Chapter Text
If there’s one thing that Jimin is certain about in life, it’s that he hates his fucking roommate.
If he had known that the man was going to be absolutely insufferable and a pain in the ass to live with, he never would’ve texted the number on the ad he’d found posted on the bulletin board on campus, but of course there’s no way he could’ve known.
It seemed like a good deal— it wasn’t the nicest place ever, but he’d have his own bedroom and rent was cheaper than most apartments in the area. His original living situation had fallen through and the start of the semester was rapidly approaching so he didn’t have time to be picky, which is why he’d texted the man right away.
If he had known Min Yoongi was going to be an arrogant fucking asshole, he would’ve run far, far away.
He remembers the day they met three months ago as clear as day. It was a few days before the semester was due to begin, and Jimin was rushing to get all his stuff moved in with only the help of his best friend, Taehyung. It was a lot of stuff to move in one day, and after several hours of work he was tired and sweaty and irritated and ready to just be done and relax in his new place.
He found it odd that Yoongi wasn’t going to be there to let him in; that he had just left a key for him under the mat and trusted him to let himself in, but he wasn’t about to question it. He’d been very vague in the texts, saying he was going to be out until evening and nothing more.
As soon as Jimin walked into the apartment, he understood why Yoongi hadn’t really worried about some random person letting themselves in. The place was barren. There was little to no decor, just a simple worn-out black couch, and some other bare minimum furniture. He didn’t have many belongings in the kitchen, either, aside from a shitty old coffee maker, and when Jimin found the giant stash of instant noodles in the cupboard he came to the conclusion that the lack of food variety was because noodles is all the man lived off of.
As depressing as the apartment looked, it was at least pretty clean—considering there was nothing to make it messy in the first place—and Jimin figured it was good because he could add a lot of his own personal touches to the place.
It was early evening when Yoongi finally came home. Jimin was sitting on the cheap couch, watching a movie on his laptop and eating some takeout he’d ordered, Taehyung having left a while ago. He didn’t want to wait in his room because he needed a break from all the clutter and he also wanted to wait up to meet Yoongi.
He startled when he heard a key in the lock, quickly setting his food and laptop down on the tiny side table and standing to greet the man.
“Hi!” Jimin had greeted happily when Yoongi walked in. The first thing he had noticed was that he was cute. He had soft, pretty features and bleach blonde hair—a little bit fried but somehow it worked for him—and he looked small and cozy in his black oversized clothes. Jimin kinda wanted to burrito him in a blanket and kiss him on the head.
But then he opened his mouth.
“I’ll save you the time and energy: I do not care who you are, I have no desire to get to know you, and this is just a simple living arrangement for me, nothing more. The only reason I was even looking for a roommate is because my old one moved out and I cannot afford this place on my own.”
“I—” Jimin began to say before cutting off, not even having the slightest idea of how to respond. He was completely speechless. Yoongi didn’t even wait for him to formulate a response before continuing.
“Don’t make a mess, don’t leave your shit around the apartment, don’t make excessive noise. I will leave you alone, and I expect you to leave me alone in return. Goodnight.”
Jimin had gaped at him as he’d walked away, striding down the hallway and shutting his door behind him without another word.
What. The. Fuck.
Jimin had said one word, and Yoongi was a raging fucking asshole to him, entirely unprovoked. He felt fury course through him the longer he stood there, as the words sank in, and suddenly he decided that he wasn’t just going to let Yoongi get away with his hostile behavior.
He marched down the hallway, stopping in front of Yoongi’s door and swinging it open. Yoongi was in the middle of changing, his pants partway down his legs as he stripped down to his underwear, but Jimin didn’t give a single fuck.
Yoongi snapped his head up in surprise, gasping as he stumbled backwards, falling on his ass.
“What the hell—”
“You fucking listen to me, Min Yoongi . My name is Park Jimin. I’m twenty-three years old and a dance major. I’m a nice person and a good fucking roommate. And I do not tolerate blatant fucking disrespect for absolutely no reason.”
His breathing picked up as he’d walked toward Yoongi, stopping in front of him, hoping he looked intimidating as he towered over him.
“Now you’ve made it abundantly clear in the five seconds we’ve talked that you have no interest in being friends, which is fine by me. Do whatever the hell you want. But we will be living together for the next nine months, and I refuse to walk on fucking eggshells in my own fucking home. So you better get your ass off the ground right this minute and try that introduction again before I fucking lose it.”
