#yes I know the point of the touch is that Victoria is just some random-ass cat and thats why it works because nobody stopped her

[misconceivedcapricorn]

Hot take but Victoria being chosen for the protagonist of a Cats movie is not that bizzare or outlandish as people like to insist

Like, yeah, sure it'd have been cool to have Demeter or Jemima if necessary, but generally Victoria has been used historically during the show's run to represent the spirit of the show, and like she has a whole coming-of-age thing going on in the musical (which is the point of the solo + the pas de deux).

Generally, having a protagonist in the Cats musical kind of sabotages it, but I think if I did have to chose focus characters I'd go for a duel narrative of Jemima/Sillabub and Victoria because they both play a significant part in Grizabella's acceptance

[drkoestersmithrpg]

OMG - the things I accomplished today.

Remember how you wrote Victoria’s Secret and then suddenly you just had this damn long plot in your head you had to weave together???  Tony’s Story was just supposed to be a repeat of Peter’s Story, but with what was going on In Tony’s Head when the dance happened.

And then..............there was.

Dammit nearly 10K words and we haven’t even gotten to when Peter went down with the helicopter - but I hope that will be short.

Tony’s Story Chapter 2

But dammit he should have let Pepper take him to bed with Maria in the next room because his skinhunger was getting bad.  Very bad.  He could tell, because every time Peter touched him he lit up like a Christmas Tree.

And he was touching Peter too much – he knew it.  Putting his hands on the boy’s waist to move him out of the way of the holotable instead of just walking around him.  Accenting his point by putting both hands on Peter’s shoulders and shaking him back and forth.  Hugging him every damn time they made a technological breakthrough – or whenever he left on a trip – or whenever he left at the end of the day.

Dammit no wonder the boy started kissing him on the mouth.

 * * *  

 As much as he wanted to bitch and moan and wax Shakespearian about his life, he really could be counting his blessings.  Peter brightened up the room whenever he walked in it – and he was walking in it a lot. He was such a normal feature in Stark Tower, both in the living area and in the lab, that Tony was beginning to miss him when he wasn’t there.  He had his own corner of the refrigerator.  He had a lot of access to FRIDAY for food delivery and music options. He kept a change of clothes there. Despite the fact that he was full-time at Columbia and still the Friendly Neighborhood Spider-Man, he still made time for Tony.  And that made life good.

And if Tony started to worry that he was demanding too much of the kid’s time?  Well there were always business trips or Avenger business to take him out of town for a while.  That kept him busy.  Busy was his safety net.  Busy was good.

Then that day happened and Tony saw his fragile safety net begin to denigrate and that was very, very bad.

That day – the day Tony thought of as The Day Of The Slowdance.  That day.

He had literally sat in his lab for an hour, spinning around in a swivel chair, trying to think of something to occupy his time.  He had nothing.  Nothing inspired.  Once again he was diving into the tech, only to realize the tech had rejected him too. He was seriously thinking about drinking – dammit it was 2:00 in the afternoon, when he suddenly texted Peter and asked him to come by to help him with some suit issues “that have me stumped.” It was a lie of course, but by the time Peter got there he could trust his brain with something that Peter could work on.  Then, when Peter’s brain started working, his brain would start working to.

Not since Bruce had Tony been with such a perfect lab partner, had worked with someone who just got it?  But for all Bruce’s brilliance, they were both exited about different fields.  When those two fields overlapped, they were magic together.

 With Peter it was magic all the time.

 He barely had to explain something to Peter before he was off and running with it. 

The kid had all of his brilliance with none of his flaws. Sure, experience and education was missing. That was expected. But Peter got him. He followed exactly where Tony’s brain was headed without even having to be told. Tony had worked with people in college, obviously. And in his early days at SI, he’d led teams of engineers. Tony described it to Peter in terms of a root canal (And Peter agreed, he had the same problems in study groups and college lectures that were just too damn slow.)

 Waiting for them to catch up… expecting them to be able to extrapolate where he was going from where he’d been…just having to stop and explain why his brain had gone in that direction…there was none of that with Peter.  They worked together like they were two parts of a whole.  That was good.  That made life good.

 But something was off that night.  First, Peter showed up early. His last class, he explained, was all reading the text and passing the tests.  That meant Tony hadn’t really had time to come up with the excuse for needing him in the lab, so he tried to keep him in the kitchen, talking about random things.  

