Archive of Our Own

The only reason Yoongi does what he does is because he’s exhausted and not thinking straight (not that he ever thinks straight, a voice very similar to his Jin-hyung’s says in Yoongi’s head, the squeaky laugh following). But anyway, they all are. Exhausted, that is.

They’ve had several concert days in a row, and the adrenaline high has worn off already. The seven of them are in Seokjin’s hotel room, as per usual, eating a celebratory meal for finishing this leg of the tour.

Yoongi’s eyes nearly don’t open back up when he blinks, but he forces himself to focus. The maknaes seem to be faring the worst of them all though, having expended so much energy to make the concert as entertaining as it could be.

Jimin has given up on eating himself and only opens his mouth for Seokjin to drop bites into it, and Taehyung has flopped himself on the table, eyes closed, chopsticks blindly searching for food. Yoongi takes pity on him and feeds him a bite, receiving a hum as thanks.

While Taehyung and Jimin are barely awake, Jungkook is already dead to the world. Seemingly having fallen asleep while chewing, he’s slumped in his chair, a piece of chicken hanging out of his mouth and lips glazed in sauce. It’s an adorable sight, and Yoongi’s lips twitch into a smile.

“The kid will choke,” he says, pointing his chopsticks towards Jungkook before feeding Taehyung again.

Hoseok hums in question, gaze going to their youngest. Then he’s sitting up straighter, tutting, and his chopsticks go to pull the chicken out of Jungkook’s mouth. Jungkook frowns and grunts as Hoseok tugs. His eyes blink open blearily, teeth chomping on the chicken wing. If he could, he’d probably growl.

Namjoon and Seokjin snort inelegantly. While Namjoon tries to hide his giggling behind a hand, Seokjin laughs loud and unabashed. The noise rouses the two other maknaes, and Taehyung and Jimin start choking down giggles at Hoseok fighting a half-asleep Jungkook for the chicken.

“This is a hazard, Jungkook-ah,” Hoseok scolds even as he’s grinning like the rest of them. “Eat then sleep.”

Jungkook relinquishes his hold on the wing, eyes closing again. He groans and curls into himself a little more. “I was dreaming that I was eating chicken,” he mumbles, licking his sauce glazed lips.

“Yeah, you’re done,” Seokjin announces, but he’s looking at their maknae with the same equally fond expression that the rest of them share.

“Help me get him to bed,” Seokjin says and tugs at Jimin’s sleeve.

“Me?” Jimin frowns, not moving a muscle.

“You’re, like, freakishly strong, Jimin-ah,” Taehyung comments, voice rough and gravelly from all the shouting on stage. Everyone hums in agreement. Despite his slighter frame, Jimin’s packing a lot of muscle and power.

Jimin purses those enticing plump lips, eyes narrowing at them. “Joon-hyung is definitely stronger and bigger than me,” he near accuses, pointing to Namjoon’s bulging biceps.

Namjoon’s eyes go wide, too innocent to be realistic. “This?” he asks, fingers wrapping around his own upper arm.

Yoongi can’t resist reaching out to do the same to Namjoon’s other arm. The flex beneath his palm has Yoongi humming in appreciation. Namjoon’s bicep is as big as Yoongi’s thigh probably, and that thought has heat rising to Yoongi’s cheeks.

“I couldn’t carry Jungkookie if I tried. This is all for show, baby,” Namjoon tells Jimin.

Yoongi very much disagrees; the muscle feels like corded steel under his palm. But Yoongi is eager to see Jimin struggle the tiniest bit under Jungkook’s big muscular frame so he stays silent. It’s always a sight to see their leanest maknae manhandling their bigger one.

Yeah, none of Yoongi’s thoughts are straight when it comes to his members. Luckily, he’s learned to live with it and mask it under a disinterested facade.

“Lazy bastard,” Jimin mumbles with a frown, and the whole table erupts into protest as Namjoon chuckles to himself, frame shaking.

“Yah, respect your hyung,” Yoongi shouts through a smile, throwing a napkin at Jimin, who avoids it easily by nearly sliding off his chair.

“That is seriously too much. How can you say that,” Hoseok scolds loudly.

“And you tell me to show hyungs respect,” Taehyung adds on.

Taehyung reaches over the table to pinch Jimin’s cheek as Seokjin tickles him relentlessly. Jimin is bright red from Seokjin’s attack, tears tracking down his cheeks as he laughs and laughs.

Jungkook has now been startled awake once again. To his credit, he doesn’t seem too fazed about the chaos happening around him, only motions for Yoongi to pass him more chicken. Yoongi does so and then leans back in his chair, arms crossed and a smile on his face.

The soft fluttery feeling in his chest intensifies tenfold as he watches his members tease each other, playing around as they usually do. There’s nothing quite like being surrounded by the people he loves most, and Yoongi relishes the feeling as much as he can.

He might be delirious from exhaustion but he thinks not even a stadium full of thousands of people shouting his name and enjoying his music can compare to these six men just existing. Yoongi’s heart is fit to bursting just by looking at them.

“Hyung,” Namjoon suddenly taps Yoongi on the shoulder, and Yoongi quickly tamps down the love-sick smile on his face in case Namjoon notices it.

“Hm?” Yoongi hums in question, turning more towards him.

Namjoon taps a finger to the corner of his mouth. “Here, hyung,” he says.

Yoongi blinks, confused for a moment. So out of the blue? Was Yoongi not good enough at hiding the hearts in his eyes he gets for each of them?

Then he thinks, fuck it. If Namjoon is asking for it so openly then why not? And it’s not like Yoongi could ever refuse a request from any of his members anyway.

So Yoongi leans in and presses his lips to the corner of Namjoon’s mouth in a chaste kiss. It’s nothing spectacular, just a warm comforting pressure. And yet, it’s like a swarm of bees gets loose under Yoongi’s skin, buzzing excitedly.

Namjoon, however, freezes, and the whole table suddenly turns dead silent.

Slowly, Yoongi pulls away from Namjoon and glances around to see the varying degrees of shock and amusement on his members’ faces. Namjoon, in particular, looks the most surprised of all. This time his wide-eyed expression is definitely genuine. As is the flush on his cheeks.

“Oh, um,” Namjoon chuckles awkwardly. He’s not meeting Yoongi’s eyes. Not that Yoongi is brave enough to meet anyone’s gazes either. “I meant you have sauce there,” he mumbles the explanation.

Yoongi nods to himself. Yeah, that makes more sense than Namjoon asking for a kiss. Especially in front of everyone else.

Yoongi wipes at the corner of his mouth with his sleeve.

“Well, you could’ve made that a little more obvious,” he says even if it’s not fair; the fault is definitely all his. But his cheeks are burning hotter than they ever have, and the stares of his members prickle like needles down his whole body.

Jungkook and Hoseok are staring at him with twin expressions of wide open mouths. Any sleepiness Jungkook must have felt has truly left him, his big eyes bouncing between Yoongi and Namjoon. It’s also concerning to not see the usual upturn to Hoseok’s mouth, the shock having overtaken his face.

“Why would you even assume—” Seokjin starts, and Yoongi glances up at his only hyung, sure to see disappointment at least if not straight up disgust on his handsome features, but Seokjin only looks confused, eyebrows furrowed and head cocked to the side.

“Wait,” Taehyung interrupts and bangs a hand on the table, making near everyone jump. Yoongi’s heart definitely speeds up at the fierce expression on his face. “You’re telling me this was an option all along?” The sheer indignation in his voice surprises Yoongi.

“Hyung, Yoongi-hyung,” Jimin calls from the other side of the table. His plump lips are pursed into a beak and he taps his finger insistently on them.

Yoongi snorts and rolls his eyes. Alright, he gets it. It was a stupid assumption, and he deserves all the teasing. Doesn’t mean that his heart aches any less.

“I’m calling it a night,” Yoongi declares despite Jimin’s cute whining at being ignored.

He stands up and hovers his hand awkwardly over Namjoon’s shoulder before deciding touching might make Namjoon uncomfortable right now. So he stuffs his hand in his pocket.

