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uchihashisuii · 3 years ago

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something old, something new - Shisui/Itachi

Summary: Nothing brings people together quite like a wedding. Non-mass AU

Word Count: 4417

Author’s Note: this was written for ShiIta Week a good while ago and I realized I never posted it here oops

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Itachi gazes silently at his reflection in his mother's vanity, and wonders if he looks any different. He thinks he should, seeing as today he's getting married.

He's heard all the stories of blushing brides, and a certain glow that couples share on their wedding day. Excitement and nerves both rush through his veins in a heady combination that makes his heart pound, but Itachi doesn't think it makes him glow. He looks a bit ill, actually.

From the open window of his mother's bedroom, Itachi can hear the steadily-building murmur of conversation and laughter, as members of their family arrive ahead of the planned procession to the Naka Shrine. His thin fingers move of their own volition to grasp at the necklace that sits in the hollow of his throat, twining his fingers through the thin leather. The cool metal of the triple rings is a grounding touch, as he tries to swallow down his anxiety.

"Second thoughts?" His mother's voice interrupts, Itachi glancing at her in the mirror. Mikoto is lovely in her pale blue kimono, grey-streaked black hair twisted into a bun at the back of her neck. Her reflection smiles softly at him from her spot in the doorway, a wide and flat box held in her arms.

"Never," Itachi answers immediately. And he isn't, not at all. But to declare himself and his love for Shisui in front of the clan and all their friends - it's a daunting challenge. He isn't the type to be quite so public about his affections, much more comfortable to show Shisui his devotion and care in the privacy of their own home. It had taken months of slapped hands and his face on fire to even accept the chaste kisses Shisui loves to plant on his cheek. And now, to speak aloud his fondness and sentiment with hand-written vows in front of a crowd -

His face flushes pink, dark eyes drawn back to his own reflection.

"Does there have to be quite so many people?" Itachi asks his mother, pushing back the wide sleeve of his kimono to reach for the small stick of eyeliner that sits next to all manner of makeup and creams, most of which his mother have already applied to him.

"The clan heir is getting married. We have to stand on ceremony for that," Mikoto replies with a soft sigh, placing the box down on the bed. Her fingers trace over the top, an indulgent smile curving her lips. "The ceremony will go by quicker than you think. And then you'll forget about everything other than how full your heart is."

Itachi hums under his breath, tongue peeking between his lips as he leans forward, nose almost pressing against the cool surface of the mirror. Shisui had spent hours teaching him the proper way to apply the kohl to his lids, the trick to winging it out to make his eyes look large and bright. He felt a bit silly at first, holding a stick of makeup the same way he wields a kunai, but he can't deny how lovely it makes him feel. He thinks he might understand his fiancé's attachment to eyeliner now.

Fiancé. Soon-to-be husband. Itachi feels his stomach tighten, and doesn't bother to suppress the smile that curves his mouth, his hand steady and sure as he darkens his waterline.

Mikoto bustles about the room behind him, humming an old song as she flits from the closet to the en-suite bathroom and back again, the bed slowly filling with generous amounts of silk and expensive accessories. He recognizes the fan he will hold during the procession to the shrine and for photos - a lovingly hand-painted sensu decorated with carnations and ume that had been among the gifts from Shisui's mother for the occasion. The fact that they would both be using a sensu instead of an uchiwa is an irony they had laughed about just the night before. Next to it sits a pair of wooden sandals and tabi socks, and thick pleated pants he would be wearing over his kimono. Itachi pauses on his second eye to arch a single brow, turning in his seat to watch his mother.

Her hands smooth over the box that still sits in the middle of the mattress, bottom lip caught between her teeth. Feeling his eyes on her, Mikoto glances up with a tight smile.

"I have a couple of gifts for you. Well - one from me, and one from your father."

Itachi's brows reach his hairline. "From otosan?" He doesn't bother to hide his shock, staring at his mother dubiously. It's no secret that he and his father have never been particularly close - Fugaku's pride for Itachi's prodigious talent as a shinobi often painting him as more a stern mentor than doting parent. Add to the fact he had only grudgingly accepted Itachi's union to Shisui - you need to have children still echoes in his ears; always more concerned with the future of the clan than the happiness of his sons ... Well it, frankly, mystifies Itachi. He tries to hide his reaction in turning back to the mirror, finishing off the wings of his eyeliner.

