#showcase showdown

[dailybehbeh]

Behbeh

#come on down #bob barker #price is right #game over #rip #rest in peace #game show #prize #capitalism #showcase showdown #game show host #legendary #cartoon #teddy bear #america #illustration #tv #commercial #behbeh #dailybehbeh #art #funny #bear

[punkrocktapedeck]

[[ RIP EM OFF - SHOWCASE SHOWDOWN - 1999 ]]

#showcase showdown #permanent stains #rip em off #<3333333333 #1999 #punk #pop punk #90's punk #Youtube

[humunanunga]

How you turned my world, you precious thing...

#yugioh #yugioh duel monsters #mutou yugi #this idea got better after reading what takahashi wanted for memory world if it weren't for his health and energy at the time #apparently the pharaoh was supposed to be running around independently of dark yugi #(probably showcasing what he was like as a ruler vs how he'd grown since waking up a dangerously protective ghost) #(and how his moral competence also grew since then) #and there was gonna be a showdown between them leading up to the showdown against akhnadin and priest set #anyway i remembered that and now i'm thinking about pharaoh atemu singing the lyrics while yugi looks for puzzle atemu #fanart #within you #hall of fame

[acasternaut]

THIS EDIBLE SNUCK UP ON ME

#i was not this high when super showcase showdown started

[spiltsoup]

#i was a monster by skillet 12-year-old personally #internet culture #polls #tumblr polls #anime amv music showdown??? #also they sound pretty damn similar #2000s music #2010s music #i found them through a bunch of warrior cat oc showcases on youtube loll

[strlingsav]

Jealousy

– Simon "Ghost" Riley x F!Reader

— Simon gets jealous.

Explicit sexual content under the cut. Read at your own risk.

The room smelled of Price's cigar smoke and spilled beer; the consequences of poker night. Price, Gaz, Soap, yourself and Ghost were perched around the table, placing bets before the next round. It was a great way to blow off post-mission steam, and steal money from your teammates. You hadn't been so lucky thus far, Price was particularly skilled.

Your gaze lifted to study your opponents, holding your cards close to your chest. Price kept his cigar in his mouth, thick, white smoke trailing from his lips. Gaz had his brows furrowed, concentration on his features. Ghost sat beside you, hunched over the back of the chair. He too was surveying the room, cold eyes raking over the faces of his teammates. Soap was almost giddy, he was terrible at hiding how good his hand was.

You weren't particularly interested in cards, but you played anyway to pass time. It was entertaining from your end of the table, watching the chaos unfold as your teammates indulged one-too many beers. You preferred to stay sober- you weren't very experienced with the game, unlike Price and Ghost. You needed every bit of your sober disposition to play.

Your eyes drifted to Ghost, who had been burning holes in the side of your head. You blinked innocently at him, fluttering your lashes. A vicious tactic, you knew that, but the way his eyes raked over your face was worth it- you knew it would get to his head. But as you studied his face, his brow quirked up, and you saw the fabric of his mask shift over his mouth; he was smiling. You quickly broke the tension before anyone caught on to the silent exchange, redness engulfing your cheeks.

It came to the showdown, and as the men laid their cards out on the table, there was silence. Grunts of disapproval and low murmurs of frustration broke the air as they scanned their cards, comparing hands to each others. You looked out, over your cards, your eyes meeting Soap's gaze. He still held his cards, waiting for you to move.

"Go on then," He urged, hiding a smirk.

"Don't look so smug," You teased. "I'm about to ruin your night."

Soap let out a chuckle. "You could ne'er ruin my night."

You raised your brows. "Even if I take all your money?"

"I could list a couple ways you could make it up to me," He grinned.

Gaz groaned, far too familiar with Soap's antics. You nearly rolled your eyes, his comments were just a way to get in your head.

"You couldn't pay me to listen to that," You screwed up your nose.

"I could just show ya," He leaned forward. "I'm free later this evenin' if you're up for it."

You laughed. "You need to get laid, Sergeant, you're like a dog in heat." You shook your head.

"You offerin'?" He was grinning ear to ear.

"Enough," Ghost's voice interrupted the tension, almost soiling the playful mood. "Lay 'em out."

Your head snapped to look at him, now wearing an unreadable expression behind the mask. His eyes were stoic, body rigid, more so than usual. He had little to no patience, but he usually didn't mind Soap's ribbing, it was cheap entertainment.

You furrowed your brows in response, and he turned his attention to the Scot across from you, avoiding your gaze.

Soap laid out his cards, splaying them out before him. A straight. He sat back, hands behind his head, a grin on his face. You, in return, set your cards out, showcasing your winning hand; four of a kind.

Soap's face fell, mouth opening in shock as he stared at your cards on the table.

"Steamin' Jesus," He sighed. "You oughta be cheatin'."

"Don't be a sore loser," You smiled, leaning forward to collect the pot.

Soap was about to respond, when Price cleared his throat.

"Better luck next time," He said, hand clasping down on Soap's shoulder. "'M off to bed."

Soap still sat in disbelief as the Captain stood from the table. He took his beer with him, puffing his cigar as he left the room. Gaz and Soap finished the last of their drinks, and you pocketed your profit- Soap watched you with a glare. The rest of you decided to call it a night, cleaning up the remains of the cards and chips.

Ghost stood to his feet, finishing the last of his bourbon. You followed, creeping behind him when the others retreated to bed.

"Will you be joining me in my room tonight, Lieutenant?" You asked, a sultry tone to your voice.

He recognized it immediately, wanting desperately to follow, but he had already fabricated hallucinations behind his eyes of the Sergeant, and you- his girl. Soap hovering over you, privy to the soft whines from your lips, curves of your body, defiling your pussy- it made him sick. Only he had access to those intimate moments, or so he thought.

His chest bubbled with unspoken anger. He fought within himself, trying to rationalize, fight for you, but he inevitably gave in to the jealousy that clawed at his throat. It was the path of least resistance, to believe the worst from those closest to him. It was a familiar embrace.

He didn't say a word, his body tense as you slid your palms around his waist, easing into the gaps between his tactical vest.

"Someone could see," He said gruffly.

A lie- a white lie to give himself space. He knew no one would be coming back, not with the copious amounts of liquor indulged and the late hours passing by quickly.

You pulled away, a bit thrown by his rejection. It landed in the pit of your stomach, reached up into your chest and stole your breath. His tense disposition alerted you to the fact that something wasn't right, not since he'd snapped at the Sergeant.

"Alright," You sighed. "I'm going to bed," You fumbled with your hands, anxiety settling into the pit of your gut.

He set his drink down. "Be there in a bit."

Ghost was never usually so quiet when the two of you were alone, and certainly didn't deny your touch.

You nodded, choking down your questions so not to worsen his mood. Ghost excelled at hiding his feelings, on the rare occasion he found something that angered him. He wasn't fond of talking, of telling you when you pissed him off, so you kept your prodding to yourself until necessary.

With one last look over his back, you let him be, returning to your bunk.

You stripped out of your clothes, changing into your shorts and T-shirt after brushing your teeth. You waited with trembling hands, your anxiety increasing with each passing moment. You didn't know what to expect, who to expect. Ghost, or Simon. You didn't want to go to sleep with Simon angry, and his sour mood was gnawing at you. You wanted to fix it.

You settled into bed, blankets tucked under your arms. You tried to focus on your book, mindlessly running over the pages without absorbing a single thing. You were too preoccupied with Simon. You let out a sigh, listening for the sound of boots. Listening for him.

The door finally opened, and Ghost stepped inside. The air was thick with silent expectations, a waiting game. Who would break first, make the first move to say something- anything. More often than not, it was you.

You didn't mind being the mediator, you were excellent at communicating. It was ninety percent of your job. You only wished Simon would meet you halfway, but that wasn't the kind of man he was, and you'd learned to navigate it well enough. It was tiring, though.