“Sorry, Joon-ah,” he mumbles instead, hiding beneath his bangs.

Namjoon opens his mouth, but Yoongi turns and decisively strides out of Seokjin’s room, not even waiting to listen to whatever Namjoon was going to respond with.

Sleep doesn’t find Yoongi easily that night. But there’s been plenty of awkward moments between them seven since they live together and all. Yoongi’s pretty sure all this will be forgotten in a couple of days.

🖤🖤🖤🐈‍⬛🖤🖤🖤

Yoongi thinks he’s gotten away scot-free when it’s been days, they’ve traveled back home for the last of the concerts, and no one’s mentioned his little delirious mistake.

He should’ve known better.

They’re at rehearsal, and the summer heat is unbearable. Yoongi sits in the shade, barely alive, and cannot understand how Taehyung, Jimin, and Jungkook can run around the stage full of energy.

“The little demons are planning something,” Seokjin comments from where he sits on Yoongi’s right. They’re all waiting on the sidelines, watching their three youngest whisper and giggle among themselves.

Yoongi hums. The maknaes have been acting strange all day: furtive glances thrown around, whispered conversations that abruptly stop when someone comes close, texting each other when they’re in the same room—the works.

“Who do you think is going down?” Yoongi wonders, watching Jimin whisper something furiously to Jungkook, Taehyung nodding along with his big puppy eyes. Clearly both of them are trying to convince their innocent youngest of something.

Namjoon, on Seokjin’s other side in their little semicircle, sighs and ruffles his hair. “Some rando? Us four? The whole world? You never know with those three.”

He sounds weary and old, and it nearly makes Yoongi snort. As if Namjoon himself isn’t only a year older than Jimin and Taehyung. Yoongi would definitely baby him more, like everyone does with the maknaes, but he’s not sure Namjoon’s pride would survive that.

“Maknae world domination,” Hoseok mumbles from Yoongi’s left with dread in his voice. He shakes himself off dramatically. Now Yoongi does snort, and Hoseok returns his smile with a bonus wink, making Yoongi a little shy at the flirtation and so he turns his head away to hide.

“I, for one, would welcome our new world leaders,” Seokjin declares, leaning back on his hands, casual as can be.

“You, hyung? Seriously?” Namjoon asks with a heavy dose of disbelief which in Yoongi’s opinion is very valid.

Seokjin glares at Namjoon. “What? I could!” he protests.

“You’d karate chop Jungkook’s neck on day one and be sent to the gallows,” Yoongi comments and receives a slap to the thigh for his words. Seokjin’s hand lingers a little longer than it should, warm and comforting. Or maybe Yoongi’s projecting again.

“Yah,” Seokjin’s indignant voice gets Yoongi back to reality, “as if you wouldn’t talk back at Jimin and end up on death row right beside me.”

Yoongi has to huff a laugh because his hyung is right; Jimin brings out the brat in Yoongi.

Hoseok nods seriously at Seokjin’s words. “The only one we can trust is Taehyungie.”

“He would be a benevolent tyrant and spare his poor old hyungs,” Namjoon says in agreement, and then the four of them share looks and burst out laughing.

“What’s so funny?” Jimin asks, pretty lips turned up at the corners just from seeing his hyungs laugh. He’s got a hold on Taehyung and Jungkook, who are standing either side of him.

“Out of four of us,” Seokjin motions to them, “who would you like to rule the world?”

The three maknaes blink at them and say in eerie unison, “Hobi-hyung.”

Hoseok immediately goes into a laughing fit, falling into Yoongi’s side. Yoongi grins, wide and gummy, always happy when his members are happy, and wraps an arm around Hoseok.

“Yah!” Seokjin exclaims, offended, a deep furrow between his eyebrows. Since he’s sitting on the ground, he kicks out, trying to hit the closest, Taehyung, in the shin. But Taehyung laughs loudly and dances away to hide behind Jimin, who puffs his chest out and stands taller to protect his soulmate.

Namjoon pats Seokjin’s shoulder. “We all know Hobi is their favorite, don’t take it personally.”

Jungkook makes a wounded sort of noise, big eyes dancing from hyung to hyung. “That’s not true. All hyungs are my favorite.”

“That defeats the purpose of having a favorite. If we’re all your favorite, then no one really is,” Yoongi comments just to see Jungkook scrunch his nose in adorable annoyance. He sticks his tongue out at Yoongi, making him huff in amusement.

“So you have a favorite out of us?” Jimin asks, cocking a hip and raising an eyebrow.

“Obviously,” Yoongi says seriously and squeezes around Hoseok’s shoulders, glancing over at him.

“Ah, hyung,” Hoseok mumbles with a chuckle, and Yoongi extremely enjoys the blush that rises to Hoseok’s cheeks, making him look even cuter if that’s possible.

Their banter is interrupted by an announcement that the sound check is done and they’re free to go. Jungkook goes to pull Seokjin up off the ground, the two ending up smacking at each other while grinning wildly. Jimin targets Namjoon, and Taehyung wiggles his fingers at Yoongi and Hoseok.

Once they’re on their feet, Taehyung backhugs Yoongi, making them waddle towards the stairs off the stage.

“But, seriously, I’m your favorite, right?” Taehyung asks, deep voice so close to Yoongi’s ear, sending a shiver down his spine.

“Of course, Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi answers immediately. He glances sideways to Hoseok, who grins wider as his pinky reaches to hook with Yoongi’s.

They reach the green room where lunch is waiting for them. Yoongi sits down and grabs a pair of chopsticks. He looks around when the usual chaos around food doesn’t erupt and finds that the terrible trio are whispering by the door again.

Seokjin leans in to grab a container of food, eyeing the maknaes too. “I think the plan is a go,” he mumbles.

Yoongi watches with endeared amusement as Taehyung and Jimin push and prod at Jungkook, who is turning steadily more red.

“You know you want to,” Taehyung hisses, pinching Jungkook and making him jump.

Jimin is grinning like the cat that ate the canary in the background as Jungkook makes his way around the couch. The room is awkwardly silent, all eyes on Jungkook, who perches on the cushion next to Yoongi.

“Hi,” Jungkook mumbles, shy for some reason.

Yoongi lifts an eyebrow, a smile tugging on his lips. “Hi. Do you need something, Jungkook-ah?”

Jungkook gulps. His big beautiful eyes go to Taehyung and Jimin, and Yoongi glances at them too to see the soulmate duo nodding eagerly, mischievous smiles on their faces. Yoongi rolls his eyes.

“You do not have to do anything those demons suggested,” Yoongi tells Jungkook. He knows their maknae is aware of that, that he wouldn’t just blindly follow whatever Jimin and Taehyung want, but it never hurts to remind him of that.

“I know, I know,” Jungkook bobs his head quickly several times, wiping his palms on his sweatpants.

Yoongi has no idea what the trio could’ve come up with to make Jungkook so nervous. It clearly has something to do with Yoongi, and he’d never want to be the cause of anxiety for Jungkook. So he reaches out a hand to take Jungkook’s and squeezes it comfortingly. He tries for a smile too, and Jungkook seems to relax considerably.

The swipe of Jungkook’s tongue over his bottom lip distracts Yoongi for a moment. Their maknae seems to steel himself and then lifts his free hand to tap a finger over his lips.

“Here, hyung,” he near whispers, a curl of a smile to the corner of his mouth.

Yoongi freezes.

That’s what the terrible trio have been planning? To tease Yoongi some more over his delirious mistake? Truly, Yoongi was too optimistic thinking his members would let him live it down. But if you can’t fight them, join them, right?

His heart shakes the slightest bit when Yoongi reaches to take Jungkook’s chin between his fingers. Jungkook’s eyes widen, breath hitching, like he didn’t really expect Yoongi to play along. Yoongi would love for this to mean the same thing to Jungkook as it means to him, though. Not a game, but something more.

As it is, Yoongi tilts Jungkook’s head up a bit and leans in to press his lips over the mole under Jungkook’s bottom lip. There’s a sharp intake of breath from Seokjin—Yoongi would know, he can discern his members from their breathing, that’s been established.