Mikoto's face falls, as if sensing her son's thoughts. "I know he's - well, the way that he is. But he loves you, and he loves Sasuke. I think he's finally realizing that he never showed you, though, now that he sees you're about to move on to the next stage of your life."

Itachi isn't sure what to say. There is deep-seated bitterness in his heart when he thinks about his father, and the way he had largely ignored Sasuke in favor of putting more pressure on Itachi. His hand tightens around the eyeliner, swallowing down his sudden frustration. If Fugaku had offered an olive branch, on the day of his wedding no less; well, Itachi supposes it deserves a fair chance.

He takes a steadying breath, wordlessly nodding at his mother. Mikoto's smile returns, and she leans down to pull the top off that mysterious dark box. Itachi cannot quench his burning curiosity; satisfied with his handiwork, he places the liner back down on the vanity and turns in time to watch his mother part a thin sheet of tissue paper. She pulls free a long piece of fabric, shaking it out before holding it tight to her chest, her gaze far-away and her smile bright. Itachi can see that it is a haori, from the drop of the sleeves and the Uchiha fan sewed against the sleeve. He knows without looking that there are probably four more crests decorating it, which would mean -

"It's the one he wore, on our wedding," Mikoto explains in a low voice, confirming his guess. Itachi sucks in a breath, hand moving to tangle instinctively in his necklace.

To wear his father's haori, it just - it isn't done, not in a family like theirs. Not amongst men who barely hold a conversation that doesn't devolve into an argument. Not when it had been drilled in his head since infancy that appearances are everything; they are the family of the Uchiha clan leader, they must always act with poise and look their best. And, in a wedding's case, everything must be bold and expensive and new. To show their station, their elegance, and their wealth.

A faded haori, with frayed sleeves and a size too large for Itachi's thin frame, worn on the day the clan heir would be wed. It's unthinkable. But it sends quite the message, from father to son. It's personal; the sentiment and care behind such a thing isn't lost on Itachi, and he finds himself nodding, too struck by something warm in his chest to speak.

Mikoto's eyes brighten with tears, and she swiftly waves her hand at him with a watery laugh. "Mothers are supposed to cry during weddings. Come on, I'll start on your hair." She makes no further mention of the haori, instead lays it on the bed gently, her fingers caressing one of the five Uchiha crests embroidered on the dark fabric. It gives Itachi a moment to compose himself, blinking away his rush of emotion; he makes a mental note to speak privately with his father, when time permits.

Mikoto discreetly wipes at her wet eyes and takes a steadying breath, before moving to stand behind Itachi. He leans back into her with a small sigh, eyes falling shut as Mikoto's fingers card through his hair. It feels wonderful, and brings memories of him being waist-high, his mother's hands warm and gentle as she pulled his hair into a low tail.

"Keep your eyes closed," she says after a moment, "I don't want you to see yourself until everything's done."

There is silence after that, as Mikoto works with practiced fingers. She combs and parts and twists his hair effortlessly, tongue peeking out between her lips as she concentrates. It gives Itachi the opportunity to ruminate, his thoughts moving from his father's unanticipated act of care, to the man he'll be sharing his life with, in just a few hours.

Not a lot will change, he suspects with a secret smile. He and Shisui had been intertwined since childhood; though love and romance had come much later, they had already been entrenched in one another for as long as Itachi can remember. They live together, they love together. Once Shisui is his husband -my husband, he silently mouths to himself, eyes still firmly shut so he doesn't see Mikoto's knowing smile- then all that's different will be the twin rings worn on their hands. Shisui will still be an aggressive cuddler in his sleep, will still be the one to make breakfast or darn Itachi's socks. Itachi will still roll over in bed and bury his face in Shisui's neck, will still have the uncanny ability to know when Shisui had a long day and start a bath for him.

Only now, it'll be Itachi's husband he's running a bath for. Shisui's husband is talented in every way except sewing his clothes. Husband. Husband. Husband.

Itachi finds he doesn't mind that. Not at all.

Even without opening his eyes Itachi can feel his mother's smile, especially in the gentle way she braids his dark hair, twisting it into a bun on the back of his neck. A sudden thought springs to his mind, and he parts his lips to speak.

"What about yours, okasan? Your gift?"

Mikoto chuckles, moving the spinning stool he sits in to face her. His eyes flutter open, looking to his mother's smiling face.

Without warning, Mikoto reaches out to tap him in the middle of his forehead. Itachi startles, brows pinching together as he makes a noise low in his throat. His mother only laughs, leaning down to press a kiss to the top of his head, before moving towards the bed.