You knew it wasn't that he didn't want to talk to you- he just didn't know how. How to express why he was angry. You were sure that before you, Simon fixed his anger by shooting things. Taking out his frustration on missions, on targets. He never needed to learn to communicate, he'd never had even a semblance of a relationship with anyone aside from his last girlfriend, when he was in his early twenties. He'd never been close enough to anyone to justify it.

You sat up, the book falling to the side as you readjusted in the bed.

Ghost began undoing the chest plate and other equipment strapped to his body. He was still quiet, and you watched with a frown.

"Simon?" You said quietly, gauging his reaction.

He looked over at you.

"What's bothering you?" Your voice was meek, uncharacteristically so, but you hated to see him that way and didn't want to push him even further.

He sighed, a heavy breath that sounded like it'd been trapped for days. He continued undressing, prepared to escape, to run from the conversation. But he knew you'd get it out of him.

"Simon," You said again. "Talk to me."

You tilted your head as he rearranged his things on the dresser.

"Nothin' to talk about, get some sleep," His voice was gruff, quiet, defeated.

"Talk to me," You repeated, your voice a bit weaker now.

"I said 's nothin'. Be fine in the mornin'."

"But you're not fine now. Just tell me."

You were getting worried now, stomach flipping. He paused, back flexing beneath his T-shirt as he straightened out. He turned on his heel to face you. He kept his mask on- another barrier between you, a reminder that even though you'd already clawed so deep through the layers of stone he built, there were still pieces of him you might never truly have.

"You wanna know?" He asked.

You nodded. "Course I do."

He shook his head. His shoulders tensed. You could tell he was holding back, not wanting to dive into the conversation headfirst. He was avoiding the question, his arms at his sides.

Finally, he spoke. Monotone, bleak- unencumbered by tact or empathy. It was a simple question. He wasn't one for dancing around a subject, he wanted answers, if he was going to talk at all.

"You been fuckin' the Sergeant?"

His eyes were unforgiving, an endless abyss of darkness ready to swallow you whole and eat you alive. You felt the pressure of his gaze, an invisible force pushing you into submission. You weren't one of his targets, but you certainly felt like it.

You blinked a few times, his words shocking you to your core. It deeply unsettled you. A bitter taste on the back of your tongue as you digested his words. It was entirely out of the blue- an unfounded accusation.

In all the time you'd been together, not once had he ever shown any concern over the men you worked with. You thought he trusted you. It stung, hearing him ask you such a question, you were disappointed he saw you capable of that. Of hurting him- adding to the array of scars on his body and mind.

"W-what?" You shook your head.

"Answer me," He said, hands extending to grip the metal footboard.

"I- Why would you even ask me that? No, I haven't been fucking Soap," You exclaimed, pulling the blankets back to stand up off the bed.

"Seems he fancies you quite a bit."

"Simon," You breathed in, arms crossing over your chest. "I haven't slept with Soap."

He was still stoic as ever, eyes clinging to yours as he debated the candour behind your words. You could practically see the thoughts behind his mask, knew he was clenching his jaw, nostrils flaring as he sucked in deep breaths to keep his temper under control. He couldn't always hide from you behind his balaclava, you'd seen his anger before, in true form.

"That so?" He moved closer, his shoulders swaying as he stepped toward you.

"Yes," You breathed, hopeful he'd believe you.

He was silent, only the sound of his breathing filled the air.

"You bein' honest with me?"

His skepticism was palpable and it broke your heart, even more than the question.

You'd given the relationship your all, everything you had. Given Simon your all. Every single piece of yourself was out in the open, ready for the taking, he just had to ask. You'd bend over backwards to please him, do anything to keep him. The accusation made you sick to your stomach, wondering where you went wrong, why you'd made him feel that way.

"Yes, I've never been unfaithful to you."

Your eyes met his, unwavering. You had nothing to hide- never had. Not from him. You ached to show him just how devoted you were. But your rational thought process was no longer applicable- Simon had tasted betrayal before, over and over. He was all too familiar with the feeling of a knife in his back, the aching pain that bombarded his entire body. The sting of humiliation, of leaving his peace of mind in the hands of another and having it torn to pieces. You knew he needed more, needed the reassurance, and he didn't need to ask.

"Ask Soap yourself- I don't care." Your pulse pounded in your ears. "Whatever you need to do to believe me."

He shifted his chin upwards, a weight lifting off his shoulders. Relief washing away the ache. He had a difficult time trusting, believing that you wouldn't hurt him- but you never lied. Always said what you meant, and you never burned him with false promises.

He went against every instinct in his body, every nerve screaming at him to run, flee, push you away. But even he knew that was his conditioning, his instincts weren't created in a world that had you- it was far different then.

"'S fine," He said quietly. "Don't need to."

You let out a sigh, still trembling with confusion and nausea. His chest rose and fell quickly.

"I ain't impressed with the way he talked to you," He said, moving closer.

"He only said it to get under my skin. Besides that, he thinks I'm seeing someone back home. I thought you knew that."

"I do-" He sighed. "S'pose I jumped the gun. Just- imaginin' you, with him," He stopped himself, knuckles white around the iron.

You nodded, still standing with your arms crossed. He would never apologize- would never say, 'I'm sorry', but his actions spoke far louder than his words.

He sat down on the bed, his hands reaching out for your thighs. You let him touch you, though you still felt a bit of resentment for his false accusations. You had to let go, had to remind yourself he only knew what he knew, what'd been done to him before.

He pulled you onto his lap, hands sliding around your waist as he tugged you closer.

"Y'still want me?" He asked, eyes flashing from your waist to your eyes.

"I always do," You said softly.

He nodded, a quiet moment of reconciliation, understanding. You knew that to outsiders it would look strange- the silent reunion between you. Apologies and forgiveness that were never really spoken.

"Take my mask off," He said, the timbre of his voice rousing the ache for him that lay dormant, sleeping until woken up by his touch.

You obliged, lifting the cotton fabric from his face, pulling it off to see the disheveled brunet hair beneath. Your eyes fell to his full lips, then you took your time savouring the way his crooked nose flattered his face. His lashes kissed his cheekbones with every slow blink, dark eyes narrowing as he tried to read your thoughts.

He leaned forward, pausing for a moment to glance at your eyes, before he pulled you closer, barely touching your lips with his own.

He sighed deeply into your mouth, a relief to hold you, know you were his, tangible evidence that he was lovable, that someone would crawl through the barren trenches of his mind to know him. He was unbelievably grateful; skeptical, too, but he chose to leave his faith with you for safe keeping. He'd let down most of his walls, for you, a long time ago, and thus far you'd done nothing but nurture him, love him. You'd proven him right.

You lifted your hands to slide around the back of his head, fingertips gliding into his ruffled hair. You couldn't get enough of the taste of him; tobacco, bourbon. You would tattoo it on your tongue if possible.

He pulled away, taking in your face; your features that drew him in, set his gut on fire. He'd kill for your lips, set cities ablaze just to look into your eyes one last time. The obsession worried him, it terrified him, but he was already addicted, too far gone now to do anything but surrender. He was more than okay with that.

"Could rip the smug grin off his fuckin' face," He said, fingertips digging into your hips.

"I think that would get you discharged," You teased.

"I'd kill for you, sweetheart. Gettin' discharged ain't a problem."

By his tone, you knew he was serious. As disgusting as it made you feel, you enjoyed it. You must've been sick in the head, but you relished in it. The level of determination he had- it warmed you to your core knowing he was just as committed.

"Prison time, then?"

"For you, not a second thought."

He didn't waste any time tugging you back in for seconds, this time, guiding his tongue in your mouth, swiftly gliding against yours. You moaned softly, an unintentional reaction to the warmth shooting up your spine. He knew you loved the feeling of his tongue, the way he was heavy-handed when he kissed you- unforgiving as he took what he wanted.

"Take this off," He breathed, fingertips inching your shirt up.

