#She yelled at me for being late and bonk said 'he got here as fast as he could'

[fragglerockopinions]

.

[whatifyoulivelikethat]

LO$ER=?, m | jjk

pairing(s): jungkook x reader

summary: Life is just a path and you walk it. Until Jeon Jungkook. He made you run, sprinting through winding side roads and alleys, fighting, bleeding, losing. Your paths split, but life is made of orbits. Now that they have overlapped once more, his hand is fiercely holding yours and he won't let go again. Nothing matters if he's with you. Thus, you run once more, laughing like you've gone mad.

continuation of 0X1=?, m | jjk – click here to read

warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of sexual assault (not heavily described, however, please note reader is the victim of said assault); actually predominantly fluff; mentions of previous angst; mentions of physical fighting; smut (fem reader, fingering, cowgirl, scratching / marking, penetrative sex); non-idol!BTS - tattooed, previously rich!Jungkook x rebellious!reader (mostly reader's POV, a tiny bit of JK's POV), ft cameo of Kim Taehyung as JK’s best friend and crossover with 'bao, t/m | myg' au

yes, I waited until the TXT's 'LO$ER=LO♡ER' was released to write this XD there's a ton of TXT references as well, enjoy!

--

now playing – LO$ER=LO♡ER by txt

"Jeon Jungkook! Yah! Jeon Jungkook! Come out of that whore's home!"

You were about to remove the groceries from your front seat, but then you stopped at the shouting, peering up at the second story of the apartment complex to see… ah, yes, a young woman yelling at your front doorstep. One look at the imported, Western, black car with heavily tinted windows and you were well aware that the woman in a matching designer two-piece – a ruffled pink suit jacket and flared skirt – complete with immaculately pulled back hair in a half-ponytail must be...

She turned around, fuming, pretty features twisted in rage, and screamed in frustration.

You quickly jerked your head back out of her line of sight and clicked your tongue.

Your boyfriend's ex-fiancé had some lungs on her.

You waited until she finished shrieking like a banshee and peered out to see her spin on her heel and return to pounding on your apartment door with her small, manicured fists. You spotted her beige, black cap-toed slender heels.

Chanel.

Huh.

You stayed in your car.

Reached over to your bag and pulled out the single ice cream you bought to share with Jungkook but, at this rate, you would have to buy another. You pulled off the cap and folded it in half, curving it like a spoon, and began to eat the mango sorbet. Hm, well, it was better this way. Jungkook would probably prefer chocolate or straight up diabetes over mango sorbet.

He would eat pretty much anything though.

You scooped up some of the frigid, melting sweet into your mouth and watched his ex-fiancé shout at no one.

True, you could go up there and throw her down the stairs. But there was something hilarious about this, her beating and howling at your apartment door, completely ignoring the fact that no one was answering it and that she was very clearly causing a public disturbance, all because of her own personal problem.

You glanced up to watch her slide down the door, openly crying now. You pressed the button of your car window to roll it down a crack to listen to her sobbing above you.

"–can't believe you would do this to me... you know I need this marriage... my family's company depends on it..."

You slowed, licking off your makeshift spoon.

"I'll be left with nothing... nothing unless I get married..."

Crocodile tears or not, the woes of the rich did not earn much sympathy with you.

You rolled your window back up, leaving your car on idle for the air conditioning.

It was a mix of previously being constantly berated by Jungkook's wealthy parents that now exiled him over a fucking eyebrow piercing and being a member of the working, lower middle class. For some reason, that latter fact was also offensive to Jungkook’s parents. Everyone was accepting until money got involved. You hummed, eating another scoop. You didn’t like it, but you understood that his parents wouldn’t believe that you have no interest in their money. What you didn't understand was why his ex-fiancé was so hellbent on yelling at your door. From what you could tell, she wasn't ugly. Couldn't she find someone else?

You scraped the last of your small ice cream out and ate it up.

You checked your phone.

Jungkook wouldn't be out of work for at least another three hours. You had found him a job at the local bao shop through your own job as an accountant. You assisted the family in sorting the finances for their small business and personal tax forms. The owner had back surgery and so the daughter had been working there by herself with one other employee that delivered the orders. They wanted to hire another to help with cooking and cleaning, perhaps even open up the front counter again to accept pick-up orders instead of only delivery. However, it was hard to find someone trustworthy and reliable. The best way was through word of mouth.

They won't mind my tattoos?

Whenever I drop by, the delivery guy is wearing a leather jacket, ripped jeans, and has a resting bitch face. You'll be fine. Also, I think the daughter and him are dating.

Jungkook had blinked at you.

You know. In case they disappear for ten minutes, unexplained.

You loved Jungkook's laugh.

He didn't complain or whine for some other job. He only asked when he started and how to get there. You bought him a secondhand bicycle and he was off to work, five to six days a week. Sometimes you would drop him off with your car if was too rainy. Occasionally, when he had to stay late for a large order, the delivery guy would drive Jungkook and his bike back home.

That's how it was here, in the world of everyone else, minus the rich.

The fuck is all this?

Manager gave me a bunch of leftovers. She said I'm a fast learner. Did you know Taehyung stops by there? He's never said shit! He said it was his little secret, that ass–

You smiled as you remembered Jungkook's animated face and annoyance at his best friend for not sharing what he thought was crucial information. Jungkook would speak excitedly, hauling a bag of buns and spilling them over your clean kitchen counter, scrambling to catch them as he explained the different ones to you and how they were made, telling you all the things he was learning and funny stories about customers.

You almost forgot this Jungkook.

It was strange, feeling something after such a long time of feeling nothing, strange to find your time occupied once again by him, when at many times you vowed not to get involved with Jungkook anymore, only for him to show up and make you throw your promises to yourself to the wind, recklessly chasing the anger, wondering, hating, loathing how much you still loved him after he left, recalling him standing there, stone silent as his parents' verbal lashes ripped you to shreds.

You turned the car off, pulling the keys out and pocketing them, not wanting to the drain the battery.

Maybe.

Maybe you were stupid for loving him so much.

Maybe you were as pathetic as the woman up there in some ways.