"I meant to give this to you earlier, but with all the wedding planning it's been a bit hectic," she says, picking up a small golden box from beside his father's haori. She brings it to him, Itachi taking the surprisingly heavy box with an arched brow.

"I saw it and thought it would look beautiful on you," she adds, almost shyly. Itachi tilts his head to the side, before pulling the box open.

Nestled amongst origami flowers sits an elaborate kanzashi. The two-pronged hairstick is polished black, decorated at the end with a thumb-sized dark red plate, the metal crafted to resemble an uchiwa. Delicate chains fall like water from the rounded plate, decorated with impossibly tiny bells and little red flowers. Nestled beneath it is a matching black hairclip, with fabric expertly folded to resemble ume flowers, in a lovely shade of sharingan-red.

They're stunning, and Itachi looks at his mother with wide eyes. He had never received a gift that wasn't combat-related; and whilst he's never been particular about his looks, he's already fallen a little in love with the kanzashi.

"Thank you, okasan. It's beautiful," Itachi says, smiling. Mikoto looks as though she's about to burst into tears at any moment, waving her hand at him and swallowing audibly. Without a word she lifts the hairstick and clip, moving to affix it to his hair.

With a final deep breath, Mikoto steps back and brings a hand to her mouth. "Oh, Itachi," she whispers, once more blinking away tears, "you're going to break hearts."

Heart-breakingly beautiful is a phrase he'd never imagined to be said of himself, so it is with a healthy amount of doubt he turns to look at the mirror. And stares.

Itachi gazes at his reflection, lips parting. He had never considered himself vain -Shisui would disagree, claiming Itachi loves his hair more than him- yet he cannot deny that his mother's efforts had turned him into something quite beautiful.

His long hair is braided on the side, pulled and twisted back into a low bun. The kanzashi is pushed through the bun, with the metal uchiwa sticking out just past his ear, the chains hanging down his neck. The flowers catch the light, bells tinkling musically with his every movement. The other kanzashi is clipped along the opposite side of his head, curving over the bun and above his ear.

Itachi looks at himself with wonder, tilting his head this way and that to make the hanging bells chime; he has that sought-after glow, he thinks with a breathless laugh. The kohl makes his eyes look brighter, which in turn eases the severity of his tear troughs. There is a dusting of pale red blush on the smooth cream of his cheek, and his mouth is delicately painted with a light shell-pink. He looks like his mother, he realizes suddenly. Stunningly beautiful, and Itachi finds he doesn't mind the femininity of it. Rather likes it, in fact; his smile shifts to something wry when he imagines the look on Shisui's face when he sees him.

He doesn't have to imagine for too long, it turns out.

Itachi turns at the sound of a rushed knock on the closed bedroom door. He shares a look with his mother, her brows furrowed, before she goes to open the door. She makes a surprised noise low in her throat, pulling the door closed to prevent whoever knocked from looking inside.

"Shisui," Mikoto says, her voice warm. Itachi sits up straighter, his breath leaving him in a quick gust. "We're almost done, should be out in a few minutes -"

"Sorry, okasan," Shisui interrupts with a nervous-sounding laugh. "But there's kind of an emergency. Nothing bad! Just, well, another case of Obito sticking his foot pretty far in his mouth. About Sakura."

Mikoto goes still. "He did notice she's pregnant, right? And that her temper has been...Well..."

As if on cue, from the open window there comes the thunderous crack of what Itachi thinks might be a tree trunk. And if he knows his otouto's wife, that very well may be the case, pregnant or not. The hushed voices of everyone gathered outside goes silent, and Itachi lifts himself from his chair.

"I'd really rather nobody die on my wedding day," Shisui breaks the silence with another nervous laugh. The comment makes Itachi snort, reaching to pull on his pleated hakama.

Mikoto makes a frustrated noise in her throat, before turning to step into her sandals. She looks up at Itachi -now fully dressed, save for the haori- who simply nods, and his mother opens the door.

Shisui stands on the other side, tall and broad and oh, Itachi feels himself fall just a little more in love at the sight of him. His kimono is long and black, hakama a solid charcoal gray. His haori is lined with a bright pattern of ume flowers and crows in flight, a pale cord tying it together across his abdomen. Itachi swallows thickly at the sight of him so put-together, though he is silently relieved when his gaze wanders to see Shisui's errant curls have been left to fall haphazardly across his forehead. From here, Itachi can see the glint of metal hanging from his ears, and laughs quietly to himself. The cascade of the silver bar tipped with red flowers match his kanzashi perfectly, and Itachi knows without asking that they must have been a gift from his mother.