You lifted your arms to cooperate. The cool air hitting your body, competing with the heat in your womb, lavished your body with goosebumps. His calloused hands cupped your breasts, eyes locked on your chest as he massaged gently, coaxing the sweet sounds of pleasure from your lips. His white-hot touch erased any other thoughts, your sole focus was his hands on your body.

You could feel the arousal seeping from your core, head tilting back to allow him full access to your body. His hand moved to press against your back, a flat palm that offered support and comfort. He took advantage, pressing his lips to your skin. First your neck, his tongue running over your jugular, pounding in your throat. He absorbed it with his lips, teeth softly biting into the malleable flesh.

He ducked his head to show attention to your breasts, wrapping his lips around the silky tissue, sucking gently. A flat tongue ran over your nipple, and a jolt of electricity shot through your spine. You were still clinging to his shoulders, back arching into him.

You breathed heavily, so delirious with lust, desire, any touch from him was like lighting a fuse. He beckoned you to stand, his fingers dipping into the waistband of your shorts. He waited for you, for your permission. You licked your lips, hands on his as you helped him slide the fabric over your thighs, landing on the floor.

He watched from a short distance, eyes raking over the tempting curves of your body, the incredibly silky glow of your skin. He too, licked his lips, his hands a bit rougher now as he pulled you back onto his lap. You gasped, falling against him, your thighs spread over his.

"You all mine?" He asked, head nuzzled against your temple, his gruff voice in your ear.

"Yes," You whispered. "Always."

"That's my girl."

His hand traced your thigh to your pussy, a gentle touch as he reached your clit. His gaze was locked on your expression, your lips parting, eyes shutting tightly. Your pussy was throbbing and needy, nearly burning with desire. You gasped. He peered down at your body, lips dragging against your neck.

His fingertips applied more pressure, relieving the dull ache, and he circled your clit. Your hips mindlessly drove forward, grinding yourself against his touch. He responded in earnest, moving his fingers quicker, harder.

Your head fell back as you basked in the pleasure coiling itself like a snake inside your womb. He had mastered your body, unraveling you in seconds like he did with his rifles. He had a knack for memorization, muscle memory, and your body responded the same way every single time.

He found pleasure in watching you squirm, pant and gasp, begging for his fingers. Faster, harder. He devoured your pleas, already one step ahead, feeling the way your hips moved, your waist twisted. When your fingers dug into his shoulders, pulling him into your chest, trying to merge yourself with him, he slid a finger inside you. He groaned approval against your jaw, savouring the slick warmth of your pussy, a shiver running through his spine as he remembered how you feel around his cock.

"Y'like that?" He asked, even though he already knew the answer.

You nodded frantically, eyes shut as you focused on the building tension in your gut. The way it enveloped you, tugging at every nerve in your body.

"I know you do, sweetheart, know just what you like."

"Fuck- yes, Simon," You moaned.

It was never enough, not until he filled you completely. But he couldn't resist the satisfaction of your pussy clenching around his finger, especially when he added a second, listening to the vulgar sounds of your wetness squelching around him.

He marvelled at the sight of your climax; head falling back, a whimper ascending into a moan, your forehead prickling with sweat. It was impossible to tear his eyes from you, to deny himself the vision of you coming undone on his hand. Your ribs shifting with every breath, hugging your breasts as you leaned back. He lifted his other hand to run over the ridges.

You shivered, relaxing into his body as the last of your orgasm died out, breathing against his chest. He enjoyed the silence, watching you recover. He didn't allow you much time, shifting to lie you down on the covers.

He lifted his shirt over his head, his temperature rising as a result of his efforts. He crawled between your thighs, biceps wrapping around your thighs to pull you closer.

You didn't have much say, and you didn't mind. You were pliable with him, a willing participant to his pleasure. He did what he wanted, and you agreed in every possible way.

His calloused palms engulfed the flesh of your outer thighs, an iron grip you could never- would never want to escape from. His chest was pressed firmly to the bed, head turned to lavish your inner thighs with delicate kisses.

He quickly surrendered to his desire, not feeling particularly strong-willed, and bit into your flesh, licking your wounds. The silken moisture of his tongue against your thighs had your hips shifting impatiently, and he relieved your suffering, relocating to your clit.

You sighed softly, hips bucking up into his mouth as a jolt ran through you, still sensitive. He devoured your movements, hands clamping down to restrain you while he licked over your clit.

"Y'taste so good, sweetheart," His muffled voice against you made you squirm.

Your fingers slid through his hair, tugging softly at every caress of his tongue, every time he'd wrap his lips over your clit and suck. Your muscles contracted, abdomen tightening as you fought the overstimulation. You wanted to give in, to give him everything he wanted from you.

But as his eyes met yours, your lips parting to accommodate your heavy breathing, you couldn't wait any longer. Couldn't handle your pussy fluttering with nothing to fill it.

"Please," You whispered, his eyes softening.

Watching his jaw move, his head turn side to side as he gorged himself on your juices, your voice broke with a whimper, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes.

"I need you," You said, lifting to your elbows. "Need to feel you inside me."

He sat up slowly, kneeling between your thighs. His lips were glistening with your arousal, chest wet from your cum seeping down toward the bed. You reached out to feel him, to run your fingers down his chest and torso. He shut his eyes briefly, nostrils flaring as he regained his breath and enjoyed your soft hands over his body.

Your eyes scanned his abdomen, drawn to the scars that littered it. It magnified your desire, your lust, the battle scars were an implication of survival, war. It was primal, the reminder that he was a man's man, ready to take all of you in one fell swoop.

"Say it again," He breathed, his hands still grasping your thighs.

"I need you inside me, Simon," You said, unabashed, free of any inhibitions.

"Yeah?" There was an inflection of mockery in his tone, but you ate up every bit of it. "Need my cock, don't you?"

"Yes, baby- I need you, need your cock." You were delirious with lust, whining and begging beneath him.

"That's what I like to hear," He nearly grinned. "Only I can fuck you how you need, ain't that right, sweetheart?"

You felt your pussy flutter again, mindlessly nodding as his hands rubbed up and down your legs.

"Please," You pulled your bottom lip into your mouth, teeth biting down to distract from the jittery feeling inside you.

"Fuck," He cursed, leaning over you. "You make my cock hard, love."

You took his face in your hands, pulling him down to meet your lips. You devoured him, devoured the taste of yourself on his lips and tongue. Mostly bitter, a hint of sweetness, and the still remaining flavour of him. It was intoxicating.

He quickly undid his belt, aggressively yanking the buckle from the leather, pulling his briefs down to expose his cock. He ran his hand up and down his length, before pressing the engorged tip to your clit. He teased you with it, applying enough pressure to make your hips twitch. Slowly pushing down, his jaw dropped as your pussy swallowed him, squeezing him into the velvety walls.

A nasally gasp came from the back of his throat, Adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed his groans.

"This cunt was made just for me."

His lips beside your ear, you could feel the vibration in his voice. The rasp of his tone lavished your skin with goosebumps.

"Only you," You choked down your whimpers, turning your head to meet his gaze.

The first roll of his hips covered his cock in your arousal, the slick juices allowing him to glide deep inside. The depth knocked the wind from your lungs, and your hands clung to his back, nails digging into his muscles.

His pelvis rubbing against your clit, and he lowered himself to press his weight against your body. You welcomed the intrusion, moving a hand to the back of his head, cradling it as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

His lips attached to your throat, feeling the moans and pleas as they passed your larynx. He swallowed them whole, pushing himself deeper, pulling back and repeating to hear the gasps and whimpers from your lips.

"God," You breathed, squeezing down with your muscles as you lurched forward, clinging to his head and shoulders. "So good, Simon. You fuck me so well."

"Bloody hell sweetheart," He grunted with effort. "Tha's 'cause this cunt is mine- all fuckin' mine."

"Shit, Simon," You gasped.

He groaned with approval, continuing his thrusts inside you, his cock grinding into you, massaging your walls.

"Touch yourself," He said, watching you drop your fingers to your clit immediately.