Jungkook’s hand, the one still in Yoongi’s hold, twitches. For a brief delirious moment Yoongi thinks Jungkook will tilt his head down and capture Yoongi’s lips with his own. But Jungkook stays unmoving, only his petal lips pout the slightest bit so his bottom one brushes Yoongi’s top one for the briefest of seconds.

The urge to press in harder and give Jungkook a real kiss thrums under Yoongi’s skin, insistent and harder to ignore than usual. So Yoongi pulls away quickly.

Jungkook has those dark galaxies swimming in his eyes, mouth parted as he stares at Yoongi. Yoongi only cracks a smile at Jungkook’s lost-for-words expression.

Yoongi’s own cheeks are burning, but he ignores it, plays it as casual as he can, tickling Jungkook under the chin to have him giggling and curling into himself shyly.

Yoongi pretends he doesn’t see Hoseok’s calculating look, so intense as if Yoongi messed up a move on stage, or the way Namjoon’s gaze has gone far away, lost in thought, or how Seokjin glances from Jungkook to Yoongi, expression betraying nothing, but the puzzle pieces are probably slotting in his brain.

“How’d you make him do it?” Yoongi asks, trying for nonchalant as he finally unwraps the pair of chopsticks that have been in his other hand this whole time. He glances over to Jimin and Taehyung.

Taehyung is the one to move forward, following the same path around the couch as Jungkook.

“We played rock-paper-scissors for it,” he says and settles on Jungkook’s lap. Jungkook’s arms go around him immediately, his head turning to sniff at Taehyung’s hair.

Yoongi nods in respect of the ancient way of settling any bet or argument.

“And Jungkookie lost?” he wonders, lifting his eyebrows up in question as he looks back at Jungkook.

“What?” Jungkook frowns as if offended. “No, I won.”

Yoongi cocks his head in confusion. Teasing him was the prize?

“And I came in second,” Taehyung lifts his hand, big boxy smile on his face. He wiggles his eyebrows at Yoongi and then taps his finger in the middle of his pouted lips, mumbling, “Hyung.”

Yoongi just looks at Taehyung—gorgeous, lovely, stunning Taehyung—for a second, wondering if it’s worth going along with the maknaes’ game, or if it will hurt him more in the end. Of course, as with everything that’s to do with the six of them, Yoongi folds like a wet paper towel within seconds.

So he takes Taehyung’s chin, just like he did for Jungkook, but he tilts Taehyung’s head to the side slightly. His lips brush over Taehyung’s cheek whisper-soft before pressing slightly harder against it.

Yoongi holds it for a few seconds, feeling the warmth of Taehyung’s blush on his lips. Taehyung himself is perfectly still, seemingly not even breathing. The fact that Jungkook is right there, watching everything up close, has Yoongi’s heart speeding up, and goosebumps breaking across his skin.

When Yoongi pulls back, Taehyung’s lashes flutter, eyes cast down shyly over a simple peck. There’s a lump in Yoongi’s own throat that he tries to gulp down unsuccessfully.

Yoongi swipes his thumb over Taehyung’s cheek for good measure, and Taehyung turns back to him. His grin is at full force, happier than Yoongi’s ever seen him. It makes Yoongi chuckle and pinch Taehyung’s cheek. The answering giggle he gets in response makes Yoongi’s heart feel like it has wings.

“Alright, I guess it’s your turn, Jimin-ah?” Yoongi asks, diverting his attention to Jimin.

Jimin is quick to skip over to them and pile on top of Taehyung, making Jungkook groan, squished under two people, and mumble, “Aish, Jimin-ssi.”

Not wasting time, Yoongi reaches for Jimin, but his hand gets slapped away by Taehyung, startling both Yoongi and Jimin.

“He’s gotta do the thing, hyung,” Taehyung scolds.

Yoongi laughs because this situation is more than a bit ridiculous. He can’t imagine how Seokjin, Hoseok, and Namjoon are just watching silently and have not fallen into a fit of hysterical laughter.

Jimin’s earlier bravado is nowhere to be found, face flushed already and eyes barely meeting Yoongi’s. He does do “the thing” as Taehyung instructed, though.

“Hyung,” Jimin near whispers, pointer finger tapping on his plump bottom lip.

As if a trained dog responding to a command, Yoongi cups Jimin’s cheek and leans in. His lips nearly brush Jimin’s, and a shuddery breath leaves Jimin’s mouth. But Yoongi only smirks—he can play games too—and stands up so he could reach Jimin’s forehead.

Yoongi closes his eyes as his lips make contact with Jimin’s skin that’s been warmed by the sun. He tries to pour all his love for the beautiful, talented, and kind soul that Jimin is into that one simple peck.

It lasts barely a couple of seconds. Yoongi’s too aware of his awkward position, of Taehyung and Jungkook so close by, of Namjoon, Seokjin, and Hoseok watching from the other couch. He’d love nothing more than to dip down, show Jimin his real feelings by kissing those tempting plump lips like they deserve. But that’s not the game.

So Yoongi pulls away for the third time from a person he loves so dearly and sits back down as if nothing happened. As if it’s normal for Yoongi of all the members to go around kissing the others. As if a million hummingbirds aren’t beating their wild wings against his ribcage.

Jimin’s eyes meet Yoongi’s, full of wonder for some reason. And then he’s giggling, curling into Taehyung. Taehyung and Jungkook start laughing too. The three of them fall into a pile of limbs on the couch, shaking and gasping for breath in their amusement.

Yoongi snorts at them. His lips, tingling from all the sweet innocent kisses, pull up into an endeared smile because he can’t help himself; their maknaes are the cutest in the industry, Yoongi’s sure of it.

Yoongi pokes his chopsticks at the little demon pile. “Done?” he asks and quickly receives nods from all three of them, huge smiles on their faces. “Okay, let’s eat. Finally,” he mumbles.

As Yoongi reaches for a container of food, he glances at the other couch. Namjoon avoids his gaze completely, stuffing a mouthful of just plain rice into his mouth and humming as if it’s the best thing he’s had.

“How’s that rice treating you, Joon-ah?” Seokjin teases from beside him, nudging his shoulder into Namjoon’s.

“It’s good,” Namjoon chokes out and starts coughing violently.

Hoseok snorts and grabs a bottle of water to pass to Namjoon. No one else comments on the game the maknaes started but the looks thrown around during the whole meal unnerve Yoongi slightly.

It’s not that he thinks Hoseok or Seokjin, or even Namjoon, will scold him for indulging the terrible trio, they’re adults and it’s a harmless game, but he wouldn’t want them to be uncomfortable with it.

The looks from his fellow hyungs aren’t that, though. They’re more calculating and contemplative. Which is what unnerves Yoongi the most. He can handle the maknaes no problem, but if the others join in on the game, Yoongi’s not so sure how he’ll survive.

🖤🖤🖤🐈‍⬛🖤🖤🖤

As is usual, Yoongi is minding his business, sitting quietly and replying to emails on his phone while he waits for his turn in the make-up chair. They’re doing an interview marathon with several foreign journalists, and Yoongi is mentally planning how he can treat Namjoon to a nice dinner for all the trouble he’s going to go through today.

As is also usual, the maknaes are minding Yoongi’s business as well.

The three chaos gremlins (who Yoongi loves with his whole heart in every way imaginable, but sometimes he just needs five minutes alone) trap Yoongi on the couch without any possible escape routes. Jungkook and Taehyung squeeze either side of Yoongi, and Jimin, as their leader and chaos personified, sits on the low table facing him.

There’s smiles, adorable and yet mischievous, on all three of their faces, and Yoongi braces himself for being manipulated into doing something. Not that he wouldn’t do anything for them if they just asked, but he thinks the terror trio likes playing mind games too much.

“What,” Yoongi not so much asks as sighs when he lifts his eyes from his phone to look at them.

“The hyungs are planning something,” Jimin whispers like a secret as his two devoted followers nod along.

