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Yoongi only joins the volleyball club to get Hyojin off his ass.

She’s convinced spending so much time holed up in his apartment is bad for him. “Your whole life can’t be writing and Overwatch,” she insists, though Yoongi doesn’t quite see the problem. He’d counted it an accomplishment that he once spent an entire week’s vacation only leaving his apartment for an hour-long grocery store excursion.

But Hyojin isn’t easily swayed. “You need another hobby. Something to get you out there, meeting some people. It’ll be good for you.”

“I think knowing you is more than enough,” Yoongi gripes, but she’s unbothered as always.

Two weeks later, she hands him a flyer for a recreational volleyball club. “I already signed you up,” she announces.

Volleyball ?” he splutters. “I haven’t played volleyball in years - ”

“Exactly!” She’s relentless. “You’ll learn again. You need to do something physical before your muscles melt from disuse.”

“Why am I friends with you again?”

“The next meeting is Saturday, so you better show up.”

He almost doesn’t go. Getting off his ass and making himself presentable sounds like too much effort. But he supposes it might be nice to find a new hobby, and he doesn’t want to disappoint Hyojin without at least giving it a try. She is always raving about how much fun her volleyball club is, and Yoongi had enjoyed the sport back when he’d played in high school.

So he shows up Saturday morning dressed to sweat and feeling a little anxious at the thought of a new activity and new people to meet. At least Hyojin will be there; he might not have made it if he hadn’t known anyone at all. The club meeting takes place in the gym of a nearby high school, and when he walks in, everyone seems to be warming up already.

He hovers by the entrance, taking stock. Aside from Hyojin, there aren’t any other women. A man standing off to the side with a whistle dangling from his neck - Yoongi assumes he’s the trainer - is chatting with someone else who’s stretching half-heartedly. Over by the net, two guys toss a volleyball back and forth. One of them looks intense, his brow furrowed in concentration.

Hyojin rises from where she’s stretching and catches sight of him.

“Yoongi!” she calls. Everyone looks up and over at him. He shuffles in embarrassment, squares his shoulders, and heads toward her, nodding at anyone who glances his way as he passes.

“I didn’t think you were gonna make it,” she says.

“Well, I’m here.”

“Hey, Seokjin!” She waves to the trainer. He jogs over, smiling at Yoongi.

“You’re the new guy,” he says. “Nice to meet you, I’m Seokjin.”

“Yoongi. Thanks for having me.”

“You have any volleyball experience?”

Yoongi shrugs. “I played in high school, but I’m way out of practice.”

“High school?” chimes an amazed voice. Yoongi looks over to find one of the other guys staring at him. He’s obnoxiously pretty, dark eyebrows and long lashes. “What was that, like ten years ago?”

“Are you calling me old?” Yoongi grumbles.

“Yeah, and?” the guy shrugs. “At least you’re cute.”

Yoongi narrows his eyes in interest - figures that the guy’s too attractive to be straight.

“Taehyung, be nice.” Seokjin shoves the pretty guy out of the way. “No matter how long it’s been, we’ll have you ready to play in no time at all. What position were you?”

“Uh, libero. Tried hitter for a while.”

Seokjin looks skeptical - Yoongi doesn’t look like a hitter - but he nods anyway. He checks the watch on his wrist, one of those fancy athletic ones, then blows shrilly into his whistle. “Alright, gather ‘round!”

Everyone ambles over, casting Yoongi interested glances.

“We’re gonna start with a warm-up, then I’m gonna construct some drills. As you’ve all noticed, we have a newcomer today.” He gestures to Yoongi, and Yoongi steps up.

“Hey, I’m Yoongi. Nice to meet you all.”

“Hi, Yoongi,” everyone intones in return.

“Finally some fresh meat,” says one of the guys with a wicked grin. Yoongi scowls.

Before anyone else can make any additions, someone comes bursting through the gymnasium doors with a backpack bouncing on his shoulder. He’s noticeably out of breath as he tosses his backpack carelessly to the side and jogs over.

“Hi, guys,” he says cheerfully. He’s pretty, too, has a pair of what Hyojin would call dick-sucking lips and a trim body. Everyone in the club seems to be a looker.

“Ooo, Jimin’s late,” says Taehyung, drawing the words out like a grade schooler.

“When is Jimin not late,” mutters someone else.

Seokjin sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Arriving late means you’ll receive a punishment, as usual.”

Instead of looking shameful, Jimin smirks. “Should I pull my pants down?”

Everyone bursts into laughter except for Seokjin, who looks entirely unamused. He reaches out and cuffs Jimin around the head. “20 laps. Now.”

“That’s it?” says the guy who’d been warming up with unmatched intensity. “Just 20?”

Jungkook ,” Jimin hisses, scandalized.

“You want me to add 20 for you too, Jeon?” Seokjin snaps. “Get to it, Jimin.”

“But I wanna be introduced to the new guy,” Jimin whines, and Yoongi starts. He hadn’t even realized Jimin had noticed him yet.

“30 laps!” Seokjin shouts, and Jimin bolts.

“At least I’m not the shortest anymore!” Jimin calls as he passes them on his first lap. He’s ridiculously fast. Yoongi wonders how he’ll ever catch up with these guys.

“Anyway,” Seokjin says through gritted teeth. “Introduce yourselves to Yoongi.” He tosses the volleyball he’s holding to Jungkook first, who catches it without hesitation.

“Jeon Jungkook, 21, middle hitter,” he says, then tosses the ball to a handsome guy with dimples.

“Jung Hoseok, 24, setter.” He has a friendly smile. He hands the ball off to Taehyung.

“Kim Taehyung, 23, left side hitter, sexiest member of the team.” He flashes a peace sign and throws the ball to someone else.

Before he can introduce himself, though, Jimin jogs by. “I’m the sexiest member, you liar,” he shouts, glaring over his shoulder.

“Make that 40,” Seokjin hisses, and Jimin squeaks and speeds up.

The rest of the club introduces themselves in the same manner, and Yoongi gives up any pretense of learning their names; he knows he won’t remember them so quickly. After they’re done, Seokjin has everyone find a partner for a warm-up. Before Yoongi can look for Hyojin, Seokjin’s beckoning him over and calling to Jungkook.

“I’m assigning you to our newbie,” Seokjin says. “Take care of him today, yeah?”

Jungkook nods resolutely, and Seokjin claps him on the shoulder.

“He might be our youngest, but he’s our star player,” he tells Yoongi, then leaves them to stare down Jimin, who’s still running laps.

Jungkook positions himself across from Yoongi and tosses him the ball. Yoongi counts it a victory that he doesn’t fumble the first catch, tossing it back with ease. Some of the intensity of Jungkook’s expression eases, like he’d been afraid Yoongi would be terrible and he’d have to teach him everything.

“How long have you been part of the club?” Yoongi asks conversationally, even though he hates small talk. But Jungkook looks about as stiff as he does, so he figures he might as well ease things up a bit.

“Since I moved here for university, so about four years.”

“You never played for your university’s club?”

Jungkook wrinkles his nose. It’s a cute gesture, one that has Yoongi fumbling the ball next time it comes his way. “I tried, but they were dicks. I like it better here.”

They toss the ball back and forth quietly for a while, and Jungkook doesn’t try to further the conversation. Yoongi wonders if maybe he’s a little shy, though he doesn’t look the type at first glance, not with his defined muscles and chiseled jawline.

Yoongi’s endeared.

“We should practice your stance, Yoongi-ssi,” Jungkook finally says, having been eyeing Yoongi critically for the past few throws.

“You can call me hyung,” Yoongi says easily, and Jungkook seems to falter for a second, glancing at him quickly then away. He has big, pretty eyes.

“Yoongi hyung,” he amends.

Jungkook gives him pointers on his stance, something Yoongi struggles with until Jungkook gets up close and personal, hands on his waist, pulling his hips back. He’s careful with his touches, but someone across the gym wolf whistles anyway. Yoongi flips them off. His money is on Taehyung or Jimin, neither of whom have convinced him yet that they know how to keep their dicks in their pants.

After Yoongi’s situated, they return to the warm-up. Jungkook doesn’t mince his criticism on account of being younger, and Yoongi appreciates that. Seokjin keeps them going for another few minutes before he blows the whistle and gathers them round to split them into teams for the first drill.

He lets Yoongi play as libero, something that pleases Jimin - the other libero - immensely.

“Shorties stick together,” he tells Yoongi very seriously.

“Please,” Jungkook scoffs. “You’re always pretending to be taller than you are, and now you wanna admit you’re short?”

