《*taekook*》012
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Jeongguk had an interview, a big one that was premiering on three different stations. He was nervous, so incredibly so that Taehyung noticed. Taehyung led him to the bathroom and ran a hot bath, the two of them silently basking in the hot water, Taehyung massaging gentle, soapy circles into Jeongguk's hair and kissing his neck soothingly. Jeongguk found himself actually relaxing, letting his anxious mind and tense body melt into Taehyung's touch.
"You're going to do fine," Taehyung whispered into his collarbone, settled on Jeongguk's lap after their bath. Jeongguk let out a distressed noise, burying his face in Taehyung's damp hair. Taehyung pulled him away by the jaw, locking eyes with him and smiling in a way that made Jeongguk dizzy.
"Listen to me, yeah?" Taehyung grinned. "You're Jeon fucking Jeongguk. You're gonna kill it. And I'll be listening, okay? I'll support you from here."
"You're..." Jeongguk choked, suddenly urged to say so many things at once. Taehyung's smile softened, his eyes crinkling warmly at the corners and Jeongguk couldn't resist kissing him.
Hours later, when he was at the building, makeup being painted onto his face, he thought of Taehyung, of his words of encouragement. He thought of Taehyung as he as introduced to the interviewer, as the show was explained and as he walked on stage, smiling for the crowd.
The interviewer got straight to the point, addressing the rumours that Jeongguk had been dreading. He denied them all swiftly, said that he would never treat his crew poorly and made some jokes. It was very smooth sailing for the most part, Jeongguk breathing out a silent sigh of relief when he noticed that there was only a few minutes left.
"So, Jeongguk, before we end the show, I wanted to ask you one final, important question," the interviewer said dramatically. Jeongguk leaned forwards, pretending to be interested.
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"How's your love life?" the interviewer asked. Jeongguk laughed, the mock-tense aura of the situation dissipating.
"Well, you know me. I'm a very busy man," Jeongguk admitted. The interviewer let out a gasp of disappointment.
"So, there's nobody that you're interested in right now?" the interviewer whined. Jeongguk shook his head before pausing.
"Well..." Jeongguk sighed, looking away. The interview pretended to looked shocked at the audience.
"Well?! Spill!" he laughed. Jeongguk smiled, leaning in once more as if he was about to tell a secret.
"You know... there is someone I really like," Jeongguk told him. "You know, they're not who you'd suspect."
"The suspense!" the interviewer yelled, making the audience laugh.
"Okay, okay, it's... don't judge me, alright? Nobody knows this yet. I didn't want to come public with it, but... Ahn Hyojin, the one I co-starred with last year. She's simply stunning," Jeongguk cooed, breathing out lies. The interviewer and audience ate it up, all of them clapping enthusiastically.
"We knew it! Will there be a scandal in the near future, Jeongguk?" the interviewer prompted. Jeongguk just plastered on a fake smirk and shrugged, even though he knew that there would never be a scandal.
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For those who do not understand the reference, "wish fulfillment" is before anything a term created by Sigmund Freud in the 1900's. In psychology it is a state of satisfying unconscious needs and desires by the use of fantasy and delusion. In literature it is the very base of fictional work, but also the name of a style of writing where the author sacrifices the key elements of good storytelling in order to fulfill his own psychopathic, neurotic or perverse needs and desires, usually through the use of the characters in weird and forced situations. What I meant by the title of this story is that it is a trashy, badly written, shitty story about me getting some wish fulfillment by the use of some characters and a fictional world of my creation. Not the good kind of fulfillment, since my wishes are of the bad kind and I intend to fulfill those, not yours. Also, being a total amateur and not writing a proper plot before starting are two big indicators that this story is going to go bad. I guess Royal Road call this kind of stories the "Mary Sue" kind. So, unless you are a very ugly piece of trash (at least as much as I am) don’t bother reading it. Now, if you ARE messed up on the level of a clinically depressive, lightly suicidal, lolicon/shotacon aligned morbidly obese hikikomori vermin who sold his virginity to a prostitute and is currently living at the costs of his widowed mother after expending all the money he got from his father’s inheritance, all the while masturbating furiously to beast/furry dickgirl hentai, then be welcomed. Please feel free to get a serving at my antidepressants and also at the canned tuna I have stored in the fridge. There may be some cheese somewhere, and I am pretty sure I bought some juice the other day, but I have no idea where it is. Anyway. You may dislike what I write because of all the amauteur(ish) writing, or you may not. Who knows. Give it a try and write a comment. It gets lonely writing to no one. Also, feel free to grant me inspiration not only by making comments about the world and/or characters, but specially by suggesting a music for me to listen while I write the next chapter. Be warned : I do get influenced easily by the background music I listen while writing. If you exist, of course. I'm seriously doubting anyone has read anything after the "lolicon hikikomori" thing. Also, I have a tiny dick.Just so you can feel better about yourself a little more. Or maybe I have just degraded psychologically a little more and now I am into shame-play. I wonder if the psychiatrist would increase my meds a bit if I told her about it.Hope I never get to penispanick, though! Self-mutilation, especially of the castration type, would be baaaad. After all, I do like my prostitutes. And having sex with them when I can afford it. Oh, yeah, the story. I will just write the first chapter in a few moments.Until later, b(i)each.
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