Yoongi’s eyebrows scrunch in confusion at the disorienting feeling of deja vu clouding his brain for a second. “What do you mean?” he asks.

He glances over to where Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin are in the make-up chairs. Namjoon, of course, has a book in hand while the make-up artist and hair stylist try to work without disturbing his reading time too much. Hoseok is chatting with his artist, smile big and laughter ringing out while the artist giggles behind her hand. And Seokjin is conked out in his chair, his head being held up by an assistant so the make-up artist can do her job.

Yoongi snorts and looks back at the maknaes. “Yeah, they’re really busy making evil plans of music industry domination.”

Taehyung rolls his eyes and smacks Yoongi’s thigh. His hand stays there, kneading the muscle, pinky way too close to Yoongi’s crotch, even when Yoongi gives him a side eye that Taehyung dutifully ignores.

“Not right now,” Taehyung says, tone sounding very much like he thinks Yoongi’s purposely being an idiot. “In general.”

“They’ve been acting strange the last few days,” Jungkook adds. He is gentler with his affection to Yoongi. Only presses their thighs together, plays with the zipper on Yoongi’s hoodie.

“Strange how?” Yoongi questions.

He hasn’t noticed anything. Though he has been pretty occupied with the new game the little demons are obsessed with—namely, pouting at Yoongi and trying to make him kiss them on the lips.

Yoongi can guess there’s a bet going on and whoever gets him to break first will win. He’s trying not to make it easy for them, but their tactics are getting better and better. Not to mention that he just really wants to kiss all of them.

Taehyung has trapped Yoongi on more than one occasion. His arms would wrap around Yoongi at the most random of times, low timbre whispering a hyung in Yoongi’s ear and raising goosebumps on his skin.

“Taehyung-ah,” Yoongi would answer, a bit more breathless than intended, but sue him, Taehyung is one of those people that simply takes your breath away. And from this close? With his arms around Yoongi’s waist? Yeah, Yoongi is lucky he’s still functioning.

Taehyung would lean their foreheads together, fingers digging into Yoongi’s waist, tongue swiping over his own lips.

“Yoongi-hyung,” Taehyung would whisper, almost whine, with more desperation.

That tone—as if Taehyung wants this as much as Yoongi does and for all the same reasons Yoongi does, as if it’s not just a game to him—it would have Yoongi almost giving in.

But Yoongi would remain strong even in the face of Taehyung’s most potent puppy eyes and pout, would just peck his cheek, or the corner of his mouth, or his nose, and would make a hasty escape, cheeks burning.

Jimin has been the least subtle so far. On one occasion, when the seven of them were in the practice room, he hugged Yoongi from behind, nuzzled at his neck, and demanded, “Hyung, kiss me.”

Yoongi could only laugh at the boldness while Taehyung and Jungkook started protesting loudly that it’s against the rules. They dragged Jimin away from Yoongi even as Jimin flailed and begged for help.

In another instance, when it was just the two of them in the dorm watching a movie on the couch, Jimin laid himself on Yoongi’s lap, looked at him with those beautiful dark eyes, pushed his tantalizing plump lips together, and mumbled, “Hyung, please.”

Yoongi traced Jimin’s cheek with a single finger, leaned down closer, and heard how Jimin’s breath hitched. Jimin’s hand fisted in Yoongi’s shirt, eyes fluttered closed in anticipation. So Yoongi pressed his lips to Jimin’s forehead, soft and lingering.

And then he pushed Jimin off his lap and onto the floor.

“You’re making me miss the movie, Jimin-ah,” Yoongi grumbled. Though his own heart was beating an unsteady rhythm in his chest. So close to what he dreamed of but yet so far.

From off the floor, Jimin glared at him, pinched Yoongi’s shin in retaliation, making him yelp and glare right back. But then Jimin scrambled back on the couch and cuddled up to him so they could continue watching the movie together.

Out of the three devils, Jungkook was the one to plan his attacks with precision. Just this morning he nearly got Yoongi.

Yoongi was too sleepy, walked into the kitchen with his eyes barely open, and their devious maknae (who was way too chipper for 7 am, which told Yoongi that he probably didn’t even go to bed) jumped Yoongi immediately.

His hands cupped Yoongi’s cheeks, rosy petal lips formed the one word they’ve been using all this time to signal what they want.

“Hyung,” Jungkook breathed out, leaning down the tiniest bit because of their height difference. His nose brushed Yoongi’s, lips millimeters away from his as he waited for Yoongi to close the gap.

And Yoongi nearly gave in. All his offline brain could offer was: Jungkook, cute, kiss. Not even a sentence, just a string of words.

(Un)luckily, Yoongi regained his bearings, pecked the corner of Jungkook’s mouth, and mumbled a good morning before slipping out of his gentle hold.

Jungkook scowled at him all through breakfast, sulking. Yoongi couldn’t hide his smile, finding their sullen maknae absolutely adorable.

But anyway, the point is that Yoongi’s been fending off the three fiends for the last week or so and hasn’t had time to notice anything strange about the behavior of his fellow hyungs.

“They’ve been having secret meetings in Hobi-hyung’s studio,” Jimin whispers, leaning in closer. His gaze is so intense, the one he usually reserves for on-stage performances to add more drama.

“And all of them have been returning home late,” Jungkook continues, eyebrows pinched in a serious manner. “Together,” he says after a dramatic pause, eyes growing big. He should really stop hanging out with Taehyung and Seokjin so much; they’re corrupting him with their penchant for unnecessary dramatic flair.

“They also had a few meetings with the company without us,” Taehyung adds on.

Yoongi tries to stir up at least a grain of suspicion at the described behavior. If they were any other group, Yoongi might think Seokjin, Hoseok, and Namjoon are negotiating some kind of deal with the company that doesn’t involve the other four. Maybe thinking of splitting up, starting their own band, or something equally ridiculous.

But they’re his members, and Yoongi knows them well. The people he loves, and who he subsequently fell in love with, wouldn’t go behind their backs like that. So it’s nothing more than piqued curiosity that Yoongi’s feeling.

He hums as he considers the information. “What do you think it’s about?”

Jimin gives him a look of disdain, the one that he reserves for dense people.

“That’s why we’re talking to you about it,” he says. “So you would figure it out and tell us.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes into slits. “How am I meant to figure it out if you three can’t?” The implication is clear: if the scheming scoundrels haven’t gotten anywhere, then Yoongi has no hope at all.

Taehyung rolls his pretty eyes and his fingers dig deeper into Yoongi’s thigh. Yoongi nearly forgot about the devious ways of his warm hand sliding to the inside of Yoongi’s thigh like it belongs there. Maybe they should really talk about boundaries at the next group meeting.

“Because you’re a hyung,” Taehyung tells him as if that makes any sense as an explanation.

“You’re a hyung too. You’re literally Jungkookie’s hyung,” Yoongi says, puzzled.

Jungkook snorts into his palm, trying to laugh quietly but a witchy cackle leaves him anyway. Jimin smacks Jungkook’s thigh and tells him to keep it together, even as his own plump lips twitch with amusement, eyes endeared as he looks at Jungkook.

Taehyung sighs, put upon and dramatic. “You’re one of the hyungs,” he explains. “You can infiltrate them without causing suspicion.”

Jimin nods eagerly in approval. “Yeah, you’re our inside man.”

Yoongi blinks at them. “Hmm, I’ll pass,” he tells them.

He’s got too many emails and deadlines to worry about instead of getting involved in espionage of his own members. When the time comes, he’s sure Seokjin, Hoseok, and Namjoon will share with them whatever it is they’re hiding.

Taehyung and Jimin share frowny looks. Then Jimin’s eyes land on Yoongi.

“You leave us no choice, hyung,” he says menacingly, and even if Yoongi knows he’s joking, his heart does speed up a little at the tone.

Taehyung leans forward to look at Jungkook without Yoongi in the way. “You’re up, baby,” he declares with such seriousness that it makes Yoongi huff a laugh.