Shisui's kohl-lined eyes shift to look over Mikoto's shoulder, catching sight of Itachi. He can't help but preen silently as Shisui's eyes go wide, his hand shooting out to grab at the door for balance.

"Itachi." Shisui breathes out his name, barely above a whisper. His face has gone red, free hand coming up to cover his mouth. Itachi offers a small smile, feeling suddenly shy as he inclines his head towards Shisui. The bells on his kanzashi chime.

The moment is broken by a sudden shout of "SHANNARO!", spurring Mikoto to shove her way past Shisui, muttering under her breath. Before she disappears down the hall, however, she points a finger into Shisui's chest.

"Behave," is all she says before she's gone.

Shisui still hasn't pulled his gaze from Itachi, and it makes him want to fidget under such a heavy stare. Achingly slowly, Shisui takes a small step, and then another, until he's inside the bedroom, pulling the door closed behind him. When he speaks, he sounds almost pained.

"You are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen," Shisui manages to breathe out, his expression filled with wonder.

Itachi laughs, breathless and musical. "Funny, I wanted to say the same thing about you." His throat feels tight, as the sudden realization of what they're doing hits him with full force. They're getting married today; he's going to marry his best friend, they're going to be husbands. This stunningly handsome, ridiculous man is in love with him, and they're going to get married.

Itachi doesn't know whether he wants to laugh or cry. He's overwhelmed out of blue, but overwhelmed with happiness and love and fuck he wants to kiss Shisui right now.

Something in his expression must shift to reflect his thoughts; Shisui's eyes begin to darken and before Itachi can even take a breath he finds himself pressed up against the wall. Shisui's hand cradles the back of his neck to keep the kanzashi from getting crushed, his hips pinning Itachi in place. When he instinctively gasps Shisui is there to swallow the sound, warm tongue licking into his mouth. Arousal pools, hot and heavy in his stomach, as his hands reach up to fist in Shisui's hair.

"You," Shisui growls against his mouth, speaking in-between heated kisses that make Itachi's head swim, "can't possibly call me beautiful, when you stand there, looking like that -" Shisui breaks off with a groan, hand tightening on the back of Itachi's neck. "I would worship at your feet if you let me, Itachi, you're so fucking beautiful it breaks my heart -"

He cuts himself off with a hiss when Itachi's nails dig into his scalp, Shisui snapping his hips to grind himself against him. Itachi feels dizzy with the sensation, doubly so when Shisui moves to kiss at his throat with teeth and tongue.

"Do we - do we have time?" Itachi somehow manages to stutter out, feeling his cock pulse at every nip from Shisui's mouth. He's already needy, already desperate; kami he wants this, wants Shisui, wants his husband -

There's the distinct sound of wooden sandals coming up the hall, and Itachi barely stops himself from slamming his head back against the wall in frustration. His face heats as Shisui pulls away with a final parting kiss to the underside of his jaw, moving to run a hand back through his hair.

Itachi's smirk is wry at the sight of lipstick smeared across Shisui's mouth, shooting the other man a wordless wink when he meets his eye.

"I'll see you at the altar," Itachi whispers, leaning up to press a kiss against Shisui's cheek, just as the door opens.

"I'll be the one in gray," Shisui whispers back, stopping to cup Itachi's cheek, grinning widely.

Itachi snorts a quiet laugh, shoving his hand away. "Idiot," he says, tone warm with affection. Shisui passes Mikoto on his way out, the woman arching a single brow at Itachi, who does nothing but shrug. He moves back to the vanity, and works on fixing his mussed mouth.

Mikoto heaves a put-upon sigh, reaching for his father's haori. "I was gone for two minutes, and suddenly I've got a pair of grooms with lipstick stains."

"Odd, how that happens," Itachi replies with a hum. He effortlessly dodges the sandal that she throws at him.

-----

When he's dressed and ready, the afternoon passes in a blur. He greets everyone with a small smile, endures the fawning, and smirks at the sight of Obito's black eye. There isn't time to stand and chat, not when they have a wedding to attend; Mikoto ushers everyone into the compound like any hardened general, and the procession to the shrine begins.