He moaned softly when he felt your pussy clench, and you arched your back for better access as you circled your swollen clit. He shifted upwards, allowing you space while driving his cock inside you.

Your eyes rolled back, choked gasps escaping as you focused on your orgasm, the way his body looked as he thrusted inside you. All muscles, flexing, glistening with sweat.

"I'm so close," You whimpered.

It was engulfing your entire body, the pleasure made your toes curl as you squeezed your thighs at his waist, rocking with his movements. You panted against his shoulder, biting softly at the taught muscle, which earned a groan.

"That's it," He whispered, encouraging you closer to your climax. "Cum on my cock sweetheart," He grunted in your ear.

You felt the fluttering of pleasure erupt from your clit, your head falling back to the pillow while you chest lifted to meet his. You pussy squeezed his cock, contracting, as your nerves were lit up with euphoria.

"Fuck," He gasped, his cock tensing as your pussy hugged him tightly.

He watched with bated breath, still as he could be while rolling his hips against yours, not wanting to disturb the sight before him. He consumed your moans, lips against yours in a sloppy kiss, teeth clashing as he bore down, thrusting even harder inside you.

You cried out, choking on your moans. He found satisfaction in breaking you down, watching you come undone on his cock, knowing no other man would ever see you the way he did, do what he did to you.

"'M gonna cum in this cunt," He panted.

"Cum in me, please," You were near tears, pussy beginning to feel raw from the amount of friction you'd experienced already. "Give me your cum."

"Take it, sweetheart- every fuckin' drop," He grunted as his pace slowed, hips jerking sporadically against yours as he began to release inside you.

He watched your pussy drain him, your cum around the base of his cock, white, creamy- it made him shiver.

He enjoyed the warmth of your pussy for a few moments, before pulling out with a cringe. He was overstimulated, but watching his cum begin to seep out of you mesmerized him. A true mark of his possession- the fleeting idea that it would take, and you'd be all his, carrying his child.

He knew it was a ruse, a dream spurred by testosterone and dopamine, but the thought clung to his mind for a while after- shamefully so. He never imagined himself as a father, never had the desire to bring anything similar to himself or his bloodline into the world. But as he looked over your spent form, your hands reaching for him, his bringing you into his chest, he wondered if it would be so terrible to have something that was also half of you.

You looked up at him with tired eyes, pieces of hair clinging to the sweat on your brow, lips red and puffy with irritation. You smiled softly, leaning up to kiss him, a delicate offering. He accepted with no hesitation, like it was second nature. And maybe it was. You'd more than earned his trust; maybe he could learn to ignore his instincts and give you all of him. You deserved it, he decided.

#cod mw2 #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #ghost smut #simon riley smut #cod mwii #mwii #strlingsavwrites

[rayroseu]

I wished desperately for a Malleyuu scene prior to this update actually LWHBDJW but I didnt expect the update to reveal it by YUU CARRYING EGG MALLEUS??? 🥺💕💞💕💖💞💖💕 AAAAACK MOTHER MELEANOR I'LL PROTECT YOUR SON WITH ALL MY LIFE---

Also the fact that Yuu implies to like carrying Egg Malleus..‼️‼️😭💕💞💕 I know you Prefect... you pine for that dragon fae as well--🐉💖‼️

ALSO Malleus and Lilia's banter is so silly LMAO its such a nice break after all that depression 😭😭😭

Malleus is trying to act cool and in control of awakened Lilia but we know he's so frustrated he woke up now and Lilia is just back to cutie self taunting Malleus LMAO I love the callout to their Beanfest showdown XD

I wouldve loved to hear what kind of banter they exchanged the whole fight... The line "It seems youre overeactive for your age Lilia, perhaps you need a rocking chair" still lives rent free in my mind lol

Malleus x Yuu Childhood AU 😭💕💞💕💞💞 youre a cute prawn he decided to spare from his meal of pile of fish 🐉🦐💖

ALSO UEEEEEEEEEEEEEE I DONT WANNA GO BACK TO NRC YET 😭😭‼️‼️‼️‼️‼️ I STILL REQUIRE THE SCENE WHERE MALLEUS BURNED LILIA'S HAIR‼️‼️‼️ 😭😭😭

And and MALLEUS FIRST TIME TURNING TO A HUMAN...🥺🥺‼️‼️ like we cant go back to the present like this aishshhs 😔😔😩😩😩

I need to know more about them before NRC started as the first stages of their relationship is so endearing like everyone is so awkward with each other but you can feel so much love between them im reeling whenever they showcase a memory between diasofam 😭💚💚‼️‼️

Land of Briar... Lilia's Dream, you were more than an experience... you are everything 😔💚💚💚

#twst #twisted wonderland #disney twisted wonderland #twistedwonderland #malleus draconia #disney twst #lilia vanrouge #art #my art #malleyuu #malleus twst #malleus x yuu #twst malleus #twst yuu #twst book 7 #twst headcanons #lian arts #twst lilia #twst diasomnia #twst meme #twst comic #twst spoilers

[marybeatriceofmodena]

What did Andrew Lloyd Webber do to make Patti Lupone upset? Sorry, saw your tags and i was curious

Oh.

Oh honey.

You sweet child.

Anyway, get ready for one of the most infamous showdowns in all musical theatre history, with the guy who writes the straightest musicals on Broadway (derogatory) and the one and only, the matriarch, the queen, two three-time Tony award winner Patti LuPone.

So, Andrew Lloyd Webber was basically kind of a boy genius in his prime - he met his future collaborator Tim Rice when they were 17 and 20 respectively, he wrote his first big hit, Jesus Christ Superstar, at 22, with Tim Rice writing the lyrics. And it was kind of a big deal at the time because the topic was controversial (you know, the Passion with rock music), but also because Broadway wasn't that far off from its golden age and let's just say the music and style were very different from, say, My Fair Lady. Or The Sound of Music. Or Funny Girl. It was basically the Rent/Hamilton of its time. (Yeah, Stephen Sondheim was around at that time, he worked on West Side Story which was revolutionary in of itself, but he's kind of an oddball in this case. You'll understand why later.)

Their real follow up (I'm not counting Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat for a variety of reasons) was a little musical called Evita, which you might know mainly because of a song called Don't Cry For Me Argentina. Or at least, your mom has probably heard it once at the very least. It's that song that's oversung from a musical while being out of context along with I Dreamed a Dream for Les Misérables. Or Memory from Cats.

Evita tells the story of Eva Peron, the wife of an Argentinian dictator, who basically screws her way to the top and ends up becoming the mistress of Juan Peron and the most beloved woman in her country through guile and deceit. Yes, I know the historical accuracy is very much debated but I know jackshit about Argentina's history except the bare basics so don't come at me. It was first produced in the West End in London, with Elaine Paige in the role, but because of Equity issues, she couldn't reprise her role for the Broadway production. So a Julliard graduate who was mostly starring in David Mamet plays got the part instead, and that was Patti LuPone.

Patti... did not have a good time during Evita, because the part is basically the kind of score where you can tell the composer is used to writing male parts, but most female singers have a two-octave range (yes, you got Julie Andrews who used to have a three-octave range, and many others, but they're exceptions), so she struggled a lot. That being said, if you listen to live recordings of her, you wouldn't be able to tell, and it got a lot easier later on. But she had this to say:

"Evita was the worst experience of my life. I was screaming my way through a part that could only have been written by a man who hates women. And I had no support from the producers, who wanted a star performance onstage but treated me as an unknown backstage. It was like Beirut, and I fought like a banshee."

This is from Patti's autobiography, which she wrote in 2007 - 8 years after shit with ALW went down. With all that said, she won a Tony Award for Evita, and she pretty much became a musical theatre household name from then on. She played Fantine in Les Misérables, Nancy in Oliver!, Reno Sweeney in Anything Goes. Meanwhile, ALW's next big hits were Cats (I'm not even kidding, Cats was a hit), and, you guessed it, The Phantom of the Opera, which he wrote in part to showcase his then wife Sarah Brightman's triple threat talents.