Then again.

Maybe that was just how everyone lived.

You heard a soft tap by your car window.

You jerked your head to see Jeon Jungkook, in the flesh, peering at you through the glass, clutching his bike. You could see half of his head, short black hair and large, curious brown eyes, nose pressed up to the bottom of your car window. He was wearing his work clothes, light wash jeans and an aqua blue t-shirt, lightly dusted in flour. He pointed up and you noticed his ex-fiancé had switched back to yelling at the door, no longer facing the street.

You shooed him back and opened the car door, eyes wide.

"Why are you home?" you whispered, crouching down to speak to him.

He grabbed your hand, gasping as he gripped it. You shivered at the coldness of his fingers, but there was a warmth in between your and his frozen palms, melting each other.

"Oh, shit, your hand is so cold!"

"So is yours!"

"I was biking! My hands get cold from the wind. What's your excuse?"

You held up the empty mango sorbet container in your other hand, shifting your eyes guiltily.

"And you didn't share?!" Jungkook hissed, his windswept hair giving him a fierce appearance, dismay clear in his glistening dark brown orbs despite trying to sound angry.

You spied his other hand on his bike. There was a large, wrapped bandage on his left forearm. You ticked your chin towards it, furrowing your brows. "What happened?"

"Ack, I burned myself and manager-nim told me to go home early. I told her I could still work, but there were only a few hours left and it seemed like she wanted to be alone with Yoongi-hyung..."

You raised your eyebrows.

"What are they gonna do, bonk in the kitchen?"

"You wouldn't want to bonk me in the kitchen?"

You grinned at him and Jungkook grinned back, eyebrow piercing flashing in the sun.

"JEON JUNGKOOK!"

"Oh shit–"

You scrambled out of your car, locking it, slamming the door as the young woman wailed his name and pointed at you and him, furiously wiping her tears.

"You bitch! How dare you take him from me! He was mine! I had him wrapped around my finger!" She hiked up her skirt and swiftly power-walked to the stairs, looking back to yell more at you as Jungkook placed his bicycle down. "He would do anything for me!"

You raised your eyebrows, again.

Jungkook yanked on your t-shirt sleeve, ushering you to get on the bike with him.

"Doesn't seem like it!" you called back casually, chucking your trash at her, causing the empty ice cream container to smack her in the shoulder and roll across the sidewalk.

"You–"

You cackled and got on the bike, hooking your arms around Jungkook's shoulders and adjusting your feet as she stomped up to you two, conventionally attractive features contorted in rage.

"He was my dog!"

Your eye twitched.

"You were gonna marry a freak who was into bestiality? No wonder you left," you remarked, patting him on the chest as Jungkook burst out laughing, loud and rich, shaking his head.

"You can't do this to me, Jungkook! You can't leave me with that other guy!"

You felt it.

Pause.

You felt Jungkook stiffen under your hands and you turned yourself, hearing the helpless plea in her voice now, throwing herself to the ground, designer knees in common dirt, anguish on her face, tears streaming down her made-up cheeks, sniffling hard, and, with your breath lodged in your throat, you realized she was restraining her pained sobs, so trained in maintaining appearances that it seemed like she couldn’t even cry properly in front of others.

"You can't... you know how they are... I can't marry him, you saw what kind of man he is... that's the whole reason I tried to find another husband..."

There was no more anger in her voice, only fear and dread, and you didn't understand, and yet you could for some reason, for some reason you could see it as if it was tangible, the realness in her enigmatic words. Jungkook's hands tightened on the handlebars of the bicycle, his knuckles turning white, tense shoulders under your arms, and for a second, a moment, an instant...

You thought he might go back.

"You should run."

The crying woman on the ground lifted her head, hiccupping, cheeks blotchy pink, still somehow beautiful.

"W-What?"

Jungkook turned his head and looked down at her. "You should run away, like I did. Find someone who actually loves you. Getting married to me will only make both of us miserable, even if it saves you from that other guy."

She looked from you to him, and you recognized that look in her eyes, jealousy and envy, but not directed at you. It was directed at the warmth between the coldness of his hands and yours, directed at the orbits of his and yours finally overlapping, meeting in the vastness of space once more, his zero and your zero becoming one, not you, but his ability to throw everything away, his wealth, his comfort, the world he knew, all for a feeling she had yet to feel.

"What... what if I can't?" she asked weakly. "What if I can't find what you have?"

Jungkook lifted his foot off the asphalt and placed it on the pedal. He raised his head, and you found his eyes on yours for a brief moment before casting them back down to his ex-fiancé.

"Then keep running. It's better than being married to him, right?"

He began to turn the handles, about to pedal away.

She screamed after him, words choked with agony.

"Love won't solve our problems, Jungkook!"

You held on tight, chest to his back, fingers clutching in Jungkook's shirt, nose in his hair, his warmth under your cold hands.

"It won't!" he yelled over his shoulder, gaining speed with a grin. "But it sure as hell makes the problems worth shouldering!"

-

“Hey! Get back here!”

You snickered and chucked the plastic bag into the basket connected to the bicycle, jumping on quickly, pedaling away as Jungkook ran after you at top speed, breathless and laughing, his black hair flying back, aqua shirt molding to his muscular chest, long legs sprinting after you and the bike, your grinning face looking back periodically to catch his smile, going not too fast, but still fast enough so he couldn’t quite catch up. Golden hour brought out the tan on his skin and his high cheekbones, both of you tearing out of the gas station at high speed, drawing stares and shaking heads, but neither of you noticed or cared, his booming voice calling your name and you sticking your tongue out at him childishly.

“Watch out!”

You jerked aside and sped past a group of five young men with skateboards, two with shorter black hair, one with long black hair and white highlights, one with ash gray hair, and one platinum blond, all very tall, but you didn’t have time to stop and stare at the impressive height of them, turning into a side alley towards to the creek nearby, avoiding pedestrians, Jungkook following close behind until you got to your destination, grabbing the plastic bag in the basket and throwing the bike down, cackling as Jungkook snatched you from the air, his heart racing against your back as you kicked the air, him still somehow effortlessly carrying you despite sprinting so hard, panting into your hair.