Yoongi had stared up at him in surprise for another five seconds before rage washed over him, and he kicked off his pants all the way before standing up to come face-to-face with Jimin. Yoongi was just a tiny bit taller than him, but Jimin refused to let him feel small in any way.
“What the hell is your problem?” Yoongi had spat, his face only a couple feet from Jimin’s.
“ You’re my fucking problem. Seriously, who raised you? In what fucking world is that an even remotely acceptable way to greet someone?”
“I don’t owe you shit. We don’t even know each other. I’m not obligated to be friends with you,” Yoongi said indignantly.
“It doesn’t matter! You don’t treat a total fucking stranger like that! Or anyone for that matter!” Jimin had said incredulously, practically yelling at that point.
“And you don’t tell me what to do,” Yoongi countered. “This is my apartment and I can do whatever I want. If you don’t like it then fucking leave, I’ll find someone else to live here.”
Jimin let out a bitter laugh, placing his hands on his hips as he stared at Yoongi. “Fine. Maybe I will. No one in their right mind would put themselves through absolute hell living with an arrogant dickhead just because the rent is cheap. You can go fuck yourself.”
Jimin didn’t say anything else before turning on his heels and exiting the room, slamming the door behind him. “Fuck you,” Yoongi had yelled through the door, but Jimin just ignored him.
He walked into his own room, slamming the door as loudly as possible before taking a seat on his bare mattress, sitting there in silence as he processed what had just happened. He couldn’t help the few angry tears that escaped his eyes in the moment, feeling completely and utterly discouraged over the whole situation.
He didn’t know if backing out at that point was even an option. He’d already signed the lease, and even if he could somehow get out of it, he didn’t even have time to look for a new place before the semester started.
He let himself angry cry for about five minutes before he sat up straight, wiped his tears and decided in that moment that he wasn’t going to let this ruin his semester.
Yoongi wanted Jimin to leave him alone? To not make a mess or a lot of noise? Cool. Jimin was going to do the exact opposite.
He began carrying out his plan only a few hours later. After going to retrieve his laptop from the living area (and leaving his half eaten food on the table just to piss Yoongi off), he headed back to his room to begin plotting.
The first part of his plan was just to make a lot of noise. Clearly Yoongi was someone who valued silence, so Jimin was going to deny him of that as often as possible.
He waited until midnight before locking his door and hooking his phone up to his speaker, turning the volume all the way up. He chose the loudest, most obnoxious song he could find— something bass-heavy and noisy, like the music they’d play in clubs— before pressing play and falling back onto his bed with a smile.
The music was so loud that it even made Jimin flinch, so he knew that Yoongi would be fucking furious.
Sure enough, it only took about thirty seconds before there was a pounding on his door. Jimin ignored it, instead loudly singing along to the lyrics, not a care in the world.
“Seriously, Jimin? Open the fucking door right now!”
“Nah, I’m good!” Jimin yelled back cheerfully, laughing when Yoongi banged on the door again.
Jimin knew he couldn’t keep the music on for long— didn’t want to deal with a noise complaint on his very first day there— but he waited just long enough for Yoongi to give up, waiting until he heard his bedroom door slam before turning the music down (to be honest, it was kinda giving him a headache anyway). He fell asleep that night with a smile on his face.
The next morning he’d sauntered into the kitchen with that same smile, the smile only growing when he’d seen that Yoongi was already out there, making a shitty cup of coffee.
“Why hello there, roomie,” Jimin said smugly, laughing when Yoongi spun around, spilling some of his coffee on himself.
Yoongi didn’t respond, clearly not wanting to take the bait, but glaring at Jimin nonetheless. Luckily Jimin and Taehyung had gone grocery shopping the day before, so he had at least enough food to get him by for a few days. He walked over to the fridge, pulling out an apple and taking a bite as he leaned against the counter across from Yoongi.
“Hope you enjoyed the music last night. And you should also probably get used to it, because I don’t have time to find a new apartment and you pissed me the fuck off so I’m going to do everything I can to make your life hell for the next nine months. Congrats on making yourself an enemy!”
He only gave himself a few seconds to appreciate the look of angry shock on Yoongi’s face before turning and walking back down the hall, flipping him off without looking back.
“Fucking cunt,” he heard Yoongi mutter just before he closed his bedroom door.
And so it went. Jimin constantly did things to purposely piss Yoongi off, and Yoongi was an absolute asshole to him in return. Jimin would leave messes in the living area, get up in Yoongi’s space whenever he left his bedroom, and make absolutely no attempt to stay quiet— especially when he had friends over.
Was it the ideal situation? No, of course not. But Jimin was saving a lot of money by living in the place and he’d admit that he got a strange sort of satisfaction out of seeing Yoongi angry.