So, you need to understand before I continue that ALW, from my perspective, has always had a bit of an inferiority complex. He's basically associated to writing these commercially successful musicals that show a big spectacle but aren't ultimately substantial. I'm not sure I entirely agree with that, but I do think that if he didn't have Hal Prince, Maria Bjornson, Charles Hart and Gillian Lynne backing him up for Phantom, it would have probably been a Rocky Horror Picture Show knockoff people would have forgotten about pretty quickly. This is what I mean:

Yep, that was Phantom before any of the people I mentioned above (and Michael Crawford) were really involved.

Remember how I said Stephen Sondheim was an oddball? The thing with him is that his musicals weren't always commercially successful, but in general, in part thanks to being Leonard Bernstein's protégé, he was generally pretty well-respected and it was considered that his work was bringing musicals to a whole other level. Without Sondheim, you wouldn't have Jonathan Larson, and you wouldn't have Lin-Manuel Miranda. I am convinced ALW is resentful of that, and when you stop and think about it for more than 10 seconds, it's so obvious he REALLY wants to be Sondheim or at least command the same level of respect, but that's a story for another day.

So, after Phantom, ALW had other musicals that followed that either got a meh reception or outright flopped. Then there was Sunset Boulevard, which is based on the movie of the same name with Gloria Swanson. Despite all of her griefs for Evita, Patti LuPone agreed to partake in the musical as Norma Desmond, for its production in London, with the promise that she would transfer to Broadway once that production would open. And overall, after a string of flops, Sunset was actually doing pretty well.

HOWEVER. One day, while reading the gossip column of a newspaper, Patti found out that contrary to what she was promised, Glenn Close, who was meanwhile starring as Norma in the Los Angeles production, was to play Norma on Broadway. That was a complete surprise for her since no one on the production team had bothered to tell her it was happening - and keep in mind that for the news to come up the way it did in a gossip column, it probably would have necessitated a delay of a few weeks between the producers and the newspaper, which would have given them plenty of time to break the news to Patti. And Patti kind of needed the leg up because she was pretty bitter that a) Madonna was cast in the Evita adaptation instead of her; b) they actually lowered the key to fit Madonna's voice range, and she still had to expand her own to be able to sing the (lowered) score. And trust me, Patti is mad about it to this day.

So of course, she trashed her dressing room, the cast and crew weren't even mad about it because they were as shocked and angered as she was by the news. Patti sued Andrew Lloyd Webber for breach of contract, namely for 1 MILLION DOLLARS (yup, those are the real numbers), won, used the money she got from the lawsuit to get a swimming pool, which she called (and I SHIT YOU NOT) the Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool. Since then, Webber is dead to her, to the point rumor has it she had part of a building blocked during an event so she could get out of it without coming across Webber, because she hates him so flipping much she doesn't even want to be in the same building as the guy.

(There's also drama that happened with Faye Dunaway who was supposed to replace Glenn Close after she went from Los Angeles to Broadway, except they abruptly closed the show down after Close left, but that's a story for another day)

So with all the bad press, and with ALW forced to pay 1 million dollars for Patti's lawsuit, that led Sunset's productions to close earlier than expected. ALW has stayed around since, with... mitigated output, so to say. The lowest point for a lot of people is Love Never Dies, the sequel to Phantom, which some people love, and that's fine, but it didn't do well with either critics nor fans of the original show, which ALW is EXTREMELY BUTTHURT ABOUT. And like, there are so many stories I could tell about LND alone, but I will share my own crack theory about it, since it does relate to the ask.

Anyway, buckle up.

So. There have been jokes going around for years that the Phantom in LND is basically ALW's self-insert, where he displays to the world that he's totally not over Sarah Brightman leaving him (in part because making Phantom kinda ruined their marriage lmao), despite, you know, having married since. (Aaaaaakward.) So LND basically becomes this really uncomfortable therapy session where a man writes a self-insert musical about how his ex-wife made a big mistake of leaving a sensitive artistic soul such as himself. The characters from Phantom who appear in LND are all more or less unrecognizable as a result, and one who gets it worse (in my humble opinion) is Meg Giry, who was basically Christine's sweet and loyal ballerina friend who basically went into the Phantom's lair on her own to save her friend despite the danger. In LND, she's basically a bitter hag (because ALW hates women, guess Patti was right about that), who really likes the swim and even has a stripping vaudeville number about it, written in universe by the Phantom, no less.

For comparison, here's Don Juan Triumphant (the Phantom's opera in the original):

And here's Bathing Beauty (the vaudeville number):

Yeah, so... do you see why people hate LND already?

And that's not the only thing with Meg! She's also pining for the Phantom to pay attention to her and threatens to drown the Phantom and Christine's secret love child when he makes it clear that he's gonna love Christine for EVA AND EVA.

So, with everything we learned today about ALW, would someone like him view someone like Patti LuPone as some sort of crazy, bitter diva who's obsessed with him for whatever reason? Absolutely. Would he be petty enough to insert Patti LuPone into his self-insert musical, which gave us the version of Meg Giry we got in LND? Of course. Why does Meg love to swim so much and why does she drag Gustave out ostensibly for a swim? Is it a dig at Patti's Andrew Lloyd Webber Memorial Pool? Maybe.

I kind of hope we find out one day if that theory is true. And maybe start a kickstarter so Patti can add this painting from the 2004 movie in her collection.

Fun fact: during the process of casting for the 2004 movie adaptation of POTO, ALW allegedly suggested Patti LuPone to play Carlotta... only for Joel Schumacher to have to awkwardly remind him that they were not on speaking terms. The idea was therefore promptly dropped.

#YOU'RE WELCOME ANON #anon asks #Andrew Lloyd Webber #Patti LuPone #evita #sunset boulevard #phantom of the opera #love never dies

[exo-raskreia]

Thoughts & Speculations On Utahime In The Shinjuku Showdown Arc

WARNING: MANGA SPOILERS & HIGH LEVELS OF COPIUM

There are theories going around about Gojo's potential revival & subsequent defeat of Sukuna. Several are interesting & seemingly possible. However, I've hardly seen any involving Utahime & her potential role in all this. While I shouldn't be hoping for anything in this manga 😩, I couldn't help but get some ideas.

With some of the theories out there, I wouldn't want Gojo to sacrifice part of his power in order to come back. But who knows at this rate...? Would Gege let him come back even more powerful? Or only temporarily before losing all, half, or some of his power? I don't want him to lose an eye or something like that... 😮‍💨

Once he returns, what will be the next step to defeat Sukuna? Gojo may get a new power-up or even has something else up his sleeve that he hasn't revealed yet.

This is why I wonder if Utahime could still have a role to play in this arc. She's the only character involved who hasn't gotten a flashback yet with, or in regards to, Gojo. She hasn't even spoken a word! Does this mean anything? Is Gege withholding something important? Will it come into play at all?

She's barely had any screen/panel time & was absent for 3 arcs spanning several chapters since Shibuya. Gege finally revealed her CT for the biggest fight of Gojo's life against the King of Curses. She helped Gojo achieve 200% Hollow Purple along with Gakuganji, while Ijichi hid them from Sukuna's view with a barrier.

They really come in a set, don't they? Every one of her appearances is related to Gojo. She is bound to him. So you see, we may next see her whenever Gojo is about to, or has already, returned.

Neither her, Gakuganji or Ijichi have reappeared since.

It's been 20+ chapters now & we know nothing of their status. Is this the last time we'll see them, especially Utahime, in action? Do they still have another role to play? They have not been shown to be back with the others at HQ, which implies they're still out on the battlefield.

What have they been doing all this time? Watching the fight unfold? Is it just taking them a while to head back to HQ? Or could it be that they're potentially doing something important?