All his laughter ceases though when Jungkook cups Yoongi’s cheeks and turns his head to face him. Jungkook’s doe eyes seem especially big and sparkly. He pushes his extra rosy lips (did the make-up artists put lipstick on him?) into a pout, strokes his thumbs over Yoongi’s cheeks, and Yoongi’s breath hitches.

“Please, hyungie? Please help us with this. It’s very important to us,” Jungkook says, voice so soft and sweet, his lisp making an appearance.

Yoongi is but a weak, whipped man with a marshmallow for a heart. He melts in the face of Jungkook’s fluttering lashes and enticing voice.

“Okay,” he mumbles, mind stuck on Jungkook. “Okay, hyung will help.”

The scrunchy bunny smile that Jungkook gifts him is totally worth it. As is Taehyung’s bright boxy one, and Jimin’s cheek-bunching, eye-crescenting one. Universe help him, but Yoongi is disgustingly spineless when it comes to them.

🖤🖤🖤🐈‍⬛🖤🖤🖤

Standing before Hoseok’s studio door, Yoongi takes a deep breath and knocks. The mischief maknaes have convinced him to “casually” drop by Hoseok’s studio when Hoseok, Namjoon, and Seokjin are there to “work on some music”. Yoongi’s supposed to gain their trust and learn their secrets so he could relay what happens behind those doors to the terrible trio.

Yoongi’s palms are sweaty, breathing shallow. He’s so not made for spy work, he thinks.

The door cracks open a bit, and Yoongi sees half of Hoseok’s face. A smile, not the usual happy heart-shaped one, but something a little sharper and more wicked, graces Hoseok’s beautiful features. It has Yoongi’s heart tripping over itself. The door opens wider, and Hoseok leans casually on the frame of it.

“Hey, hyung,” he near purrs, eyes running down Yoongi’s body in such a way that Yoongi’s never witnessed from him.

“Uh, hi?” Yoongi mumbles, brain a little stuck on the lithe line of Hoseok’s body.

Hoseok chuckles, something deep and dark, very much not something Yoongi is used to. “Just came to say hello?” he asks and cocks his head to the side.

There’s no real reason for it, but Yoongi’s insides feel all wobbly and fluttery. Being the sole recipient of Jung Hoseok’s attention never failed to make Yoongi a little shy, but Hoseok has turned it up quite a few notches. Yoongi doesn’t know what to do with that tone of voice and gaze directed at him.

“No, I, um,” Yoongi stutters, fiddling with his fingers.

Fuck, why is this so difficult? He has hung out with Hoseok billions of times during their years together. They live under the same roof for fuck’s sake. So why does a little intense eye contact and a flirtier tone affect him so much?

“Stop teasing him, Hoba,” Namjoon scolds lightly as he appears behind Hoseok. His broader frame fills the doorway, and his hand lands on Hoseok’s hip in an almost possessive way. Yoongi has to swallow down any and all thoughts that particular image stirs up.

“Wanna come in, hyung?” Namjoon asks, that sweet boyish grin on his lips, dimples popping.

“Yeah, uh, thanks,” Yoongi mumbles.

He steps forward to enter the studio, expecting Namjoon and Hoseok to move away to give him room. They do not.

Yoongi has to face Namjoon’s muscular chest, cheek almost grazing those sculpted pecs. His back is to Hoseok, ass brushing his crotch as Yoongi squeezes in between them. What the fuck is going on, Yoongi thinks, cheeks ablaze when Namjoon and Hoseok only grin after him sharply.

“Yoongichi,” Seokjin greets him with a dazzling smile. He sits on Hoseok’s couch like he owns it: legs spread, arm leisurely thrown on the backrest, relaxed and nonchalant.

“Hyung,” Yoongi says slowly. He narrows his eyes at Seokjin. Something is definitely up. Yoongi has the distinct feeling that the devil trio set him up.

“Come sit next to hyung, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin invites, patting the cushion beside himself. The curve of his plump lips is positively wicked.

Yoongi approaches slowly. The hairs on the back of his neck stand on end when, silently, Hoseok and Namjoon follow after him. He feels a little like a helpless lamb being stalked by hungry wolves.

Just like a couple days ago in the green room, Yoongi is once again trapped between three of his members, though this time he feels a lot less in control than he did with their maknaes.

“So what brings you here, hyung?” Hoseok asks, maintaining that flirty tone. He sits in front of Yoongi on the low table, fingers brushing the skin peeking through the rips on the knees of Yoongi’s jeans.

Yoongi clears his throat. It doesn’t help that Namjoon with his unfairly large biceps and chiseled chest sits so close, facing Yoongi, his delicious cologne invading Yoongi’s nose.

“Heard you guys were working on some music,” Yoongi shrugs a shoulder, trying to exude his patented unbothered nature. “Thought maybe you’d like some help from the company’s best producer.”

Seokjin’s pretty crooked fingers reach out to brush Yoongi’s hair behind his ear. It makes Yoongi flinch, on alert as he is. Seokjin seems to find it amusing as he squeaks a laugh.

“We are working on something that we could use your help with,” Seokjin confirms. Yoongi gets lost for a second in the way his enticing pillowy lips form the syllables.

“What—” Yoongi swallows hard, “what do you need my help with?”

Eyes stuck on Seokjin’s lips, Yoongi sees perfectly well as they lift up at the corner for a cocky little smirk.

“Nothing big. Just—here, Yoongi-yah.” Seokjin taps his pointer finger in the center of his lips, and they give deliciously under the little bit of pressure.

Yoongi was damn right. The rogue rascals have been helping Namjoon, Hoseok, and Seokjin the whole time. They’ve lured him into a trap by using the deadliest weapon their group possesses—Jungkook’s sweet round bambi eyes. And Yoongi fell for it like some chump.

However, seeing Seokjin’s pillowy lips so close, so alluring, so soft looking, so shiny (he loses his train of thought for a second thinking about how Seokjin might have purposely put on gloss to lure him in), and with Yoongi, admittedly, being very not straight and weak, there’s only one outcome.

“I can help with that,” Yoongi nods, almost too eager, and the wicked tilt of Seokjin’s lips sharpens.

The mayhem maknaes are one thing, Yoongi can handle them, but leaning in close to Seokjin, Yoongi’s own only hyung in the group, his heart starts protesting with uneven battering against his ribcage. Despite the anxiety consuming him whole, Yoongi forges on.

He puts a careful hand on Seokjin’s cheek, thumb so gentle as it strokes over the smooth skin there. By god, Seokjin is so handsome. Yoongi knows that, of course, but seeing it from so intimately close that they can share breath is a different kind of experience.

Seokjin is stock still. Frozen. Beautiful like a marble statue of a Greek god. The anticipation seems to have affected him too if the shudder that runs through him and the sharp inhale he takes is any indication.

Closing his eyes, Yoongi lets their lips brush in the barest of touches. There’s a second of bliss as he feels Seokjin’s warmth, the incredible softness of his lips. But because Seokjin is his only hyung, Yoongi can’t resist being a little bit of a brat.

The brush is just that. The tiniest of touches. And then Yoongi presses his fingers harder into Seokjin’s jaw and turns his head to plant an equally tiny peck to his pink cheek.

Yoongi’s pretty sure his burning face matches Seokjin’s, but the grin on his own lips is the direct opposite of the shocked open-mouthed expression Seokjin wears. He looks almost insulted that his carefully crafted seducing didn’t work as planned.

“Hope that helps,” Yoongi rasps out, voice gone low and gritty for some reason.

Seokjin’s expression darkens. He licks his plump lips as his eyes narrow at Yoongi with intent.

“Not as helpful as I’d hoped,” he mutters.

Hoseok’s snickering that turns into booming laughter at Seokjin’s words breaks the tension between them. Yoongi leans back, rather proud of himself for winning another round of the game now that the difficulty level has been turned up.

Feeling a lot bolder all of a sudden, Yoongi winks at Hoseok. “You need help too, Hoba?” he asks.

Hoseok leans back on the low table, showing off the lines of his body that have Yoongi’s mouth drying.

“Yeah, I wouldn’t mind some inspiration,” he agrees, his usual sunny smile turning a little darker.