 Peter had been in a great mood when he arrived,  cheerful and eager and… were those a pair of faded-in-all-the-right-places skinny jeans? Peter was dressing up these days.  Probably showing off for the hot nerdy girls that had Columbia had hiding somewhere.

 Or hot boys.  Peter had mentioned that, casually.  Tony had been trying to ignore that fact.

 But then they were in the lab, and Tony had to make due.

 “This fucking joint in my helmet. Sorry, language.”  Peter laughed at the inside joke.  “This has been a problem since the Mark II prototype. Here.” Tony pointed to a crescent shaped scar on the right side of his neck. “Only on this side. Only right here,” he said, improvising randomly.   “There is no way that the nanotech should be pinching there.”

 Peter looked at the projection on Tony’s holotable, then looked closely at the scar on Tony’s neck (and if Tony took that moment to close his eyes and breathe in Peter’s scent?  No one needed to know.)

 Then he was back at the projection on the holotable, looking intently for a problem that didn’t exist  (and if Tony took those few moments to check out the view of Peter’s jeans from behind? No one needed to know.)

 Peter’s mouth twisted adorably as he tried to puzzle out the problem that didn’t exist.  “So we’re looking for something small – just a clump – maybe not big enough to cause the snag in the retraction process for anyone else, but you’re sensitive to it enough to notice.”

  “Unless…..” Peter began. “What if you’ve been experiencing that for so long… Could you have accidentally programmed it in, believing it to be a part of the suit? A feature not a flaw?”

 “Huh,” Tony responded.  It was better than letting his jaw hang open in silence.  Leave it to Peter to solve a problem that wasn’t even there.

 They worked on various aspects of the retraction for an hour or so, passing projections over to each other’s workstations (although Peter kept insisting on working on the original at Tony’s station, claiming it had better resolution and there wasn’t a delay.  Which was bullshit, but so was the ‘delay’ they were working on so who was Tony to complain?)

 Tony tried to relax and let the inspiration come – any minute now Peter would say something that would give him an idea and then they would have something real to work on – but it wasn’t happening.

 Mostly because Peter kept trying to change the subject.

 Every other question seemed not to be about what the tech but about his personal life. Tony deflected, of course. He was the uncontested pro at deflection. Especially when the kid seemed to be pressing him for info on topics he was actively trying to forget about.  So what was the deal with Pepper and Maria, really?  And what the deal with that Sanjay guy?  Wasn’t he just living one floor down, or something?  And what was up with that wedding?

 “Break!”  Tony announced suddenly, and headed toward the kitchen.

 “Let’s eat.  Then I’ll put on the suit. Slow the enclosure process down and have FRIDAY record it. You can watch the snag happen.”

    “This isn’t all bad,” he said as they arrived in the kitchen.   At least ___________________

At that Peter called out “Yes! Success!  Time to celebrate!  FRIDAY play some dance music!” and the next thing Tony knew “Ride On” was playing and he had an armful of Peter Parker.

Peter’s head was, mercifully, leaning on his chest, so the boy couldn’t see him standing stiffly, dumbfounded.  He danced with Peter, of course, it seemed the polite thing to do.  His hand was on Peter’s waist, but that was ok, he had touched Peter there before. But is OTHER hand now contained a handful of Peter’s hand, and for some absurd reason, in that moment, that touch struck him as beyond intimate.  No wonder he gaped.  All this time he had conned the boy into thining there was a problem with his suit and the entire time Peter had been planning…..what exactly?”

Which is why, when Peter smiled up at him, all he could do was stare and say “What are you doing, Kid?”

What are you doing kid? He asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing?” Peter had asked, sounding innocent.

Tony’s mouth was so dry he couldn’t speak, so he only shrugged.

The pain in Peter’s eyes hurt Tony to the quick, hurt him so badly he wanted to pull the boy’s head close again, hold him and apologize.  But the kid covered it well, and before he could act, the look was gone.

And now Peter was smiling.

“Then I’ll just have to keep doing it until you figure it out.”

Tony pulled him close.

He kept his hand on the center of Peter’s back (safely away from Peter’s ass, dammit, he was going to be a gentleman about this.)  He pressed the boy’s body against his own until he could feel Peter’s heartbeat hammering in his chest.