Jimin weaves his arm through Yoongi’s and sticks his tongue out at Jungkook.

Yoongi wonders if he can convince Seokjin he’ll be a better hitter.

“So this drill’s called King of the Beach,” Seokjin begins. “Here’s how it’s gonna work - ”

“Wait,” Jimin interrupts, a mischievous smile on his face. Yoongi groans in advance. He already knows whatever’s going to come out of Jimin’s mouth won’t be good. “King of the Beach or King of the Bitch?”

“No, that would be you,” Seokjin says dryly, then continues with his explanation like Jimin hadn’t spoken at all. Yoongi spends the next two minutes trying so hard not to laugh that he’s pretty sure his face turns red.

The drill throws Yoongi right in the thick of things, something he wasn’t quite prepared for. But he adjusts quickly, old knowledge returning to him from where he’d buried it in the recesses of his mind. He isn’t great, but he isn’t as bad as he thought he’d be. Just as importantly, he gets to learn how everyone else plays.

Jungkook is absolutely brilliant, the star of the team just like Seokjin said. Yoongi watches him smash the ball onto the other team’s court in a way that makes his jaw drop. Everyone’s good, much better than Yoongi, but Jungkook is something else. Hoseok catches his attention, too, with how skillfully he plays the court.

Seokjin constructs a few drills for them to run through, various situations to improve certain techniques, and then they finish off the meeting with a game. Yoongi’s dripping sweat, keeps pulling his shirt up to wipe his face, having forgotten how intense the sport could be. Hyojin may have been right about how much he needed to get off his ass. He’s a little annoyed at how out of shape he is.

Minhyuk and Hoseok face off to see which team serves first. Seokjin tosses the ball up in the air and Minhyuk gets to it first, smashing it over the net. While Minhyuk prepares to serve, the waiting players start to egg each other on, something Yoongi remembers quite clearly from his high school days. He grins and prepares himself; he’d always been good at trash talk.

“Your ass is looking extra large today, Jimin,” Taehyung calls through the net, lips curling into a smirk. “You sure that’s not gonna ruin your balance?”

“At least I have an ass,” Jimin hisses.

Nearby, Namjoon’s hitching his shorts up like he’s getting ready to move, bare thighs on display. Across the net, Jungkook asks, “Do you even know what to do with all that leg, Namjoon hyung?”

“Look who’s talking, you overgrown baby.”

Minhyuk serves, and all the talk ceases.

It’s a good game, and Yoongi gets to learn more about how the others play. He orients himself around them, getting back into the flow of things despite his exhaustion. His team ends up losing - he grudgingly thinks it’s because Jungkook’s on the other one - and Yoongi’s budding competitive side wilts.

They call it a day after that, working together to take down the net. “Balls in the basket,” Namjoon calls, pushing the basket over.

Yoongi’s nearly knocked over in the rush, and when he looks over he finds Taehyung, Jimin, and Hoseok trying to force themselves into the basket.

“Yah!” Namjoon shouts, smacking them all on the head. “Get out, assholes.”

“What?” Taehyung asks innocently. “You said put our balls in the basket.”

He looks two seconds from pointing at his dick for emphasis so Yoongi calls out a dry, “We get it.”

Jimin glances over at him as if remembering he’s there, too, then bounds over with his head tilted like a puppy.

“Hi, I’m Jimin. Since I didn’t get to introduce myself.”

“I heard,” Yoongi says, tossing a volleyball over to Namjoon.

“I’m glad you’re here so I don’t have to be the shortest anymore.” He squints at him, then nods. “Yup, we’re the same height.”

“I’m willing to bet I have a centimeter on you.” Yoongi isn’t particularly invested, but he can’t help but rile Jimin up. He seems like the type to be easily riled.

True enough, Jimin bristles. “No way. I was being kind, I’m pretty sure I’m the one with a centimeter on you.”

“You wanna bet?”

Jimin huffs. “I’d practically be stealing your money.”

“Who said anything about money?” A grin spreads across Yoongi’s face. It only widens when Jimin blinks, clearly caught off guard.

Jimin’s surprise morphs into interest. He leans in, eyebrow raised. “So you’re gay, too, right?”

Now Yoongi’s the one who blinks in surprise. “Oh, uh, yeah. I’m bi actually.”

“Jimin,” Namjoon calls, frustrated. “You can’t just ask him out of nowhere - ”

“What, some people just join without knowing,” Jimin defends, then turns back to Yoongi. “We’re all gay, by the way.”

“Yeah, I noticed.”

With a somewhat dry tone, Seokjin chimes in from a few feet away, “How did you ever figure that out?”

“For starters, the way you serve kinda gave you away,” Yoongi says, imitating the pose with an extra flair.  

Jimin and Namjoon burst into laughter, and Seokjin splutters. “Yah, you’re as bad as them already.”

“You’re not harassing my Yoongi, are you?” Hyojin sidles up behind Yoongi and slings an arm around his shoulder. He grumbles, trying to shove her off, but of course her grip is like iron.

“I think he can handle himself,” Namjoon mutters.

“Sure he can,” Hyojin says proudly. “He’s got a mouth on him.”

“Oh, does he?” Jimin’s tone is innocent, but the way he turns a calculating gaze on Yoongi definitely isn’t.

Yoongi sighs. He’s in for a ride.



“So,” Hyojin needles on their way out of the high school, “What’d you think?”

Yoongi sniffs and shrugs her off. “It was okay.”

“Liar,” she cackles. “You loved it, I know you did. Admit it.”

“Who says?” Yoongi challenges.

“The look on your goddamn face - ”

“Fuck off.”

“Admit it. I always know best.”

“You wish you always knew best, you demon - ”

“Once again, the great Ahn Hyojin proves herself to be infallible.”

“If you keep talking, I’m never coming here again.”

“Liar. You couldn’t stay away if you tried.” She slings her arm over his shoulders again, and he doesn’t bother trying to push her off again. “But seriously, I’m glad you had fun.”

He doesn’t like the way her tone has turned soft, so he glares at her. “Don’t get mushy on me, Ahn.”

“Sue me for caring about your damn well being, you ingrate. And that’s noona to you.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Yoongi mutters, but he slips his arm around her waist to show he’s grateful anyway.



“Alright, let’s start with some stretching!” Seokjin calls, voice booming throughout the gymnasium. “I saw some of you slugs skimping on that last time.”

This time, Yoongi expects the jokes before they come. He still finds himself shaking his head when Hoseok calls out, “Taehyung should be great at that, didn’t you just practice this morning?”

Taehyung pulls his shoe off and lobs it in Hoseok’s direction. It lands wide, and Hoseok only laughs. “Stretch before I start dealing out punishments,” Seokjin snaps.

“Jimin likes punishments,” Jungkook says smugly. He’s settling down in a circle with some of the others to stretch and beckons for Yoongi to join. Yoongi plops down between Jungkook and Namjoon and reaches for his toes.

“You gonna punish me, Jeon?” Jimin bats his eyelashes, and instead of rise to the challenge, Jungkook turns pink and mumbles something unintelligible.

“So, Yoongi-ssi,” Namjoon starts. “What do you do outside of the club?”

“I’m a software developer,” Yoongi explains. “Lately I’ve been working mostly with mobile apps.”

They look impressed, which has him preening a bit. “That’s really cool,” Jimin says. “Sounds hard.”

“It can be, but I like meticulous work.” He shrugs. He’s more of a workaholic than anything, which is another problem entirely. “What about you guys?”

“Jungkookie’s still in school,” Jimin coos fondly, reaching over to pat Jungkook’s knee. He scowls.

“Almost done,” he corrects. “I’m graduating this year.”

“What do you study?” Yoongi asks.

“Graphic design.”

“He’s really good,” Namjoon says proudly. “And I teach history at a girls’ high school.”

“All of his students have a crush on him,” Jimin stage whispers. Namjoon swats at him. “I work at a nonprofit arts center. We do a lot of art rehabilitation and outreach.”

“That’s awesome,” Yoongi murmurs, looking at Jimin with new eyes. He grudgingly admits that he’s maybe been judging him too harshly. “You all seem to know each other pretty well.”

“We’ve been part of this club for a while now,” Namjoon says. “I know way more about all of these idiots than I ever needed to.”

Yoongi snorts. “I already know way more than I need to.”

Seokjin blows his whistle and beckons for everyone to gather around him. Yoongi isn’t anywhere close to flexible, so he stands with difficulty and accepts the hand Jungkook offers him.