Shisui stands tall and handsome at Itachi's side, grinning at passersby, waving and shouting "I'm getting married today!" to anyone who will listen. Itachi does his best to hide behind his fan, a deep flush ever-present on his pale cheeks since Shisui had insisted on holding his hand the entire walk to the shrine.

Their parents lead the large group, Mikoto and Shisui's mother, Sumiya, whispering with wide smiles. Sasuke, Naruto, and Sakura all trail directly behind Itachi and Shisui, with the remainder of their immediate families and closest friends taking the rear. It isn't an especially grand procession - the ceremony itself is private, the reception set to host the remainder of their large families and friends of friends. Itachi is once again reminded of who he is, and sighs internally at the fact that the entirety of the Uchiha, as well as the biggest names in Konoha, will be attending the reception of the Uchiha clan heir.

Before he knows it they've arrived at the Naka Shrine, and everyone Itachi has ever loved sits together and watches as he and Shisui step up to the altar.

His hands tremble as his gaze wanders to silver rings that sit in wait to be exchanged. Itachi feels only a little guilty at the fact he largely ignores the prayers and blessings and beseechings the priest offers; he thinks God will forgive him easily enough, he'd been in love at some point, too.

His heart hadn't returned to a normal rhythm in what felt like hours, and when Itachi glances over at Shisui he nearly wants to burst into laughter. He has that large, boyish grin stretched across his face, all but vibrating in his eagerness. Itachi feels his chest tighten, and an all-encompassing wave of love.

With only a small amount of hesitation, Itachi reaches across the small gap between them, and takes Shisui's hand. Shisui immediately glances to him from the corner of his eye, offering a wink and a squeeze from his fingers. It's all the bravery Itachi needs.

They stand once the priest finishes speaking, facing one another with hands tightly clasped. Itachi can feel dozens of eyes on him, more daunting than any sharingan, and holds Shisui's hand hard enough his knuckles turn white.

"Just look at me," Shisui whispers, lips barely moving so none but him can see. Itachi feels himself nod, just a little, before glancing up to catch Shisui's dark eyes. "Just like that," he encourages, corner of his mouth twitching up, "It's only us. Just you and me."

Sake is poured and toasted to their families, and when they drink from the same cup Itachi's hands do not tremble.

-----

Their vows are kept simple, by virtue of Itachi threatening severe bodily harm if Shisui goes on a tangent about their love in front of an audience. Even so, Itachi smirks at the sound of Obito's sniffling when Shisui finishes his vows with a promise to never leave Itachi's side.

"Crybaby," Kakashi whispers, handing him a handkerchief.

If Itachi's eyes are misty too, well. No one says a word. He simply glares at Shisui's knowing smile, in a way that makes Itachi want to wipe it away with a kiss.

When their rings are finally exchanged, Itachi gazes down at the unfamiliar weight circling his finger and takes a moment to silently marvel. Not at the fact that he's married, but the fact that he already doesn't remember half of what just happened; all that remains is the flighty feeling of peace, and no little amount of excitement. Itachi pulls his eyes away to look up into a shock of tear-filled red eyes, Shisui's grin carefree and infectious.

"We're married," Shisui whispers, his hand tightening around Itachi's as his eyes spin to black.

"Yes," Itachi whispers back, conscious of the stares and hushed laughter from their family.

"You're my husband."

"I am."

"Wild."

Itachi's free hand rushes up to smother his grin, shaking his head.

"Idiot," he murmurs, voice tender with affection as he reaches to cup Shisui's cheek, thumb lightly brushing away any falling tears. Shisui gazes down at him with nothing short of awe, before leaning down to seal their union with a kiss.

As kisses go, it isn't one of their best. Their families erupt into whistles and laughter regardless, making Itachi's face burn. His teeth knock against Shisui's, both of them smiling too wide to properly keep their mouths pressed tight. It isn't too suave, and because of the tears it's a little too wet; but as Shisui curves a gentle hand around the back of his neck, holding him so tight they may press into one person, Itachi can't find it in himself to mind.

He's breathless, by the end. His hands are pressed against Shisui's chest, able to feel the thunderous pound of his heart. When they part Shisui presses his forehead to Itachi's, grinning widely, and turns them both to face their family as husbands for the first time.

Itachi remembers his mother's words, then, as he gazes from her tear-stained smile to the sea of his nearest and dearest family and friends. You'll forget about everything other than how full your heart is.

As with most things, she was absolutely correct. Itachi chuckles at the thought, his smile wide, as he and Shisui take their first steps down from the altar. Hand in hand, they walk together towards their future.