Oh no, wait, that was just him.  He laid his chin on Peter’s head and held on for dear life.

And still they kept dancing.

In that moment – for maybe two minutes or more – Tony could see it.  He could see it all, and it was so beautiful.

Moving Peter into a room in Stark Tower (not into the Penthouse itself, they had to keep up appearances.  At least until Peter graduated.)  Or better yet, just buying a building close to Columbia and creating a new lab.  The lower levels would be tech libraries and a Gen Z coffee shop where Peter could hang out with his college friends, the top level would be their penthouse where they would sleep in each other’s arms every night.  Tony would sleep normal hours, waking in the morning to make Peter breakfast before classes, puttering in the lab and having dinner ready when Peter came home.  Keeping his schedule flexible so it could change every semester, sitting down at the dinner table and having FRIDAY coordinate their schedules, Winter Breaks, Spring Breaks, Summer Breaks.  They would spread them out on a holocalendar shining in the air, pointing out long unscheduled 3-day weekends they would spend in Paris. Peter would study on the plane and Tony would make him omelets.

And it would be Peter. It would be all Peter.  Peter would be the reason he remembered to eat, remembered to sleep.  All so he could remind Peter to eat and sleep.  He would take care of himself so he could take care of Peter.  He would worry about Peter during long overnight study sessions with friends, and Peter would worry about him when he left on business trips, they would text each other ‘I miss yous’ and ‘I love yous’ and when they returned to each other….

…they would dance in Tony’s kitchen just like this.

Clutching Peter’s hand in his own Tony separated their bodies for a moment, holding Peter out at the end of his arm, spinning him under it, then scooping him back up in that tender embrace and putting his chin back on Peter’s head.  Peter moved his face closer and Tony sighed, resting his lips against Peter’s forehead.  It was perfect.  It was heaven.

He could see it all – the years of impatiently waiting for Peter to graduate.  The arguments, both petty and profound.  The inevitable butting of heads when two fiercely independent people tried to live in the same place.  The broken promises, dates missed because of last-minute study sessions, extra long business meetings.  Harsh words, sometimes ridiculous, sometimes eye-opening, the tender intense make-up conversations afterwards.  The makeup sex.  The roses that came with apologies.

He was actually wondering if FRIDAY could tell him which florists delivered the fastest – would Peter object to having flowers delivered to him in class?  Would a florist deliver roses to Columbia?  Because he could almost here the arguments now, the arguments they would be having as Peter got tense and testy as he prepared to graduate. Arguments that were mostly about nothing, but were really all about the alarming prospect of the future. Arguments that Tony could tell (although he would never point out) were really about this young fledgling longing to spread his wings, to take his first flight, to leave the nest…..

Because that is exactly what Peter would want to do.

Because the boy in his arms, the boy 30 years his junior, the boy slow-dancing with him now, looked at him as a Father Figure.  And Father Figures, even the ones you have sex with, even the ones you get naked with, even those Father Figures had to be shed by young men fighting to become independent.  

Tony’s heart started pounding again.

As absurd as it was, he could hear it.  The argument. The argument with the In-3-Years-Peter, the so-near-to-graduation-he-could-taste-it-Peter.  That arguing Peter had angry eyes and a furloughed forehead and he was trying not to raise his voice but he was, and Tony was too, and they were shouting at each other, and anyone listening in would think that they were arguing over Tony’s too-long business trips, or maybe his too-short business trips, or else it was Peter’s too-long study sessions (with that lab partner that Peter fought with constantly and complained about constantly but now was suddenly singing the praises of now that the project was nearly complete) and anyone listening in would certainly have thought the whole argument could have been settled by an apology and more roses but Tony would know, Tony would know in his bone-marrow that this was Peter needing to spread his wings, to establish his independence, to leave the nest.

Because what do boys do when they graduate from college?

They leave home.

Peter, the real Peter, the Peter in his arms, was looking up at him, was waiting for a kiss.  Tony could do that.  Tony could kiss him and lead him into the other room and gently work him out of his pants and sink into him and come deep inside him and declare his true love, oh yes, Tony could do that.

Tony didn’t.

The song ended, and Tony clutched Peter’s hand in his own.  He separated their bodies and held Peter out at the end of his arm.  Peter willingly spun under it, trusting.

