, until Jimin’s fist rests lightly against the sea green painted wood. All hopes are dashed as his hand falls lame against his side.

And with a deep, pained sigh, Jimin despondently turns to return to his own hell of an apartment when, to his absolute astonishment, the grating sound of turning metal clicks in his ears. And the door miraculously cracks open just enough for a sleepy eye to peer out through the thin slit.

“What,” his neighbor’s voice is low and husky with sleep. And Jimin thanks divine providence because here is his savior at last, come to rescue him from his misery.

“Hey neighbor,” Jimin smiles sheepishly, casually sidestepping said neighbor and easing himself into the apartment. “Yoongi hyung.”

Yoongi blinks at him through one eye, a slight frown turning down the corners of his lips.

“What are you doing here?” he yawns, rubbing his arm and finally closing the door after realizing Jimin has already settled himself on the couch. Yoongi locks the door before blindly navigating through the explosion of discarded clothes and various belongings spread across the floor ranging from crumpled cereal boxes to what seems to be an empty fish tank.

Jimin had been here once, in the earlier days of their residency, in search of a plunger. It had been a chaotic mess then, in comparison to the relative tidiness of his own apartment, and is still a chaotic mess now. But it’s still heaven to him, and he’d rather take the mess than the noise.

Ow, shit,” Yoongi mutters, stubbing his toe on a wayward skateboard as he flops down in the spot beside Jimin. He leans his head back against the couch, sliding his beanie down over his eyes as Jimin begins to explain his situation in loud whispers.

“I’ve been sexiled,” Jimin replies, forlorn. “And I can’t sleep.  Please don’t kick me out,” he pleads, grasping Yoongi’s hand and appealing to his neighbor’s pity. Yoongi readjusts his beanie back into place to peer into Jimin’s face, delicately pulling his hand out of the sophomore’s fingers and patting him on his knee.

“Don’t sweat it,” Yoongi smiles sympathetically, and Jimin sighs with relief. Kneeling over the back of the couch, Yoongi rummages through the darkness before pulling out a blanket from the miscellaneous pile of objects stuffed behind. He gives it an experimental sniff, before deeming it clean enough. And he hands it to Jimin.

“Well, I’m going back to bed,” Yoongi declares, rising up and extending his body in another exaggerated yawn. Jimin hums in affirmative, spreading out the blanket over his body.

“What about your roommate?” he asks, stretching out across the couch and tucking himself under the sheet as Yoongi slowly shuffles towards his room. “Sure he won’t mind?”

“Who, Namjoon?” Yoongi pauses mid step, scratching his stomach through the fabric of his sweater. “Nah, he won’t mind. Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay, thanks,” Jimin whispers loudly to Yoongi’s retreating back. His shadow blends into the darkness as it disappears down the hall. And a faint click echoes throughout the quiet apartment as Yoongi shuts the door to his room. Snuggling deeper into the couch cushions, Jimin finally closes his eyes to at least catch a few hours of sleep for the remainder of the night.

--

“I’m going to kill you!” Jimin screeches as he rushes in through the door in a whirlwind of sleep mussed hair and flailing limbs. “I will destroy everything you love and burn all your stuffed animals!”

With only twenty minutes left before the start of class, Jimin whizzes through the living room in a hectic flurry, briefly stopping to lob a balled up Subway coupon sheet at Taehyung’s head. It misses, gliding over its intended target in a graceful arc, before dropping down onto the tiled kitchen floor as Taehyung continues to bring down a large bowl from the cabinet.

Jimin howls in rage, and his roommate merely shoots him a cheerful smile.

The boyfriend, Jeongguk, laughs brightly from his perched position along the kitchen counter, dressed in nothing but an oversized shirt and swinging his socked feet like a child. A dark, soft sweep of hair flops over his eyes. And in any other circumstance, Jimin would love nothing more than to rumple his hair and mollycoddle the kid. But, as it stands, Jimin is extremely late and extremely pissed off.

“I won’t hesitate to kick you out, freshman!” he threatens as he dives into the bathroom, jamming a toothbrush into his mouth and hastening towards his room to dress himself in the process. He promptly sticks a leg into the sleeve of his sweater, mouth foaming with bubbles as he aggressively brushes his teeth while cramming random notebooks and his cell phone into his backpack.