-----

Sensu - a Japanese folding fan

Ume flowers - pale pink flowers, symbolizing love

Kanzashi - Kanzashi is a general term for a variety of hair accessories; in this case, an elaborate hairstick and hairpin.

Hakama - thick pants worn over a man's kimono

I did research on Shinto wedding traditions and I hope I was able to keep true to it! Even though I barely went into any detail about the ceremony itself lmao oops

To explain before someone inevitably comments on it: it's common practice in a lot of cultures and places to refer to your in-laws as mother or father, which is why Shisui calls Mikoto okasan. In Boruto, Naruto even calls Hiashi (Hinata's dad) otosan. I know for a lot of people the Itachi/Shisui ship is kinda sus because they could be directly related, so Shisui referring to Mikoto as mom might spark that incest flame. However! There is nothing in canon to suggest they're related, so I will continue to happily imagine these boys being in love.

I'm not sure if anyone noticed, but the "something old, something new" was the haori and kanzashi haha

#shiita #itashi #shisui x itachi #shisui uchiha #itachi uchiha #naruto #uchiha shisui #uchiha itachi #jules writes

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lubdubsworld · 7 years ago

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Veritas ( Jung kook x Oc)

Author’s Notes :

this may not be everyone’s cup of tea. i just feel like I've written enough soft stuff and my stories all sound the same to me, to be honest ..... so i want to venture into something different and some hardcore stuff.

The female character isn’t necessarily bi, but she has sex with her roommate. if you’re not into that then maybe you shouldn’t read this. i have this picture in my head about how this story should turn out and i’m just going to try and write it that way. it may not work out, so i apologize in advance in case it doesn’t.

Warnings : Prostitution, Dubious consent, Hard drugs, Violence. implied suicide attempts. Lot of really dark stuff . Please , if you have any remotely serious issues of trauma, steer clear of my writing. i do not sugar-coat.

Rating : 19 +

Chapter One.

December 24, 2019.

“You won’t be coming home tonight either, then, Milan” , Reina said, her eyes wide and dead as she stood in front of the full length mirror, thick black kohl smudged around her fingers as she traced her waterline , painting her eyes .

Her lips looked red, under the dim lighting over head and she was pouting a little, wet tongue poking out in a way that was vaguely erotic. She was wearing a purple baby doll, the top of her soft breasts lined with silvery white fur and the hips flaring out in a wavy pleats. The shimmery fabric fell around her in waves, like flowing water and i felt my breath catch because it was all so alluring. So magical.

I stared at her , mildly aroused. Not because of the way her breasts filled out her bodice, or the way her hips curved into hourglass perfection, or because of how smooth her longs looked, ankles encased in strappy peep toe heels. I was aroused because I was still a little riled up from the little bit of molly i had taken earlier and i knew just how her lips tasted, like peppermint and gin and strawberry lip balm.

My body wanted release. And I preferred her, to the ugly, panting men who smothered me into stained mattresses, hairy thighs and meaty arms holding me down and taking, taking, taking when there was nothing left to take anyway.

I wanted to move closer and hug her, wrap an arm around her and drag her into the bed.

She was so good at making me feel loved. So gentle and so careful. I loved her fingers inside me, because they were soft and long and kind. Soothing in a way not a lot of things in my life were.

I loved her.

It wasn’t a romantic feeling, but something that went far beyond it.

“I don’t know... it’s some famous guy...” I slurred, turning back to stare at my own reflection.

Reina had done my make up today and i looked almost exotic, my chestnut hair styled to lie half up and half down, the loose strands curling into shiny tendrils, thick and glossy over my bare shoulders. My lips looked shiny and slick, perfect to wrap around a nice pink cock, or so it would look to a potential client.

But it wasn’t just some potential john tonight.

it was a high profile client, an idol actor, some one who had a lot of money and a lot of clout. Someone important. And my boss had been adamant about either Reina or me taking the guy. Apparently, it was his first time with our company, and he wanted the highest rated whores in the place, ergo us. After three years, Reina and i had built a reputation for ourselves. We were good, still relatively young .

More importnatly, we were intelligent. We spoke english. We knew about the political scene in some obscure country and we could wear cocktail gowns and pass off for college educated professionals. Some men thought that soliciting an educated, smart girl made them better.

Yes, i paid a woman to let me in between her thighs, but you know what, she was smart.