“So as we know,” Seokjin starts once everyone’s settled, “there’s a tournament coming up. I’ve decided on who will be participating.”

Yoongi relaxes, knowing he can’t possibly be on the roster so soon. Some of the others tense up, though, eager to hear Seokjin’s judgement. Jimin in particular grows suddenly serious, gaze fixed intensely on Seokjin, fingers curling into his shorts.

“Jungkook, Hoseok, Hyojin, Namjoon, Taehyung, and Minhyuk.”

Yoongi throws Hyojin a thumbs-up. He finds himself looking over at Jimin, who’s lost the tension in his shoulders in favor of slumping over in disappointment. Jimin worries at his lower lip for a moment before his expression shifts into happiness, and he looks up and congratulates the others.

Yoongi hums to himself in interest. He feels even guiltier at writing Jimin off so easily.



As a bisexual who hasn’t gotten any since university, locker room time is hard.

It should be a crime to have this many attractive guys in a room together, none of whom are straight, all in a state of undress. And then there are the showers, just off to the side, open for everyone to see. Yoongi’s shyer than the others the first few times he changes with them, hyper aware of the flaws in his body when compared to some of the others. Jungkook, for example, has washboard abs. Jimin’s ass is something else, and Hoseok’s legs are to die for. Next to them, Yoongi feels lacking.

Taehyung still wolf whistles every time Yoongi takes his pants off, though. But Taehyung wolf whistles at the drop of a hat, so Yoongi doesn’t know if that counts for anything.

“Hyung,” Jungkook asks when they’re getting changed after the third club meeting Yoongi’s attended. “Saw you were struggling with your serve today?”

Yoongi tugs his shirt over his head, ruffling his hair. Jungkook grins at the sight, reaching out to pat it down for him. The way he asks is gentle, like he doesn’t want to offend. “Yeah, I suck.”

“You don’t suck,” Jungkook says quickly.

“Nah, I know I suck. I’m not mad about it.” Yoongi glances away to fold his clothes into his sports bag, appreciating the break from looking at Jungkook’s chest.

“I can help you,” Jungkook offers. “It’s just your posture, really. If you fix that, I think you’d be fine.”

Yoongi smiles, peering back over as he sits down on the bench to yank on his shoes. “That’s really nice of you, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook flushes. He pulls his sweats on, and they dangle low on his hips. “We could stay back after practice next time?”

“Only if that’s not a bother.”

“Not at all. I don’t mind.”

In the background, they can hear Taehyung hollering something about Namjoon’s dick. “Then let’s do it,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook beams.

He wanders off to do something else, and Yoongi finishes packing up, wondering why his chest feels all warm and fuzzy. Yoongi doesn’t do warm and fuzzy. Not anymore, anyway, not since he graduated and got a job that takes too much energy to allow for things like happiness.

A shriek that’s half a giggle interrupts his musing, and he glances up. Jungkook’s in the middle of throwing Jimin over his shoulder, smacking his ass hard enough that the slap echoes through the locker room. Taehyung, predictably, wolf whistles. Jungkook turns, carrying Jimin toward the showers, and as he walks Yoongi catches him shift to kiss Jimin’s hip.

Yoongi swallows, his heart doing something weird that he doesn’t really like. Next to him, Hoseok snorts.

“Are they - ” Yoongi starts, can’t help himself.

“They’re just fucking around,” Hoseok waggles his eyebrows, immediately interested. “Nothing to worry about.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Yoongi grumbles, but once Hoseok gets an idea in his head, he doesn’t let it go very easily.



The next time the club meets, Jungkook and Yoongi stay after everyone else leaves. Yoongi’s tired by then, exhausted really, but Jungkook had offered, and Yoongi really could use the help.

“Okay, show me your serve,” Jungkook says, right down to business.

It’s awkward being put on the spot, especially when Yoongi knows how talented Jungkook is, but he swallows his embarrassment and does as he’s told. The ball lands pathetically close. “See,” Yoongi drones, “I told you I suck.”

Jungkook’s quiet, then a giggle slips through. Yoongi looks over with a glare, but Jungkook can’t seem to hold himself back anymore, doubled over in laughter. “Hyung,” he snickers, “did you even try?”

“Yah, you brat.” Yoongi kicks dust in his direction. “You’re supposed to help, not make fun of me.”

“I dunno if I can help anymore,” he grins. “You might be hopeless.”

“Yah!”

Jungkook fetches another ball and hands it to Yoongi, amusement still playing on his lips. “Bend your knees a little more,” he instructs. “Yeah, like that.”

Yoongi tries again, and Jungkook reaches over to reposition his arm. The touch of his fingers is calloused, a firm brush, and Yoongi swallows.

“Don’t hit so high,” Jungkook says.

Jungkook doesn’t go easy on him, has him trying again and again until he’s satisfied, but Yoongi’s serve really does begin to improve. He’s tired but content when Jungkook finally beams at him; it’s nice, feeling good about himself like that.

“We gotta clean up,” Jungkook says, then promptly falls onto his back like a starfish, eyes drifting shut. Sweat has his hair sticking to his forehead, dripping down his jaw and onto his neck. His shirt clings to his chest.

Yoongi plops down next to him, leaning back on his hands.

“See, wasn’t so bad.” Jungkook cracks an eye open to look at him.

“Says the star player.”

Predictably, Jungkook’s cheeks turn a little pink. He closes his eyes again. “I could use some work.”

“Sure, same way Messi could use some work.”

“Stop,” Jungkook laughs, pushing at him. Yoongi likes the way praise makes him shy. It only makes him want to praise him even more. “I really like playing. I like improving.”

“Yeah?”

“Feels good, knowing you’re getting better at something because you worked hard at it. There’s nothing really like that feeling.” Jungkook’s lashes rest dark against his skin, the creases in his brow smoothed out, his lips relaxed. He looks as content as he feels, and Yoongi admires that.

Letting himself relax, Yoongi lies down next to Jungkook and closes his eyes, too. He doesn’t know how long they lie there in comfortable silence, sweat drying on their skin. He nearly falls asleep. Eventually they move, stretching and sighing, and start to clean up.

“Thanks for helping, seriously,” Yoongi says while they change in the locker room. “I owe you.”

“Buy me lamb skewers sometime, hyung.”

When Yoongi glances over his shoulder, he finds Jungkook in the process of buttoning his jeans, a cheeky grin on his face. Yoongi snorts and shakes his head.

“Sure thing, kid.”



Time passes quickly, and before they know it, the tournament arrives. Yoongi gets roped into manning the cake booth with Jimin, though at least they’re at a vantage where they can crane their necks and see the court. If they weren’t, Yoongi thinks Jimin would have thrown a fit. He’s even more on edge than the players, and Yoongi catches him holding Jungkook’s hand in the locker room and murmuring something intense. Jungkook doesn’t look nearly as nervous as Jimin when he smiles down at him, brushing a lock of Jimin’s hair out of his eyes.

“It’s gonna be fine,” Yoongi mutters, nudging Jimin when they’re at the booth cutting slices of cake to place on paper plates. Jimin’s worrying at his lip.

“I know,” he says immediately. “They’re amazing, they’re gonna win.”

“Then what the hell are you so wound up for?”

Jimin turns his frantic gaze to Yoongi. “I can’t help it,” he whines. “I get so nervous .”

Yoongi sighs and takes the knife out of Jimin’s hands. “You’re gonna cut yourself shaking like that. Go get some water or something.”

Jimin pouts at him with big eyes for a full minute before he runs off to hopefully do as he’s told. Yoongi finishes setting up the booth in the meantime and sells a slice to their first customer, a little girl with pigtails. Jimin returns before long with two bottles of soda. He sets one in front of Yoongi.

“Thanks,” Yoongi says. “Isn’t this going to make you more anxious?”

Jimin waves him off. “It’s fine. I’m totally fine.”

Yoongi shrugs, peering down at the cake with a hint of longing. “You think we get free cake since we’re helping out?”

“Doubt it. But I can give you some of this cake - ” Jimin turns around, hand on its way to his ass, but Yoongi grabs it before it connects.

“Do you ever stop?” he grumbles, and Jimin just laughs.

They hear the sounds of the first game beginning to start; their club isn’t up first, so they pay cursory attention. Yoongi’s interested to see how everyone plays, so he mainly watches to pick up tips. Jimin knows some of the other teams, having played them before, so he keeps a running commentary that has Yoongi laughing and learning at the same time.

“So Seokjin hyung picks whoever he thinks the best players are?” Yoongi questions. “Is it different every time?”

