wicked, m | jjk, myg

full title: wicked (good boy gone bad)
part of the seriesinspired by TXT’s album minisode 2: thursday’s child

pairing(s): jungkook x reader (plus a lil) x yoongi

summary: He used to be a good boy, but now he knew what that really meant – being an obedient, dumb, naïve dog to a liar. Thanks to a combination of sex, chains, and rock-n-roll, that wasn’t who he was anymore. Jeon Jungkook has gone bad. Just watch him.

warnings: rated M (18+) for language - if you dislike overabundant swearing, maybe skip this one; D/s threesome smut (fem reader, black leather collars and chain leashes, bondage, hair pulling, cowgirl, choking [note: Yoongi chokes JK and yoonkook choke each other], so much saliva /spitting kink, scratching, m-receiving oral, handjob, doggy); non-idol!AU - sub!Jungkook x goth, dom!reader x sub!Yoongi; Jungkook’s POV to Yoongi’s POV

When I heard TXT’s ‘Good Boy Gone Bad’, it immediately reminded me of collared!JK, who suffered a bad breakup, went to a party to snort cocaine, but instead he got fucked by a chick with a single white contact and daddy issues… oop. Yoongi’s involved (of course). And they have choked each other before.

–

anger. the second stage of grief

-

A hand gripped his chin and shoved it up. Long callused fingers dug into his cheeks as his eyes rolled back, seeing only a blur of black and white. His chest felt like it was clawed open. His skin was covered with layer upon layer of red-hot lines, and those fingernails were digging in again, adding more, more fire, more marks, more pain.

It was too much.

It was just right.

This broken feeling is not too bad.

He tried to move his head and found the other hand grip the back of his skull, clutching a handful of his thick hair. Fingers twisting in between the strands, then curling in and grasping, pulling, ensnaring him with hurt.

“Stay still,” was growled above him, heavy and raspy. Familiar.

I like it.

He gasped and let his tongue hang, moaning as he felt wet muscle stroke his throat, hot lips pressing into his shaking Adam’s apple.

I want this.

“Do you miss the collar, my pet?” the voice in front of him purred, wicked and sweet. The owner of that voice was the cause of the marks he bore now. They were temporary, but the raw feeling was seared into his memory, a feeling for him to savor forever.

Watch me.

Jeon Jungkook opened his eyes, looking up to Min Yoongi, the one whose hands were gripping his head and locking it in place. Those narrowed dark-brown orbs glanced down at him. Cold and cat-like. Around older male’s pale neck was a thick, black leather collar that held a metal silver ring in the center, dangling above the Jungkook’s head. Jungkook’s eyes went to it, staring at the swaying silver catching the light of the bedroom.

Yoongi leaned down.

Let the cold metal touch Jungkook’s sweaty forehead, sending icy shock followed by surging jealousy through his burning veins. The collar ring lightly bounced against his brows in the steady rhythm that was the brutal force of hips smacking into his crotch, slick walls constricting around his rock-hard cock while his arms were bound, his clenched fists pressing to the small of his own back.

Jungkook tried to speak but he couldn’t.

His words were being snuffed out by his own moans.

Yoongi clicked his tongue and lifted his head. He seemed disappointed. Annoyed. The long-sleeved white shirt his hyung was wearing was ripped down the center, the edges jagged and torn, revealing his collarbones and part of the pale chest underneath.

“What good is givin’ you a chance to talk if you don’t take it?” Yoongi scoffed, his Daegu satoori adding a rough depth to his dangerous tone.

The hand on Jungkook’s chin slid down.

Break me more.

Those rough fingertips pressed down on the sides of his neck the same time Yoongi yanked Jungkook’s head up by his hair, forcing him to look forward as his blood began to thin out.

Just break me.

Yoongi choked him as Jungkook stared into the eyes of his favorite kind of pain, the eyes of the woman in black, the eyes that glittered with devious intent, the eyes that didn’t match. One real iris, one fake white iris. A contact lens. She cocked her head. Her clothes were still mostly on while she rolled her hips, thrusting his stiff length inside her tight heat. Nimble pink tongue flickering out, dancing against the side of her lips. Her hands splayed out over his inflamed chest, her pointed black fingernails digging into his pecs.