“ oh, you better do well then. We can’t afford to piss them off.” She said with a little smile.

No, i couldn’t. My heart was pounding. Three consecutive beats.

Lub dub. Lub Dub. Lub Dub.

Jung Kook. Jung Kook. Jung Kook.

i felt sick, bile collecting at the back of my throat and a pain starting up at the base of my skull. Just the thought of him triggered nausea. Just the thought of his name... was all it took for me to want to reach the nearest sharp object, point it right at my wrist, slice through the skin , flesh and the veins till he fucking bled out of me for good.

Too bad it didn’t really work. i’d tried enough times to know.

“Milan.... hey!” Reina was saying something but I was done. If i was starting to think about Jung Kook, it was time to get distracted again. Keep my mind off him. it was the only way I could survive.

As i swayed a little, reaching for the little purse with the condoms and used a spritz of some spraymint on myself before slipping into some high heels, watching my blood red nails peek out of the peep-toe shoes, stark against the black leather.

“i’m meeting Han in the Hyatt. Later.” She grinned.

I hummed.

Reina had another client for the night, some Chinese businessman called Mr. Han who visited us twice a month, a handsome guy that Reina had always crushed hard on and I didn’t want to take away that little bit of happiness from her.

The man was married , would never do something as risky as leave his family for her , but for the duration of a few hours, she was allowed to dream. Allowed to imagine.

So I had agreed to take this client instead.

“You seem wobbly, Milan...” Reina said suddenly, fingers curving on my upper arm. “ Are you okay?��

i shook my head to clear the haze.

“I’m fine.” i said softly, reaching for the glass pot full of strong black coffee before pouring myself a glass and chugging it down. it would probably help a bit in sobering me up, by the time i reached the lounge downstairs where my supposed client was waiting. It wasn’t safe, being high when meeting a new client.

I kissed Reina sloppily on the cheek, before moving to the door and out into the carpeted hallway. I’d walked this path a million times, so my body was almost on auto pilot, and i fumbled with the zipper of my purse, awkwardly pulling out the little eye mask and putting it on. It had been a part of the instruction and i’d almost forgotten. i tied it at the back of my head, walking slowly tot he elevator. The coffee did help and by the time i pushed in the door of the loungue, i was slightly more sober.

I took one look at the three men gathered around the huge table and I felt a little bit of a foreboding. I was supposed to meet just one of them.

I stared at them , confused and slightly thrown, wondering if I’d conjured them up out of my conscience.

it wouldn’t be the first time , after all.

But they weren’t even looking at me and the man on the left , slightly younger than the other two and with a handsome face and a rough voice, gave me a smile and tugged on my arm.

“Come sit here, baby...” He drawled softly, patting my thigh as i sank into the plush velvet seat next to him. He went back to laughing with his friends and i found myself staring at the man next to him, still unsure where this was leading.

“I’m Mingyu, by the way. hang on for a while, okay? We’ll head up to the suite in a few minutes. ” He said suddenly, reaching out and gripping my chin, before kissing me on the lips.

i nodded softly, before voicing a tentative hello.

I drifted off afterwards, vaguely listening to the conversation and trying hard to sober up.

When his hand slipped up my skirt, i switched my mind off with practiced ease, letting him collect on the 300,000 Won he had paid for the night.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two days later, photos of Kim Mingyu exiting a supposed massage parlor which was notorious for prostitution scandals, were plastered all over the internet .

and somehow, I was the one under fire.

“I don’t understand.... someone leaked information about your client being involved with a prostitute in a massage parlor and this idiot thinks it’s you...”

I groaned in disbelief.

“apparently, he’d been talking about sleeping with that woman during the ... drinks thing that I met him at.. he was with a couple of guys and i swear, i didn’t even pay any attention to what any of them were saying.....but he thinks that i overheard whatever he’d said about the whole ‘ massage parlor’ thing he’d gone to and now.. it’s out on the news and his career is on the line, so he wants to raise hell over this....”

“Look... Mrs Lee knows about you... And i think he signs a contract too, before paying us. It’s not going to even be worth it. “

I shrugged.

“it’s still bad publicity, when you think about it. No one’s going to want to risk it, if this idiot goes around telling people that we give out private information.”

Reina sighed.

“What’s Mrs. Lee saying....” she said softly.

i shrugged.

“She wanted to talk it out with the guy. Hopefully, she’ll be able to offer him something or somehow convince him that i wouldn’t do stuff like that...”