And when Peter’s back was turned Tony let go of his arm and walked out of the room.

“FRIDAY play disco,” he called out, never looking back.

 --------------------------------chapter break---------------------------

Did he hide like a coward in his lab, waiting breathlessly for FRIDAY to confirm that Peter had left? Oh yes he did.

Did he pack a bag and leave that night for LA on some feigned business trip?  Oh yes, he most certainly did.

Did he stop inviting Peter over to work in the lab on projects real and imagined, and did he make damn sure that there were always people in Stark Tower when Peter did show up? Oh most certain this was the case. Tony could be one damn popular guy when wanted to be.  And that’s why weeks passed before he had to deal with an armful of Peter again.

He acted casual during those times inbetween, but inwardly he was frantic.  This is ok, this is ok, he kept telling himself.  “Yes I just broke up with Spider-Man, and yes, it hurts.  But loosing the kid after only one slow-dance, that’s a pain I can bear, right?”

He kept repeating the mantra to himself as a week passed, and then another.  But then he got lonely for the Kid and might have accidentally allowed him in the tower when he was alone.  

“We’re not going to do this, Kid,” Tony said, when that alone time terned into a tender embrace.  “We’re not going to do this, Kid,” he said even as he wrapped his arms around Peter and held him close.  He had only let his guard down just for a second and the Kid swooped in, superhero that he was.

“Why not?”  Peter asked, logically, and Tony opened his mouth to tell the whole Graduating From Columbia story but it was too big to come out.

He tried to talk about what Peter deserved, but he got cut off.

“You let me decide what I deserve.”

So he tried to tell the truth – or at least part of the truth.  He did love Peter’s crush, loved it?  For a while he was living for it.  But suggesting that this was a legitimate reason to say no now just earned him a sweet kiss on his face, and then on the corner of his mouth.

The self-control that it took to not move the quarter inch and taste that boy for himself was agonizing.

Then the boy left, and Tony hung his head in shame.

He had told the boy no,

But the boy probably had trouble believing him when he had said “No” while holding a handful of Peter’s ass.

He forced himself to act casual, even as the kid walked away, even as his heart was hammering frantically in his chest.   This is ok, this is ok, he could hear the mantra forming in his head even now..  “Yes I just broke up with Spider-Man, and yes, it hurts.  But loosing the kid after only one slow-dance, and one handful of ass, that’s a pain I can bear, right?”

There was a second mantra, one that formed in his head as his private plane carried him away from New York City.

“You have the obvious advantage.  Peter has the hard job, constantly waiting for you to be alone, constantly waiting to swoop in when you are unguarded.  He’s the one who has to keep generating arguments why you should be together..  All you have to do is keep saying no.  

   But he didn’t say ‘no’ the next time Peter made a move on him, he said something much worse.  A team of Avengers had returned from XXXXX and were debriefing in Stark Tower and Peter made an unexpected appearance. Tony was beyond grateful he was there – these group meetings ground on and made Tony angsty, but Peter made it easy to relax.  They even had time to catch up, standing side by side and talking for quite a while while other Avengers fought for Tony’s attention.

But then the others began departing in various directions and Tony found himself absurdly fleeing from Peter, backing up as if the boy were going to mug him, grimacing, hating himself for grimacing.

“I’m not doing this!” Tony had whispered to him, fully aware that he had been doing it.  Had stood shoulder to shoulder with Peter for the entire meeting.  Had defended Peter to the group, had glowed when Peter defended him. Had nudged him when Fury said something particularly appalling, and shared an inside joke.  More than one.  He had been ‘doing this.’  He had been ‘doing this’ shamelessly.

He wanted to explain, he did, but the penthouse was full of people.  Wanted to explain how he was sure he could bear the pain of breaking up with Peter after only one slow dance, after only one handful of ass. But breaking up with Peter after getting naked?  Breaking up with Peter after Peter had met his idol and found him wanting?  He tried to explain that there were pains he couldn’t bear.

That’s not what came out of his mouth, but it was close.

LYRICS TO 1000 YEARS

“Peter hacked into FRIDAY as….as a practical joke.  Only he forgot to hack out,” Tony muttered to the remaining Avengers.  He didn’t try to wrestle with FRIDAY in front of them.  He knew Peter’s hacking skills.  He had honed a few of them himself.