Fucking him on the black leather bench at the base of her bed like he was a piece of meat, not bothering to give him the grace of expensive sheets and soft mattress under his rigid, straining thighs.

She was grinning.

A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.

She slashed down his sides, tearing airless gasp leaking out of his throat that morphed into an obscene moan as her hands hit the bench, the forward position allowing her to put more force in her fucking. Her torn-up band tee hanging down, breasts still covered in a black satin bra underneath, not even giving him a view for his unfocused eyes to lock on, the chain on her skirt jangling, smacking him and her, her juicy thighs squeezing his hard ones.

“Choke him harder, Yoongi,” she hissed, licking her teeth, open-mouthed smirk right in his face.

The pale hand around his neck took more blood away.

He craved the taste of pain and he knew it.

I like this altered face of mine.

Lightheaded and suspended in air, pleasure and pain flaring up his stomach, into his burning lungs, snaking around what was left of his heart that was full of scars from someone else, from another time where Jungkook believed in love, but love only gave him stress and pain, so now he gouged it out with blackout lust.

I like this me.

Higher and higher, less and less air, seconds like hours, ropes cutting into his skin, her slick, sweet-smelling cum dripping down between his tense legs, staring into Yoongi’s dark eyes that only grew darker in the shadows, his hyung bringing his face close to Jungkook’s panting-open mouth, that low whisper a command not to be defied.

“Cum.”

I like being bad.

Yoongi dug his fingers into Jungkook’s hair and pulled back hard.

It all crashed down, choked wail tearing out of him, his back arching to the extreme, stinging hurt from his head shooting down to meet pain crisscrossed over his chest, down to meet searing throbs of ecstasy and tense, straining legs, his hips jerking up strongly and pumping his orgasm out in short fierce jolts, spilling into the condom and deep inside the woman in black.

Airless, bloodless, suspended in pleasure.

For a singular, isolated millisecond, Jeon Jungkook was in heaven.

Kill me, just kill me.

Yoongi released him.

Air punched into his lungs and Jungkook’s head snapped back, pathetic whine mixing with coughing, held up by Yoongi’s hand behind his head, the other now between his shoulder blades, the powerful pulsing of her pussy forcing blinding bliss to interrupt his pain, helplessly falling apart to her grinding hips, her satisfied sigh drifting over him, hot breath against his burning, clawed-up skin. Yoongi pushed Jungkook’s lolling head up since unable to do it himself, panting, struggling to breathe, his limbs like lead from the high of his orgasm, his vision focusing, finding what he was looking for.

Those eyes.

Right iris real, left iris fake white.

She leaned down and licked his heaving chest, leaking saliva all over his marked skin.

Jungkook moaned, leaning into it as Yoongi’s hand moved from his hair and onto his collarbone, sliding down, graceful fingers following the dripping spit, spreading the slippery saliva all over, tongue and touch tracing the red lines and circling his nipples, and Jungkook’s hips thrust up into her even though the condom needed to be replaced, but he didn’t care, he didn’t care anymore, he just didn’t care.

His hyung snickered at his reaction.

“So needy.”

That’s right. I need this.

Up his trembling neck, and then she grabbed his chin and spat into his mouth, slick liquid sliding down his tongue and into his throat, and he greedily swallowed it all with a wanton moan. This was not the future his naïve past self had dreamed of back then. He couldn’t even remember what he wanted. Now? Now he was tattooed, pierced, chained. Tied up, scratched up, all kinds of fucked-up and Jungkook never wanted it to stop, never wanted to be let go, never wanted it to end, his kind of forever now was this kind of never.

He killed him.

The old, good Jungkook killed, replaced by this new, bad him.

-

“You really have changed, Jeon Jungkook.”