“It depends. He likes giving people chances, but he likes winning, too. Almost everyone in the club has had a chance in a tournament before, though.”

“It is a small club,” Yoongi allows, and Jimin nods.

The second game brings out their own team, and both of them begin to buzz with anticipation. They wander further and further from the cake booth for better glimpses of the court, though Yoongi keeps an eye behind him in case anyone comes to buy. The game starts with Hyojin serving, a great serve that has them both muttering praise under their breath. Yoongi finds himself almost as on edge as Jimin, the two of them alternating between tense outbursts and chewing their lips. It’s an intense game, and Yoongi feels unbelievably proud of his teammates as he watches Hyojin roll across court to catch an impossible ball, and sees Jungkook smash the ball with enviable force onto the other team’s court. He doesn’t want to sound cheesy, but watching them - Yoongi feels nothing short of inspired.

Someone walks up to the booth for cake during the match, and Jimin looks like he’s going to rip his hair out if he has to look away from the court. Yoongi pats his waist.

“I got it,” he tells him, and deals with the customer quickly.

“You’re the best,” Jimin says when Yoongi rejoins him.

He means to respond with something snarky, but Jimin’s smile has him faltering. It’s genuine, no pretense, no joking. Yoongi flushes and mumbles something unintelligible.

Their team ends up winning to their delight. Jimin sheds his nervousness in a heartbeat. “I knew they were gonna win,” he says smugly as they finally return their attention to the cake.

Yoongi scoffs. “Knew they were gonna win my ass. You were about to shit your pants two minutes ago.”

“Was not!” Jimin shrieks, shoving him hard enough that he stumbles.

Yoongi’s expression melts into one of over-exaggerated horror. “ Oh my god, oh my god, Jungkook come on - ” he mocks, pitching his voice high and whiny.

“I do not sound like that!”

We’re gonna lose, wah wah - ”

Yoongi sees it coming too late - the flash of pink, Jimin’s vengeful glare. Before he can duck out of the way, there’s a glob of frosting on his nose. He freezes, eyes widening. Jimin’s giggling, but at his sudden stillness, the laughter starts to fade. He looks like he’s a moment from actually apologizing when Yoongi retaliates.

He drags him in by the hem of his shirt and swipes frosting down his cheek. Jimin squeals, wrestling out of his grip, and reaches for the slice of cake. Yoongi grabs it first, holding it out of the way.

“I hope you guys are gonna pay for that one,” comes a wry voice.

They turn to find Jungkook standing there, sweaty and grinning, hair plastered to his forehead.

“Jungkook!” Jimin cries, and nearly launches himself over the table before Yoongi grabs him by the waist and yanks him back.

“Yah, walk around , you’ll ruin the cake - ”

Jimin bounces around the table and throws his arms around Jungkook’s neck. “You were amazing!”

Jungkook spins him happily and sets him down. “Don’t get too excited, we still have more games to get through.”

“You guys really were amazing,” Yoongi agrees, and Jungkook beams at him.

“Just wait, you’ll be up there one day, too, hyung.”

He sounds earnest and endearing, and Yoongi considers it, really considers it - imagines himself up there playing for the team, adrenaline rushing through his veins.

He surprises himself with how much he wants it.



Yoongi isn’t exactly sensitive to subtlety; in fact, Hyojin likes to call him oblivious. He might not go that far himself, but he does know he’s prone to missing things.

But tonight, Yoongi’s absolutely sure that something’s going on.

He just can’t figure out what.

They’re out for meat after the tournament; they hadn’t won, but they’d made it far enough that Seokjin suggested dinner to celebrate. And when it comes to celebrating, their rowdy club is always ready. Somehow Yoongi had taken over grilling on his side of the table. Not somehow - he knows exactly why. Yoongi’s good at grilling, and it also gives him anxiety when someone else grills because no one does it quite right. So Yoongi’s grilling, and Jimin’s sitting to his right, and Jungkook’s sitting across from him.

And everything should be fine, except it’s not.

Because a minute ago Jimin had batted his eyelashes and told Yoongi he was so good at grilling meat, and he hadn’t sounded like he was flirting just to be funny. And a minute before that, Jungkook had asked Yoongi for a bite and opened his mouth like a puppy. And in between those two minutes, Yoongi swears he saw Jimin and Jungkook glare at each other.

Somewhere down the table, Namjoon says something that Yoongi’s too focused on grilling to hear. Jimin bursts into laughter, leaning into Yoongi’s side as he does, throwing his head back onto Yoongi’s shoulder. His eyes are scrunched, the long line of his neck bared. Yoongi swallows.

“Hyung,” Jungkook calls, catching his attention. He leans his chin in his hand, watching him intently with those big eyes of his. “What did you think of the game today? I did good, right?”

“Of course,” Yoongi says easily. “You did great, Jungkook-ah.”

Jungkook grins happily. Next to him, Jimin pipes up, “Hyung,” and Yoongi glances at him. He’s holding out a cube of radish kimchi with his chopsticks. “Open up.”

Yoongi opens his mouth on instinct, letting Jimin feed him. “Thanks.”

“Of course,” Jimin says. “You’re working hard.”

“Hyung,” says Jungkook. “Have some of my rice.” He scoops a spoonful from his bowl into Yoongi’s full one, and now it’s nearly overflowing.

“Oh, you don’t have to - ”

“It’s okay. Eat a lot, hyung.”

Yoongi blinks. He glances over to Jimin, who’s still plastered to Yoongi’s side. He’s definitely glaring at Jungkook, there’s no mistaking the narrowed eyes and pursed lips. But as soon as he registers Yoongi’s gaze on him, his expression melts into a more neutral one.

Yoongi’s confused. It’s nearly 10 pm, and he’s had a long day, so he can’t utilize the mental energy needed to understand what’s going on. He gazes off down at the table at the others who are blissfully confusion-free. Hoseok catches his gaze and grins, waggling his eyebrows.

Yoongi sighs. He’s too old for this.



The next time the volleyball club meets, Yoongi’s confusion alleviates.

“So I heard you’re single again?” Jimin asks slyly, sidling up to Seokjin before everyone starts stretching.

Seokjin shoots him a look that could melt steel. “I’ve never not been single since we’ve known each other. And before you ask, no. I’m not interested in you.”

Hoseok makes siren noises; Taehyung laughs himself to tears. Jimin whines.

And Yoongi wonders why he’d even been confused to begin with. Jimin flirts with anything on legs; their night at the restaurant wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. As for Jungkook, he has a way of making all of his hyungs feel like they’re special.

It doesn’t mean anything.



Two very specific instances out of many and a conversation with Hyojin convince Yoongi that maybe it might mean something after all.

The first incident involves Jeon Jungkook and a missing shirt - or rather, a shirt he willfully refuses to put on. It’s a regular evening in the locker room after practice, and Jungkook comes out of the showers with water dripping in rivulets down his chest and a towel wrapped around his waist. His things are on the opposite end of the locker room from where Yoongi’s tying his shoes, but Jungkook beelines for him anyway.

“Hyung, let’s play Overwatch tonight.”

“Some of us have to work tomorrow,” Yoongi grumbles.

“Like that stops you. Do you ever sleep?”

“Don’t be a brat.”

Yoongi has so far successfully avoided paying too much attention to Jungkook’s nakedness, but then he leans a hand on the lockers above Yoongi, and suddenly he’s a little closer and the long line of his arm leads to his pecs and abdomen and -

“When are you gonna take me out for lamb skewers, hyung?”

Yoongi tears his gaze away from Jungkook’s torso. Jungkook’s grinning like he knows exactly what he’s doing to Yoongi, his eyes twinkling. “You only hang around me to be a leech, don’t you?”

“Hyung, don’t say it like that,” Jungkook laughs, a hint of a whine in his voice. He runs a hand through his wet hair, and Yoongi watches him with his mouth dry.

He isn’t good with situations like this. He’s impressed that he managed to last this long at all. Clearing his throat, he hops up and slings his bag over his shoulder. One of his shoes is still untied.

“What?” Jungkook says.

“I gotta - uh, go.”

Yoongi turns tail and flees.

The second incident happens in the locker rooms, too, because that seems to be where Yoongi’s capacity to deal with anything is at its lowest. Yoongi’s drying off his hair when Jimin, who’s pulling on his sweats nearby, calls his name.

“Yoongi hyung, can you help me?”

He’s shirtless and holding out a bottle of lotion. Yoongi stares at him blankly.

