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Yoongi doesn’t deserve it.
He’s a good person, not necessarily nice, but good. Chaotic or neutral good - as Hoseok once described him, not that Yoongi understood what he had meant, but the point still stands. He’s a good person, god fucking damn it.
He doesn’t host loud parties that go way over the curfew (except for that one time Hoseok decided to throw him a surprise birthday party. But that was one time and Hoseok never tried it again, probably because startled-Yoongi meant throwing-punches-Yoongi and Hoseok likes the shape of his nose), he never let his nearly-broken washing machine flood the downstairs neighbors. He doesn’t have the urges to start vacuuming at six a.m. on a Saturday morning and one time he even returned the package that mistakenly got delivered to his doorstep instead of his neighbor’s. He even made sure not to mention the not very subtle smell of weed that came from the apartment opposite his when his landlady dropped by to ask him if he saw anything weird recently.
Which is why he must have killed a bunch of puppies in his previous life, because there was no way his new neighbours from upstairs weren’t sent as some sort of an evil punishment for all his sins.
Yoongi never even saw them, as far as he knows they could be a pair of vampires, because he never bumped into them going to and coming from work, never saw them go out to get groceries. The only signs that someone lived upstairs appear at night, when Yoongi tries to fall asleep - at one a.m., alone, with his hands over the covers.
Maybe that’s the problem, he thinks, staring at the ceiling. Maybe he needs to get laid, maybe that would somehow help get him rid of his frustration. He ponders his options (would Hoseok be down for some Netflix and chill next Sunday?), but then the signs of life start again and Yoongi grabs his pillow, placing it over his face and wonders if he’d be able to suffocate himself if he was determined enough.
Calling the noises from upstairs signs of life is just a little bit ironic, because they’re definitely connected to creating life, or at least trying really, really hard. The loud, rhythmic sound of the bed (at least Yoongi guesses it’s a bed this time, his neighbors seem to like to spice things up) slamming into the wall mimics the beat of his own heart. Then starts the next part, Yoongi’s personal favorite - the loud moans and groans that fall somewhere between being erotic and making Yoongi wonder if he should call the police and report a murder attempt.
He sighs, burying his face into the pillow and throwing his arms across it in hopes of muffling the sounds, but it’s pointless; the more he tries to ignore them, the louder and more fucking annoying they get. It’s not like he didn’t try to do something about them –he knocked on the ceiling with his broom, he played music so loud he could feel it in his lungs, he even went as far as to shoot dirty glances at the mailbox assigned to the apartment upstairs. But all in all, Yoongi was not a big fan of face to face confrontations, he avoids them, because he knows the chances of them ending up with his nose broken are very high, almost terrifyingly so. He has no filter and going by the amount of stamina his neighbours have, he’d most definitely end up in a hospital after sharing his thoughts on their sex life.
Yoongi isn’t big on hospitals.
He reaches out for his headphones and shoves them over his ears, hoping that maybe some classical music would let him relax until his neighbors finally get it over with.
When an hour later he pauses the music and his ears are immediately greeted with the sound of the loudest moans he had ever heard in his entire life, he realizes he’s fucked.
Unfortunately for him, only figuratively.
*
When he woke up the the next morning and decided to treat Hoseok to a breakfast, he was hoping for a little sympathy; not too much, maybe an understanding nod, a pat on his shoulder, a few minutes to let him vent.
Clearly, he chose the wrong friend to vent to.
“You’re probably just overreacting,” Hoseok shrugs, helping himself to the piece of bagel on Yoongi’s plate. “You’re a grandpa, I’m always surprised when I don’t find you out on the streets in your slightly opened bathrobe, cursing out kids for ruining the economy and shaking your fist at the clouds.”
“First of all, that’s a weirdly vivid image and I’m concerned about how much you think of me,” Yoongi says, slapping his hand away. “And second, dude. Dude. They’re so fucking loud, there’s just no way they aren’t faking it.”
“Really?”
“Okay, does this sound real to you?” Yoongi asks, before leaning back in his chair. He grabs the table so hard his knuckles turn white, throws his head back and closes his eyes. He lets out a few shaky breaths and then starts moaning, adding a few whimpers for good measure. His moans start off low, coming from deep in his chest, and end up on a high pitched note. He speeds them up, each one louder than the one before. His hips lift off his chair with a final cry that spills from his lips and he stills, his eyes still shut tight.
“Um, Yoongi?”
Yoongi opens his eyes. Hoseok is staring at him with an unreadable expression on his face and Yoongi realizes the restaurant is eerily quiet. The couple next to them is gaping at him with their mouths open, but Yoongi doesn’t even have the strength to feel embarrassed, too fucking weak to care. He clears his throat, rearranging himself on his chair, and bites into his bagel.