“So, did you two break up?” Nat asked, after the others had gone.  He was standing out by the heliopad to get away from the condemning music.

“We were never dating.”

“Could have fooled me.”

“So you’re admitting you’re not very good at your job?   Odd business strategy, RomannonfXXX.”

“Look, I know Anand marrying the Gay Jesus of India really rattled your cage…”

“…the Limp-dicked Gay Jesus of India…” Tony muttered.

“But I could have told you about Anand.  I would have told you about Anand, if you had asked me.  But you didn’t ask me…”

“I’m sorry, since when do I take dating advice from a master assassin?”

“I read people Tony.  You used to read people too, but you missed that one.  You fell for an object in motion – I’m sorry it came to a surprise to you that he moved on…”

“..you saw it coming.”

Nat shrugged.

“And Peter is an object in motion too, constantly motion,” Tony muttered, mostly to himself.  

“Predictable motion, and right beside you.  You can’t see yourself from the outside, Tony, I can.  Feel free to tell me it’s none of my business,”

“It’s none of your business.”

“…  but Peter works for you.  You’re good together.”

“I’m sorry, were you….were you trained in this too?  In addition to interrogation, did SHEILD use you as Yenta the Matchmaker?  How is this your job?”

“SHIELD used me to know you, and I do.  And for the record, you’ve been miserable for a while now.  And it’s not good for the Avengers.  The Avengers is my job.”

She left him, mercifully, alone after that.  Alone in his empty home.  Alone within walls echoing A THOUSAND YEARS XXXXX[lyrics]XXXXXXXx with the assurance that he [lyrics] xxxxxshouldn’t worryxxxxxxxxPeter had loved him for a thousand years.

  The mission with Wanda to her old stomping grounds in Serbia offered up a welcome distraction.  Demanding that Peter not be on the departing team was easy – it was a dangerous mission.  “Good for him” or not, Tony didn’t want Peter in danger.

Armored in his suit he met Peter on a random rooftop to give him the news.  

Tony winced when he thought of that day.  He wasn’t proud of that day.  He had determined to be outright cruel to Peter that day – as if he could ever be cruel to Peter.  Still he tried to use the worst words he knew that day – the kinds of words he had hated so much when he was Peter’s age.  Words like ‘childish’ and ‘adult thing to do.’  He was glad he had kept his helmet on.  He couldn’t bear to look at the Kid directly.

Was he hyperventilating when he got back to the Tower?  Oh yes he was.  Did the angry voices shouting XXX[lyrics to she fucking hates me]XXXXXXXXXx at him as he tried to make his way to the lab fit his mood?  Oh yes they did.  

He didn’t fight with FRIDAY about the song.  He fell in a slump against the wall, tears in his eyes.  For an hour he remained there.  He couldn’t remember ever feeling so lonely.

But he still had FRIDAY, and FRIDAY wanted to be good for him.  For another hour they talked to each other, gently, until he finally had some access to Peter’s hack.  Peter had effectively shut him out of volume control and the off button, but he hadn’t thought to shut out Tony from the playlist.  Rather than try anying harder (which would have required Tony get up off the floor) Tony simply added songs to the list.  Soon FRIDAY was playing “Ride On” at acceptable volume levels for the man slumped on the floor.

Did he jerk off to the song? Oh yes he did.  He did, and he wasn’t ashamed.  He did and he dreamed of how Peter felt in his arms as they danced; so strong, so solid, so willing.  He came whispering Peter’s name.

Afterward he thumped his head on the back of the wall over and over again.  

He tried remembering the mantras he had found before, but they had all dried up, and now the only one he could remember was “I can do this, I can do this, I can do this.”

He had the advantage.

Peter was smart, but Tony was more experienced.  Peter wanted to get laid, but Peter was also surrounded by dozens of college boys who were not only cute but somewhat intelligent as well.  

Besides, if they did have sex?  Peter would expect him to take off his shirt, and that simply couldn’t happen.

“FRIDAY?  Add one more to the playlist.”

And that’s how Tony Stark got up from the floor that next morning, packing his bags to Tom Petty’s “I Won’t Back Down.”