As time went on, their hatred for each other only grew, and Jimin became more and more shameless. He had hookups over more often than he usually would, making sure to be very noisy in bed, letting out overly lewd moans and screaming his partner’s name every few seconds.
It was the perfect deal— his partners were always spurred on by his responsiveness, so they worked extra hard to make him come, and Jimin was always left with several angry texts from Yoongi telling him to go to hell, among other choice words, which never failed to amuse him.
But then one day, something shifted.
It was a Friday night, so Jimin knew Yoongi was gonna be holed up late in his stupid little studio on campus, as he was most weekends. So Jimin was going to take advantage of having the apartment to himself.
He’d been out clubbing with his friends, getting a little more drunk than usual, before finding a hot guy to take home to hook up with— a regular occurrence. Except he was so drunk this time, that he completely forgot to shut his bedroom door before stripping and falling into bed with the man. He was also too drunk, and too distracted by his rapidly approaching climax, to hear the front door open and shut.
Jimin was being pounded into from behind, the guy— Jimin forgot his name— manhandling him and showing his ass no mercy as he fucked him, just as Jimin liked. Jimin cried out when the man yanked him up by his hair, pulling him back against his chest and splaying his hand across Jimin’s stomach, the body chain that the man insisted he keep on clinking against his skin rhythmically.
And just as the man wrapped one of his big hands around Jimin’s cock, jerking him off as he fucked him relentlessly, Jimin opened his eyes to see Min Yoongi standing frozen in the doorway, watching with wide eyes. His cheeks were flushed, his breathing uneven as he stared at the scene in front of him.
Jimin should’ve stopped, should’ve yelled at Yoongi to fuck off or pushed the man of of him or something, but in that moment he just felt so good and overwhelmed and watching Yoongi react to him only turned him on even more.
And it was in that moment that Jimin’s hookup leaned down, whispering “think he’s enjoying the show?” in his ear, and Jimin stared Yoongi dead in the eyes as he came, letting out one last loud, drawn-out moan. He couldn’t help but close his eyes as he came down from his climax, too overwhelmed and drunk and sleepy to really pay attention, and when he opened them again Yoongi was gone.
Once the man left and the post-nut clarity kicked in, Jimin was mortified. He just let Yoongi fucking watch him get pounded into from behind, let him see Jimin completely naked, and even worse they fucking made eye contact when Jimin came.
He avoided Yoongi like the plague the first couple days after it happened, but then one day they inevitably ran into each other in the kitchen and… Yoongi was acting completely different.
He didn’t glare at Jimin, didn’t insult him or sneer at him as he usually did, but instead he acted flustered. Jimin experimentally asked how his day was, just to see how he’d react, and the man turned bright red and fucking stuttered, muttering something incoherent before hurrying out of the room.
And Jimin decided that he liked having the upper hand.
So after that he went out of his way to fluster Yoongi, purposely doing things to simultaneously piss him off and make him blush in embarrassment.
He started by “accidentally” leaving his lingerie around the house— throwing his lacy panties on the floor right by the front door where he knew Yoongi would see them— or setting his skimpiest bralettes on the couch. He’d camp out in the kitchen just to see how Yoongi would react when he came home, and the reaction was always priceless.
The first time he saw the panties he dropped everything he was holding, including his coffee, and Jimin couldn’t help but burst into laughter at the sight. Yoongi just stared at him in shock as Jimin threw a roll of paper towels at him before sauntering back into his room, leaving him alone with the coffee mess and horny thoughts.
Then he started doing things a little more extreme— he’d jerk off in their shared bathroom instead of his room, leaving the door cracked when Yoongi was home so he’d know what he was doing. Every once in a while he’d peek out of the door to catch a glimpse of Yoongi watching him for a moment before slipping into his room and closing the door without a word.
Jimin was curious to see just how far he could take things before Yoongi would snap, so one day he got dressed in his most revealing lingerie and settled down onto the couch to wait for Yoongi to come out of his room. It only took about an hour, and Jimin made sure to spread his legs wide, the black lacy fabric barely covering his cock, before Yoongi walked into the room.
He gasped when he saw Jimin, freezing in place and staring at him with wide eyes as Jimin smirked at him.
“Like what you see?” Jimin asked cheekily, running a hand up his inner thigh, stopping just before he reached his cock.
He expected Yoongi to react as he usually did, to turn into a blushy, stuttering mess and leave the room as quickly as possible. What he didn’t expect was for Yoongi to turn absolutely livid, march on up to him and yank him up by his hair.