“Get off!”

But instead of letting you go, Jungkook held on tighter, fierce kisses into your neck, wiping his sweat all over you and making you cringe amidst your laughter. It was already late, the sun dipping into the horizon, slowly taking its warmth with it. Water trickled meekly down the creek, barely coating the rock bottom due to the hot summer.

“Stop, stop, the ice cream is melting,” you finally gasped out, shoving Jungkook aside, wiping your neck with the back of your hand, pretending to be disgusted, but Jungkook just grinned and seized your cheeks, pressing his lips against yours.

“I love you,” he breathed.

“Ack, I love you too, fuck, get off–”

-

You two sat on the swings of the empty playground, watching the sun disappear, eating ice cream with the lids of the containers. As predicted, Jungkook got the chocolate that seemed to have everything in it but the kitchen sink. You, on the other hand, got red bean this time.

“Hey, Jungkook.”

“Hm?”

He looked up from his ice cream, shoving a large lidful into his mouth.

It was strange how beautiful he looked, even with his black hair sticking up every which way, his cheeks filled with the frozen sweet, the faint rays of sunlight catching the silver of his jewelry – eyebrow piercing, earrings, silver chain around his neck with the compass star pendant – all paired with his oversized aqua blue t-shirt and baggy jeans, still with bits of flour on his thighs from work.

“What did that man do to her?”

A darkness clouded his features even though he tried to hide it from you with a neutral expression.

“Ah… He just… Just wasn’t really the kind of guy who thought of women as people,” Jungkook finally got out, looking away from you. “You know, the kind of guy you really hate.”

“That’s you,” you joked.

“I know I can’t do anything,” Jungkook continued, ignoring your quip and you suddenly regretted it, seeing the way he lowered his hands, exhaling slowly. “I am not responsible for anyone else’s behavior but my own.”

Come crawling back to me on your knees when she reaffirms to you that I'll be the best fuck you'll ever have.

She'll never make you feel as good as I can make you feel.

Enjoy your piranha.

“I’m sorry.”

Jungkook looked up at your sudden declaration.

“I’m sorry,” you repeated, coughing awkwardly. “I’m sorry for saying the things I said about her.”

He snorted, shaking his head. “Don’t be. Just because she was in a shit situation doesn’t excuse her for being a shit person.” He shoved the lid into the empty ice cream container and rubbed the back of his neck, pushing his hair back with a sigh. “Just like how it doesn’t excuse me from being a shit person for what I did to you.”

His eyes shifted away.

“You don’t have to–”

“Yeah, I do,” he muttered, cutting you off. “I’m a fucking loser.”

The streetlights began to turn on, but no one was in a place like this, two adults in a place for kids, stuck wondering what adulthood was supposed to feel like because it still felt like an endless cycle of forever learning and forever running, wandering to find out what the finish line meant.

“I wasted time you can’t get back and I will spend the rest of my life chasing the time I wasted.”

Jungkook sucked in a shuddering breath, hand falling from his hair, rueful smile on his face.

“I can only hope you can put up with me for so long.”

You blinked slowly.

He turned his head, brown eyes finding yours, those irises catching the streetlights like how his jewelry had caught the sun, proving that Jeon Jungkook was, indeed, already adorned with nature’s very own jewelry.

You scooped out the last of your red bean ice cream and ate it, looking away from him.

“Sounds like forever,” you remarked, feeling the chilled sweet cool your heated cheeks, swallowing slowly, savoring the way the cold warmed you in its own way.

“Hm?”

“Sounds like I’m stuck with you forever then,” you said, turning back to him with a smirk. “Kinda sucks.”

He smirked back, cocking an eyebrow. “Yeah. Major suck. Speaking of my dick–”

“Oh, shut up.”

But you said it with a smile and he knew you didn’t mean it.

-

“Why the fuck do you have that?”

“It’s from work. Gimmie your arm.”

“Why?”

You extended your arm, frowning, stopping under the streetlight, one hand on the bike as Jungkook held the black permanent marker with his right hand. He used two fingers to uncap it and tucked the lid neatly into his palm, spinning the marker with the adjacent two fingers to readjust it so that he could write on your arm.

“Do you wanna get a tattoo with me?”

“Of what?”

You looked down to him scribbling on your skin, his own black tattoos standing out, covering his entire right arm and up to his shoulder. You wondered if he would end up tattooing his back and maybe his other arm – but, then again, he kind of needed money to have pay for such large pieces.

“Couples tattoo.”

You looked down when he drew back, grinning, reading the word upside down.

LO♡ER

You raised an eyebrow.

“You want to get ‘lover’ tattooed?” you asked, skeptical, turning your arm this way and that, unsure if you liked the placement on your forearm, near your wrist. “You don’t have any space on your right arm anyway.”

“That’s why I would get it on my left.”

And he curved his wrist to write on the bandage on his left forearm, messily writing on top of it.

LO$ER

Now you raised both eyebrows.

“You want to get… ‘loser’ tattooed onto your body?” you snorted disbelievingly.

Jungkook grinned, recapping the black marker with one hand, tapping the dollar sign on the bandage with the marker lid. “Doesn’t it describe me? ‘Cause I had money, and now I don’t.” He pointed to the heart on your skin. “You love me. I love you. A lover with a dollar sign is a loser, right?”

Laughter and skateboards sped past, five blurs of black along the street, spinning around the parked cars, people yelling after them to stop being so reckless, but you were too busy staring at Jungkook to notice the ruckus, too busy staring at that smile and those brown orbs lit up by streetlights.

“Are you stupid?”

Jungkook’s grin widened, mole underneath clearly visible. “Yeah, kind of. Stupidly in love with you.”

You both instantly pretended to gag, trying to mask your smiles, you shoving him and him shoving back, playful and laughing like mad, falling into him, dropping the bike with a loud clang, swept up in his arms and his kiss, your hands hooking behind his neck, love you, love you, love you, not sure about this whole tattoo idea, but, hell, maybe, just maybe if he annoyed you enough about it.

