gisaeng
gisaeng
summary: jaejoong's job worries yoochun
you sell kisses while i sell greens we grew from our backyard. every time you walked through our front door i pray that i would get a job that would support the both of us, to convince you, to make you stop selling. i sometimes wished that you weren't who you were, caring, easy to fall in love and an actor that could portray different emotions, whatever your friend might want it to be.
sometimes you come home telling me that it hurts, the whole of you. your body, your soul and your spirit and i'm helpless because i can't do anything, i try to pick a fight but you always end up winning every single argument i raise. would our love feed us? would our love shelter us? huh chunnie? tell me! and you were out the door, and i was sitting my knees close to my chest and rocking myself, pitiful and pathetic. i'm sorry, i'm incompetent.
some are men and some are women but most of the time, they're men and they can be a little hard on you and leave marks. i always examine your once pristine skin ruined by the reality of life and i cry every single time i see marks on your body, the body that supposed to mine and only mine. but you use yourself to keep us, to support us.
30 for blowjobs, 100 for overnights.
that's your rate and i couldn't care less, you're priceless in my eyes. a glance at your perfection got them hands all over money caves and digging something to throw at you, to keep you for the rest of the night. you put on your best smile, like it's your favorite thing to do and a part of me feels your heart crumbling every time you kiss someone else.
chunnie, how are you holding on? you ask me, one time when you decided that it's time for a break in the business and i close my eyes and hug you from behind. there are so much words i need to say, so much feelings i need to express but time wasn't on my side. i don't know, i really don't know. every time you come home at night smelling like some rich perfume that i can't even pronounce with marks on your body, i don't really know. but to think that you still come home to me every single night is worth the fight to be with you until you want me to let go
♥ masterlist | tumblr | twitter
summary: jaejoong's job worries yoochun
you sell kisses while i sell greens we grew from our backyard. every time you walked through our front door i pray that i would get a job that would support the both of us, to convince you, to make you stop selling. i sometimes wished that you weren't who you were, caring, easy to fall in love and an actor that could portray different emotions, whatever your friend might want it to be.
sometimes you come home telling me that it hurts, the whole of you. your body, your soul and your spirit and i'm helpless because i can't do anything, i try to pick a fight but you always end up winning every single argument i raise. would our love feed us? would our love shelter us? huh chunnie? tell me! and you were out the door, and i was sitting my knees close to my chest and rocking myself, pitiful and pathetic. i'm sorry, i'm incompetent.
some are men and some are women but most of the time, they're men and they can be a little hard on you and leave marks. i always examine your once pristine skin ruined by the reality of life and i cry every single time i see marks on your body, the body that supposed to mine and only mine. but you use yourself to keep us, to support us.
30 for blowjobs, 100 for overnights.
that's your rate and i couldn't care less, you're priceless in my eyes. a glance at your perfection got them hands all over money caves and digging something to throw at you, to keep you for the rest of the night. you put on your best smile, like it's your favorite thing to do and a part of me feels your heart crumbling every time you kiss someone else.
chunnie, how are you holding on? you ask me, one time when you decided that it's time for a break in the business and i close my eyes and hug you from behind. there are so much words i need to say, so much feelings i need to express but time wasn't on my side. i don't know, i really don't know. every time you come home at night smelling like some rich perfume that i can't even pronounce with marks on your body, i don't really know. but to think that you still come home to me every single night is worth the fight to be with you until you want me to let go
♥ masterlist | tumblr | twitter