He almost didn’t recognize that voice. That voice used to mean everything to him. Everything. Nervousness and tenderness, heart on his sleeve, precious smiles and laughs, then creeping doubts, uncertain nights, staring at himself, picking at his face, swallowing his heart and wagging his tail for something that was all shattering slowly before him, all make-believe, all in the name of love.

But love was a lie.

Jungkook turned his head slowly, his black hair shrouding part of his vision in this dim nightclub, staring down at the one he used to call love, darling, one and only.

How stupid he was.

I loved that lie.

He tilted his head.

“Who are you?” he said to his ex-girlfriend, hollow and dead.

But not anymore.

She scowled, clad in a tight rose-colored chiffon minidress and dainty nude stilettos, jerking her head up and down at his appearance. Turning up her nose at him. Disapproval all over her delicate, pretty features, tossing her long, curled hair over her shoulder as she took in his distressed black and white wide-striped sweater with zippers at the shoulders, tight black leather pants, and thick-soled, silver-studded boots.

His neck clinked, heavy and weighted by a black leather collar and silver chain leash.

“You look like a dirty, mangy dog,” she spat.

Those words used to hurt him. She would say that when his shirt was untucked or if his jeans were ripped. Little things that did not match up with the heavy disdain in her voice, sending him into a wave of rocketing panic as he immediately tried to correct himself, trying to be the person she wanted instead of himself.

Was I ever myself?

Now, Jungkook found that those words barely stung.

He didn’t have a heart to feel them anymore.

He stuck his hands in his pockets, the chain leash dangling in front of him, leather handle hitting his thigh.

“And you look like the fuckin’ whore you always were,” Jungkook replied, slow and bored.

The old him wouldn’t have said something so cruel. The old him would have cared about her feelings, even though she hurt him countless times, knowing how fragile he was and dropping him over and over, leaving him to pick up the pieces, blaming himself every single time, believing it was him that lacked the understanding, believing that she must be right because she loved him, believing in the lie that was I love you, but there was a lieinbelieve, and Jungkook knew that now.

Her face contorted, painting dishonest injury over her scorning expression.

“How could you say something like that, Jungkook?” she pleaded, wretched with crocodile tears. “I came all the way to the city to find you and tell you I still love you.”

He had believed it every single time, back then, but that was the past.

“Come home.”

Her pretty hand outstretched, pampered and polished.

“I love you. We can make it right.”

Honeyed words that reeked of sewage.

He raised an eyebrow, narrowing his eyes.

I’m free now.

“Find another dirty, mangy dog to wag their tail at you,” Jungkook growled, the expansion of his neck from his deepening voice hitting the sides of the collar, causing the attached chain to clink and sway by his hips. “You’re uglier than I remember.”

The façade dissipated and she stared at him, enthralled, glassy eyes glittering with grotesque lust.

“I would have kept you if I knew you were going to get hot and sexy,” she breathed. She chuckled, a hideous smirk eating at her face, looking him up and down, unabashed, an object in her eyes. “Who paid for your body tonight? I’ll double it.”

She winked.

“For old time’s sake and charity.”

He let himself feel the anger. Relish in it. Become it. Harness it.

“Even if I was a prostitute,” he snarled, raising his chin. “No amount of money could convince me to touch your parasitic, STI-infested, flat ass.”

He could see the anger was rising now, but she was pushing it down, plastering a fake, sick smile to her face as her shoulders tensed, taking a step towards him, pulling herself to her full height, forcing out pitched laughing to mask her rage at his dismissal. Hilariously, it seemed to be the last adjective that pissed her off the most.

“Come on now, Jungkook,” she cooed, disgusting, prancing her fingers in the air. “Of course, we’re just joking.”

“I’m not joking,” he retorted. “I mean every word.”

Her expression cracked, fury leaking through.

“Tch, I don’t even know why I bother talking to you,” she snapped, clenching her jaw. “You’re thick-skulled and useless. There was never anything good about you except using your dick, and even that I found better replacements. But since you’re so pathetic,” she chuckled darkly, eyeing the hanging leash by his hips. “I don’t need your permission to remind you I’m the best pussy you’ll ever have.”