“Can you do my back please?” he wheedles. “I can’t reach.”

The correct answer should have been no, sorry, but of course Yoongi can’t function when he’s on the spot. “Okay,” he says, then winces when Jimin turns his back. He wonders what it’d be like living with a more useful brain-to-mouth filter.

“Warm your hands up first,” Jimin demands, and Yoongi rolls his eyes. He rubs his hands together for friction anyway, then squeezes a glob of lotion into his palm.

He can’t help but stare at Jimin’s back for a moment, how his shoulders taper down to his slim waist, how his skin’s smooth and pretty. Swallowing harshly, he shakes the nonsense out of his head and puts his hand on Jimin’s back.

“Cold,” Jimin whines, almost a moan.

“Don’t be a baby.” Yoongi has to put his other hand on Jimin’s waist for leverage, drawing him close as he massages the lotion into his skin. He’s as warm and soft as he looks, and Yoongi has an impossible time keeping the nonsense out of his head. When his hand reaches the dip of Jimin’s lower back, Jimin moans, arching the slightest bit.

Yoongi freezes, his heartbeat picking up, before he returns to it. He finishes quickly and wipes his hand on his sweats. “Done,” he blurts, then turns tail and flees.

On a lazy Sunday evening binging Netflix, Yoongi broaches the topic with Hyojin. He might have gone on ignoring it, convincing himself he was overthinking, but it happens too often for even him to make excuses. The fact of the matter is that Jimin and Jungkook are definitely flirting with him.

“Go get some dick, tiger,” says Hyojin, flicking through Netflix’s recommendations at lightning speed with a blanket over her head.

Yoongi shoots her a withering look. “Were you listening to me at all?”

“Sure I was. Your dick’s in high demand.”

“So what am I supposed to do, huh?”

“Like I said. Go get some dick.”

“But which dick?” he groans, tugging a pillow over his face. “This is too complicated for me.”

“What the hell do you mean ‘which dick’? Both, obviously.”

“But - ”

“Look, I really don’t think this is as complicated as you’re making it out to be.”

“How is it not complicated? They’re fucking each other.”

“And now they wanna fuck you. Boom.”

“I mean, I don’t think their flirting is a collaborative effort,” he mutters, ruffling his hair in annoyance. “It kind of seems like they’re trying to one up each other or something.”

She squints at him. “Okay. Maybe it’s a little complicated.”

“I’m telling you.”

“I’ll see if I can get Tae to tell me if they’re still together,” Hyojin offers. “If they aren’t, maybe that’s a mess you should stay out of.”

“And if they are?”

Her mouth curves into a wicked smile. “Ever heard of a threesome?”



One evening at the end of his workday, when he’s hunched over his desk squinting at his computer screen with burning eyes, his phone buzzes. It’s Namjoon, and he’s asking if Yoongi wants to catch a movie with him and Hoseok tonight. Yoongi’s exhausted; he’d only made it through the last two hours of work by daydreaming about his bed. But he thinks about how he’ll probably have fun, and it’ll probably be worth it. So he texts back a quick affirmation and starts to pack up his things.

There’s a lightness to his heart as he leaves work that evening. It’s not that he didn’t have friends before the club, but he admits he’d felt distant from everyone. After graduating university, everyone drifted off in different directions. He sees his old friends sometimes, but Hyojin is the only one who really stuck around. And most of his coworkers are much older than him, so he has little opportunity to make more friends at work.

Despite his grumbling, he knows Hyojin was right to push him to join the club. With nothing but work, work, work, he had started to feel empty. Lonely. Maybe he’s being silly, but the text from Namjoon has him feeling a little giddy.

He’s gone soft in his old age.



The ball comes soaring over the net. Yoongi follows its trajectory, knows it's coming for his side of the court. His gaze locked on its flying progress, he dives for it, skidding on the sleek floor, but he knows he isn't going to make it - he's going to be just a breadth of air away. The ball hits the ground, and Yoongi shrieks.

He doesn't mean to shriek. It just happens, comes out unbidden, his disappointment at missing the ball and the adrenaline flowing through his veins combining into one blood-curdling shriek. He slumps onto the floor, groaning, and realizes the gymnasium is completely silent.

Then everyone bursts into laughter.

They're practically howling with it. Yoongi pushes himself up and sees Namjoon wiping tears from his eyes. Down the court, Jimin is rolling on the ground because he's laughing so hard, and next to him Hoseok's doubled over.

"Hyung!" Jimin calls. "Do you scream like that in bed, too?"

That just brings on another round of laughter.

"Yah!" Yoongi shouts, dusting himself off and huffing to regain some of his dignity. "Keep laughing and I'll slit all of your throats, watch!"

Apparently he's lost whatever intimidating factor he thought he had because no one's laughter even fades. He crosses his arms and scowls until Seokjin finally blows the whistle - he'd been laughing, too, the bastard - and tells them to get their shit together. Yoongi spends the rest of practice with his face flaming red, squaring up with anyone who so much looks at him askance.

His embarrassment is forgotten at the end of the meeting when Seokjin pulls him aside to speak with him.

"What's up?" Yoongi asks, a little nervous.

"There's another tournament coming up in a few months," he says, and Yoongi's stomach tightens. His heart speeds up in his chest, and he doesn't dare to hope. "I know you haven't been with us as long, but I'm considering putting you on the team for this one."

"Really?" he breathes, eyes wide. "Me?"

"You're not terrible," Seokjin grins, clapping him on the back. "I'm telling you a little earlier than everyone else because I want you to work extra hard. You still have a lot to catch up on."

Yoongi nods more vigorously than he means to. "Yeah, of course."

"Just keep in mind that if I don't feel like you're ready, I'm gonna hand the spot off to someone else."

"I got it."

Seokjin sends him off with a wave, and Yoongi walks to the locker rooms like he's in a haze. He almost can't believe it. To think he'd hardly cared about any of this before joining, and now receiving this opportunity feels like the best thing in the world. It's just like Jungkook said - nothing really beats watching yourself improve, watching yourself achieve. He feels like he's floating.

But he also feels really fucking nervous.

The locker room is mostly empty when he steps in, everyone having changed and left during his conversation with Seokjin. Only Jimin's still there, lying on one of the benches, looking bored. He perks up at Yoongi's entrance.

"Hey, hyung," he says, and Yoongi ruffles his hair as he passes him.

"Did you wait for me?"

Jimin nods, so Yoongi throws him a grateful smile. He changes into his clothes, rubbing his shoulders with a tired sigh. "Sore?" Jimin asks.

"Yeah, my back's been hurting."

"I can give you a massage. I'm really good at them, trust me."

"I'm better," comes a voice. They look over, and Jungkook pops his head around a row of lockers. Yoongi starts; he hadn't even known Jungkook was still here. "I'll give you a massage, hyung."

"Nuh-uh," Jimin blurts, narrowing his eyes. "I'm definitely better at massages than you."

"No, you're not."

"Yours aren't even that great."

"Then how come you always pop a boner every time - "

"Uh, I think I'm fine," Yoongi interrupts, backing away. "I don't need a massage. I'm just gonna head home."

"No!" they both exclaim at the same time, and Yoongi jumps. Their gazes turn to him, argument forgotten.

"Stay, hyung," Jungkook insists. "I'm good, I swear. I'll show you. Jimin hyung, sit up."

Jimin pops up from where he's still lying on the bench and turns toward Yoongi. Jungkook stands behind him and begins to dig his fingers into Jimin's shoulders. He definitely looks like he knows what he's doing, hands deft and brow furrowed in focus. Jimin's head falls to the side, his eyes drifting shut, and Jungkook presses his elbow into the tendons connecting Jimin's neck and shoulder.

"See?" Jungkook says. As if to back him up, Jimin moans, lips parting, falling loose under Jungkook's ministrations.

Yoongi swallows, mouth suddenly dry. At first he'd wanted to laugh at how ridiculous they were being, but the urge is all gone now. Now he's fighting to stay composed, entranced by the almost obscene pleasure on Jimin's face, the quiet noises he's making. He can't really even tell if Jimin's playing it up or not - it looks so genuine, like he really is losing himself to Jungkook's hands.

Yoongi's been trying awfully hard to keep the nonsense out of his head these days, but he can't hold it back any longer.

"All right," Yoongi rasps, back hitting the lockers. "Okay. Someone tell me what the fuck's been going on."

Jimin's eyes open, wide and innocent, but Yoongi knows him well enough by now. "What are you talking about, hyung?"

"Quit it," Yoongi says. "I know something's going on. Spit it out or I'm leaving."