With a good twelve minutes left before the hour, Jimin finishes getting ready in record time, all the right limbs in all the right sleeves and pant legs. Slinging his backpack over his shoulder, Jimin tosses himself bodily out through the apartment door.

Taehyung waves goodbye with his free hand, other arm wrapped around Jeongguk’s waist who is still sitting atop the kitchen counter and taking it in turns to spoon feed his boyfriend, and then himself.

“You are forever banned from this apartment!” Jimin shouts in way of farewell, and Jeongguk continues to chew on his cereal.

Jimin wails in distress as he nearly trips over the last few stairs, sprinting through the apartment complex and down the few blocks towards campus. He speeds on, surpassing even the cars on the road beside him. The scenery dashes by in a blur, and Jimin doesn’t even realize it as he flies passed the grand archway entrance to the school.

Skidding to a halt a few feet down the sidewalk, Jimin pivots and he runs headlong into the oncoming crowd of students just released from classes prior. Two minutes to go, and a final spurt of speed rushes Jimin on through the campus towards his designated lecture hall.

“What ails you, my dear son?” the sympathetic voice of his classmate and friend, Amber, is the first thing that enters Jimin’s consciousness after the mindless morning marathon. His chest rises up and down, cheeks tinged pink from a combination of exercise and the biting cold of morning. Amber smiles indulgently, patting the seat beside her. Dropping his backpack on the floor, Jimin slumps down into the proffered chair, wheezing breathlessly as his ears ring loudly from the exertion.

“I’m moving out,” Jimin declares after taking a moment to catch his breath, heart still pounding a bit too quickly to be comfortable. Amber pats him on the head affectionately, and Jimin buries his head into her shoulder to bewail his woes and poor choices in life until the professor waltzes in through the door to begin lecture.

“My life is a mess,” jimin moans in a tortured whisper, and Amber sticks a handful of skittles into his open mouth.

--

He knew it. Jimin knew he’d fall asleep in class, and it’s all Taehyung’s fault.

Barely five minutes into the lecture, and Jimin’s eyes had begun to droop. Taking pity on the exhausted Jimin, Amber had let him sleep through the class. Which means, now, Jimin has catching up to do. Incensed, but a little bit grateful, Jimin gladly accepted Amber’s lecture notes, which now reside within his backpack to be copied and reviewed.

Feeling a bit more refreshed after his nap, jimin readjusts his backpack and climbs the flight of stairs up to his apartment. It’s a brand new day, and the birds are chirping. Jimin is feeling a bit gracious, and relatively mollified with regards to the past few weeks of misfortune.

He’s contemplating between pizza and sandwiches for lunch as he turns the knob, trying to guess which one Taehyung would prefer. Maybe he’ll want both, jimin wonders idly as the door swings opens.  And he immediately realizes that food is the last thing on his mind, and his forgiveness prematurely given.

A glimpse of ass is all he needs to prompt him to slam the door back shut, regretting ever coming home because he’s pretty sure he’s scarred for life.

“Don’t you two even have class, for christ’s sake?!” Jimin screams at the door, angry fists tugging at his own hair in frustration. There are things he just does not need to see, and his roommate’s ass is one of them. Jimin stretches the edge of his hoodie down over his face, hoping it would protect his eyes from the unsightly vision he’d just witnessed.

In the throes of his minor meltdown, the door beside him cracks open. And Yoongi’s face leans out, a remote control grasped loosely in his hand. That very face fills Jimin with an inexplicable sense of relief and calm that makes no sense at all because he’d only ever spent a handful of minutes in the other’s presence. Maybe it has something to do with the great generosity of the night before, but Jimin is washed over with unadulterated gratefulness.

A couple walking their dog below glances up at him curiously, and Jimin doesn’t hesitate to step inside the offered sanctuary out of prying scrutiny.

“They still going at it?” Yoongi asks incredulously, smiling in disbelief as Jimin navigates through the battlefield of towering boxes and miscellaneous snack food wrappers. He flops down onto the couch he’d slept in the night before, the blanket still lying partially stuffed into the corner.

Jimin gazes blankly at the far wall, eyes falling on what he’d guessed to be an empty fish tank. But a small chameleon inhabits the rectangular space, and Jimin stares at it blankly until his eyes begin to burn from dryness. An unbidden image of Taehyung and his boyfriend doing the dirty invades Jimin’s mind. And with a slight shiver, he removes his glasses and sets them on top of a mound of coupon sheets amassed on the coffee table, thoroughly rubbing the trauma out of his eyes.