Her hand shot out.

Jungkook yanked his hands out of his pockets, but he was too late.

Another hand shot between them, snatching the handle of the chain leash next to Jungkook’s crotch. It twisted and slapped the back of his ex’s hand with the leather strap, so hard that the sound cracked through the loud music and drunken conversation.

“Ow!”

The screech of pain was so loud that the club fell silent.

“Get your dirty, mangy hands off my precious pet.”

A gruff growl, the sharpened tone of a predator.

The woman in black.

Leather jacket, too many zippers. Underneath, a bra with a mesh shirt over it. Shockingly short skirt adorned with hanging silver chains. Shredded tights and knee-high boots with a tall platform and high heel, causing her to tower over the other woman. Usually, she had a smirk or a grin. Demonic, but pleasing in its own way.

Not now.

His ex-girlfriend clutched her hand, gawking at the ice-cold gaze of one real iris, one white contact.

“You– You bitch!”

All of a sudden, Jungkook felt his contained irritation morph and burst into white-hot wrath. He did not care much about himself, but to say something so careless… he didn’t care if she was a girl. He didn’t care if he used to say I love you to her. He didn’t care that being the bigger person meant that he should back up and walk away.

Jungkook wanted to ram his knee into his ex-girlfriend’s face until she was completely unrecognizable.

Before he could do so, the woman in black sucked in her cheek with a loud popping sound, head cocked as she scrutinized the other woman. “Yeah, so? I’m a bitch. Congratulations, you got eyes,” she sneered, her voice getting deeper, slipping into her satoori.

His ex-girlfriend snapped her head at him, glaring, but Jungkook could see it in her wide eyes.

Fear.

He felt the anger bleed down, feeling a strange sort of satisfaction at seeing that fear.

“Yah, Jeon Jungkook! What’s this? You need a girl to protect you now because you’re so weak and pathetic? You’re even more pitiful than I thou–”

Anothercrack blasted through the stilled air of the nightclub.

His ex-girlfriend screamed, cowering back.

The woman in black rolled her eyes. “Wow, what a damn baby. All I did was hit my own hand and you’re the one cryin’ over nothin’,” she mocked, lightly tapping the leather handle in her palm. “Look here, you’re noisy and frankly quite hideous even though your parents worked so hard to make you pretty on the outside,” she grunted, shaking her head. “Guess if you’re full of shit, it comes outta your ass and mouth, huh?”

Jungkook knew he shouldn’t be amused at the dumbstruck look on his ex’s face, but he was already smirking.

“Get out. Your spoiled ass doesn’t belong here,” the woman in black hissed.

Strangely, his ex-girlfriend seemed to compose herself, gritting her teeth and backing up. Straightened her skirt and put on her crocodile sniffles, glaring accusingly, pointing to her now reddened hand. “I’ll have you arrested for assault, you slut!”

With a barking laugh, the woman in black doubled over. “Hahahaha, yeah?” Hands on her chest, pushing the mesh shirt into her cleavage. “But if I’m such a slut, I’ve probably slurped every policeman’s dick in this city. The handcuffs are just a kinky touch now,” she snickered, ticking her head like a curious weasel, vicious grin widening. “Come on, if you have a plan, you have to do better than that.”

But there was something wrong, because the woman in the rose-pink dress was not backing down, deadly glee overtaking her expression.

“Watch–” Jungkook started, but the leash was suddenly dropped.

“You thought I came alone, didn’t you?” his ex-girlfriend sniggered. She waved her hand and several men slipped out of the crowd to stand behind her. Chiseled jaws, one-size-too-small polo shirts, pressed khakis. “As if.”

Man, this girl is fuckin’ stupid.

Jungkook glanced at the woman in black.

She was not afraid.

“Ho.” A low chuckle, looking at each of those pampered faces. “You that good?”

He could see the slow, demonic grin forming on her lips now.

A little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy.