Jungkook looks put out. He takes his hands off Jimin, ignoring the disappointed look Jimin shoots him, and sits down next to him. "Hyung," he complains. "Don't be mad."

"I'm not mad. I just wanna know why you two have been arguing with each other and flirting with me for god knows how long."

They at least have the decency to look shamefaced. They exchange a glance, and Jimin speaks up first. "We were kinda trying to see who could get you to kiss them first."

"You what?" Yoongi's convinced he's misheard. Convinced that there's no way Jimin had just said they were competing over him.

"It's just," Jungkook blurts, and his explanation comes out in a rush. "We both ended up admitting that we liked you and then Jimin hyung said you'd been staring at his ass but I was like, Yoongi hyung keeps complimenting me, so we just. Decided to see who could get you first."

"Oh my god," Yoongi groans, sinking to the ground and massaging his temples. "You guys are the fucking worst. Are you serious?"

"We're sorry," Jimin whines, sounding like he really is. "We just really like you, hyung."

"And you couldn't just tell me that?"

Jimin looks scandalized. "I'm too shy for that."

"No way," Jungkook agrees.

Yoongi splutters. "Shy. Shy ?"

"I am!"

“I’ve been killing myself over what all this damn flirting means and here you guys are just playing me.”

“Not playing you,” Jungkook exclaims. “We were hitting on you. You just never reciprocated.”

“Because I thought you were fighting over me. I hate drama.”

“Sorry, hyung,” Jungkook bemoans. “Please forgive us.”

“You’re gonna have to make it up to me,” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “I was worried, you know.”

“We can make it up to you,” Jimin insists, nudging Jungkook. “Right?”

Jungkook nods. “Yeah. We definitely will.”

Then Jimin’s earnest expression turns sly. “We could make it up to you right now, if you want.”

“Oh my god.” Yoongi’s head falls back against the lockers with a thump.

“Is that a no?” Jungkook prods, and Yoongi finds himself smiling at the incredulousness of it all. He’d known something was going on, known they were flirting with him, but he hadn’t really believed they liked him. Part of him had thought that was impossible when they had each other.

“It’s not a no,” Yoongi says, and they exchange a glance full of something Yoongi doesn’t understand.

Jungkook comes first, kneeling by his side and peering at him with a hint of shyness like he hadn’t just admitted he’d been trying to seduce him. “Hyung,” he says, and it sounds a little like a question.

Yoongi’s gaze drops to Jungkook’s mouth, pink and slender. He swallows. His eyes flicker back up to Jungkook’s, holding his gaze, something heavy between them. If Yoongi’s being honest, he’s wanted to kiss Jungkook since the moment he first said Yoongi hyung . Jungkook closes the distance between them, hovering just a breath from Yoongi’s mouth. Then he kisses him.

Jungkook doesn’t kiss like he’s shy. He presses Yoongi into the lockers with the force of it, like he’s trying to make up for lost time, swallowing Yoongi’s gasp. His tongue flicks the roof of Yoongi’s mouth and Yoongi moans, kissing back with equal fervor. They’re panting when they break apart, Jungkook’s lips swollen and his eyes hazy. Yoongi reaches out and traces a finger along Jungkook’s cheek. Their noses brush.

Jungkook’s lids flutter, and Yoongi pecks his mouth sweetly.

Jungkook sits back on his heels, running a hand through his hair. He glances over at Jimin, and Yoongi knows what he’s going to say before he says it.

“I win.”

Yoongi can’t help but laugh at the way Jimin splutters, hopping to his feet and zooming to join them. He settles on Yoongi’s other side, mouth curved into a pout. “Hyung,” he complains. “What about me?”

Yoongi fists a hand in Jimin’s shirt and drags him forward. “Stop whining,” he says, lips brushing Jimin’s as he shapes the words.

Jimin’s lips are as soft and plush as they look. As aggressive as Jungkook’s kiss was, Jimin’s is slow and filthy, his tongue flicking out to tease, his teeth nipping Yoongi’s lower lip. Their tongues tangle together, and Jimin leans against Yoongi’s chest, warm and solid and very much there. Yoongi isn’t dreaming. He wonders if Jimin can feel the way his heart’s thudding so hard he’s afraid it might burst.

“Can we suck you off?” Jungkook asks when he and Jimin break to breathe.

Yoongi’s brain disconnects. We . Jimin and Jungkook both on his cock, the two of them looking up at him - he’s pretty sure he’ll ascend to another plane.

“That looks like a yes,” Jimin giggles, brushing his thumb along Yoongi’s slack mouth.

“Shit, yeah,” Yoongi breathes.

Jimin presses their foreheads together, hand stroking Yoongi’s cheek. Yoongi nips at Jimin’s lips, tracing the seam with his tongue, slipping in when he parts them. Jimin’s tongue brushes his, and he jolts when something soft brushes his neck - Jungkook drops a kiss there, sweet until he sucks and Yoongi moans into Jimin’s mouth. Someone’s hand runs down his chest. He can’t tell whose, but the touch is light and teasing, stopping at the waist of his shorts.

Jungkook’s mouth leaves his neck. “Stop hogging,” he complains, and Jimin breaks their kiss with a laugh.

Jungkook fits Yoongi’s chin between his fingers and turns his face so he can kiss him, just as insistent as before. Yoongi’s brain feels foggy, his senses overwhelmed, Jungkook kissing him breathless and Jimin’s mouth on his neck, someone’s fingers tracing over his clothed cock. His hips jump, and there’s a hand sliding up his shirt and fingers tweaking his nipple and Yoongi’s pretty sure he’s losing his mind.

Jimin’s lips travel along his jaw, and he kisses the corner of Yoongi’s mouth. Yoongi breaks away, gasping for breath, and Jimin’s mouth finds Jungkook’s and they’re kissing just inches from his face, sloppy and desperate. Yoongi’s not ashamed to admit that his cock twitches. There’s still a hand over it, tracing lightly - Jimin’s hand, he realizes. Jungkook’s is still flicking his nipple even as he sucks on Jimin’s tongue.

“Fuck,” Yoongi mumbles, eyes slipping shut. “How’d I get so lucky?”

Jimin pulls away from Jungkook to look at him, a line of saliva connecting their lips. Jungkook chases after him, dropping kisses along his jaw. “You’re so cute, Yoongi.”

“Yah.” Yoongi reaches out and threads his fingers through Jimin’s hair. He tugs his head back, baring his neck for Jungkook, who sucks a mark onto his throat. Yoongi admires the way Jimin’s lashes flutter, his mouth parting in a gasp. “That’s hyung to you.”

Jungkook turns to him, licking his lips. “Stand up, hyung.”

Yoongi doesn’t hesitate, though his legs are a little wobbly. Jungkook rises to kneel, pushing up the hem of Yoongi’s shirt and kissing the bare skin of his stomach. Yoongi shivers, resting a hand on Jungkook’s nape and stroking. Jimin stands, dragging Yoongi’s shirt up with him, and Yoongi lifts his arms so Jimin can tug it off and toss it aside. He kisses him, pressing him against the lockers, and Yoongi can feel Jungkook’s lips tracing the waist of his shorts, a light, teasing touch.

Then he feels Jungkook’s mouth close around his cock through the fabric and he gasps into Jimin’s kiss, hips twitching. Jimin pulls away to nose down his chest, tongue flicking his nipple, and Jungkook pulls his shorts down.

“Hyung,” Jungkook croons. “You’re so big.”

Jimin pulls away from Yoongi in an instant. “I wanna see.”

He drops to his knees next to Jungkook, and Yoongi looks down at them, Jungkook licking his lips again and Jimin’s eyes wide, inches from his cock.

“Can Jiminie hyung even fit it in his mouth?”

“Your mouth is smaller than mine,” Jimin snaps, then he wraps his small hand around the base of Yoongi’s cock and wraps his lips around the head, as if to prove him wrong.

Yoongi hisses, head knocking back into the lockers, Jimin’s tongue laving over the tip of his cock, his plush lips looking even more obscene than usual stretched around him. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t thought about Jimin’s pretty mouth sucking cock before. Jimin’s hand strokes lightly over his cock, teasing, his lips suckling the tip, lashes fluttering and eyes blissed out like he’s never tasted anything better.

“You were made for this,” Yoongi breathes, brushing away the spit collecting at the corner of Jimin’s mouth with his thumb.

“Me, too,” Jungkook says, making room for himself between them. He pushes Jimin’s hand off Yoongi’s cock and replaces it with his mouth, trailing light kisses along the shaft while Jimin suckles on the head, pressing his hands between his folded thighs.