“You look like you could use a beer,” the other neighbor, Namjoon, places a cold glass into Jimin’s hands as he exits the kitchen and drops his lanky body down by Yoongi’s other side.

“I have class,” Jimin says weakly in protest, even as he twists the cap and inhales a deep draught of the cool, bitter liquid. It coats his insides with a crisp freshness that relieves some of the tension from his muscles, and he pulls back another drink.

“That’s the spirit,” Yoongi grins as he takes his own, leaning back on the couch to flip the channel to a soccer game. Jimin tunes out the noise, concentrating solely on the sound of his breathing and the taste of the beer.

“You’re welcome to kick it here whenever you want,” Namjoon smiles kindly, and Jimin is loopy enough from a mixture of sleep deprivation and alcohol to think he’s going to cry tears of joy. “You can have the bed,” Namjoon adds as an afterthought. “I won’t be home tonight anyways, so the bed will be free.”

“You know, I think I’ll try the twenty-four hour room at the library tonight,” Jimin sighs after a beat, seriously contemplating accepting the offer. But he doesn’t really want to impose, any more than he has already done so.

“I have a lot of catching up to do anyways,” Jimin shrugs, tracing his thumb over the rounded edge of the beer bottle. Out of sight, out of mind. Maybe if he stays away from home for a while, everything will return back to normal, or as normal as living with Taehyung ever could be.

If only they hadn’t been best friends since earlier, happier times when they used to toddle around together in diapers, Jimin would have kicked Taehyung to the curb without a bat of an eye. But, alas, many questions would arise should he do so, mainly in the form of an over-inquisitive mother with her twenty one questions. And Jimin doesn’t have the energy to deal with that.

And somewhere in the deepest, darkest regions of his mind, affection for his friend persists even through the hard times.

Jimin exhales slowly through his nose, running his fingers through his hair.

“Well, if you change your mind,” Yoongi claps a hand on Jimin’s shoulder, and then resumes his perusal of the various television channels.

Jimin’s skin tingles where Yoongi’s palm had just vacated.

--

Trudging towards the furthest corner of the rather emptied out twenty-four hour room, Jimin drops his belongings on the floor and settles in the small cubicle where he momentarily rests his head on his arms.

The compact room smells of stale sweat and old newspapers, and Jimin isn’t really sure if he’d made the right decision.

“Oh well,” Jimin whispers to himself. He’s already here, so might as well make good use of the time. Leaning down to unzip his backpack, Jimin pulls out his and Amber’s notebooks so that he may start copying down the lecture notes that he’d egregiously slept through.

A clock hanging on the far wall ticks loudly, resonating with the absolute stillness of the room. The only other sound is the faint scratch of pen on paper as Jimin painstakingly transfers Amber’s notes onto his own notebook, carefully reviewing the lesson he’d missed.

Time slows to a sedated crawl, every moment lengthened as the second hand hinges back just the tiniest bit, before pushing forward.

Jimin’s eyes begin to falter, and his brain fills with white noise. Giving his cheek a quick slap, he scours through his backpack once again in search of the Rockstar energy drink he’d picked up at the campus convenience store.

The can fizzles as he snaps it open, and he takes a long sip of the carbonated beverage as he carries on where he’d left off. Jimin internally curses his friend for having the tiniest scrawl in the world, squinting at the notes, just shy of pressing his nose against the actual paper. And then he catches himself being ungrateful, and mutters a quiet apology even though no one is here to hear it.

“I’m so tired,” JImin yawns, stretching out the kinks in his muscles and glancing up at the clock above. It reads a quarter after two, and Jimin decides maybe he’ll take his chances with going home.

How many times can they possibly fuck in the course of one day? They’ve got to rest and sleep at some point.

Jimin’s logic is that everyone needs sleep, himself included. And he’d really like to take a shower after spending so much time in this smelly room. So with that thought in mind, Jimin stashes all his belongings back into his backpack to once again brave the bitter cold.

"Goddamn false advertising," he grumbles as he tosses out the still three-quarter filled rockstar can in the garbage bin. 

--

On second thought, Jimin decides he’s a coward and he can’t bring himself to walk in through the front door.

Various scenarios flit through Jimin’s mind, all of which are of varying degrees of compromising and horrific. His face glows hot with embarrassment, and he decides that maybe he’ll take his neighbors up on their offer. Knocking softly on their door, Jimin bounces on the balls of his feet hoping Yoongi hasn’t fallen asleep already.