-

Shit, the groceries...

Are they still good?

The green onions look kind of wilted, but so do you and you're still good... I think.

Shut up.

You didn't need him, but being without him was like being frozen in time.

Not that you had any big dreams or aspirations anyone could be envious about. It always been like that, casually cruising through life, existing for the sake of existing, no real reason needed. It just was, and there was no reason to stop, so you kept going. The path was there, so you kept walking.

But, then.

Jeon Jungkook.

Jungkook made you run.

It's not washing off.

Tragic.

Easy for you to say, you wrote yours on your bandage, 'loser'.

So terrible that you have 'lover' written in you by your lover - hey, pfft, stop! Put the showerhead down!

It was truly by chance to meet him, a moment of terror and then he was there, yelling, get off her, don't fucking touch her, and you didn't understand, didn't understand why some random guy would suddenly intervene between an interaction of two strangers, how could he sense your discomfort and fear, and now he was throwing fists, brawling with not one but three guys, friends of the one who slipped his phone and his hands under your skirt, the stranger smashing the phone with venomous rage, fighting in a dress shirt, slacks, leather loafers, and expensive-looking rings, giving you a chance to escape.

A winner at life.

Not like you, you who let something happen because you froze up in that second, disbelieving that such a thing could happen to you, a nobody, a loser.

He kicked one of them in the knee, growling, a howl followed by the sharp crack during the fight.

You could turn and escape.

Or?

You heard sirens.

You grabbed your protector's flying fist and clenched into it tightly, panicking.

Run!

This was before the tattoos.

This was before the pain.

This was before the piercing.

Jeon Jungkook had whipped his head around at the foreign touch, in this mess because he had witnessed something disgusting and because he simply wanted to fight, just wanted to beat someone up, wanted to cause real pain to someone because he couldn't control his own life, wanted to fight something.

Needed to fight.

A hand around his hand.

Run!

Never once had Jungkook thought about escape.

Not until he saw that face, fear and panic and rage and determination, stunningly beautiful, hand around his hand, not letting go, pulling, sirens screaming in the distance, his legs already moving, following, running, running, running, into the sea of the unknown.

Sinking into it.

Lungs screaming, clumsily flying through alleys, on wings of adrenaline, running after the girl in the white hoodie and red plaid skirt holding his hand, falling, falling, falling, skidding across the concrete, her arms around his, her head buried into his chest, his hands around her head to protect it, hitting a dumpster with a pained wheeze.

The sirens sped past.

He was holding her and she was holding him.

It was chance.

Just chance.

His hands were scraped up, bleeding from the trip and tumble, her white hoodie dirtied and ripped from the fall, scrapes on her legs and knees.

I'm sorry...

It was ridiculous chance.

Just ridiculous.

You clung to this stranger and laughed, laughed like a maniac, laughed like you had gone mad, crying into his dirty navy dress shirt, thank you, thank you, thank you, not knowing you were holding the one who would make you run, not knowing who or how affluent he was, now knowing of how it felt to hold his hand and kiss his lips and hear his laugh, not knowing how you would introduce him to a friend who was a tattoo artist and start his interest in them, not knowing you would sit by him for long hours and watch the art grow on his skin...

Holding him, crying, thank you, thank you, thank you for saving me, leaning against a dumpster as the stranger hugged you tightly, I got you, it's okay, don't cry, don't cry, don’t cry please, rubbing your back.

Not knowing.

Not knowing he would make you zero, not knowing you would be standing there, time and time again, verbally beaten by his own parents as he looked away, unable to fight.

And you would escape.

You would run.

He would come back.

An endless cycle until you broke it.

Then he started the endless cycle again, broken as it was, his whispers to your cheeks, I love you, cheeks that were dried of tears because you were cried out and left with a mechanical heart, I love you, heart to heartless because of wasted time, I love you, time wasted but you still loved him, no matter what you did.

Did that make you pathetic?

Did that make you stupid?

Did that make you the loser?

I love you.

Why did it matter?

Even winners die.

I love you too, Jungkook.

"Get your hands off my tits."

"Why?"

You glared at him. Jungkook grinned and spun you around, hair still a little damp, kisses on your face that made you cringe as your naked bodies tumbled on the bed, him doing it on purpose, your grumble against his kisses, should have known, his smirk against your scowl, thought you knew me well by now, capturing his lips to shut him up, sinking into his arms and the ocean that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you want to run through the maze of life instead of aimlessly walk down the path.

His hands on your face, staring into your eyes.

You looked back, into those eyes that once had everything, but you.

And yet, he chose to lose it all and have nothing, but you.

It didn't really make sense, being in love.

You searched for regret, but there was none to be found.

"Am I forever your waste of time?" Jungkook whispered, breath drifting over your lips.

You smirked.

"Always was and always will be."

I know you said I was a waste of time. But I was your waste of time and that was all I ever wanted to be.

"Let me at least..."

"Ah, f-fuck, Jungkook!"

Your hands faltered a little, rolling the condom down while biting your lip, gasping as his two fingers plunged into you, him moaning at the wetness, thrusting slowly and deeply.

"What, you think I can't feel good with only your dick?"

"No," Jungkook snickered, pulling his slick fingers out of your pussy and bringing them to his face, cocking an eyebrow. "Just want a taste."

You rolled your eyes as he shoved his fingers into his mouth, sucking them off, eyelids fluttering.

"You're so annoying."

He grinned around his fingers, slowly pulling them out and tracing his wet lips.

You narrowed your eyes.

You don't have to take me back. I understand now, you know... I get it. Everyone... everyone will tell you you're crazy and to not to take me back.

I'm not taking you anywhere.

I... I wouldn't blame you. I promise.

Jungkook, please, shut the fuck up.

Your hands on his chest, smacking your hips down, his head thrown back on the pillows, breathless moan at your tightness, matching his sound with your own, stretching yourself out and feeling him swell even more at the pulse of your walls wrapped around him, rolling your hips into his, wet, intense smacks, his right hand flying up and wrapping around your left wrist, watching you through his lashes with effort, losing himself in your pace, no need to ask because you could see it in his face, his open mouth and glazed over eyes, fingers slipping down, curling your nails into his skin.