Jungkook didn’t bother to move. There were five guys and his one pathetic ex-girlfriend that was moving behind them, all versus the woman in black who was removing her leather jacket, tossing it behind her. He caught it, carefully folding it in his hands.

One real iris, one white iris, all danger.

Raised her hand, beckoning them forward.

“Come at me,” she growled, low and treacherous. “Bring it on.”

His ex-girlfriend glared at him, grisly triumph twisting her facial features. “Last chance to save your monster girlfriend,” she jeered.

He shrugged, the chain leash swinging. Then he raised his chin, bouncing it once, ticking his head from side to side.

“Hm, maybe look around you first before you do something stupid.”

And now, now they finally looked around, finally realizing the club was dead silent, because every single face was turned towards the outsiders. Leather, vinyl, mesh, too much makeup and too many tattoos, pale faces edged in black, watching, even the bartender clutching a beer bottle and the band on tables, holding their instruments, squinting down at these idiots that thought it was a good idea to harass the Boss, not only the owner of the music studio the band rented, but also a constant financial supporter of the night club they were standing in.

The woman in black looked exasperated, rolling her eyes.

“Youserious? Are you gonna let me beat up at least one of them?” She pointed at one of the primly dressed men, waving her finger around. “Come on, his nose already looks broken. If I break it again, insurance will cover it instead of him paying out-of-pocket!”

“Come on, Boss. Your dad is gonna be sad if you get hurt,” the bassist of the band chuckled, jumping down.

“Papa can go cry into his gambling money and nurse his sugar babies,” she growled irritably, taking a step forward. “Fuck ya’ll. Imma get at least one punch in for fun.”

Shing!

She jerked back, the gleam of a silver sword reflecting off her eyes.

“Can’t let you do that,” said a deep, raspy voice.

Her head turned, facing cold, cat-like eyes.

“Yoongi.”

Min Yoongi smirked, open-mouthed and pleased. Tongue between his teeth. Long black hair framing his cheekbones, pale skin glowing in the overhead lights. He purred her name back, tilting the traditional sword to reflect off her full lips.

“Lookin’ kissable tonight, Boss.”

The tips of her cheekbones flushed pink at his hyung’s comment.

There was a flurry of noise and the six outsides took that awkward moment to vacate, pushing through the crowd and out the door. Of course, they did. The whole club was grabbing every blunt weapon available and then some crazy guy shows up with a sword out of all things? Jungkook would have bounced the second they were distracted too.

“I always wanted to do that,” Yoongi chuckled, sheathing the sword.

“Whatare you?” she cackled, shoving him in the chest playfully, making everyone laugh. “Some kinda historical drama protagonist? You nicked the damn sword behind the bar and started waving it around left and right! What if you lopped off someone’s head?”

Yoongi scoffed, placing the black traditional sword gently onto the bar top where the bartender sighed in relief, shaking his head at them. “Come on. I told you I did some sword dancing at university. I know how to handle a sword. It’s not even sharp.”

She slapped her hand down on Yoongi’s shoulder, turning him around.

“Come here.”

Angling her head, pushing Yoongi against the bar, lips to lips in a fiery kiss, raspy chuckle between them, her body fitting against his, practically bending his back over the bar.

“Aw, Boss, not on the bar! Get outta here with that shit!”

The bartender was shooing them away and she detached from Yoongi’s face, grinning, a little psychotic, a little mischievous, a lot sexy, grabbing Yoongi by the collar of his shirt and slipping her hand in the leather strap that Jungkook held out, tightly grasping it, dragging them both along, insane laughter tumbling from her lips.

He thought it would bother him, seeing the one he used to call love.

Strangely, it didn’t.

Probably because he killed that good boy wagging his tail, ditching those hopes that his love could change unfaithful hearts, because the only thing worse than a dumb bitch was the one that believed in her lies.

Jungkook felt the leather collar snap into the sides of his neck and felt himself smile, following the call of the chain.

-

It felt so good.

It felt so good being bad.

“Tighter.”