He’s met with silence. And counting to ten, he knocks again.

“Praise the lord,” Jimin murmurs as the lock clicks. The door swings open, and Jimin smiles gratefully as he hurries to step out of the cold. But he freezes mid step, foot hanging half in and half out the door. Yoongi stands before him, wrapped in nothing but a cream colored towel, beads of water dripping from the tips of his dark hair and down his otherwise naked body.

“I,” Jimin’s words catch in his throat, clearing the lump awkwardly as he licks his dry lips. “I think I’ll just go back home.”

His cheeks blaze hotter than the sun as he turns on his heels. But Yoongi catches him by the elbow.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Yoongi bodily pulls Jimin inside, before shutting out the cold. “Come in,” he orders belatedly.

Jimin mentally curses the universe, because he’s feeling pretty swindled right now, of what he’s not really sure.

“Namjoon won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon, so feel free to crash on his bed,” Yoongi drags him down the hall, guiding Jimin in the direction of the empty room.

“You know the basic layout of the apartment,” Yoongi smiles warmly, opening the door and nudging Jimin inside. “Help yourself to anything, the bathroom, the kitchen, whatever.”

Jimin nodes mutely, unable to formulate proper words because holy fucking shit he’s naked.

“Except the yogurt,” Yoongi adds, wrinkling his nose in mild distaste. “I think those are past the due date.”

“Okay,” Jimin’s voice is barely above a whisper, eyes subconsciously trailing after a droplet of water that cuts a path down the side of Yoongi’s arm

“Good night,” Yoongi waves over his shoulder as he turns away to head for his own room. Jimin remains where he stands, tracing his fingers over the slightly dampened handprint on his sweater sleeve.

--

“What is this,” Jimin frowns at the blur of pink and yellow held way to close under his nose. His eyes go cross-eyed as he leans away, glaring daggers at the subject of his irritation.

“Cupcake of forgiveness,” Taehyung grins, all teeth and sunshine smiles that clash heads with Jimin’s darkened mood.

“I don’t want it,” Jimin shoves his hand away, resuming the task at hand. Stuffing a few more handfuls of laundry into his hamper, Jimin promptly stomps out into the living room with his nose pointed in the air like a petulant child.

“Take a bite,” Taehyung coaxes as Jeongguk swiftly snatches the laundry hamper from Jimin’s hands. “Nobody can resist the delicious gratifying prowess of a good cupcake,” Taehyung waves the confectionary good temptingly in front of Jimin’s face.

“I don’t want it,” Jimin repeats through gritted teeth as he dives for the hamper. But Jeongguk pushes it out of reach with his foot, and grabs Jimin round the chest to pin his arms down by his sides.

“You’re gonna knock it over,” Jimin whimpers in distress.

“It’s lemon blueberry,” Taehyung entices in a singsong voice, but Jimin continues to squirm under Jeongguk’s hold. “Say ah,” Taehyung shoves a mouthful in between Jimin’s resisting lips.

“Lemon blueberry is the shit!” Jeongguk cheers as Taehyung’s hand accidentally slips, the cupcake smudging down the side of Jimin’s face.

An unmanly squeal bubbles in the back of Jimin’s throat as a smear of frosting glides across his cheek, Taehyung’s eyes glinting with something mischievous. And before Jimin can do anything to stop him, Taehyung leans in to swipe a fat, wet lick from the tip of Jimin’s chin all the way up to his temple.

“EW GROSS,” Jimin’s feet kick and flail in an attempt to dislodge the spider monkey glued to his back, planting a well-placed foot to Taehyung’s stomach and shoving him away.

“Say you forgive me!” Taehyung laughs, diving back in with frosting coated fingers wiggling towards Jimin’s face.

“Never!” Jimin thrashes his entire body from head to toe, fighting down the laughter because he will never give in.

“Forgive!” Taehyung manages to swipe a few fingers across the curve of Jimin’s cheek.

“No!” Jimin finally gives in to laughter, ducking out of the way when Taehyung swings forward with his tongue sticking out. “Okay! Okay!” Jimin decides to raise the white flag, kicking out his legs at his roommate and best friend. “I forgive you! I forgive you!”