Chapter 244 showcased a flashback scene with the other characters having a meeting before the fight regarding the possibilities of Gojo's defeat. Neither GojoHime, Gakuganji or Ijichi were seemingly present.

Unless the two people behind Shoko here could be either of them? The one in black could be Gojo & next to him is Utahime, or could it be Gakuganji?

If not, this could imply they were doing planning of their own, maybe in a separate room. That planning is the key.

Clearly, GojoHime (& maybe Gakuganji) must've practiced the Hollow Purple throughout the weeks-long timeskip since Gojo's unsealing. But is that all they did? Is there something else that they planned? The fact they're not back at HQ could imply this. It almost seems deliberate that there's no involvement of them with the others... unless Gege really doesn't care.

Gojo told Sukuna at the beginning of their fight that he did some "special training."

What could this special training be? It hasn't been brought up again. Did it involve Utahime & maybe Gakuganji? This further showcases that Gojo's role isn't over yet.

Now, there are theories that Shoko may heal Gojo with her RCT. If so, could Uta help by buffing her to make it quicker & more effective?

We know so little about Uta's CT. Gege stated singing is a big part of it (unless it's just the chanting?). Could it be used for healing (kinda like Rapunzel from Tangled, lol)? What about offensive abilities? How else would she be a Semi-Grade 1 sorcerer if she can't fight on her own? Is it possible, though? We know she has good reflexes based on her encounter with Haruta at the Goodwill Event. Maybe she's good at hand-to-hand combat & wielding weapons? Heck, can she weaponize her voice like a siren?

When Uta buffs someone, does her cursed energy cover them like a blanket? Does it feel a certain way? Is it visible to other sorcerers or does it become one with the buffed person's own CE so that it's undetectable?

If her CE is visible, wouldn't Sukuna (especially as powerful as he is) have sensed it enmeshed with Gojo's? Instead, he thought Gojo's initial HP was a lot stronger than usual due to a Binding Vow (which we know Gojo didn't make) in chapter 234.

Since Ijichi made a barrier that hid him & the others from view, Sukuna doesn't know about them. If he couldn't sense Uta's CE, that could also mean she might not have been buffing Gojo after the HP. How long is her full range anyway?

Speaking of Ijichi, Gojo told him he had a monumental task in chapter 222 before the timeskip.

As then shown in a flashback in 223, it seems it was just to put up the barrier to hide them, Uta & Gakuganji from Sukuna.

Does this mean that Gojo planned their team-up that early after he got unsealed? 🤔 The flashback here has Gojo in casual wear & the place looks similar to the inside of the Tokyo Tower. Could this mean they were headed to Shibuya Sky, the top of the tower, to practice or simply strategize, & maybe meet up with Uta & Gakuganji?

Still, why did Gojo place such importance to this task? Was it just to establish the trust he has for Ijichi despite his antics?

Was it to keep Utahime safe? Not just about the barrier?

So, I've been having these questions for a while now. Here's where my delulu really kicks in.

Absolute insanity mode. You've been WARNED.

There are theories discrediting the fact Sukuna doesn't know about Uta's CT, that it's NOT why he thinks Gojo made a Binding Vow to achieve 200% HP. I know I'm crazy, but I think him not knowing could come into play.

Other than potentially helping Shoko heal Gojo, could Utahime have a hand in bringing him back? Maybe she could even buff Gojo's own RCT, in the case it's still activated (since Gojo's head's still intact). If Gojo is meant to be truly enlightened upon his return, almost like a god, then wouldn't Uta being a shrine maiden mean something? Shrine maidens dance for the gods, communicate with them, summon them.

DELULU THEORY 1:

This scene in chapter 222 made me wonder if Ino told Gojo about him witnessing the summoning of a dead person (which we know is Toji) in Shibuya, as there's been no follow-up to it yet...

If it's about Toji, did Gojo get the idea that in the case of him "dying", then his soul could be summoned back into his body? And with no side effects as it's his own body, and/or that as long as it's done immediately upon "death"? Is this something that could have been researched?

Since Ino knows a form of necromancy, could he possibly have a role to play in this as well? With his help, could Uta along with Gakuganji do a similar ritual as the granny who summoned Toji in Shibuya?

If Uta sings or chants for the ritual, could Gojo hear her in the limbo & follow her voice or something? Could she guide him north towards enlightenment, make him remember (or realize) who he is & what he has to do, in the case he's temporarily forgotten? 🫢 (delulu, I know, I KNOW 😩)

There's a song called North Wing by Akina Nakamori, the artist who sang Kinku, which is the song that Uta's CT is based on. It was her 7th single released the year after Kinku (7?! A number associated with Gojo?!). It was then re-recorded years later on an album titled 'Utahime Double Decade' (Akina is nicknamed Utahime, meaning Diva in Japan). The lyrics talk about a woman who boards a plane to meet with her lover. Here's an excerpt:

Love Is The Mystery It calls me Love is a mystery With its mysterious power I’m an Airplane, throwing everything away Like a scene out of a movie North Wing I depart all alone tonight For where he is Someone I once gave up on Teardrops, my heart’s punctuation I watch the city lights from above As they get smaller and smaller I take a midnight flight, chasing the night through the fog As if I were wandering through a dream Love Is The Mystery I spread my wings And cross the shining seas. I’m a little nervous The date paints over yesterday Which was nothing but agonizing for you The foggy city you live in Awaits me beneath the clouds

Let's see. If we see it in Uta's POV, then she might've thought loving Gojo was not worth it (as loving someone like him wouldn't be easy), but something happened that changed her mind, maybe before/during the time-skip, or seeing his "death." She could be headed to meet him, meaning to help him? It says at midnight, so could Gojo be revived the following day on Christmas? It mentions yesterday was agonizing for him, meaning his "death" & the fact of whose body/vessel he's fighting?

What if we low-key see it in Gojo's POV? His love for his students (and Utahime?) will make him choose North to return to them. He'll leave his past behind, making peace with it, & depart all alone, as the others in the limbo are going South. He knows everyone must be sad over his "death" (the 'agonizing' part) but he's coming home.

There is also a sequel song to this called Dramatic Airport - North Wing Part II. The lyrics are about a (the same?) woman on her way to meet up with her man at the airport, reuniting with him at night. So, could we see it as Utahime heading towards Gojo to help him, to be there for him on his 2nd awakening?

(There's this amazing theory here, which talks about the possibility of Utahime helping Gojo reach true enlightenment like Buddha's wife did for him in Buddhist myths.)

DELULU THEORY 2:

If Gojo returns through some other means, then that gives us another possibility. He's the only one who knows the location of Sukuna's last finger. What if Gojo had told its location to Utahime & co. (maybe even Ino)? What if their absence in the flashbacks of everyone else making plans is because they were retrieving the finger? And what would they do with it, you ask?

Could it be they had planned & are currently making the preparations for a ritual like the one I mentioned, in which they'll summon Sukuna into another vessel by using the finger? Or simply give it to someone to swallow? And could that vessel possibly be Yuuji, as he's the only one who can really handle harboring Sukuna?

It's scary to think of what this could mean, though... 😥 I will not delve into that.

FINAL THOUGHTS:

Anyway, I know I'm fully delulu & may be burning the kitchen, but I just wanted to get this out there. The theories and speculations are rampant these days so might as well add some more to the bunch.

I know for Utahime, a literal side character, to have a major role in the most important fight of Gojo's life, is too much to hope for. Gege also doesn't have a good streak with giving importance to his female characters (except Maki). Then again...no one expected Utahime, after a long absence, to finally reappear with Gojo the chapter after he got unsealed & having her CT finally revealed for him against Sukuna. Just what is Gege trying to say?

Whatever the outcome, I still have so many questions...

What was Utahime even doing during her long absence since Shibuya? As the main teacher of Kyoto, & all these crazy things happening to her students, not a single peep from her?! Was she training?! Put under protection because of her CT or cuz Gojo would have their heads if something happened to her? Buffing people secretly somehow?