Yoongi braces himself. He can do this. He can win this round too even if the butterflies that got set loose in his stomach are battering at his ribs from the inside out.

It’s difficult for him to meet Hoseok’s sharp gaze that tracks his every twitch, so Yoongi focuses on the cute mole dotted on Hoseok’s top lip. He slides a knee between Hoseok’s spread legs and sees those heart-shaped lips open on a slow, controlled exhale as Yoongi leans over him, towering over Hoseok.

Yoongi touches him as gently as he did with Seokjin, aware of how precious each and every of his members is. His thumb traces the apple of Hoseok’s cheek, and his eyes track over the unnatural stillness of Hoseok’s body frame. His fingers twitch minutely, like he wants to reach out and grab Yoongi, but then he balls his hands into fists and waits patiently.

Yoongi rewards him for that patience by leaning down, breath fanning over Hoseok’s cheek, lips about to press against that adorable mole, but Namjoon’s hoarse whisper makes them both startle away from each other, heads nearly bonking together.

“You need to do the thing,” Namjoon says and clears his throat.

Yoongi rolls his eyes, but Hoseok’s lips are twitching up at the corners.

“Yeah, bring out your shameless inner maknae,” Seokjin agrees.

Now Hoseok does snort and leans slightly to the side so he could give Seokjin an amused look.

“Which of our maknaes are you talking about?” he asks.

Yoongi glances back to see Seokjin shrug a shoulder.

“Any. All.”

“You included?” Yoongi raises an eyebrow at him.

Namjoon hums, and Yoongi can hear the smile in his voice as he says, “Yeah, our real maknae.”

Seokjin huffs but doesn’t protest. He does kick Yoongi’s shin, though, demanding, “Stop stalling. Kiss Hobi already.”

Hoseok puts only one finger on Yoongi’s jaw to turn his head back to him, attention all his again.

“Yeah, hyung, kiss,” he whispers near seductively and does as is required by the game—taps his lips with his finger.

Yoongi focuses his gaze on the way Hoseok’s pointer pulls his lip back slightly, making it ping back when his hand falls away. It’s truly tempting to simply say fuck it and end the game by claiming Hoseok’s lips in a kiss. But Yoongi, sometimes to his own detriment, has more willpower than that.

He leans down a second time, now without being interrupted, and glides his lips butterfly-gentle over Hoseok’s. There’s a sharp intake of breath from Hoseok, like he’s surprised Yoongi could be so bold, and it makes the corner of Yoongi’s mouth quirk up into a smirk.

But again, just like with Seokjin, Yoongi doesn’t allow himself to luxuriate in the feeling of having his lips brush the soft, inviting, and warm mouth of one of his members. If he indulges himself too long, he might not only lose the game but reveal his deepest darkest secret too.

So Yoongi moves away from Hoseok’s enticing lips and instead presses a gentle peck to his right cheek, another one to the bridge of his nose, and a third one to his left cheek. He lets that last one linger just a second longer, just long enough for his heart to flutter unsteadily in his chest. Long enough to remind himself this is a game.

When he pulls back and looks down at Hoseok’s softly awed expression, the butterflies in his chest cavity turn into hummingbirds, battering the cage of his ribs too hard, and Yoongi has to swallow down all the feelings swelling within him. Because Hoseok’s dark eyes, curved slightly with his smile, seem to speak of the same deep love Yoongi feels.

Nervously, the tip of Yoongi’s tongue slips out to trace his lips in a quick once over, and Hoseok shamelessly follows the action with narrowed down eyes.

“Was that inspirational enough?” Yoongi manages to tease, though it comes out a little more breathless than he’d like.

Hoseok chuckles. That heart-shaped grin that Yoongi loves so much making an appearance.

“It’ll do for now,” he says.

Yoongi sits back down on the couch, eyes skittering everywhere. He pretends to nonchalantly ruffle his hair as he asks Namjoon, “Your turn with hyung, Joon-ah?”

The single finger under his chin, lifting his head up and forcing him to make eye contact with Namjoon, has goosebumps breaking across Yoongi’s skin. He wants to look away but he’s trapped in Namjoon’s hungry looking gaze.

Namjoon’s hand falls away only so he could tap his plush lips with his finger. “Here, hyung,” he near whispers in his deep, low voice, sending a shiver down Yoongi’s spine, and smirks all cocky and dimpled when he notices the effect he’s caused.

Yoongi’s competitive streak rears its head at the sight of that arrogant little grin and he bites his cheek as he lifts on one knee to tower over Namjoon like he did with Hoseok. Poor attempt at gaining the upper hand, it seems, since Namjoon’s smirk turns amused.

Yoongi lets his fingers pet through Namjoon’s hair. He tugs at the strands a little, definitely not out of spite, and forces Namjoon’s head back, resting against the back of the couch.

Namjoon allows the action easily, his dragon eyes dropping to Yoongi’s slightly parted mouth. But the way he lifts his hand, fingers grazing Yoongi’s waist as if to pull him on his lap before dropping it quickly, speaks that’s he not that unaffected.

Yoongi takes that as a small victory. He brushes Namjoon’s hair off his forehead and presses his lips there in a sweet, gentle kiss. But that’s not his ultimate goal.

It’s a risk, albeit a calculated one, but Yoongi’s been thinking about it since the night of his inadvertent mistake. Namjoon has a mole under his bottom lip, a matching one to Jungkook’s, so Yoongi dips his head down and puckers his lips to give it a quick peck. And he has to make it quick because if he lingers, he’ll do something stupid like tilt his head up, connect his mouth with Namjoon’s, and let him win the game.

The couple of seconds Yoongi allows himself to etch the feeling of nearly kissing Namjoon stretch into infinity. If only Namjoon were to part his mouth slightly or move his head down a few millimeters, their lips would really touch. The thought of it has Yoongi’s heart racing. He wonders if Namjoon’s is beating just as fast, if he’s as affected by the mere suggestion of a kiss as Yoongi is.

Yoongi gets his answer the next second.

Namjoon grabs him and hauls him onto his lap. Caught off guard, Yoongi can only gasp a shocked, “Namjoon!” But he straddles Namjoon’s lap almost on instinct, hands steadying himself on Namjoon’s shoulders.

The smirk on Namjoon’s mouth is positively wicked. His fingers dig into Yoongi’s waist before one arm goes to circle it and the other lands on Yoongi’s thigh to knead the muscle. Yoongi’s breathless, helpless, wide-eyed, and completely at Namjoon’s mercy.

“Now do it properly, hyung,” Namjoon’s low voice reverberates through Yoongi’s whole being, embedding in his soul and making a home there.

“That’s—” Yoongi gulps. His fingers twitch where he’s twisted them in Namjoon’s shirt. He can’t stop his eyes from darting down to Namjoon’s lips and staring at them like some starved animal. The mole teases him, makes him deliriously wonder if Jungkook’s one would fit right against Namjoon’s if they were to kiss.

“That’s not how the game goes,” Yoongi manages to whisper. Fuck, but Namjoon’s thighs feel so solid and warm under him, and Yoongi can’t help himself from squeezing around him.

“This is not a game, Yoongi-yah,” Seokjin’s voice whispers in his ear, lips brushing the shell of it, making Yoongi shiver.

Another pair of hands join Namjoon’s on Yoongi’s body. Hoseok’s slender elegant fingers travel down Yoongi’s sides in what probably is supposed to be a soothing motion but only works Yoongi up more.

“We’re done playing,” Hoseok murmurs from behind him. “We’ve actually been thinking that the seven of us could be something even more amazing than we are now if we let ourselves have this, don’t you think?”

Yoongi, as a matter of fact, doesn’t think anything at all. There’s not a single brain-cell that is online at this point. Not when Namjoon’s arm tightens around his waist to pull him in closer. Not when Seokjin’s lips skim over his cheek and jaw and down his neck. Not when Hoseok’s fingers sink into his hair and tug with the tiniest bit of delicious sting to tilt his head so Seokjin would have more room for the softest of kisses.