“See what I mean,” he mumbles over his food. “There’s just no way.”
“Okay, well, I see two explanations. Either they’re really faking it for… whatever reason, or they’re having the hottest, most mind-blowing sex ever,” Hoseok takes a few seconds to think this over and squints at Yoongi. “The thing is, I’m not sure you’d recognize an orgasm if it bit you in the ass.”
“Excuse me?” Yoongi almost chokes on his bagel.
“I mean, I think you need to get laid, my friend. If you’d be getting some, you wouldn’t pay that much attention to your neighbors’ sex life. It’s simple, really,” Hoseok says, voice too cheerful for Yoongi to be offended.
Yoongi opens his mouth to speak, but then Hoseok decides he hasn’t said enough yet.
“Maybe you should ask them if you can join? Kill two birds with one stone.”
And that’s the moment Yoongi decides to drop the topic entirely. Jung Hoseok is officially the worst friend with the words ideas.
As if that would ever happen.
*
Sometimes Yoongi’s life reminds him too much of a shitty, badly written comedy.
He realizes that one day after he gets back home from work, exhausted to the point of falling asleep in the subway. He barely makes it to his bed, tugging his jeans and his t-shirt off and leaving them on the floor, before crawling under the covers.
Just as he’s about to drift off, the rhythmic thumping upstairs starts again, causing a white, blinding pang of rage to erupt behind his eyelids.
That’s it.
Yoongi throws the covers aside, jumping to his feet. He doesn’t even put on his clothes, the anger rushing through his veins too hot, making him unable to care about anything other than murder. He bolts out of his apartment, slamming the door shut behind him, and in a few quick steps he’s on the next floor, banging on the door of the apartment above his.
He can hear the moans die as if cut by a knife and a few moments later the door opens, and… okay, what the hell. Yoongi freezes with his hand still raised to knock, because the man in front of him is… wow.
He’s tall, with a soft looking, tanned skin and tousled hair that falls over his eyes. There are a few droplets of sweat slowly sliding down his collarbones and Yoongi can practically feel his mouth go dry. He opens and closes his mouth a few times, desperately trying not to let his eyes wander down, over the exposed skin of his chest and stomach, the very obvious bulge in his boxers (oh, Jesus Christ) and his muscular legs.
The man in front of him raises one eyebrow, sending Yoongi a grin that can only be described as cheeky.
“Can I help you?” he purrs (he fucking purrs, what the hell), his eyes glazing over Yoongi’s body and suddenly Yoongi wishes he took the time to put on at least pants.
“Yeah, uh, listen,” Yoongi stammers when he’s finally able to talk again. “I live downstairs and… dude.”
“It’s Kim Taehyung, actually,” the man says, extending his hand towards Yoongi. Yoongi looks at it, some part of his brain wondering if it’s a good idea to grab it when he’s pretty damn sure it was in places Yoongi doesn’t want to be touching even indirectly. But the rest of his brain screams at him to just get it over with, so he quickly shakes Taehyung’s hand and vows to disinfect his own later.
“Okay, Kim Taehyung. I’m super happy that you have an amazing sex life, good for you and all that, but… holy shit, can you maybe keep it down?”
“Why?” Taehyung asks, slightly tilting his head, and Yoongi spirals into an existential crisis.
“What do you mean why?”
“Yeah, I mean… do you have any idea how boring quiet sex is? Like, fine, gags are fun and all, but you need to switch it up once in awhile. And good luck with giving a blowjob while wearing a gag, am I right?”
Yoongi stares at Taehyung as if he’d just grown an extra head or as if he’d just shared a very intimate part of his life to a total stranger. One of those two.
“Um…” he says, just to say anything at all. “Okay. Okay. Okay.”
“Okay?” Taehyung echoes, the smirk on his lips frankly offensive. “What’s your name?”
“Min Yoongi?” the words come out more like a question than a statement, but at this point Yoongi isn’t exactly sure which way is up, not to even mention remembering his own name.
“So, Min Yoongi. I’m very sorry about the noise, we’ll try to keep it down, but you know, there’s one perfectly good way out of this.”
“Really?” Yoongi snaps his head up. “What’s that?”
Taehyung leans over, so close that Yoongi can feel his hot breath on his face.
“You could join us. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t complain then.”
Yoongi's heart does that weird thing where it drops and speeds up at the same time.
“What?” he breathes out, because surely he must had misheard.
“I said you could join us. I'm positive Jiminie wouldn't mind and we’d make sure you’d have absolutely nothing to complain about,” Taehyung purrs, taking a step towards Yoongi. He looks so much like a goddamn predator getting ready to make the kill that Yoongi's fight or flight response immediately kicks in. He spins on his heel, throwing a short “bye” over his shoulder before he almost breaks his neck trying to get into his apartment as fast as possible.