“P… Please…”

Raking your nails down his chest, his back arching and eyes closing, groaning in pleasure and pain, fucking him into your mattress so hard that the bedframe squealed, setting your jaw and closing your eyes too, savoring his fullness and thickness, sinking into the ocean of pleasure that was Jeon Jungkook, the one who made you feel like no one else, the one who could make and unmake your mechanical heart, funny how that worked, your nails in his skin creating crescents of lust, your eyes snapping open as you felt his chest rise, his back arching, his hands flat on the bed and thrusting his hips up into you, one eye partly open, black hair pushed back, open-mouthed smirk on his lips.

That dark brown orb partly obscured by his lashes, but revealing all to you.

You ticked your chin at him.

“Look at me.”

His eyes fully opening, pupils dilated, hazed over with lust and stubborn love.

“Nothing is more important to me than loving you,” he panted before sinking his teeth into his lower lip, mole underneath flashing, smacking his hips up into yours hard and fast, and it took no time at all, staring at his face and the way the moonlight cradled his strong jaw and toned muscle, catching the low light and bringing out the fervor in his gaze, filling you just right, pleasure blossoming from your core and yet concentrated tightly at the same time, moan of his name falling from your lips, spilling out from your lips and in between your legs, covering him with the sweet scent and harsh squeezes of orgasm, even wetter now, his eyes rolling back, cock twitching, satisfied hiss of your name spilling out with spurts of cum filling the condom, his length shivering inside you, your thighs closing in and holding him in the air so you could feel it all.

His pleasure and him.

I won’t make it to heaven. I don’t belong there.

It’s not like I belong there either, Jungkook.

Are you sure? Only an angel would take me back.

I didn’t take you back. Only your body walked away. Your heart never left me, did it?

“You sure you don’t want to get a couples tattoo with me?”

“I’m still trying to wrap my head around how your dumb ass wants to get ‘loser’ tattooed and how you think that’s romantic.”

He pressed his right forearm against your left and grinned, watching you suck in a breath as he pushed into you again, other condom already in the trash, new one on, your right leg against his chest, sandwiched between your bodies.

“But yeah, if you want, I’ll get a ‘lover’ tattoo.”

He paused, blinking rapidly. “Really?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Yeah? Why not?”

“You never wanted a tattoo before.”

Now you raised both eyebrows. “Did you ever ask me before?”

Jungkook looked down at you, hair a mess, smile blossoming on his face, somewhere between giddiness and mania, diving down and showering you with kisses, you smacking his arms and telling him, you’re bending me in half, the fuck are you doing, and he laughed, lifting both your legs now, I’ll show you bent in half, placing them between his arms, leaning down, sinking in as deep as possible, your moan and his moan mixing together.

You’re still here.

Of course, I am, this is my fucking apartment. Ugh, your black eye looks even uglier than before.

You don’t… you don’t want me to leave?

Did I say that? Uh… why are you crying?

F… Forget I said a-anything…

Hey, stop. Don’t cry. Don’t cry, Jungkook, please…

“Fuck, you feel so good, fuck…!”

Your hands in his hair, teasing grin on your face, and he was looking down at you, I love your smug smile, fuck, your fingers combing through his hair, pushing it back and away from his face, letting him see your smug smile without any obstructions, you always fuck me so well, Jungkook, the smile breaking out over his handsome features, breathing erratic and labored, hard and rough and deep, you rising your hips to meet him for every loud smack, exhales and moans blending together, tight, wet, full, your grip on his hair tightening, closer, closer, racing to the edge of the cliff and the edge of the world, Jungkook in your hands, taking him with you, or was he the one who was leading you?

“Jungkook…”

Breathless as if you were running, winded from the pleasure, tightening around him, his head lowering, your name washing over your cheeks in a hot gasp, putting more weight on you, nearly folded in half but it felt better this way, gratifying in how hard he could fuck you in this position, staring into those dark brown orbs, his body on yours, knowing he was yours, always was, always will be, and you were his, always was, always will be.

Head pressing into the pillows, moaning his name again, loud and unashamed, the overwhelming feeling taking over, muscles tense and nerves on fire, pouring it all into the pleasure, pulsing around his jerking length, his moan of your name on your skin, shooting shivering strings of cum into the condom, massaged and milked by the strength of your orgasm, locking him in your embrace and his arms closing in, lips on lips, a fierce kiss dominated by shuddering aftershocks, trembling in each other’s hold and taking the other’s breath away, blazing hot all over even though this frozen world cared about no one.

The kiss lasted a long, long time.

It fell apart slowly, leaving you both lightheaded from the intensity.

“You’re a waste of time, Jungkook,” you whispered, heated. “But you’re my time.”

The side of his lips quirked upward, sweaty, panting, chuckling.

“That’s all I ever wanted to be.”

--

masterpost

[gamechangeroo]

Part 3/3

Click to read the Prologue and Chapter 1 first.

Chapter 2: Whether You Are Under or Over Them, Tables Are Places of Conversation

Gintoki woke up to a table crashing through the divider between his bedroom and the Yorozuya den. It was a loud enough projectile that he almost arrived in the waking world fast enough to dodge it.

Almost.

Instead, it startled him upright in time for him to feel the full brunt of the pain as the edge of the table crashed into his quadriceps, and the face flung forward to smack his torso.

He ended up sprawled on the ground, pancaked beneath it in a drowsy haze of achy irritation, listening to the annoying screams of idiotic children coming from the next room.

“How dare you barge into a lady’s home at this hour?!”

“Did I interrupt naptime, little girl?”

“How about you go to hell, sadist!”

Crushed into the floor, Gintoki swiveled his head to stare at his miraculously unharmed Justaway clock flashing merrily away mere centimeters from the table’s edge. The hour hand was smack dab on the three, which meant he had only been home for two hours before the bastard beagles had sniffed him out. Damn.

He sunk deep into the furthest depths of his drowsy brain to poke at parasite-kun with a mental stick. This is your fault, asswipe!