 Tony knew he would have to get more creative after the mission in Serbia was over.  The only reason something hadn’t happened that last day in the Tower was because other people were there.  Peter was a lot stronger than Tony – oh god was Tony well aware of that fact – and as he had found out the first time Peter kissed his face, he had no control when Peter was in his arms.  It was because he was so damn touchstarved, Tony argued to himself.

It was because he was so damn lonely.

It was because it was Peter.

[jeju-2-okinawa]

Lost Without Your Love

I made a new smut! I haven’t written since I was 15 and I think it shows...... Anyway! I noticed that there aren’t many CL/Teddy scenarios for some odd reason so...here ya go. 

Based off of Mariah Carey’s song, “Stay The Night” 

Chaerin thought by now that her crush on Hong Jun would've subsided. It had been years since she met him and yet her feelings have only gotten stronger. Even when the news of his relationship with Han Ye Seul went public, her mind was still filled with naughty thoughts of him. The way he walked, the way he talked, the way he smiled ever so slightly at her whenever she spoke to him. Everything about that man drove her crazy. She wanted him more than ever, and it was so obvious that it was kind of embarrassing. She wouldn't have felt so guilty had he let her be, but that wasn't the case. Ever since she started dressing more provocatively; thighs and cleavage out, he's shown more than a platonic interest in her. It started off with light touches, him nonchalantly placing his hand on her thigh whenever she sat near him, lightly touching the small of her back, stroking the nape of her neck whenever he fell deep into thought as they talked about life. Soon, his innocent touches graduated to slightly naughtier strokes. His finger tips somehow always finding their way underneath her shirt. It wasn't long until Chaerin found herself bent over the armrest of Hong Jun's couch, gripping on for dear life as he fucked tears down her face....for the first time. Their meet ups were frequent. Whenever she was in town or whenever he could find time away from Ye Seul, they were together. Their dates were, more or less, identical. They'd talk in his car, get food, maybe do a short karaoke session in the car before making love in the backseat and then moving to his apartment so that he could get her into even more positions. Then, after they were completely worn out, he'd hold her in a tight embrace. Their naked, sweaty bodies sticking together as if trying to become one. This is how it always went. 

The aroma of Calvin Klein cologne, victoria's secret perfume, and sex mixed wonderfully in the room, making Chaerin sigh with contempt. Hong Jun's hand began drawing random shapes against her bare back. She shivered a little as the cold metal ring adorn by his index finger made contact with her skin. Raising her head ever so slightly, Chaerin was now eye level with her lover. She smiled, placing a kiss on his lips, only to have him deepen the kiss and flip her on her back so that he was now above her. 

His eyes stared intensely into hers. "You're staying aren't you?" 

Looking off to the side as she debated with herself. "I don't know if I should..." 

He leaned down in order to allow his lips to attach to her neck. "Baby you know how much I need you." He said in between bites and kisses. 

She moaned, latching her fingernails onto his shoulders as he marked her. "Oppa.." She tried to protest but immediately gave up. 

"I get so cold when you're not here." He mumbled, allowing his head to dip down to the valley between her breasts.  

Her fingers tangled themselves in his hair as his tongue made its way down her stomach, to her pussy. Without hesitation, he began to eat her out, gripping her thighs and pushing her legs further apart so that she was even more vulnerable. His tongue quickly moved back and forth between her clit and her opening, making Chaerin fill his room with erotic feminine moans once more. He rose back up, once again being face to face with her, swiftly sliding inside her in the process. He flipped her on her side so that his chest was pressed tightly against her back as he fucked her sideways. 

"You're mine right?" He asked, gripping onto one of her breasts, thrusting hard into her. 

"Y-yes oppa." She moaned. 

"You love me?" 

"Yes." She moaned out, lowering her head and bitting the sheet beneath her. At the rate that he was thrusting into her, she would've agreed to anything he had to say. Anything to prolong the feeling he was giving her. 

"I love you too baby." His words decrescendo'd as he spoke into her hair. 

She halfway opened her eyes at his declaration. He only ever uttered those words when they were in bed. She wondered if he really loved her, or if he loved the fact that she was always willing to give into him. The thrill of having both her and Ye Seul to choose from must've been nice for him. Her eyes instinctively darted to the picture of the couple that sat atop his nightstand. He was smiling brightly as his girlfriend sat on his lap and kissed his cheek. They really were a cute couple, her sexy, cool style matched well with his dark, mysterious vogue. 