How did she end up teaming up with Gojo? Did he ask for her help, like when he did to investigate the traitor? What did he say? Did he finally fess up & tell her what she means to him? Gakuganji & Ijichi got their flashbacks, Gojo showing them his true feelings/thoughts, so what could this mean for Utahime?! That he trusts her too? That he doesn't find her weak? Did he apologize for his constant teasing? Could he have said something more?

Did she offer to help him? Did he refuse & Uta insisted, giving a sort of speech that shut him up?

Just what happened between Gojo & Utahime during the time-skip?! 😫 Is the fact we haven't been shown yet deliberate?!

I wonder if Gege will ever give us this much, at least... 😮‍💨

While I'd like for her to do more, I just hope Uta will be safe. I wouldn't want anything bad to happen to her like nearly every other female character in this manga... 😥

LET'S HOPE FOR GOJO'S REVIVAL ✊️

#gojohime #iori utahime #gojo satoru #gojo and utahime #jjk spoilers #jjk theory #sorry if these don't make much sense 😅 #reiapost

[disabilityshowdown]

Disabled Character Showdown

Loving the tournaments like @autismswagsummit, @aroaceswagcompetition, @adhdswagcompetition, @bisexualswagcompetition, haven't yet seen a showdown for disabled characters yet, so let's give that a go!

Rules:

As usual, no real people, etc

Both mental and physical disabilities are allowed, though I'd ask no responses that are just adhd/autism as they've had their own showdowns, we wanna showcase other disabilities here

(Chronic pain also counts)

I'm on the fence about including characters who aren't disabled in canon but are in popular headcanon (eg Essek from Critical Role), so I think for now, you can submit them, but let me know in the form, and we'll make that decision later depending on the responses I get

No "Oh this character isn't REALLY disabled bc they have a perfect disability aid/don't suffer" arguments pls, different representation means different things to different people, a disability is a disability no matter how sci fi your setting

Submit as many characters as you like but only submit each character once! (I'll use number of responses where relevant to help with seeding the bracket)

EDIT: Please use the google form, no longer counting submissions in my inbox unless you have a real good reason for not using the form

Form is HERE, submissions will be open until the end of Sunday, 5th March (NZDT)

(That's Saturday 4th if you're American)

Characters I'm already pretty confident will get submitted a ton so will get an automatic nomination: Toph (AtLA), Terezi + Tavros (Homestuck), Daredevil (Marvel), Ed Elric (FMA), Kaz Brekker (SoC), Shiro (VLD), Geordi La Forge (TNG)

I can't guarantee I'll include every single character that gets submitted, especially if this goes similar to some other blogs who've gotten like 500 characters all with one vote each? (Alas, I am but a simple human being and have multiple disabilities myself), but I'm willing to do a pretty big bracket/have some qualifying rounds beforehand, so good luck, and I look forward to hearing about a whole bunch of disabled characters I didn't know before!

#disability showdown #tumblr tournament #tumblr bracket #but ye! kiddos

[cool-fancier]

Love Beneath the Battle

Synopsis: A secret romance between you and Lusher developed during the Street Woman Fighter fight. Even with the rivalry, you two became more and more in love. After the battle, Lusher and you shared a passionate kiss. Your love lived on, following its own pace.

The day of the Street Woman Fighter battle had arrived, and the excitement in the air was evident.  Jam Republic and BEBE, two legendary crews in the street dance world, were about to face off in an epic showdown. The rivalry between the two was well-known, but what the world didn't know was the secret love story that had been unfolding behind the scenes.

You looked at your closest friends and fellow dancers, Kirsten, Latrice, Ling, Emma, and Audrey, while the members of Jam Republic got ready for their show. They had been your confidants in the secret romance with BEBE's sub-leader, Lusher, and you two had a connection that went beyond the dance floor.

"Nervous?" whispered Kirsten, the leader of Jam Republic, as she leaned in.

You nodded, feeling both nervous and excited at the same time. "It's a big day, and there's a lot depending on this."

Ling said, "Y/N, just don't forget to have fun. We've got your back."

Your crew members' love and support gave you more confidence. You nodded to each other and returned your focus to the performance that was ahead. The Jam Republic was known for having amazing routines, which combined many dance forms to highlight the members' wide range of skills.

The crew entered the stage and began moving as a single unit as the music began to play. Your performance was a burst of creativity and excitement, with the audience following your every move. Lusher gazed at you with a mixture of attraction and admiration as she observed from the sidelines.

There was no denying the two crews' chemistry as the fight went on. The dancers pushed themselves to the utmost, resulting in a brilliant tapestry of passion and rhythm. Lusher was dancing with BEBE, and you couldn't help but get glimpses of her, her charisma and energy captivating the audience.

Your eyes repeatedly locked with Lusher's during the battle, and the unspoken feelings that flowed between you gave the performance a deeper meaning.  There was a strong undercurrent of love between you despite the intense rivalry.

The audience exploded in cheers as Jam Republic's performance came to an end, and you and your crew members grinned triumphantly. With the audience excitedly awaiting BEBE's routine, the tension was high as the group took the stage for their performance.

Bada led her crew with a surpassing intensity but Lusher's presence captivating the judges. Her movements were smooth and mesmerizing, showcasing the unique style that had made her a standout dancer. Your heart swelled with pride as you watched her from the shadows.

This battle went on, and every second that went by raised the stakes. It was impossible to ignore the significance of this day, not just for the crews but for your secret love. Every glance shared with Lusher was a silent affirmation of the feelings you held for each other.

As the battle reached its climax, BEBE took the stage for their final performance. The group performed an amazing choreography, and the audience was in awe. Lusher's enthusiasm was contagious. The stage was her territory, and she was a powerful presence.

As BEBE's performance came to an end, the audience let out a loud cheer, realising what amazing talent they had just seen. The judges huddled together to make their final decision.

In the end, the judges delivered their verdict. The winner was BEBE, and Jam Republic accepted the loss with grace.BEBE celebrated their victory, the thrill of the battle still coursing through their veins.

Even if the world was blind to the love that had grown out of the rivalry, it was a strong force that endured.

While the crews were gathering backstage to exchange words of appreciation and gratitude, Lusher took a moment to bring you aside in private. She leaned closer, her smile lovingly and little mischievously filled.

"Y/N," she whispered, her breath warm against your ear. "I knew we'd win, and I knew we'd have a moment alone.

You smiled, drawn to her irresistible charm. "You always have a plan, don't you?"

Her eyes brimming with desire and love, she nodded. "I can't help it. I've been planning to do this for a long time."

She then drew you closer together, her lips meeting yours in a passionate, joyful kiss. Even if the world may not have fully understood the depths of your love, it was worth every moment spent in secrecy and glanced at from a distance.

"I love you, Y/N," Lusher said as you pulled from the kiss.

With a smile, you said, "I love you too."

The rivalry between Jam Republic and BEBE would always be a part of your lives, but it was a love that thrived in the midst of the competition. It was a love that danced to its own rhythm, and it was a love that would endure, no matter the challenges that came your way.

#swf2 x reader #swf2 #bebe #street woman fighter 2 #street woman fighter x reader #lusher #lusher x reader #bebe x reader

[sweetsweetjellybean]

TW: Smut-tacular 3 way smut. Angst. NSFW. 18+

AN: See end of chapter Word Count: 11.6k (sorry, she's a long one)

Beta'd by @superblysubpar

Series Masterlist Fic Menu

The look on Eddie's face as you descend the stairs is totally worth the extra time you spent on your hair and make-up. His eyes darken as they move over your fishnet-clad legs and your very short, tight jean cutoffs. The Metal Showcase Showdown is tonight, and you are dressed to impress.

"Jesus H, baby, are you wearing a bra under that?" He uses one finger to pull down the low neckline of your halter top, answering his own question when he sees the hard peek of your nipple.

"Nope," you say, popping the P and looking up at him under your lashes. 