As it had done since ‘the convenience store incident,’ the thing wholly ignored him, hiding in the metaphysical plane where sadistic cops could not bring handcuffs and arrest warrants. Lucky it.

Back in the annoyingly physical world, Gintoki heaved the table off of his abused chest with a short grunt, and shuffled out into the firing zone. There he found Kagura being dragged across the floor by her unbound hair courtesy of a disheveled Sougo, whose forehead was bleeding rather copiously. Most importantly, however, the table that usually rested in the center of the room between two couches was conspicuously missing.

“Danna,” Sougo greeted, spraying flecks of blood from his lips as he spoke.

“Tax thief,” Gintoki returned, scratching the skin that lay just below the elastic of his boxers. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

“We have your sword at the station,” Sougo said, barely dodging a fist Kagura sent at his jaw. “How about you come with me to pick it up?”

“Nice try,” Gintoki shot back. “My sword is right here.”

He waved a hand toward the innocent, wooden sword lying next to the upended table on his futon in the other room. He had taken to buying his Lake Touya in bulk these days, which was a particularly great strategy for times like these when he needed his next one quick.

“I see,” Sougo assented. “In that case, why don’t we just go for a drive? There’s a cool new sweets shop that just opened near the Shinsengumi barracks that I know you would really like. My treat.”

He had to give it to the kid; Sougo had returned his suspect claim with one of equal bullshit. Actually, Gintoki didn’t have to give him anything at this hour of the morning. He settled on staring the intruder down dully.

However, Kagura was still short enough so that these sorts of lies flew over her head, and she instead used the opportunity to scoff and sneer at her opponent.

“Too little too late, sucker. Team Yorozuya is already getting some sugar from a different daddy.”

Sougo looked curiously between Gintoki and the girl who was trying to stab his left eye with a chopstick, uttering a simple, “Oh?”

This little alien child was far too gullible, and far too willing to share their shady Amanto food deals with government dogs, who might find ways to take the parfait train away!

Grinning wide, Gintoki quickly started doing damage control: “Yup! We landed a fat cat client, who throws money at his problems until they go away. Or, rather, throws money at us until we fix them. By them I mean poodles, and by fix I mean not shitting on his sofa.”

After only a half second of confusion, Kagura nodded, playing along, “That’s right! We’re training a fat cat to shit money on us!”

That’s not… not off base. It would have to do.

It did not do though. The brat obviously was not drinking their Kool-Aid. He opened his mouth, looking like he was about to ask more seemingly-innocuous questions that were actually terribly insightful traps, when Kagura’s foot met his face with frightening speed, and Sougo, like the table earlier, flew across the apartment and crashed through a door – their front door this time.

Executing her version of damage control, Kagura gave Gintoki a cheerful thumbs-up, as if to say, I got this.

Well, Sougo was not drilling for state secrets anymore now that his head was busy drilling into their door. It would have to do.

After giving the victorious girl a half-assed head pat, Gintoki took a moment to put on some pants, a shirt, and his yukata, before dragging Sougo out of the hole his body had made in their entranceway. The bloodied and likely concussed officer nodded shortly in thanks, as he staggered out of the house, Gintoki in tow.

“I appreciate your cooperation, Danna,” Sougo said, opening the back door of the police car for him.

“What better way to show that I’m an upstanding citizen who would not even consider breaking the law? I would never impede the grand process of Justice,” Gintoki quipped, waving to Kagura as she flapped her arm lazily back at him from the balcony, seeing him off.

“You’d better bring me back some good stuff, Gin-chan,” she hollered.

Gintoki had no idea if there existed any food in Edo that even came close to the godly succulence that came out of the ovens in the Foryunthustoriphyxnarfyndalvnuduraqiualinoytfusian embassy, so this was a rather tall order now that her standards were so high. Maybe the imaginary sweets shop next to the Shinsengumi headquarters would exceed his expectations.

...

Kondo Isao stared down one fish-eyed Sakata Gintoki from across the black, square interrogation table. A dim, flickering lamp swayed back and forth above them, shadowing the hollows, crevasses, and scars on both faces, showing each man the light and darkness of the warrior in front of him. These two figures alone in this arid, windowless room painted a severe, powerful image.

With a harrumph, the leader of the Shinsengumi folded his arms in front of him, and said, “Now, when it comes to the sword ban in Edo, we normally turn you a blind eye. The good you have done not just for the government, but for the whole city, isn’t something any of us here will be soon inclined to forget.”

Gintoki’s expression remained unchanged. “But,” he prompted.

A firm smile was there and gone on his lips in half a moment before Kondo continued, “But. When you start using Laser Swords, heads higher up than us start to take notice. If we don’t do something to reprimand you, it could be our jobs on the line.”

“Laser Swords?” Gintoki asked incredulously, the mood in the room changing suddenly from solemn to just… strange.

“Well, what do you call it?” Kondo returned, leaning forward in his chair and looking somewhat eager. “We had a bit of a poll here in the office to decide what to put on reports, and Laser Sword won, though Disco Stick was a close second.”

“I wouldn’t call the Disco Stick anything, because I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Gintoki replied obstinately, and crossed his feet on the table, rubbing the edges of the dirty soles against the clean, cold metal. “I am being brought in on false, unsubstantiated charges.”

Kondo nodded calmly before turning around to face the interrogation room’s one way mirror, cupping his hands, and yelling at his own reflection, “Oi, Yamazaki! Write down another vote for Disco Stick!”

After staring intensely into his own eyes for a few moments, Kondo turned back to Gintoki, looking satisfied that his request had been done.

“There is a lot of compelling evidence piling up, Danna,” Kondo resumed. “We have two eye-witnesses claiming a white-haired, permy samurai cleaved a convenience store in half with the wooden sword that we found at the scene. This is the same sword many of us have felt the brunt of at one time or another. We know what your weapon looks like.”

“What a terrible conspiracy theory,” Gintoki drawled and yawned outwardly, while steaming internally.

Two eyewitnesses? Who else could they be, but the cashier and Robber #1, and how dare they team up against him – particularly that cashier! That convenience store worker was working with the man who was about to slit his throat for money to throw the man who saved him from said man under a bus! Thankless bastard!