Min Yoongi stared into those large, dark brown orbs, glassy and fucked out. Tattooed arm extended, hand turning at his command, winding the silver chain around the leather strap and pulling hard, the sides of the thick black leather collar pressing into Yoongi’s neck.

He mirrored Jeon Jungkook’s movement.

Yoongi watched the younger man’s face shadow with pleasure, the slurping sound under them getting louder, messier. He let his hips roll forward, fuck, the tight wet heat all around him, looking down to watch Jungkook’s cock getting swallowed with some effort. Her hand around the base, rubbing the balls with her slippery palm. Yoongi thrust harder, slightly bent forward from Jungkook’s strong grip, feeling the tendrils of lightheadedness creep up his head, his cock getting even harder, twitching inside her at the anticipation.

Guess there as a reason for the length of these chain leashes after all.

Yoongi lifted his head again, licking his lips, watching Jungkook.

It was such a beautiful, exquisite descent into madness.

He snapped his hand up and Jungkook’s head tipped back, leather collar squeezing the sides of the younger male’s neck, his sweaty black hair flying, wanton moan dripping from his shapely lips, the tiny mole exposed under a trembling mouth. The silver lip ring glinted in the bedroom lights, wayward pink tongue caressing it.

He knows how to look pretty.

Yoongi smirked as Jungkook noticed him watching.

The eye contact was held for way too long but they were also choking each other and fucking the same woman between them, so it was hard to tell how much was too much.

There was a loud slurp and lips smacking against sensitive skin, visible shiver overtaking Jungkook’s broad frame, gasping as she lifted herself, string of spit snapping, halfway crawling up the younger man’s chest, laughing hoarsely.

“You’re gonna make me choke on his dick, Yoongi.”

“Good,” he hissed out, snapping his hips into her soft ass and making it bounce.

He could hear the rapid sound of hand on wet cock, could see it all over Jungkook’s face, overcome by pleasure and pressurized by speed, his head falling back, choking himself more, shoulders and chest flexed from tenseness, struggling to hold his torso up, and it must have been difficult, the pace of that tight and unforgiving hand matching the tight and unforgiving walls that wrapped around him, squeezing his stiff, throbbing length, harder, trying to make her lose grip, but she planted her hand onto that muscular chest and pushed back against Yoongi, forcing him deeper inside.

Fuck.

Jungkook pulled harder.

Fuck!

The younger man’s lips curved into a roguish smirk.

What happened to the good boy?

Yoongi clenched his teeth and yanked hard.

He must have gone bad.

“Cum for me, Jungkook,” Yoongi heard himself whisper, smokey and thin in his ears, using the last of his breath. Those brown eyes widened, surprised to hear it from him and not, well, the one furiously jacking his dick.

Closer.

Yoongi grinned, maybe a little psychotic.

Closer.

There.

“Fuck!”

And he had no idea who said it, him, Jungkook, her, maybe all three, but then it was a mess, white dripping down the back of her hand and splattering onto Jungkook’s lower belly, her pitching forward and clutching the younger man’s shoulder, wildly moaning into his flexed, hard chest, then the sudden clenching pulse around his twitching cock, and he was gone too, strong jolts filling up the condom, bent over her back, the sudden rush of oxygen knocking the wind out of him, his arm going slack, his hand letting go of leather and metal.

He heard Jungkook gasp, his arms giving out and falling onto the bed with a hard fwump!

Her hand on Jungkook’s shoulder immediately slid down onto the bed, her elbow locking, and she held herself up, anchoring Yoongi in place. His chain leash draped over her shoulder, hanging in the air, already released in Jungkook’s euphoria. She laughed huskily, just a touch of deviousness, slowly rubbing her cum-covered hand all over Jungkook’s spent cock.

Whines and whimpers echoed in the room, the younger man squirming under them, but there were no weak pleas, no refusal, no desire to stop, only those glassy brown orbs opening, begging to be broken, more, just break me.

She leaned down, hot breath against Jungkook’s shaking lips.

“Good boy.”

Snickered, sweetly sinister.

“Just kidding.”