Needless to say, the noises from upstairs don't stop the entire night.
Needless to say, Yoongi had a really hard time trying not to imagine Kim Taehyung wearing a gag.
*
The next morning Yoongi gets awoken by the sound of his doorbell. It takes him a few moments to realize the best way of getting rid of that annoying sound is by opening the door, and when he does, he rolls out of his bed with a loud groan, pulling on his bathrobe and dragging his feet to the hall.
“Yeah?” he mumbles, swinging the door open.
He has to blink a few times to make sure he isn’t still asleep, because the man in front of him definitely looks like someone straight out of a dream. He has the fullest, most kissable lips Yoongi had ever seen on another human being, and his eyes are so damn pretty Yoongi might just start crying if he looks into them for too long.
“Hello?” he corrects himself, because being grumpy seems like a very wrong thing to do in front of a guy holding a basket full of something that looks like muffins.
“Um, hi,” the man lifts his free hand and wiggles the tips of his fingers at him. He must have immediately realized how awkward that looked, because his cheeks turn the prettiest shade of pink and Jesus Christ if Yoongi doesn't want to pinch them.
“My name is Park Jimin,” he says after clearing his throat. “And, um, I think you might've met my boyfriend last night.”
“Kim… Kim Taehyung?” Yoongi asks to make sure, because surely Jimin can't be one of the neighbors he wanted to murder a few hours earlier. “You’re Jiminie? You live upstairs?”
“I do, and… I'm really sorry, I had no idea we were that loud, this is terribly embarrassing,” Jimin groans in the direction of Yoongi’s feet. “I wanted to apologize, so I… uh, I baked these. For you.”
He holds out the basket with a tiny bow of his head. The basket is really full of the most mouth-watering muffins Yoongi had ever seen and it takes all his strength not to drool all over them. It also takes all of his strength to stop himself from imagining Jimin in bed. With Taehyung.
Oh no.
“Um, thank you, you really didn’t have to do that,” Yoongi says, taking the basket and feeling his stomach grumble when the sweet smell of cinnamon and vanilla hits his nose.
“I wanted to,” Jimin says, sending him a shy smile. “I hope you can forgive us.”
“Um, yeah, sure,” Yoongi says, because doing anything else seems like breaking all sorts of laws. “You’re very much forgiven.”
Jimin beams at him, his eyes turning into crescents, the blush on his cheeks getting even pinker.
“That’s great to hear! You can keep the basket, by the way. I have hundreds of them, being Taetae’s boyfriend means apologizing a lot, so…”
“That’s… understandable,” Yoongi nods, shuffling from one feet to another. He points toward the inside of his apartment with a sharp jerk of his head.
“You wanna come in? We can share the muffins?”
“Oh, that’s really nice of you, but I have to go get ready for work,” Jimin says, walking backwards to the stairs. “But… just one last thing…” he adds when he’s already at the bottom of the stairs.
“Yeah?”
“The offer still stands. You know, the one about joining us.”
And before Yoongi even has a chance to process his words, he turns around, disappearing upstairs, leaving Yoongi to stare after him with his mouth open.
What the hell.
*
“What the hell?” Hoseok groans, throwing his hands dramatically up in the air. “That’s like the most cliche beginning of a threesome porno if I’ve ever seen one. Or heard one, in this case.”
Yoongi shrugs, swishing the wine around in his glass, but Hoseok clearly isn’t done yet.
“Like, I cannot believe you still haven’t banged them, what the fuck is wrong with you?”
Yoongi almost chokes on his wine.
“Excuse me?”
“You said they were hot,” Hoseok points an accusatory finger at him.
“I never said that. Ever.”
“Okay, fine, I read it between the lines, but still. Are they hot?”
Yoongi takes a few moments to remember the way Taehyung looked like those three nights ago, all sweaty and bare-chested. Then he takes a few moments to remember the blush on Jimin’s face and his pretty, pink lips. Then he nods, feeling absolutely defeated.
“See!” Hoseok shrieks. “This is so fucking unfair, man, why aren’t my neighbors smoking hot and into threesomes? I swear to god, your ass doesn’t deserve this.”
“Shut up,” Yoongi grumbles, snatching the glass out of his hand. “I’m revoking your wine privileges until you stop yelling. What if they can hear you?”
“Well, in that case…” Hoseok curls his hands over his mouth, turning his face to the ceiling. “Please bang me, hot upstairs neighbors! I’m much better at it than Min Yoongi, I guarantee you! Also cuter! Much cuter!”
Yoongi closes his eyes, counting to five in his head and trying to remember what exactly made him choose Hoseok to be his best friend.
“You’re officially banned from this apartment until you stop being a dick,” he announces, standing up and dragging Hoseok to his feet. “Which is probably never, so good luck getting your stuff back.”