This is so far removed from what their trio of brats have been coming up with to entice Yoongi. Seokjin, Hoseok, and Namjoon are playing a whole different game entirely. They clearly have their own set of rules, and Yoongi’s been dropped into the deep end and struggles to come up for air.

“The seven of us?” Yoongi breathes out. His offline brain tries to make connections between what they’re saying and doing. It’s difficult, but Yoongi thinks he understands. He just needs confirmation in their own words.

“Our sweet baby angel maknaes told you we’re planning something, right?” Hoseok asks.

Yoongi hums in assent because he can’t move his head. Not that he’d want to break Hoseok’s hold, or pull away from Seokjin’s plush lips that keep searching for new spots to kiss.

“We’ve had this talk with each of them too. About the idea of all of us being together. Your kiss from the other night inspired us to finally do something about it,” Namjoon reveals. “So Jin-hyung, Hobi, and I have been preemptively checking in with the company, making sure there’d be no problems when the seven of us finally get together.”

“When?” Yoongi echoes, entranced by their touches. It makes it incredibly difficult to think.

“You’re the last one we need confirmation from,” Seokjin says. Briefly, Yoongi mourns the loss of his lips on his skin, but then Seokjin turns Yoongi’s head to himself and the view is so worth it. “What do you say, Yoongichi? Wanna join?”

With Namjoon’s and Hoseok’s hands on him, and Seokjin’s bottomless eyes looking at him like he’s all that matters, it doesn’t even bother Yoongi that the trouble triplets clearly knew all about this and concocted the stupid plan of “spying” for their own amusement. Maybe the amusement of Yoongi’s fellow hyungs too. And Yoongi himself has to admit that the game was fun. Besides all the heartache of thinking this means less to them than it does to him, of course.

But now Yoongi knows better. They want him. They made sure that all seven of them could be together freely, something that Yoongi thought impossible a few minutes ago, but he should’ve never doubted the power of his members. Especially his Jin-hyung; he can be extremely persuasive when need be.

Yoongi’s no exception to Seokjin’s powers of persuasion. He’s already nodding his head before he knows it, entranced by the slow-blooming smirk on Seokjin’s luscious rosy lips.

“Yeah,” he mumbles. “I wanna join.”

“Good choice,” Hoseok husks in Yoongi’s ear, and then Seokjin’s lips are pressing against Yoongi’s, claiming that kiss that Yoongi stole from him earlier.

A puff of air glides over Yoongi’s face when Seokjin huffs his amusement at the whimper Yoongi lets out. He hears Namjoon and Hoseok chuckling too but most of his focus is on the sweet pressure of Seokjin’s pillowy lips against his. They move together in an unhurried rhythm, gentle and exploring.

One of Yoongi’s hands grips Namjoon’s t-shirt tighter, the other goes to the nape of Seokjin’s neck, fingers brushing the short hair there. He needs more hands and more mouths as it pains him to not be able to touch Hoseok too. But their teamwork seems to translate to make out sessions too because Hoseok presses close to Yoongi’s back, almost squishing him against Namjoon’s sturdy chest in a satisfying way.

The slick sounds, mimicking Yoongi and Seokjin’s sloppy kiss, follow, and Yoongi has to pull back from Seokjin to see it with his own two eyes. He licks his lips, tasting Seokjin on them, and doesn’t miss the darkening of Seokjin’s gaze at the action. But then they both turn to watch Hoseok and Namjoon kiss right over Yoongi’s shoulder.

It’s not something Yoongi ever thought he’d be able to witness, and especially not this close. He has the prime seat—Namjoon’s lap—to watch the push and pull of their kiss, to see the spit shining on their lips and connecting them in thin gossamer threads.

Without much thought, Yoongi leans in and the tip of his tongue prods at the seam where Namjoon and Hoseok are connected. It’s not his goal to separate them, he just wants a taste of both of them, but they pull away from each other anyway and then Yoongi’s mouth is claimed by Hoseok as his grip in Yoongi’s hair tightens again.

Yoongi can’t help the soft moan of pure relief and satisfaction that leaves him. He thinks he hears Namjoon answer in kind, muffled into Seokjin’s lips, but Hoseok’s tongue, touching tips with Yoongi’s and sliding over it, takes his attention completely. He opens his mouth, letting Hoseok in with a groan, sounding near desperate for it.

They all get entangled together, trading kisses and touches, crotches grinding against thighs. It becomes difficult to tell who’s touching who, but Yoongi at least knows his next kiss is with Namjoon because he’s not as sweetly gentle as Seokjin and not as demanding for submission as Hoseok. Namjoon’s kiss is somewhere in-between—worshipful of Yoongi’s mouth but also not afraid to bite and fuck Yoongi with his tongue when Yoongi gasps in surprise at the teeth sinking into his bottom lip.

Hands slide over Yoongi’s body and different mouths keep claiming his own, his brain cloudy from all the sensations and the sheer heat of being in the middle of a four-way make out session. It doesn’t seem real, just one of those dreams Yoongi’s too horny brain comes up with sometimes to torture him, when his fingers meet Namjoon’s under Seokjin’s shirt, teasing their hyung’s skin with ticklish touches.

Seokjin shudders and catches at least Yoongi’s wandering hand to stop it. He huffs in laughter, mumbles a protest against Yoongi’s lips, and then he’s pulling away, more giggles spilling out of his mouth. Yoongi chases him like some addict, needing kisses from each and any of them, even if his lips curl with a smile at hearing Seokjin’s laughter.

The chase ends in a millisecond. Seokjin’s plush mouth presses back against his, their teeth clinking because neither of them can stop smiling, and relief floods Yoongi’s body, tuning out the roaring of his heartbeat in his ears and amplifying the sound of Seokjin’s breathy hum of approval.

That’s all Yoongi gets, though, as the beeping of the lock shatters the haze that the four of them have found themselves in.

The familiar noise makes Yoongi startle and he bumps heads with Hoseok, both of them hissing in pain. Panic surges, speeding up his heartbeat, because permission for whatever relationship they’re planning to have or not, it would not be professional of them to be found making out and grinding on a couch at work. But before they can unravel their complicated tangle of limbs, the door opens and reveals the three smirking faces of their beloved havoc hooligans.

Lips tingling and swollen from all the kissing, cheeks seemingly permanently blazing with heat, and legs numb from staying in one position too long, Yoongi can simply sit there, caught like a bird in a cage of his three members, as the chaos gremlins make their way inside.

“Hm,” Jimin hums. His intense eyes run over the hyung tangle in amusement, his smirk turning sharper when Hoseok and Seokjin try to feign casual as they pull away slowly and wipe at their slick-spit lips. “Seems like Yoongi-hyung’s recruitment went well.”

Yoongi’s eyebrows draw together in confusion. “Recruitment?” he echoes, but it gets lost in Jungkook’s outburst of indignation.

“Yah! You two!” Their maknae is pouting something fierce, pointing an accusing finger at Hoseok and then Namjoon. “Why did my recruitment end in a couple of pecks and not a make out session on Joon-hyung’s lap?”

“You didn’t get to sit on Namjoonie-hyung’s lap during your recruitment?” Taehyung asks, puppy eyes wide and expression pure innocence.

Jungkook directs his glare and pout combo at Taehyung then. “You’re telling me you did?” He says it low, voice laced with something threatening.

Taehyung’s lips are quivering as he fights a smile, but he squeaks and darts to hide behind Jimin when Jungkook lunges for him. Jimin is of no help to Taehyung, though. He simply laughs like the rest of them when Jungkook’s tickle attack makes Taehyung crumple to the floor by Jimin’s feet as he breathlessly begs through his giggles for Jimin to save him.

“No one was sitting on my lap,” Namjoon clarifies, even though Taehyung is already suffering the consequences of his lie.

Jungkook stops his attack and gives Namjoon a look. “Yoongi-hyung’s sitting on your lap.”

Yoongi has to nod in agreement. He looks back at Namjoon. “He’s right. I am. That’s kind of unfair if you think about it.”

“That’s what I’m saying!” Jungkook exclaims, throwing his hands up in exasperation.