Her agile tongue slid out and licked Jungkook’s cheek, making him break out into a mischievous grin.

“You’re not a good boy anymore, thanks to me.”

-

far to go. drabble series

01 opening sequence — myg
03 trust fund baby — ksj
04 lonely boy (the tattoo on my ring finger) — kth, ft pjm
05 thursday’s child has far to go — knj, ft jhs
02 good boy gone bad — jjk, ft myg (collar!AU)

–

masterpost

not allowed, interlude | 20220615

drabble: ‘not allowed’ series; fluff
pairing(s): est. poly relationship yoongi x reader x jungkook

You can’t plan everything in life, but there are some things, surely, that stay consistent - people that will always help face what comes. That’s what you are to Min Yoongi and Jeon Jungkook.

part i | part ii | part iii | part iv | part v | part vi | part vii | part viii | part ix | part x | part xi | part xii | part xiii

–

“Are you afraid?”

He smiled wryly. “I feel like I should be.”

You smiled back.

“But it’s hard to be when I see you.”

“Why’s that?” you asked him, tilting your head.

He did that thing with his expression, the playful narrowing of his eyes and the spark to his smile, the thing that was so subtle and yet so very him. For a moment, it was quiet, staring into those dark brown orbs and him into yours, a sudden reflection of all the time between you and him, all the different personas you had seen grow and change, SUGA of BTS, Agust D, Min Yoongi. He used to say he was envious of you for living a ‘normal’ life, but you reminded him that sometimes you had to hide in bushes or pretend you were HYBE staff, acting like a criminal undercover is not very normal, Yoongi, to which he responded with an annoyed squint, but that was life. There were all these normal things and then there were the abnormal, unique things that made each person an individual.

Yoongi happened to have a lot of abnormal, unique things that made him a very strong individual.

“I don’t think I’ve ever met someone so ready to do so many reckless things,” he chuckled.

You waved a finger. “That’s not true. You’ve met Jeon Jungkook.”

He laughed then, a familiar, lovely sound.

Time had moved fast and slow all at once. It felt as if you had only just met Yoongi and simultaneously known him all your life, so ingrained in your lifeline that it was hard to imagine not knowing him.

“You are the perfect companion to have a journey with,” he said softly.

You could see he meant it, and it was strange, the sheepishness you felt and slight awkwardness, all of it mirrored in his expression as well, because neither of you were very good at that kind of talk, maybe after a few drinks or over text or in the middle of the night when the edges of the world seemed a little hazy, during the darkest time right before the dawn where all possibilities were born. Most of the time you and him relied on gaze, on simply reading him and him reading you.

But sometimes.

Sometimes you needed to say it, because that made it all the more real.

“I’m been on this journey with you for a long time,” you said to him. “Would be a real shame if I chickened out now when we were just getting to another very good part.”

“Aren’t you mad at me for packing my schedule now?” he joked, tapping his glass.

“Not at all. Your English sucks,” you teased, even though secretly you thought his pronunciation was very impressive… and attractive. How could someone who claimed to not know English very well annunciate so beautifully? Surely, suspicious.

Surely, not allowed.

“Besides,” you exhaled, pouring him a little more despite his raised eyebrows. “I think it’s good. It reminds me of back then, when you worked so hard to be seen and now you’re working hard to see yourself. That’s important and I never want you to feel like you are being held down by me.” You nodded to yourself, thinking deeply about it. “Even I, too… there are many things I’m interested in, although not nearly as cool as your things.”

“You could join Pilates with me.”

“That’s true, your ass is definitely pop like trouble,” you replied. Respectfully.

“On second thought, I practice in the HYBE building, I don’t think we can.”

“Ah, that’s too bad.”

A silence like a comforting melody. You watched him and he noticed mid-sip, looking back.

“You guys are so cool. I’m glad to know you and the rest of the members.”

The edges of his jaw were getting flushed. You wondered if it was the alcohol or the flash of embarrassment. Stop that, those eyes said. You read him easily. There was magic in that, not being able to hide from each other, handing him the proverbial pen to write your story and him handing it back, an adventure among ink, a book in memories.