He cried out as Yoongi forced him into a sitting position before grabbing onto his arm and pulling him to his feet.
“What the hell are you doing?” Jimin asked incredulously, shoving Yoongi’s hands away.
“What is your fucking problem ?” Yoongi shouted at him, his face red in anger. “What are you trying to do, fucking seduce me? Trying to get me to fuck you the same way those brainless fucking morons that you’re always bringing home do?”
Jimin’s jaw dropped. “What—”
“Come on,” Yoongi interrupted, grabbing his arm tightly and dragging him off to Jimin’s bedroom.
“Yoongi, let go of me! What the fuck are you—”
He was cut off by Yoongi finally releasing him and shoving him into his bedroom.
“Get dressed, you stupid slut. Stop playing whatever game it is you’re trying to play because I’m fucking over it. ”
“Excuse me?” Jimin asked incredulously, his eyes going wide at the sound of the insult.
“You heard me. I’m sick of you walking around the house acting like a dumb fucking whore, so knock it off.”
Yoongi didn’t even give Jimin a chance to respond before slamming the door in his face.
So that’s where they are now— just over three months of living together, Jimin still reeling from their interaction from the day prior.
Yoongi thinks Jimin is a slut? Fine, he’ll fucking act like a slut.
They haven’t talked since their fight yesterday, which is probably good because it would just result in a screaming match. But now Yoongi is at class, and Jimin has the day off and he wants to get revenge.
He grabs a bottle of lube before stripping naked and making his way over to their bathroom. Conveniently, the item he was looking for is sitting on the counter just waiting for him.
Yoongi’s hairbrush.
Because what could possibly piss Yoongi off more than Jimin fucking himself with one of his belongings?
He feels a little bit nervous as he uncaps the lube, pouring some on his fingers to begin stretching himself, wondering if this is just taking it way too far. But then Yoongi’s previous words echo in his mind— dumb fucking whore— and suddenly he doesn’t care. He’s really fucking angry. How dare Min Yoongi degrade him like that?
So he begins fingering himself open, sighing as he presses a finger past his rim, working up to three fingers relatively quickly.
Once he’s stretched enough, he washes the hairbrush handle with soap and water to make sure it’s clean, then pours a generous amount of lube onto it.
He can tell it’s going to be a bit of a stretch— the handle is thicker than his fingers and has a ridge at the end of it— but he’s always liked when it hurts a little.
He takes a deep breath as he brings the brush down to his ass, spreading his cheeks with one hand and bringing it up to his hole with the other. Just pretend like it’s a dildo, he tells himself when he feels another pang of nervousness. It basically is.
Jimin gasps when he brushes the handle against his rim, the plastic feeling cold and foreign against his skin. He kneels on the ground so he’ll be able to reach better, then counts to three before pushing the tip of the handle inside.
It feels incredibly weird at first, a little bit painful, especially because the ridge on the end is flat and thick and an awkward shape to stick up someone’s asshole. But he goes slow as he pushes it in to let himself adjust to the stretch, and it gets a little easier once he makes it past the first ridge.
He whimpers a little as he pushes the handle all the way inside; it increases in thickness the closer it gets to the actual brush part and the stretch burns a bit. It definitely doesn’t feel like a dildo— it’s much harder and rougher and a more awkward shape—but he forces himself to keep going because knowing that he’s fucked himself with Yoongi’s hairbrush is worth every bit of discomfort he feels.
He winces as he pulls it all the way back out before slowly pushing it back in, repeating the motion several more times as he starts to relax around it. Now that he’s more relaxed he can move a little faster, and before he knows it he’s worked up a steady rhythm and it’s finally starting to feel good.
He cries out when he pushes it deep and hard enough to brush against his prostate, too distracted to notice or care that his precum is leaking onto the bath mat below him. It doesn’t take long for him to become lost in the pleasure, ignoring the pain in his wrist from the awkward angle as he fucks himself with the handle.
He falls forward after a minute, his arm too tired to hold himself up any longer, and his face presses into the bath mat as he continues fucking himself relentlessly. The new angle has the brush reaching even deeper than before, and his moans grow louder and louder as he hits his prostate repeatedly.
He’s far too noisy and distracted to notice the footsteps approaching behind him, his eyes flying open when a hand grips his wrist, bringing his movements to a stop. He looks over his shoulder, eyes wide as he watches Yoongi kneel next to him, an unreadable expression on his face.
Shit. He had not expected Yoongi to come home any time soon.