“Kondo-san, you know my weapon, and you know that it is no Disco Stick. Are you sure your pair of witnesses weren’t flying high on a little illegal disco of their own?”

Take that, cashier! We’ll see who is taking who down by the end of all this!

Now Gintoki was not just a rebel; he also had a cause. For each question Kondo asked him, he had an answer to give that undermined the reputation of a certain someone.

Where was he this evening at midnight? Well, human beings are notoriously terribly at remembering precisely what they were doing and when they were doing it. Everyone rewrites their own history in their own minds to make themselves out as better. We are useless witnesses, us humans. Didn’t you know, Gori-san?

Did he stop at a convenience store this evening? Well, convenience stores in Japan have been going downhill these days. Rumor has it the main chains like Eight-Twelve have been hiring felons to man their registers to cut costs, and not the mild sort of felon that ended up in the slammer because the slipped on a banana peel and bonked heads with a high-flying government leader. No, they’re hiring the sorts of felons that slipped on a banana peels and pushed a high-flying government leader to the ground in order to keep their balance. Terrible, dangerous thugs. Didn’t you know, Gori-san?

Yes, but, did he stop at a convenience store this evening? Well, they are called convenience stores, but they are not convenient at all. It is a well-documented fact that convenience store employees are trained to make customers feel inconvenienced and uncomfortable, because the more down in the dumps they are, the more likely they are to purchase the comfort food lining the aisles! Didn’t you know, Gori-san?

“Enough with the Gori-san!” Kondo finally snapped, successfully diverted from the line of inquiry, as Yamazaki burst through the door.

“The result just came in,” Yamazaki announced with all the gravitas his plain visage could muster, carrying a slip of paper to Kondo’s side. “Here it is, Chief Gori-san.”

“We are conducting a serious investigation, and all anyone can do is crack gorilla jokes?” Kondo scolded, holding the paper in front of his face to hide a shamed flush that colored his cheeks. The teasing was totally getting to him. “I am severely disappointed.”

Thoroughly chastened, the everyman in uniform apologized, before skittering out of the room. With this little show of leadership, the gorilla seemed to get a bit of his groove back, and summarily began scanning the paper under Gintoki’s dull-eyed stare.

As he watched the Shinsengumi leader’s eyes swing back and forth like a beady typewriter, Gintoki bounced a leg impatiently beneath the table.

Just what evidence had they pulled on him? It better not be too incriminating, because he needed out of this government-sanctioned dungeon that smelled like each member of this stupid sword-club rubbed their armpits on the walls after they worked up a sweat arresting innocent men and women every night. It was about time for his pre-breakfast breakfast at the Foryunthustoriphyxnarfyndalvnuduraqiualinoytfusian embassy, oi.

At long last, Kondo finally glanced up, cleared his throat, and regarded Gintoki with a firm gaze.

“It is all here,” he said.  “This makes things very clear.”

There was decisive evidence?! Shit. Gintoki waited with baited breath.

“What you’ve done tonight comes with serious consequences,” Kondo warned – his expression severe. “You have swayed many of my men. The voting majority is now in favor of Disco Stick.”

It was Gintoki’s turn to fling a table.

“WHO CARES ABOUT THE NAME!”

Twitching beneath the flung projectile, Kondo coughed, “You say that as a winner, but would you still be whistling that tune from my shoes? I lobbied for Cumming Wood with all I had.”

Gintoki was not necessarily proud of what he was about to do, but his blood sugar levels were low. Anything that would get his mouth near a parfait sooner was on the table, or, in this case, underneath it. With a sigh, he lifted one side of the table, and crawled next to Kondo before placing the table softly on top of both of them.

From his place on the floor, the gorilla stared at him with a quizzical expression that was somewhat prolate due to the table crushing his face. Gintoki scooched toward the befuddled commander and whispered in his ear, “Just how much does Cumming Wood mean to you?”

Kondo’s face tensed, as he started to catch on. In a low voice, he returned, “What… what do you mean?”

Well versed in these sorts of negotiations, Gintoki knew what Kondo was actually asking: What do you want for it?

Gently, so as not to spook his prey, Gintoki murmured, “I mean, if you were to let me go now, and let these underlings of yours know, as you and I do, that I had nothing to do with any of this, I might be able to convince those guys to do a recall vote.”

“A re-recall vote?” Kondo repeated, entranced. He scooted closer to Gintoki, causing a table leg to clang loudly against the nearby wall, as the base wobbled on top of them both.

“Cumming Wood is a great play on words. They obviously haven’t thought about it hard enough, so they just need some time to… reconsider,” Gintoki proposed casually.

Kondo’s face almost could not contain his wide smile, as he slipped deeper and deeper into Gintoki’s web. “It is a great pun, isn’t it!”

“Yes,” Gintoki affirmed – his voice soft, but commanding. “I could help your men realize that they made a terrible mistake. Really, we’ve all just made mistakes here. You guys didn’t vote for Cumming Wood, you guys brought in the wrong man. If we all own up to these errors, we could all get exactly-”

“What the hell?”

Dammit!

“Toshi!” Kondo screamed like a man who had just been sucker punched by his own self-respect. He pushed the table off of both of them in a flash, wrapping his arms around his own body, as if to cover up his misdeeds. “This isn’t what it looks like!”

“No, but I don’t actually know what it looks like.”

One Demon Vice-Commander stood in the doorway of the room, his expression a grand mixture of frustrated discomfort and all-consuming confusion, looking like he would rather be absolutely anywhere else. If Gintoki had offered him a choice between continuing to stand right there, and doing the backstroke in a pile of Saduharu’s diarrhea a few kilometers out from this spot, Gintoki honestly did not know which the guy might have picked.

“Hijikata-kun,” he greeted jovially enough from his spot on the floor next to Kondo’s interpretation of ‘A Deflowered Maiden is Greeted by Her Father.’

If this asshole’s existence had to ruin his chances at bribing his way out of here, Gintoki’s existence might as well serve to cause Hijikata some mental agony. He waved his fingers impishly.

