Oh. I'm posting this shit here again :'D



The lust coursing through the peoples veins is almost as tangible as the heavy bass beat blasting from the speakers. A mass is flowing to the rhythm on the dance floor, sweaty and horny too I bet.

I can clearly see you in the centre, dancing with some random woman I doubt you even know. To me it seems very possible that her name is something like Rebecca, it would suit her. She has long, dark hair, dark brown eyes and lips as red as her long, painted nails that grip your shoulders.

Like a hawk, I sneer. I wipe the expression from my face, it isn't becoming of someone of my station. Trying to distract myself, I sip at the drink the bartender gave me, too sweet and it has a cherry in it, but find my eyes wandering to where you are again. I hope there isn't any paparazzi here, anyone could see the fierce possessiveness in my eyes.

As you grind against her and her thighs tremble and she clings onto you, you stare me straight in my eyes. Even when you lean down to whisper something in her ear, something dirty, because when she throws her head back you smirk at me.

God, it's like our graduation party all over again. But that's another story.

She rakes her red, painted nails across your back and you bite your lip, still looking at me. I stare back.

You're wearing that horrendous green shirt that you know I hate. No, it isn't the green that I hate, anything would look great on you, it's the person who gave that shirt to you.

I narrow my eyes. Your fiancé.

Oh, little Heejin. She would already be at your throat, demanding explanations, screaming and crying. While I debate whether to call her or not, it's my turn to smirk at you.

Your eyes widen and your breath hitches and you grip her waist stronger than before. I pick up the cherry I had in my drink and lick it dry before slowly eating it.

You bite your lip again.

You're with her on the dance floor, but you're thinking of me.

You're not thinking of dark, long, curly hair, red nails or lips, soft, feminine curves, the swell of her hips, you're thinking of me.

You're thinking of a toned chest, hard abs, a sharp jawline, broad shoulders, a strength to match your own.

You're not letting those silent moans escape your lips because of that Rebecca.

"I'm your number one," I murmur to the music and get up.

I gulp down the contents of my glass while wincing at the sugary taste. I quickly throw on my jacket and approach the exit, preparing myself for the cameras.

This is what the life is like for me, Kim Jaejoong, the sole heir to one of the biggest companies of South Korea, Kim Industries.



Last night Kim Jaejoong was spotted to leave one of the moments hottest nightclubs, VICTORY, around 4:45 a.m.

The onlookers report that they saw Mr. Kim enter the club alone, sit at the bar and drink one cocktail after which he left VICTORY.

Kim Jaejoong's best friend, singer-dancer-songwriter extraordinaire, Jung Yunho,  was seen in the club also. The bartender of VICTORY speculates;

"It seems to me that they have some kind of fight going on, you know. While Mr. Jung was enjoying himself on the dance floor, Mr. Kim sat quite gloomily at the bar, mostly glaring at people who got too close."

We can only wonder for now, but what's left nothing for imagination, are these pictures of Mr. Jung Yunho dancing with a yet unidentified female at VICTORY ...............

I grin slyly at the pictures of Yunho and "Rebecca", humming to myself.

I wonder how many weeks it will take for Yunho to realize I paid for the pictures to be taken.

I take a last look at the magazine.

"That's my boy."




Okay, what did I just write. I expect lots of spelling mistakes and wtf-ery. I'm half asleep anyway, I have the right XD


I think I'm writing more of this.... universe