“Aw man,” Taehyung smiles breathlessly, lowering his hand as Jeongguk finally releases his hold. They all tumble down on the couch in a tangle of limbs and cupcake covered, flushed faces with Jimin in the center of the two lovers’ clinging hugs.

“You know,” Jimin rests his head on Taehyung’s shoulder, a beat of silence, not altogether uncomfortable, falling over them. “It’s all good and all that you guys are dating and stuff,” Jimin pauses, then continues. “But could you just show some courtesy to the other tenants of this apartment?”

“Who?” Taehyung turns his head to face Jimin, mystified. “Jeongguk?”

Me!” Jimin huffs in exasperation, flicking Taehyung square on the forehead.

“Besides,” he muses. “It’s the neighbors you should be offering your cupcakes of forgiveness to, not me. I’ve been encroaching on their personal space these past few days. And it can’t be fun.”

“Hm,” Taehyung reaches behind to gently scratch his boyfriend’s scalp.

“Oh! By the way!” Jeongguk starts up, as if remembering something of great import. “We have another present for you!”

“What is it?” Jimin cocks his head curiously. Jeongguk wriggles around in his pocket in search of something small. Pulling out a tight fist, he sticks it under Jimin’s nose just as Taehyung had done with the cupcake.

“What is it?” Jimin pries the fist open, only to stare bemusedly at two oblong shapes nestled in the palm of Jeongguk’s hand.

“Ear plugs!” Jeongguk grins from ear to ear.

--

For what seems to be the millionth time in the past week alone, Jimin finds himself staring at the door of his neighbors, arms tightened around his pillow and blanket.

To give them credit, they had held off until they’d thought Jimin had fallen asleep.

But Jimin is a light sleeper.

And they aren’t exactly the most quiet two people on the planet.

Yoongi already knows as soon as he opens the door, ushering Jimin inside with one eye open.

“You’re in luck,” Yoongi mutters, voice thickened with sleep. “Namjoon is out again. You can take his bed.”

“Thanks,” Jimin replies in earnest, ambling through the miniature maze of an apartment that now seems more at home than his own.

He nestles comfortably on the bed now more familiar than the one he’d just previously vacated not too many minutes ago. Something lumpy jabs into his back. So maneuvering his arm underneath the sheets, Jimin pulls out a game controller and tosses it over the side of the bed.

Once again burrowing under his blankets, Jimin closes his eyes again with hopes of a restful sleep. He begins counting fluffy white sheep that bounce over a pale brown wicket fence, tripping lightly along a beautiful green meadow with a crystal clear sky that stretches above for miles and miles.

This beautiful earthly vista transforms into a showering waterfall that Jimin prepares to dive head first into, when suddenly he is jolted out of his dreams straight back into the dark covered reality of night. He blinks his eyes, disoriented, staring around the shadows creeping along the walls trying to discover the source of his awakening.

And there it is. A soft, barely audible thump that slowly increases in intensity, and Jimin somehow knew there was no escaping it.

Jimin utters a string of muffled profanity into his pillow, wondering to himself how loud, exactly, they could be fucking for him to be able to hear them from the other apartment.

“You have got to be kidding me,” he grumbles, clenching his teeth on the edge of his pillowcase. This has to be a one long, never ending nightmare, because there is no other possible explanation as to why he continues to be haunted and tormented like this.

A muted moan bleeds through the wall, followed by a bump in the night that makes Jimin think of childhood boogie monsters under the bed. He’s not entirely sure how Namjoon had ever slept through this noise, if this is how it was every night.

“Amazing,” Jimin whispers, rolling onto his back and lying with his legs spread slightly apart because his beginning to get hard. And this just adds the cherry on the cake of his travesty of a life.

“Just amazing,” Jimin breathes, wiggling his hips to lower the hem of his flannel pants just mid thighs. He closes his eyes as he wraps his fingers around the base of his hardening dick, breath stuttering in his chest as he gives an experimental tug.

Jimin’s pulse quickens as his hand speeds up, faintly listening to the vulgar sounds the drift through the walls. A damn voyeur is what he feels like, getting himself off to the sound of his best friend and his boyfriend fucking. But he’s sexually deprived, and everything is just getting to be too much.

His muscles tighten. And he’s so very close, teeth clenching on his lower lip, when the door suddenly blasts open. And Jimin freezes, hand still wrapped around his cock, because Yoongi is standing at the door, nostrils flaring in the faint moonlight that shimmers through the window.