His chest heaves as he stares at Yoongi in fear, not having even the slightest idea of how he’s about to react, but the older man just takes the brush in one hand, peeling Jimin’s hand away with the other. Jimin immediately cries out when Yoongi pushes the handle deeper inside of him, hitting his already-sensitive prostate.
Yoongi clicks his tongue. “You really are a fucking whore, aren’t you?” Jimin whimpers as he slowly pulls the handle out before shoving it back in.
“Ahh! I— I—”
“What, was this supposed to make me angry? You pathetically fucking yourself with my hairbrush on the bathroom floor? Is this you trying to get revenge? Hm?”
Jimin moans when Yoongi angles the brush a little differently before resuming pushing it inside of him. He’s equal parts turned on and scared right now— he’s never heard this tone from Yoongi before. His voice is low, raspy, barely above a whisper. A huge contrast to the way he usually yells at Jimin.
Jimin gasps when he leans over him, his chest pressed to Jimin’s back as the brush is pushed further inside by Yoongi’s body. He tangles his fingers in Jimin’s hair, pulling him off the ground just slightly to whisper in his ear.
“Fine, Park Jimin. You win. I’ll play your fucking game.”
He gives Jimin no warning before releasing his hair, pulling back and shoving the handle so far up his ass that it genuinely hurts. Somehow, it only turns him on more.
Jimin borderline screams as Yoongi fucks him hard and fast, showing him no mercy as he nails his prostate repeatedly with the hard object.
And perhaps the most unsettling yet hottest thing of all is the way Yoongi is looking at Jimin— his face nearly void of emotion, looking almost bored or annoyed, like Jimin has just minorly inconvenienced him.
“Y-yoongi—” Jimin moans after a minute, but he’s immediately silenced by a loud, hard slap to his ass cheek.
“Shut up and take what I fucking give you, brat,” Yoongi orders, and Jimin immediately obeys, his cock twitching from both the spanking and the sound of his voice.
“This what you wanted all along, hm? Ever since I caught you getting fucking railed that one night. Bet my cock is all your stupid, slutty little mind has been able to think about.”
Jimin whines, squeezing his eyes shut as Yoongi spanks him again, even harder this time, his cock drooling precum and probably making a mess on the floor.
Yoongi chuckles darkly as he stares at Jimin, watching the way he can barely keep his eyes open from how fucked out he is.
“You wanna know something, Park?”
Jimin just whimpers.
“My cock would feel a hell of a lot nicer inside of you than this cheap plastic brush. A lot bigger, too.” As if to prove his point, Yoongi moves closer, pressing his hard cock against Jimin’s ass. And fuck, it feels big.
“P-please—”
Slap.
Slap.
Two more hard spanks and Jimin snaps his mouth shut, tears brimming in his eyes from just how overwhelming everything is.
“Maybe if you’d asked nicely I would’ve given it to you. But no, I’m not gonna do that. Frankly, I don’t think you deserve it.”
Jimin sobs as Yoongi increases his pace, the rough texture and awkward shape of the brush handle really starting to hurt as he rapidly approaches his climax.
“So instead I’ll just show you what you’re missing. Let it keep you up at night, thinking about me fucking you stupid, knowing it’ll never happen.”
One, two, three more thrusts from the handle and Jimin is crying out, coming hot on the floor as Yoongi spanks him one last time. He doesn’t let up for a moment, fucking Jimin through his climax, not stopping until Jimin is writhing from overstimulation.
Yoongi pulls the brush out and tosses it onto the floor and Jimin immediately falls onto his side, his body feeling like jello.
He watches through hooded eyes as Yoongi kneels over him, unzips his pants, and takes his cock out of his underwear. And he was right— it is big, would probably feel absolutely indescribable pounding into Jimin’s tight heat.
Jimin’s chest heaves as he watches Yoongi jerking himself off right above him, his face finally showing the slightest bit of emotion as he stares down at Jimin intently. Jimin doesn’t dare speak or move, partially because he’s afraid of what Yoongi would do but mostly because he’s afraid he’ll stop completely.
It doesn’t take very long for Yoongi to reach his own climax, and his teeth dig into his bottom lip as he comes right on Jimin’s face. Jimin closes his eyes as the hot liquid hits his lips and cheeks, automatically sticking his tongue out to taste it and moaning when he does. Yoongi chuckles at the sight.
“Whore,” is all he mutters before standing, tucking himself back into his underwear and exiting the bathroom.
“Oh, and you’re buying me a new hairbrush, by the way,” Yoongi says over his shoulder moments before shutting his bedroom door behind him.
Jimin is already half hard again.