“This sucks.”

I groaned.

“it sure does...”

“You wanna make out? “ She rubbed circles on my back and i smiled a little, moving to press my lips to her cheek.

“I’m sorry baby....i need to go the shelter. “ I said apologetically. Reina smiled, and brushed the hair off my face, her hands soft and gentle against my skin.

“You’re so good. I hate that something like you exists in a world like this...” She whispered and i laughed.

“I’m no saint, Rei.... Can i borrow your red muffler?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The shelter was located somewhere near itaewon, and i took the bus, taking care to keep most of my face hidden underneath the muffler and the upturned collar of my fur coat. Over the past three years, I’d managed to fade out of memory. I stopped being ‘ the stalker who followed jung Kook to private party in HK’ and became just another, nameless faceless girl int he crowd of Seoul. But the fear was still there.

What if someone took a look at me and recognized me?

Jung Kook’s fans were scary.

My apartment broken into. My clothes ripped to shreds. Pigs blood smeared over everything i’d owned. Fired from my job. Kicked out of my home.

I swallowed. I had been an idiot.

And idiot in love.

And it had cost me everything.

The memories still burned bright beneath the surface though, just waiting to come barreling into my conscience. Those awful , awful moments as i stood there in a sea full of strangers , staring at the boy who had literally emant the tnitire world to me. The only thing that had mattered to me. the boy, i had spent the better part of a decade on.

“ Why on earth would I want something like you, when I can have any of these women, So Eun? You’re not beautiful. you’re not famous. You’re not even in the same league as me. Why the fuck would i like something you?? ”

I swallowed. I’d repeated those words to myself , over and over again . a million times. a zillion times. I thought , over time they would lose their venom. Someday they would lose all meaning become just words. you know, syllables strung together by a drunk nineteen year old who probably didn’t know what he was saying.

But they hadn’t.

instead they had just festered , like some untreated wound, oozing pus and attracting flies, giving out the sickening stench of rotting flesh and making me want to empty my insides . And they were still there, i thought bitterly. those words were still there, carved on the inside of my skull,

“Miss!! Careful.!!” someone’s hand closed over my arm , yanking me to the side and i gasped, surprised. It took me a second to realize , i’s almost veered dangerously into oncoming traffic. Bowing in apology and gratitude, I pulled my scarf closer and walked quicker, aware that a light rain had started.

The shelter was closed today and i called my friend on her phone, waiting as she came around the building to let me in.

Jieun lived in the building , and she took care of the pups in her custody like a mother would. I smiled wide as she bought the familiar mutt, curled happily into her arms.

“Hello Gureum!! hi unnie... ” I said , laughing as he growled, under-bite sticking out in a way that at first glance was slightly terrifying. I smiled, happy that i had finally found time to visit him.

Nearly a decade ago, when jung kook had left for Seoul, his parents had turned the poor puppy out of the house.

I had found him whimpering in a ditch and I had taken him in. But when I’d followed Jung kook to the city, it had been difficult to take care of him. but jieun had been running a shelter even back then and she had taken him in .

for the past Seven years she had taken care of him.i visited every week or even twice or thrice when i could spare some time.

But sometimes , I couldn’t come. i regretted that. Gureum was family after all.

Shaking my head, i took the dog into my arms, reaching into my bag for the dog treats and the small leather leash.

“Ready to go the park , buddy?”

As we walked down the streets to the park, the familiar streets, wet with falling rain and the fresh scent of damp earth, i felt daring enough to unwind the muffler from my face. the icy air hit me like a spray and I shivered, in a good way.

Gureum yanked on the leash, yipping loud , all of a sudden and i turned surprised. I went stiff when i saw the huge poster , stuck to the back of the bus stop.

It was Jung Kook.

“That’s... That’s just a picture buddy... that’s not your hyung...” I said stupidly, reaching down to pick up the excited little dog. “but don’t worry. He’s happy. He really is...Gureum.... wait...”

Gureum struggled a bit more, intending to run to the poster and it took me a minute to calm him down.

“it’s okay....” i said over and over again and I almost believed iot myself.

It was okay, I thought, once again , after he had quieted down and we had reached the park. I sat down on a grassy knoll, overlooking the little bit of the city and I un-clipped his leash , letting him roll around on the damp lawn.

“ It’s okay.” i said out loud, with a deep shuddering breath.

it would all be okay.

#jungkook #jungkook smut #jungkook fics

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