“Your damn room-“ his words die on his lips, eyes widening imperceptibly at the sight of Jimin draped over the bed with his fingers around his dick. Yoongi hovers by the door, caught in a moment of hesitation because he’s not really sure how to react in this moment.

“Either come in, or get out,” Jimin’s voice is low and shivers with anticipation, and Yoongi makes up his mind and fully steps inside the room, shutting the door closed behind him.

Jimin pushes himself up into a seated position as Yoongi closes the distance between them, suspense stilling his blood as the elder stops right before him.

“Keep touching yourself,” Yoongi murmurs, gazing through hooded eyes as he cups a hand underneath Jimin’s chin. Complying with the command, Jimin once again wraps his hand around his dick, and pulls up and down at a leisurely pace.

Yoongi slowly dips, pressing his lips onto Jimin’s waiting mouth, massaging and working it open with his tongue that leaves Jimin hot and needy. Yoongi gently pushes Jimin back down on the bed, warm hands exploring up and down the line of Jimin’s body as he continues to jerk himself off.

 “Let’s get some of these clothes off,” Yoongi whispers into Jimin’s mouth as he hooks his fingers into the bunched up fabric of Jimin’s pajamas and yanks them down the rest of the way.

Jimin fists into the neck of Yoongi’s shirt, pulling him down forward until he’s hovering just above him. He helps slide the shirt over Yoongi’s body, fingers intentionally lingering over his skin along the way. At this point, Jimin can’t hear anything other than the sound of his blood rushing in his ears intermingled with Yoongi’s heavy breathing.

“Shit,” Jimin winces as the course material of Yoongi’s sweatpants catch along his pre-cum slicked dick.

“Are you sure this is okay?” Yoongi trails the tip of his nose along Jimin’s jawline, biting gently on the soft underside just below his ear.

“Yes,” Jimin gulps, breath hitching as he swivels his hips up for more of that delicious friction. “Fuck me please, dear god help me,” Jimin whimpers at the loss of warmth when Yoongi pulls away. But the elder merely pecks him on the lips to hush him up.

“I’m just gonna go find the lube,” Yoongi smiles, sliding his hand down Jimin’s thigh as he saunters off to rummage through one of Namjoon’s drawers in the darkness. “It’s gotta be here somewhere.”

Jimin waits restlessly, squirming with discomfort because the need to be filled consumes him with blinding lust.

“Got it,” Yoongi utters in triumph as he bounds back across the room, hooking his hands under Jimin’s knees and sliding him closer to the edge of the bed. Jimin plants his feet along the edge, raising his hips to open himself up to Yoongi’s ministrations.

It’s been a great while since the last time he’d had sex, so it definitely stings a bit even as the first lube slicked finger slides in between his cheeks. Jimin worries his teeth on his lower lip, biting back the moan as Yoongi slowly works him open, easing a second, then a third finger inside as he stretches him wide.

“Fuck,” Jimin hisses as Yoongi crooks his fingers deep insider, scratching over his prostate and tossing him under a wave of pleasure. His knees spread wider, feet sliding over the slippery sheets, to give better access. Jimin grinds his hips, fucking himself desperately onto Yoongi’s long fingers.

“Okay, you’re good,” Jimin moans impatiently, and Yoongi is only all too willing to oblige.

There’s a faint rustle of fabric as Yoongi removes his pants, followed by the crinkle of plastic as he tears open a condom packet. Jimin pushes himself up, pulling Yoongi close by the hips and knocking his hands out of the way to speed up the process.

Yoongi watches with a grin slowly stretching across his face, slightly bemused and turned on more so. Jimin rolls the condom down over Yoongi’s length, nibbling on his lip and glancing up at the elder through his lashes.

Yoongi wordlessly hands over the bottle of lube, allowing Jimin to slick his cock tantalizingly thorough as he closes his eyes and relishes in the sensations.

“Okay, enough,” Yoongi growls, pressing forward until Jimin is lying flat on his back once again. Yoongi rests a knee on the edge of his bed, hitching Jimin’s leg over it, and aligns himself with Jimin’s entrance.

“Last chance to back out,” Yoongi speaks the words into Jimin’s collarbones. But Jimin shakes his head frantically in denial. Taking that as invitation enough, Yoongi slowly breaches Jimin’s hole, pushing past the ring of clenching muscles until he’s fully seated inside that tight warmth.