“You too, baby,” Yoongi agrees, threading his fingers through Jungkook’s hair. “Look so pretty.”

Jungkook’s eyes crinkle, looking up at him as he licks a stripe along Yoongi’s cock from base to head, his tongue brushing against Jimin’s mouth. The sight’s so hot that Yoongi’s chest constricts, arousal setting his veins on fire, his breath coming quick.

Jimin pulls off his cock with a pop, peering up at Yoongi with wide eyes and swollen lips. “Do I look pretty?” he asks sweetly, and Yoongi knows he’s being set up for it but he’s ready to shower Jimin with praise anyway and then Jungkook’s mouth is on his cock, swallowing him down, his lips sliding up his shaft until his nose brushes Yoongi’s pelvis.

Yoongi moans, tossing his head back, feels like his body’s just liquid fire and he’s going wild with it, doesn’t know what to do with himself. He can feel Jimin’s small hand playing with his balls and it’s almost too much, the two of them, he’s only one goddamn person.

“Hyung,” Jimin whines, starved for attention, and Yoongi’s lids flutter back open with effort.

Jimin’s licking his lips, gaze flickering between Yoongi’s face and Jungkook on his cock like he doesn’t know what he wants to look at more. “You’re pretty,” Yoongi rasps. “Pretty as hell.” It’s weak, Yoongi in no state of mind to be poetic, but Jimin looks pleased anyway. His mouth drops open, tongue pushing against his lower lip, and Yoongi reaches out without thinking to slip his fingers inside. Jungkook sucks around his cock, tongue tracing patterns, and Yoongi’s hips jerk.

Now he’s the one who doesn’t know where to look, gaze caught between Jungkook’s hollowed cheeks and pretty nose and Jimin’s slick lips around his fingers, his blissed-out expression.

“Don’t like being empty, do you?” Yoongi asks, and Jimin shakes his head. “Cockslut,” he says, and his voice is fond and Jimin whines in response, lashes fluttering.

Jungkook slides off Yoongi’s cock, lips red and slick. “Wait ‘til you see him get fucked,” he says, sounding hoarse, and Yoongi’s cock twitches. “Hear how he begs for it.”

Jimin’s eyes open, fixing on Jungkook intently, unable to speak past Yoongi’s fingers. “Bet he sounds so pretty,” Yoongi says, and Jungkook’s expression turns a little wicked.

“He sounds pathetic,” Jungkook bites, and Jimin moans around Yoongi’s fingers, the hand still between his own thighs sliding up to press against his cock.

Jungkook returns his attention to Yoongi’s cock, licking over the tip, tongue digging into his slit, and Jimin wraps his hand around Yoongi’s wrist to push him away so he can join. Then they’re both on him, kissing and licking up and down his cock, their mouths meeting at the tip, tongues brushing. Yoongi’s losing his mind, pressing a fist to his mouth to muffle the way he moans, can’t tear his eyes away from the sight of them.

Their mouths bump at the head of his cock and Jungkook turns to kiss Jimin, their tongues swirling over the tip and dipping into each other’s mouths, drool and precum collecting on Yoongi’s cock. It’s obscene and Yoongi can’t hold himself back for much longer, has never imagined he could be as lucky as this.

They pull off his cock to kiss, their tongues meeting before their lips touch and it’s filthy, and Yoongi can’t get his head around the fact that their tongues were on his cock and now they’re in each other’s mouths, too, wonders if they can taste his precum. Jungkook tugs Jimin into his lap, hands tight on his ass, and Yoongi’s cock feels like it’s about to burst.

“Yah,” Yoongi groans. “Take care of your hyung first.”

Jimin slides off Jungkook’s lap to settle in front of Yoongi. He opens his mouth, looking up at him, and Yoongi pushes his cock between his lips, muscles tensing as Jimin starts to bob his head up and down.

“Fuck,” he says. “Fuck, I’m not gonna - not gonna last long.”

Jimin pulls off and Jungkook takes his place, circling his fingers around the base of Yoongi’s cock as he swallows around Yoongi’s cock, holding his hips in place when they jump. He lets Jimin have his turn, and Yoongi loses track of who’s on his cock as the pleasure builds, his muscles tightening and his eyes squeezing shut. He doesn’t manage to do much more than wave his hand in warning before he’s coming into someone’s mouth, his hips snapping off the locker and his back arching, mouth dropping open in a soundless cry.

Whoever’s on his cock sucks him dry, suckling through the aftershocks until Yoongi falls limp against the lockers, his eyes slowly drifting open. It’s Jimin. He pulls off Yoongi’s cock and parts his lips for them to see the cum sitting on his tongue, a drop suspended on his lower lip.

“Gimme a taste,” Jungkook demands, and he fits Jimin’s chin between his fingers and turns him so he can dip his tongue inside Jimin’s mouth and lap up the cum on his tongue.

Yoongi lets out a moan that sounds more like a sob, sliding to sit on the ground, his legs weak and eyes blurring. He watches them pass his come between their mouths, watches it grow as their saliva mixes in, until finally Jungkook swallows and Yoongi can breathe again.

“You’re filthy,” Yoongi tells them, still out of breath. “Fucking filthy.”

Jimin looks pleased.

“What about you guys?” Yoongi says. They’re both hard in their sweats.

Jungkook pats his lap, and Jimin nods. He tugs his sweats off, going for Jungkook’s next, until they’re both naked from the waist down. Yoongi admires their cocks - Jungkook’s long and thick, Jimin’s short and fat. Jimin crawls into Jungkook’s lap, whimpering when their cocks brush, and Jungkook fits his hand around Jimin’s ass.

“Come on,” Jungkook urges, and Jimin starts to roll his hips. “Show hyung how loud you can get.”

Jimin winds his arms around Jungkook’s neck and leans into him, hips snapping with increasing speed. They’re both already on edge and Yoongi can tell it won’t take long for them to come. He watches with his mouth open, cock twitching like he hadn’t just come, like he could go again at a moment’s notice. He stares at the swell of Jimin’s ass and it’s even better than he’d imagined, watches it rub against Jungkook’s thick thighs as he snaps his hips.

Jimin’s face is screwed up in pleasure, little whines and whimpers falling from his mouth and muffed against Jungkook’s hair, and Jungkook looks blissed out, lashed fluttering and lips parted.

“Faster,” Jungkook demands. “Hyung’s watching, Jiminie.”

Jimin drags his hips particularly hard, and they both moan and Yoongi exhales a whoosh of breath, eyes fixed so intently on them he doesn’t even want to blink. Jungkook’s hands force Jimin’s hips to move faster, his own thrusting to meet him and then Jimin’s moaning in earnest, the sound as lilting and pretty as Yoongi had expected. They come together, shuddering against each other, Jungkook moaning into Jimin’s hair. Jungkook wraps his hand around their cocks and dips his cum-covered fingers into his own mouth, licking them clean like he hadn’t just swallowed Yoongi’s come, too.

Jimin slips off Jungkook’s lap and lies back on the cold locker room floor, chest heaving. Jungkook leans against a bench, eyes drifting shut.

“This was nice,” Jungkook says, and Yoongi snorts.

“That’s an understatement. You’re both amazing.”

“We should do this again,” Jimin agrees.

“Next time, you can fuck us,” Jungkook offers, and Yoongi’s head spins just from the thought of it.

“Quit it,” Yoongi mutters. “You’re gonna make me hard again.”

Jungkook cracks an eye, grinning. “Is that a problem?’



“We come here all the time,” Jimin tells him, settling in next to Yoongi on the couch. Jungkook’s fiddling with the karaoke machine, and Yoongi grabs the binder of songs and sets it in their laps.

“To sing or to fuck?” Yoongi says wryly, and Jungkook glances over his shoulder indignantly.

Hyung .”

Jimin grins. “We can multitask.”

“Ever tried to sing and get fucked at the same time?” Yoongi ponders. “See how high your score could get?”

“We could try it out right now.”

“I’d win,” Jungkook mutters, tossing microphone over his shoulder that Jimin catches one-handed.

“Everything doesn’t have to be a competition, Jungkook,” Jimin sniffs, sounding high and mighty.

“We’re comparing scores , how is that anything but a competition - ”

“We’re singing New Face,” Yoongi announces, setting the binder down on the table with a thump. The beer bottles wobble. He reads off the number and Jungkook plugs it in. Rolling his shoulders, Yoongi stands up and gets ready to outdo them.