“Hey, I left my favorite t-shirt last time I stayed over, I want it back!” Hoseok says when Yoongi practically shoves him out of the door.
“Tough fucking luck,” Yoongi says, closing the door.
“My mom made that t-shirt, you know,” Hoseok pounds on the door, causing it to rattle in its frame. “With her own hands! She made it while she was pregnant with me, it’s basically an heirloom!”
“You stole it from Namjoon last Christmas, when he wasn’t looking.”
A few seconds of silence pass, and then:
“Good night Yoongi, I love you.”
“Yeah, love you too, see you tomorrow,” Yoongi sighs, creaking the door open and shoving Hoseok’s t-shirt into his grinning face.
He downs the rest of the wine, places the glasses in the sink and goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth. For some reason he feels more exhausted than ever. It probably has something to do with the fact that he hadn’t been getting enough sleep lately, so when he finally lies down, ready to pass the hell out, it’s only obvious that it’s like a sign for his neighbors to start going at it again.
“Are you fucking serious,” Yoongi hisses, staring at the ceiling with so much hatred he’s kind of surprised it doesn’t catch fire.
The worst part is, ever since he actually saw his neighbors, ignoring their moans seems harder than ever. He constantly finds himself wondering if that one particular whimper came out from between Jimin’s or Taehyung’s lips, if Taehyung is paying as much attention to Jimin’s thighs as they deserve (and frankly, they deserve a whole lot of attention), or what exactly could wipe the smirk off of Taehyung’s face (Yoongi’s bet is rimming. He doesn’t know why, but he has a hunch).
He hates it, because he’s not supposed to think those things about his goddamn neighbors, but it’s really difficult not to imagine them naked, pressed against each other, panting heavily into each other’s mouths as one of them fucks the other into oblivion.
God motherfucking damn it, Yoongi, get it together.
Before he has a chance to shove his hand down his pants or do something equally stupid, he reaches out for his headphones, but then he hears one word that makes him stop dead in his tracks.
“Ah, Yoongi.”
Jesus holy fucking Christ.
He did not just hear one of them moan out his name. No way. There’s no way Park Jimin (because by now Yoongi is pretty sure he can tell their voices apart and some part of him wants to fling himself into the sun over that fact) moaned out his name while getting-fucked-by-slash-fucking his boyfriend. Yoongi freezes with one of his hands hovering over his headphones, his heart beating so fast and hard it almost drowns out the sounds from upstairs. Almost.
“Fuck, Yoongi…”
And that’s definitely Kim Taehyung’s voice moaning Yoongi’s name. Holy fuck, his neighbors are thinking about him while having sex and that thought causes Yoongi’s boxers to get uncomfortably tight in a matter of seconds. His hand starts slowly sliding over his chest to the waistband of his pajama pants, but then he realizes they know he can hear them and it makes him sit up straight, his heart almost jumping out of his chest.
“Fuck, Yoongi, oh please, please...”
That’s the moment Yoongi loses the ability to think straight. He springs out of his bed, almost tripping over his own feet in his haste to get out of the apartment, barely able to lock the door behind him.
Before his self preservation instinct has a chance to kick in, he's already pounding on the door of Taehyung's and Jimin’s apartment.
“Y-Yoongi?”
When the door opens, Yoongi briefly wonders if this isn't some sort of a drug induced trip, but then he remembers he doesn't do drugs, so yes, it's really Taehyung and Jimin staring at him with their eyes hooded, their hair messy and plastered to their foreheads, both of them naked. Just very, really, completely naked.
“I-I heard you,” he blurts out and Taehyung sends him a wide smirk, propping his chin on Jimin’s shoulder.
“That was the plan, yeah.”
“So,” Jimin reaches back to run his fingers through Taehyung's hair, causing his eyes to flutter shut. “Does this mean you want to join in?”
“I… yes?” Yoongi offers weakly, because what the fuck, how is he supposed to keep up a conversation right now.
“Because we asked so nicely?” Taehyung adds and Jimin winks at him before looking back at Yoongi.
“What can I say, good manners turn me on,” Yoongi's mouth decides to say. Apparently it was the right thing, because Taehyung reaches out for him, pulling him into the apartment, while Jimin presses his body against his, his lips brushing against Yoongi's neck.
“I really hope that's not all that turns you on,” Taehyung murmurs, dragging his fingernails down Yoongi's back.
“That's,” Yoongi chokes out, biting back a moan. “That's worth checking out. Trying new things, yeah, sounds nice.”
“Good thing you live so close,” Jimin whispers against his ear. “We're going to have many opportunities to try new things, right?”
“Yeah,” Taehyung agrees and Yoongi tries not to let his eyes roll to the back of his head.
He had never suspected he’d be so glad his new neighbors were such a loud couple.