“Damn you feel so good,” Yoongi murmurs into the crook of Jimin’s sweaty neck, his hair cascading down to tickle Jimin’s cheeks as he holds steady to allow Jimin time to adjust. But Jimin is on edge, drowning in need. And he wraps his legs around Yoongi’s waist to push himself deeper down Yoongi’s length.

“Move,” Jimin pleads, fingernails digging little crescents along Yoongi’s forearms.

“With pleasure,” Yoongi snakes his arms around Jimin’s waist, holding him close. And without any further prompting, he pulls himself nearly all the way out, just until the crown, and pushes all the way back in with such swiftness and power that has Jimin’s bones rattling under his skin.

A loud, resonating moan tears through Jimin’s chest. And his fingers scrabble along Yoongi’s shoulders to find some kind of purchase to keep him grounded because he feels like he’s about to be swept away by the feeling of pure gratification. Everything feels so damn heightened and numb at the same time, and Jimin isn’t sure he wants this to ever end.

Yoongi begins to move in earnest, pounding in and out at an unrelenting speed that leaves Jimin winded and dizzy. His shirt hitches high above his waist with every thrust, sliding further up until the hem is left a rumpled pile just below his armpits.

“How do you feel about returning the favor?” Yoongi whispers in a deep, throaty voice that shoots straight towards Jimin’s groin.

“What?” Jimin mumbles, burying his hands around fistfuls of Yoongi’s hair. Without a response, Yoongi suddenly rises up, pulling Jimin up with him by the waist. A startled yelp echoes in Jimin’s throat as Yoongi hitches him higher on his hips, moving towards the wall that separates this room from Jimin’s own apartment.

Jimin’s back slams against the wall, unnecessarily hard. But the spark of pain only adds to the fire currently bubbling beneath his skin. A feral moan rumbles inside Jimin’s chest, tightening his legs and digging his fingers once again into Yoongi’s shoulders. The speed at which Yoongi pistons his hips is almost brutal, but Jimin soaks up the intense pleasure that courses through his veins.

A perverse sense of vindictiveness ups the enthusiasm as Jimin bounces up and down fervently, his back sliding against the wall as the fabric of his shirt condenses with sweat. Yoongi readjusts his balance, firmly grabbing the backs of Jimin’s knees and driving in faster, harder, more ruthlessly because the little noises that the sophomore makes turns Yoongi on more than he’d care to admit.

A particularly hard thrust shakes the picture frames sitting on Namjoon’s desk, and an unbidden laugh escapes Yoongi’s lips.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin pants, throwing his head back against the wall, his Adam’s apple bobbing.

“Namjoon is going to kill me,” Yoongi fills him in on this little secret, and a mortified laugh of dread bubbles in Jimin’s throat.

“He’s going to hate me,” Jimin moans, Yoongi attaching his hot mouth onto the column of Jimin’s neck to further deepen the sound.

“No he’s not,” Yoongi reassures, pressing a soft kiss onto Jimin’s temple that’s somewhat at odds to the brute carnality of what they’re doing. “And next time, we’ll take this to my room.”

Something like warm tenderness washes over Jimin, quickly eclipsed by a burning heat as Yoongi, impossibly, quickens his pace. The harsh slap of skin on skin reverberates throughout the room, Yoongi pushing in deeper and harder until Jimin’s body tenses under his fingers. Yoongi shifts him higher up the wall, thrusting from a different angle that finally pushes Jimin over the edge, wholly untouched.

Strings of white come shoot out in between Yoongi’s chest and Jimin’s shirt, Yoongi fucking into him through each and every wave of his orgasm. Even as Jimin’s body falls limp onto Yoongi’s shoulder, unable to keep the sated smile off his lips, Yoongi’s hips pound into his ass until he chases after his own release, rocking through his climax while Jimin grazes his lips along the side of Yoongi’s jaw.

Jimin is pretty certain he’s lost control of all his motor functions. So Yoongi helps carry him back towards the bed, pausing for a quick moment before decidedly moving out the door.

“On second thought, let’s just sleep in my room,” Yoongi grins, and Jimin can’t help but smile back as he presses their sweaty foreheads together. “Not really sure what time Namjoon’s coming back home, so…”

Jimin groans in total and utter embarrassment.

“On the bright side,” Yoongi laughs. “Your roommate and his boyfriend are bound to have heard us.”

Jimin thinks he just might die of shame.

‘On second thought…’