You grinned at Min Yoongi.

“Books are always more fun when there are twists and turns in different parts.”

-

“How many mattresses is too many mattresses?”

“One more than your heart desires.”

He grinned, the flash of white teeth and amusement etched around his bright eyes, the mole underneath his lower lip peeking out to play. “The hyungs say you’re a bad influence on me, noona. You always tell me to do whatever I want.”

You snickered. “Good thing you’re the idol, because I would probably drive HYBE bonkers.”

Jeon Jungkook tilted his head at you, playful and with all the mischief of the Golden Maknae. Shirtless and laying on his stomach, looking up at you curiously. There was a time where you thought he was very different from you, but lately you had been feeling it was the opposite, that actually there were all these qualities that you shared, consciously or unconsciously, and it was a desired problem to have, loving Jeon Jungkook too much.

“Why do you say that?” he questioned.

“Well, firstly I don’t think the company would enjoy my excessive swearing–”

Jungkook laughed. “We can edit that out!”

“Secondly, I don’t think HYBE would enjoy all the sneaky, half-nakey pictures I would want to take of you.”

His round, big peepers went wide. “You would do what?” he gasped dramatically, acting as if he couldn’t believe it even though you were prettysure there was a very interested sparkle dancing behind those shaking dark brown irises

You waved a hand, playing along. “I’m just sayingI could take some very artful photos for your IG, that’s all. We don’t have to expose any bits.” You bounced your eyebrows. “You seem to want to do that on your own.”

“Itold you, that was an accident!”

You placed your hands together in mock prayer and looked up to the ceiling. “Thank you for your hard work, button-nim.”

Jungkook shoved you lightheartedly and you laughed, rolling about in a ball for a moment. This. It was these moments, this time in a bottle, not the same as the years with Yoongi, but just as meaningful. A different kind of depth, a breathlessness that you savored, tipping your head and finding his lips, stopping time with softness and a hint of silver ring, and you realized that you, too, had changed, somehow an impossible to a possible, somehow a hope in a different universe becoming reality in this one, and that was so weird to think about that, years ago, young you would have never thought that you would taste the magic of Jeon Jungkook’s kiss.

There’s nothing like us.

Also, young you would be gagging at the thought of being this mushy but Jungkook did that to you, this was all his fault for being so earnest and wonderful to love. Surely, he must be stopped.

Surely, not allowed.

He grinned against your smile, unstoppable.

“I always feel better when I see your face.”

“Kind of hard to see it when you’re all up in my business.”

Jungkook closed one eye and brought the open one very close to yours, brushing your eyebrow with his eyelashes to be both annoying and cute. You licked his underlip mole and he backed up, laughing. It was short-lived though, his expression softening, looking down at you.

“I… I just always feel like I can do anything when I know you’re by my side,” he breathed, soft and light.

“That’s because you can do anything,” you chuckled, reaching up to tuck part of his black hair behind his ear. “You’re just a little lazy sometimes. I understand.”

Jungkook leaned against your palm and you stilled.

“I always think I can be better,” he sighed ruefully.

“Everyone can,” you murmured softly. “But imperfection is also perfection in its own way. Without it, you wouldn’t have the guts to run forward, right?”

That little roguish spark danced in his eyes. “You sound just like him.”

“You mean he sounds like me.” You stuck your tongue out, bantering with the absent Yoongi.

“Maybe you should write lyrics.”

“Definitely not.”

“Could be fun,” he nudged. “You have lots of cool things to say.”

“I have a whole lotta nonsense to say. That can be your job to make sense of it.”

“That’s plagiarism.”

“I’m not looking for royalties, I’m only looking for–” You abruptly cut yourself off.

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. A very Kim Seokjin-esque face. He did learn from his hyungs after all. You remained tight lipped. He wiggled his eyebrows, making them laugh at you.

“For?” He dragged out the word, reaching out and dragging you to him.

“Yah, Jeon Jung–!”

–

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