'Why'd he choose her? I have just as much fashion sense as her.' She thought to herself. 

'Her face is really pretty I suppose...and she's really nice...and funny. Her body is nice too. I look like a kid next to her.' She found herself sinking deeper into jealousy the more she stared at the photograph. She shook her head, closing her eyes, and fell back into ecstasy. Hong Jun's groans grew louder as she began to match the rhythm of his movements. Throwing it back at him even rougher and moaning as he squeezed her breast even harder, she felt herself about to loose control.

"Papa, I'm gonna cum." She moaned out, her voice barley above a whisper. 

It drove him absolutely crazy whenever she called him that. Gripping onto her waist, he roughly flipped her on her stomach so that her ass was in the air. He pounded harder and deeper into her, hoping to hear his nickname spill from her lips once more. Grabbing a handful of her hair, Hong Jun yanked her head back, forcing her to make eye contact with him. 

"Say it again." He groaned, placing his forehead on hers without breaking eye contact. "Say it again." 

"Papa...mmm Papa please go harder." She begged, looking up at him with puppy dog eyes. 

He groaned again, mercilessly fucking her until they were both cumming and shaking. His hot liquid filled up her insides. 

"Fuck Chaerin." Hong Jun sighed, laying on his back next to her, giving her some space. 

After a few minutes of silence, she finally spoke. 

"I really should go, it's getting late." 

He let out a breath of frustration. "Just stay the night."  

Shaking her head, she lifted her weak body off of the bed. "We can't keep doing this." She whispered. 

Before Teddy could grab her to stop her from leaving his side, she quickly moved to the floor, throwing her t-shirt and underwear back on. Turning her head ever so slightly, she tried to find her pants without meeting Hong Jun's gaze. She knew if she looked back at him, she'd want to stay. 

Hong Jun, who was now sat up with only the blankets covering him, stared at his lover who was going out of her way to not look at him. "It's cold outside and much too late to drive, I'm not letting you leave." 

"We're not having sex anymore, you don't have to pretend like you care about me." She retorted, sounding angrier than she actually was. 

"The fuck are you talking about? I do care about you. You're my baby." 

That really set her off. Swiftly, she turned her body to face him. "No. She is." She pointed to the picture of him and Ye Seul. 

"She's the one you go to events with. She's the one you take out to dinner. She's the one you take pictures with. You don't love me." At this point, tears were starting to form in her eyes. 

He calmly looked at her before standing up, putting his boxers on, and making his way over to her. He crouched down and placed a hand on her cheek, lightly caressing it with his thumb. "Why are you acting like this?" 

"Like what?" She retorted, trying to sound tough. All while tears still threatened to spill out. 

"Like you don't want to be with me." He looked her up and down. "You know I need you baby. I don't love her the way I love you." 

'But you do love her.' His words, though meant to comfort her, stung her heart.

She turned her head, cowering away from his hypnotic gaze. She didn't want to fall back and get caught up in him again. The last thing she needed was to end back up in bed with him when she's trying her hardest to break this cycle. 

"I don't need any more complications in my life oppa." 

"I know this is hard for you, but I don't want you to give up on this." He began placing soft kisses all over her face. 

Her tough facade quickly shattered as her heart melted for the fourth time that night. It was always hard for her to try and break away from him. She never could resist him and she still hasn't learned how. 

"I don't want to be foolish but....it's hard when it comes to you." 

He lifted her chin up so that they were once again making eye contact. "Do you really want to give up on us Chaerin? Are you really just gonna throw away what we have?" 

Defeated, she shrugged. "I don't know. No...I'm so confused."

"Stay the night. We'll figure everything out in the morning. Just stay." 

She knew that she was stuck. She mentally laughed at herself for trying to fight it in the first place. With slight hesitation, she leaned into him, allowing him to capture her lips with his in that same familiar way that he always did. He lifted her up, carrying her to his bed, laying down as he held her tightly against his chest. The pair fell into a comfortable silence, him running his hand trough her hair, and her tracing invisible patterns along his chest. Chaerin glanced at the photo once more, bitting her lip, before returning her attention back to Teddy. She was lost without him. As much as she hated to admit it, she needed him. She was usually independent in everything else, but when it came to love, she was a hopeless, lovesick mess. She needed him. She'll probably always need him, and he knew that.