The tight clench of Namjoon’s jaw and the darkening of his gaze is such a rewarding sight for the ridiculous teasing. The not-so-gentle shove Namjoon gives Yoongi is less rewarding. Yoongi squeaks a similar embarrassing sound to Taehyung when he tumbles off Namjoon’s lap and into Seokjin.

“Happy now?” Namjoon asks Jungkook, motioning to his free lap. Though there’s a suspicious tent over his crotch.

“Am I sitting in your lap?” Jungkook sasses back, hand on his waist and hip cocked.

“Okay, we’re getting off-track,” Hoseok tries to tame them all. But the heart-shaped grin on his lips shows that he does enjoy the chaos.

He pulls Jungkook closer and pushes him to sit on Namjoon, which has Jungkook beaming as he wiggles his ass, only stopping with a giggle when Namjoon grunts and pinches his side. Jimin and Taehyung take the hint by curling up together like a pair of bonded cats on the other end of the couch.

“Now that Yoongi-hyung said yes, we should start discussing what this relationship between us entails and what we want from it going forward,” Hoseok says.

He stays standing, exuding this aura of command, captivating all of their attention. And while the discussion of their relationship dynamics is definitely a necessary one, all Yoongi can do is stare at Hoseok’s lips, trace fingers over his own, and recall what it felt like to have all that dominant intensity focused on him. Just the memory breaks goosebumps across his skin.

Taehyung’s hand shoots up, an expression of such pure excitement on his face that it makes Yoongi grin to himself all endeared. Hoseok, matching Yoongi’s smile, motions for Taehyung to speak.

“We should get married,” Taehyung says, breathless and almost tripping over his words, eyes darting from face to face.

Jimin falls into Taehyung’s side, giggling up a storm. “I love you,” he whispers inaudibly over the laughter of the others, but Yoongi’s too focused on Jimin’s plush lips forming the words and pressing against Taehyung’s throat so he catches it.

Seokjin sighs and shakes his head, a pretty but exaggerated pout on his lips. “I don’t think any government would approve a seven-way marriage, Taehyung-ah.”

Taehyung’s face falls, and Jungkook coos over the sad puppy look, reaching out to stroke Taehyung’s hair in consolation. Only, their Taehyung isn’t that easily deterred, and his eyes gain that spark back in a second.

“Then we get married as couples,” he says before jumping up and wrapping both his arms around Hoseok’s bicep. “Dibs on Hobi-hyung!”

Jimin’s pout is immediate. He crosses his arms and narrows his eyes at Taehyung. “Yah, why do you get dibs on Hoseokie-hyung?”

Jungkook looks equally ticked off. He abandons his coveted spot on Namjoon’s lap and latches onto Hoseok’s other arm, trying to tug him out of Taehyung’s grip.

“Seriously, out of the three of us I saw him first. He’s mine,” Jungkook argues with a harsher tug that makes both Hoseok and Taehyung sway dangerously.

Hoseok’s eyes are wide, gone is the aura of command and he looks like a bunny that two wolves are fighting over.

“Uh, a little help here?” Hoseok requests as the two maknaes keep playing tug-of-war with him, giggling all the while. “Before they rip me to shreds.”

Seokjin gets up to push Jungkook away and claim Hoseok for himself.

“Stop it,” he says. “If anything, I get to marry Hobi because I’m the mat-hyung.”

Predictably, chaos ensues when the rest of them get off the couch and join the game of Hobi-tug-of-war.

“No way. Leader privileges, baby. Hobi’s mine.” Namjoon tries to pry Seokjin, who’s wrapped his arms around Hoseok’s waist, off Hoseok while Jimin tickles Taehyung, forcing him to let go to defend himself, and Jungkook bodily lifts Taehyung, his arms and legs flailing, to deposit him in the corner of the room.

Yoongi himself takes the least physically challenging approach now that his most buff competition is otherwise occupied.

“We should really let Hoseok decide,” Yoongi offers very wisely and, unlike his puppies-that-don’t-know-their-own-strength competitors, takes Hoseok’s hand in a gentle hold, glancing up at him through fluttering lashes, pushing his lips into an enticing pout. “Hoba, my soulmate, my sunshine, my one and only true love—”

“Objection! Leading the witness!” Jimin exclaims immediately, accusing finger pointed at Yoongi, who glares at him for the interruption to what would have been a very heartfelt speech and would’ve definitely won him Hoseok’s hand in marriage.

Seokjin puffs up his chest, bumping into Yoongi. “How dare you try and entice Hobi with all those sweet pet names said in your sexy low voice?”

Yoongi smirks and wiggles his eyebrows at Seokjin. “You think my voice is sexy, hyung? Maybe we should get married then, huh?”

He wraps an arm around Seokjin’s slim waist, enjoying the deer-in-headlights expression he wears and the reddening of his ears.

“I can’t allow this,” Jungkook protests. He’s still huffing from fighting Taehyung, fists on hips, and his head shaking in disapproval.

“Me neither,” Namjoon says and turns to Yoongi. His imploring cute puppy-dog eyes seem to gaze into the depths of Yoongi’s soul. “Yoongi-hyung, we’ve been together the longest. Does all that time mean nothing to you?”

Yoongi’s mouth drops open, cheeks heating, but Hoseok beats him to it.

“Oh wow, Joon-ah. Dropping me so quickly like I’m nothing for another man?” The judgmental look Hoseok gives him would make even the strongest of people wither away in guilt.

Jimin huffs, arms crossed and bottom lip sticking out petulantly. “At least you got five proposals. I’m here waiting for just one.”

It’s rather comical and makes all of them snort when Jungkook crashes to his knees in front of Jimin, offering the hoop of his earring as a ring.

“Jimin-ah, will you make me the luckiest man and marry me?” he asks, all big sparkly eyes and utmost sincerity in his words.

Taehyung gasps dramatically from the sidelines. “That is betrayal!” he exclaims and then he’s kneeling at a flushed, giggly Jimin’s feet too, grabbing onto his pant leg. “Jimin-ah, please don’t say yes. I’ll do better. I’ll get you a real ring—”

Seokjin proposes to Jimin with his own ring, smirking down at Taehyung and Jungkook cockily, and Jungkook “accidentally” bumps his hand, sending the ring flying under the couch. While they fight in a wrestling match on the floor, Namjoon tries to prove that he’s a better fit to be Jimin’s husband, arguing with Taehyung that soulmatery isn’t predestined but decided by the people in the relationship. Jimin just covers his brightly pink cheeks and shakes his head even if the smile doesn’t leave his lips.

“This is getting out of control,” Hoseok chuckles. “Do you think they’ll stop anytime soon?”

Seeing the perfect opportunity, Yoongi grins. He’s still got Hoseok’s hand in his hold, thumb running over the back of it gently. They’ve held hands plenty of times, of course, but it feels different now. More meaningful now that Yoongi knows his years-long crushes are returned.

But a game is a game, and Yoongi’s already lost one today. So he twines his fingers with Hoseok’s and pulls him towards the door. Hoseok’s eyebrows slant together in question, but he follows Yoongi anyway.

“Not soon enough to notice that we’ve eloped,” Yoongi says, and Hoseok’s confused expression clears as he laughs with his whole body.

The sound draws the attention of the others, though.

“Yah! Yoongi’s stealing Hobi!” Seokjin shouts, and Yoongi pulls Hoseok out the door quickly, starting a jog down the hall, their laughter bouncing off the walls.

“Hyungs, you bastards, get back right now! If I’m not getting married, no one is!” Taehyung’s indignant voice and five pairs of footsteps follow them immediately.

Yoongi and Hoseok can’t stop their giggling. They hit a wall on a poorly executed turn because they’re looking back at their pursuers, but instead of continuing the chase, Yoongi pulls Hoseok in close and is the one to claim a more aggressive kiss this time.

The others descend upon them in seconds, prying them apart, but Yoongi isn’t even the slightest bit mad because Jungkook’s lips meet his, and then Taehyung’s, and Namjoon’s, and Jimin’s, and Seokjin’s.