To his credit, Hijikata appeared to regain his mental footing rather quickly. It only took a few seconds for his expression to change from DEFCON(STIPATION) 1 to neutral, as he strode quickly to Kondo’s side.

“Kondo-san, the results from Squads 5 and 8 just came through,” he reported, blatantly ignoring his superior’s shamed position on the floor. “I would recommend we discuss them outside.”

Staggering to his feet, Kondo grimaced and shook his head, muttering, “No, that won’t be necessary.”

The gorilla put a hairy-knuckled hand on his Vice-Chief’s shoulder, and squeezed it lightly. He continued, “I… I have been compromised. You’ll need to take over the investigation from here.”

“Huh?” Hijikata had the decency to look halfway alarmed, as he glanced between Gintoki and Kondo. “What did he do?”

Kondo waved off Hijikata’s concern with a sad, distant smile – his eyes sparkling with unshed tears. “He… he used Cumming Wood against me.”

Immediately, Hijikata’s expression shuttered, and he pushed a sniffling gorilla toward the exit.

“No need to worry. I’ll take it from here,” he said, firmly slamming the door on his superior before the man could say another word.

The room fell into an incredibly heavy silence. Hijikata stood stiffly with his hands still on the door he had shut, while Gintoki eyed him from his spot on the floor. He watched the tense back of a man that knew he had to follow Cumming Wood, and Gintoki realized he had a decision to make. Did he want to get out of this Shinsengumi hell hole sooner than later, which meant playing nice with this police dog whose leash was a little too long for his short temper? Or, would it be more satisfying to kick this mutt while it’s down and rot in jail forever?

Neither! Neither is good! Is there any option where Gin-san can escape while kicking the dog?

He heard the flick of a cigarette lighter, as Hijikata turned to face him. Gintoki gave his most surly expression in response to the man’s sharp gaze, but did not speak. He was using inhuman amounts of self-restraint right now, which the world should recognize and justly reward!

After another eon of quiet, Hijikata stepped over the upended table and strode over to the one chair remaining upright, sitting where Gin-san’s butt had been only minutes before. Gintoki took this as a victory, and sneered.

Catching the sneer, but not the meaning, Hijikata let out a put-upon sigh.

Finally breaking the silence, he said, “I suppose now is as good of a time as any.”

“Huh?” Gintoki snorted, as sparking hostility gave way to confusion. That was not really the opener that he was expecting.

Giving him a long, assessing look, the Shinsengumi devil uttered, “You’re an idiot.”

Finally in familiar territory, Gintoki welcomed this insult as a declaration of war.

“Says the man who follows the orders of Commander Cumming Wood!”

“Shut it!” Hijikata bristled. “You leave Kondo-san out of this!”

“I’ll leave him out of it if you jackasses leave me out of it!” Gintoki yelled indignantly, as he scrambled to his feet. He was feeling the urge to tower over his opponent.

By the red splotches creeping across his face, Hijikata looked about ready to rise to the bait himself, but settled for blowing an aggressive puff of smoke in Gintoki’s direction, which, where this guy was concerned, was a pretty lukewarm shot to fire. Mr. Mayo was holding himself back. Maybe it had to do with how there were probably half a dozen or so Shinsengumi ducklings watching his performance through that one way mirror, or maybe he realized he needed to take a shit when he entered the room and now he was stuck here, or maybe Gintoki didn’t really care enough to guess. All he knew was that he had spotted a weak point, and there was no way he wasn’t about to exploit it. Gintoki walked toward the man with heavy steps.

“There wouldn’t be a situation to leave you out of if you a– wait, what are you-”

The bastard paused mid-sanctimonious speech, shock paling his face, as Gintoki lifted the cigarette from Hijikata’s lips, put it between his own, and inhaled.

Jutting out his jaw in a show of dominance, smoke leaking through his nostrils, Gintoki hissed, “You take my freedom? I take your cigarette.”

All at once, Hijikata’s face lost all traces of humanity, leaving only a beast out for blood. Gintoki sneered in victory and prepared to parry any attack this hot tempered loser would try to throw his way.

However, just as soon as his temper had flashed, Hijikata slammed a lid on it. The only signs of its existence now rested in his hands, which were gripping his uniformed thighs so tight that he might have been close to bruising his own bones.

“Yorozuya,” he hissed, sounding like a viper with a sore throat. “Stop acting like a child and listen to me.”

Who wanted this stupid cop’s olive branches if he was going to give them out covered in demeaning insults? Gintoki knew just where this asshole could shove his pathetic attempts at half-assed anger management.

Taking another drag from the cigarette, Gintoki threw it lazily to the ground, stomping it to ash with his boot.

“That one tasted like secondhand shitty cop. Gimme another,” he demanded in as derisively provocative of a tone as he could manage, gesturing toward the rectangular bump in Hijikata’s uniformed pocket.

Hijikata pupils were so dilated by this point that his irises were completely consumed by black. The atmosphere around him vibrated like the air above summertime pavement dances and shimmers on the hottest days of the year. Gintoki blatantly ignored the warning signs and reached out to pick the prick’s pocket.

The tips of Gintoki’s fingers brushed the box and lighter, before pinching their edges and lifting them. He rummaged about in the package, taking out a cigarette, and began showily flicking the lighter.

Hijikata’s lips cracked into a crooked, cutting smile.

“Okay,” he said. “You win.”

...

Lounging about on the cold, stone floor of the Shinsengumi holding cell, Gintoki ignored any regrets that came to visit, while also doing his best to ignore the real world smells of piss and human suffering that emanated from his immediate vicinity. There really wasn’t any way this terrible fate could have been avoided. Hijikata might as well have ordered Gintoki to snatch his cigs at sword point, considering how coerced this hapless citizen had been into committing this non-crime.

Speaking of non-crimes, just how long could these shitty excuses for cops keep him here for rustling the jimmies of their commanding officers? Gintoki let this question echo throughout his mind to make sure that his friendly, neighborhood brain parasite heard about the unfair dilemma its host was being put through. However, to his complaints, the indignant prisoner received no response inside his head or out.