Jimin and Jungkook are just as competitive as Yoongi expected them to be, singing high notes to shatter glass. Yoongi should have expected them to be just as good at this as they are at everything else - Jungkook’s pretty voice when he isn’t trying to be funny, the way Jimin can shake his ass and hold a note. Yoongi dances along behind them with a tambourine that he uses liberally, making about as much noise as the other two combined. It’s fun to let loose; he enjoys himself much more than he thought he would when they’d asked him to join.

He collapses on the couch when the song ends, panting, sweat on his forehead. Jungkook sprawls next to him, poking his side with a grin. “You’re tired already?”

“I’m too old for this.”

Jimin curls up on his other side with a laugh. “Come on, hyung, the night hasn’t even started. Have some beer.”

Yoongi takes advantage of the fluffy sweater Jimin’s wearing and rests his head on his stomach, wrapping his arms around his waist. “I’m good. Night.”

“How are you gonna play a volleyball tournament if you can’t make it through one song of karaoke?” Jungkook’s hand reaches out to play with his hair.

“Lemme take a power nap and I’ll be back in two songs.”

“A power nap,” Jimin giggles. “You’re like a cat.”

“We should go to my place after,” Jungkook suggests, fingers massaging Yoongi’s scalp lightly. It feels so nice that Yoongi kind of wishes he was a cat just so he could purr in satisfaction.

“If it’s to sleep, yeah,” Yoongi mumbles. Not that he doesn’t wanna have sex with them, but he’s going to be too tired by then, he knows it. He really is getting old.

“We can cuddle,” Jimin offers.

Yoongi sits up, and they glance at him curiously. “So what are we?” He gestures between the three of them. He’s been meaning to ask.

Jimin blinks at him, then he snorts. “Really, hyung?”

“I’m trying to clear things up before we, you know.” He shrugs. “Everyone says the two of you are just messing around, yeah?”

Jimin nods in confirmation.

“So now that I’m in the picture, is that gonna look any different?”

“Do you want it to look different?” Jungkook asks. He looks a little nervous, fingers twisting into the couch.

“I’m too old for hookup culture,” Yoongi says gently, peering between them. “And I like you both. A lot.”

Jimin glances away, shy, and Jungkook flushes. “I’ve actually been - I’ve been wanting to talk about that with Jungkook,” Jimin starts. He seems hesitant before he looks up at them with more confidence.

“Talk about what?” Jungkook presses.

“Us. What we are.” He bites his lip. “I kind of wanna be more than just fuckbuddies.”

“How long?”

“Um.” Jimin fidgets. “A while.”

Yoongi is not at all expecting the force with which Jungkook reacts, and neither is Jimin, judging by the way his eyes widen.

“And you waited until now to tell me?”

“I didn’t know how to bring it up,” Jimin defends. “And I wasn’t sure if you were even interested in more - ”

“Are you kidding me?” Jungkook splutters. “I’m literally the most unsubtle person in the world - ”

“He has a point,” Yoongi interjects.

“I wasn’t sure!” Jimin exclaims. “You never said anything.”

“Last week when we woke up together, I told you I wanted to wake up to your face every morning for the rest of my life.”

“I thought you were just being corny .”

“Oh my god.”

“Alright, pull it together,” Yoongi says. “What’s the verdict? Are we doing this?”

“I’d like that,” Jimin says, his cheeks endearingly pink.

“Me, too,” Jungkook murmurs.

“Then we’ll try it,” Yoongi decides. “We can get to know each other, the way the three of us work together, and see where it goes from there.”

“You’re so mature.” Jimin leans into him and bats his eyelashes.

“Yeah, hyung,” Jungkook prods, grinning in that insufferable way of his. “You’ll take good care of us.”

Yoongi peers between them - Jungkook’s big, endearing eyes that don’t match his mischievous smile, Jimin’s coy lashes and sweet grin. Not for the first time, he wonders how he got so in over his head.

Then he decides he doesn’t really mind.



Yoongi makes it onto the roster, and tournament day comes faster than he wants it to.

He dry heaves in the locker room before the first match, and Seokjin tells him to pull it together. So he does, then he goes out and plays like his life depends on it.

They win the first match against another club across the city that Jimin tells him they have something of a rivalry with. That means the trash talk before serves is even worse than usual, and Yoongi regrets that he’s still too wound-up to really participate. Next match, he promises himself. If he makes it through one, he can make it through the rest.

And he does make it through, but he misses a ball that should have been his, practically gives the other team a point. Even though they win and in the end that point didn’t matter, it kills him. The next time it might matter, and then what?

Jungkook meets him in the locker room after Seokjin’s done with his post-match talk. He cups Yoongi’s face in his hands. “Hyung,” he says very seriously. “Get your head out of your ass.”

The second match goes much better for him than the first, and he trash talks to his heart’s content. They barely win, but they win, and Yoongi plays much better once he stops allowing himself to think so hard. He lets his instinct take over; all that extra training he’d put in has to be worth something.

It’s after the second match that he starts to get nervous again because that means they’ve made it into the finals. One more match and they could win the entire tournament.

“We’ve won a tournament before,” Jimin tells him, still out of breath as he takes a swig of water and tosses Yoongi his bottle. They head off to meet with Seokjin and the rest of the team. “But it was a long time ago.”

“What do you think about our odds?”

He shrugs. “I dunno. Both the teams we might be up against are good.”

They gather around with the others, finding space between Namjoon and Hoseok. Seokjin waits until everyone’s eyes are on him before he speaks. “Don’t think I need to tell you how much is riding on this last match,” he says, and Yoongi swallows. “Namjoon, I need you covering more space out there. You’re leaving too much to Taehyung. Yoongi, stop hesitating. You go after every ball even if you think it’s too far, you understand?”

Yoongi nods.

“Keep your head in the game,” Seokjin says, allowing a bit of lightness into his tone, “and let’s show them how the gays do it!”

They all head to the stands to watch the next match, picking up on how both teams play since they’ll be up against one of them. Yoongi’s knee jostles up and down, but he has the rest of the team around him and they’re a good distraction with their commentary and their jokes. There’s nervousness hidden in their jokes, too, he can tell. This is a big deal for everyone, making it to the final round. They may attend club meetings because it’s an enjoyable way to exercise, but in the end they’re all training for a purpose.

They want to win.

Before they know it, they’re on the court with Jimin preparing to serve. The team they’re up against is good, yeah, but Yoongi feels confident. They’re good, too. The match starts out evenly, neither team able to maintain a lead over the other for long. Both teams are starting to grow on edge, looking for a breakthrough, but they remain neck-and-neck.

It isn’t until halfway through the game that they begin to have an edge over their opponents, staying just a few points ahead of them. It’s looking good, but they’re careful not to grow overconfident. Their opponents grow heavy on the offense, looking to score a point.

They score one on them and Yoongi can hear Seokjin yelling at them from the sidelines, their scores too close for comfort. Yoongi stays focused, every cell of his body in tune with the rest of the court, looking for his moment.

And then it comes - there’s a ball headed his way, and Yoongi’s diving for it before his brain can even catch up.

It looks far, and as he moves part of him thinks he won’t make it. But he doesn’t hesitate. He skids across the court, arm outstretched, and his fingers just barely connect with the ball enough to send it flying over to Namjoon. He pushes himself up to his feet, satisfaction thrumming in his veins, and watches Namjoon smash the ball onto the other side of the net.

He doesn’t let himself get too happy - there’s still a game to finish.

But after that it isn’t long. They hold onto their lead with a death grip, and then the whistle’s blowing and it’s over. They’ve won.

“We did it!” someone’s shrieking, and Yoongi can barely hear himself think as he’s swept up in a group hug, Seokjin running onto the court to join them.

He’s jostled around, laughing incredulously with the others, something light inside his chest that makes him feel like he might just float away. “You were amazing!” That’s Jungkook, his voice bringing Yoongi back down to earth. “I knew you were amazing.”

Yoongi extracts himself from the others to look at Jungkook, feeling light and giddy and full of something he doesn’t know what to name. Jungkook stares back at him, eyes bright, grin stretching his cheeks wide. Yoongi turns, grabs Jimin’s wrist to pull him from the others to join him. Jimin’s eyes are glistening, and his smile shines.

“I didn’t know if I’d ever be a part of a win like this,” Jimin says.

“We did it,” Yoongi says, and they nod.

“We did it.”

The something he can’t name fills him fit to burst, and he can see it in Jimin and Jungkook, too. And he gets it.

He’s happy.