"How am I supposed to concentrate with you looking like that? I'm gonna be hard all night," his arms go wrap around you, bringing your body flush against him. 

"You'll just have to try really..."

Kiss.

"Really," 

Kiss. 

"Hard."    

His full mouth stretches into an affectionate smile, "You're killing me, baby, but I'm going to die a happy man." 

After the night you kissed Steve, things have returned to normal in the Harrington household. Necessity has a way of shortening memories, and everyone in this house needs something. Eddie isn't someone who holds a grudge, and his relationship with Steve hasn't suffered any. They say the path to hell is paved with good intentions and the ones you love litter the roadside. Despite not knowing what path or what road you're on, you've done your best to dedicate yourself to Eddie and avoid Steve. The two of you haven't been alone together since the kiss, but that hasn't stopped the hungry looks he casts your way.

Steve comes around the corner with an apple in his hand, takes one look at you, and promptly turns to go back into the kitchen.

"Steve, where you going, man?" Eddie asks, releasing his hold on you. 

"I forgot my water," he hedges, "what do you need?"

"I was hoping you could get our girl here to the show tonight?" Eddie asks, lightly smacking your butt. 

"Wait. I thought I was riding with you," the disappointment is evident in your voice.

"The van is full of all of the band shit. Besides, I gotta leave right now. You would be sitting around in an empty club for hours while we set up. Ride with Steve and Robin, okay?" He kisses your forehead, "You're still taking Buckley, right?" He asks Steve over his shoulder. Maybe he isn't as forgetful as you thought.

"Well, we were going to ride with Nancy and Jonathan," Steve says, shrugging his shoulders and biting into his apple.

"There you go, Harrington. Cut loose a little. Have a few," Eddie encourages," Just what the doctor ordered. I'm sure Wheeler's got room for one more, right?"

"Yeah, I'll call her and make sure she's driving the wagon."

"Thanks, buddy," Eddie puts a hand on Steve's shoulder, "I know you don't need my help, but this isn't your usual crowd. Don't wear a Polo if you want to get laid."

"Thanks, but I wasn't planning on it." 

"Getting laid or wearing a Polo?" Eddie asks, feeling him out.

"The Polo," Steve says, glancing over at you.

"Nice," Eddie gives his shoulder a pat as he brings his hand up to block his mouth like you wouldn’t hear him when he says, "There should be quite a selection," 

"Good to know," Steve says shaking his head a little.

"Don't forget to wrap it. You never know where some of these chicks have been," Eddie says, leaning in closer to Steve.

Steve gives him a little push, "Get out of here. I'll see you at the show," he says before jogging up the stairs.

"Okay, baby. I'm going to take off. Do I look alright?" he steps back and holds out his arms.

"Hmm," you walk around, pretending to inspect him. A Metallica Tee with cut-off sleeves and a ripped neck shows off his arms and chest nicely. And the way his jeans cling to his ass has you reaching out to cop a feel.

"Hey, what do you think I am? A piece of meat?" he grabs your wrist, bringing you back in front of him, "You make me feel so cheap," he says, palming your breasts and giving them a squeeze.

"What am I supposed to do?" you ask, trying to sneak your hands back to his backside, "If you're dressed like this, clearly you're asking for it."

"I should have fucked you before you got all dressed up," he says before kissing you breathless, "I guess now I have something to look forward to." 

He pulls down half of your shirt and sucks a nipple into his mouth. The current of electricity running straight from your breast to your pussy have you looking forward to it as well. 

"Alright, baby, I got to go," he says, tucking you back into your shirt and kissing you quickly, "Remember, your names are on the list, so you can get in early. I'll see you tonight, okay?"

"Okay. Good luck," you give him one more smack on his bum on his way out the door. 

You're peering at your reflection in the hall mirror, using your finger to apply a thin layer of gloss over your lips, when Steve comes down the stairs pulling a tight gray tee over his head. 

"What do you think? Will this work?" Steve asks. Rubbing your lips together, you tighten the top on the little tub of gloss and try not to stare at the line of hair disappearing into his tight, worn black jeans. 

"You'll pass," you say, trying to sound nonchalant, tucking your gloss back in your bag.

"Do you wanna know how I think you look?" He asks, crowding into your space.  

"No," you step back until you're pressed against the wall. 

"No?" one of his arms lands on your hip while the other presses against the wall, boxing you in. 

"What are you doing?" you ask as he starts running his hand up your side. Your hand goes to his chest, keeping some space between your bodies, "We can't."

"That's not what you said the last time we were alone together," his eyes dip down to your lips before moving back to your eyes. 

"I was confused," you don't sound convincing, not even to yourself. 

"I think you know exactly what you wanted."

"I want Eddie," this time, your voice comes out sure and clear. 

"Maybe. But he's not the only one you want," he covers your hand with his own, "This thing between us is more than just sex. The way you kissed me, the way you begged me, I could feel it," he moves closer pressing his body against you, "God, I wanted you. I would have fucked you right there in the kitchen if Eddie hadn't come home. And you wanted it just as much as I did."  

"No. I would have stopped," you say, shaking your head, trying to clear it as things get a little hazy.

"I think you're wrong, and it's worth staying around to find out," his mouth starts moving toward yours at the same time the door opens, and Robin peeks her head inside. Steve quickly steps away. 

"We're here," she says sharply before turning on her heel and slamming the door behind her. 

Robin is unusually quiet, sitting between you and Steve in the back of Nancy's station wagon as you travel through the backwoods of Shelbyville on the way to the venue.

The Stone Church is an icon. Well, at least as close to an icon as you will get in this part of Indiana. Not much was known about the crumbling limestone church left to rot in the woods before it was developed into a live music venue and bar. It has become the spot to play for lesser-known and up-and-coming new acts, even boosting surprise performances from some big names looking for a more intimate setting. 

Gravel crunches under the tires of Nancy's wagon as she turns off the pavement onto the flattened dirt road that leads farther into the woods. The parking lot is packed full, and Nancy has to park in a grassy area along the treeline. Everyone climbs out of the car and stretches a bit after the long ride. The sun is just beginning to set behind the church's steeple, which still houses bells that ring to mark the opening and closing of the bar every evening.

Closing the car door, you lift up the handle to be sure it is locked. Clouds of weed and cigarette smoke hang heavy around the groups of Metalheads gathered in the parking lot, waiting for the main doors to open and the showcase to begin. Following Nancy and Jonathan, you walk through the maze of cars and people besides Steve and Robin. Someone calls your name, and you raise a hand, greeting a group of guys you know through Eddie. Steve's hand is on the small of your back, gently maneuvering you between him and Robin. Questioning the sudden change in position, you look up at him, but he's not looking at you. With tense shoulders and a tight jaw, he scans the parking lot like he's scrutinizing anything and everyone for a threat. Apparently, you aren't the only one to notice the change in his demeanor.

"Steve, are you alright?" Robin asks as your group comes to a stop at the side door. Nancy turns around with concern as Jonathan gives your name to a guy with a clipboard standing at the door. 

"I'm fine," Steve says, still looking around, "it's really crowded." He tries to hide it from the others, but he takes a few deep breaths through his mouth. Stepping closer to him, your fingers wrap around the hand hanging limply at his side, you give him a gentle squeeze before letting go, but he circles your wrist and joins your hands, keeping them low between you, away from the eyes of the others. The man with the clipboard opens the door ushering you inside. His hand lets go and moves to your hip, guiding you in ahead of him. 

"I'm getting a beer before there's a line," Steve says, moving toward the bar. 

"I'll come with you," Jonathan says, stepping around Nancy.

"Bring me back one," Nancy calls to Jonathan as you and Robin follow her to find a table. 

Your eyes wander toward where Steve is leaning on the bar, waiting for his order with one foot up on the brass bar rail, his black jeans hugging his legs and ass in all the right places. A blonde in a tight leather mini squeezes in beside him placing her hand on his arm, and you turn away quickly, a sour feeling forming in your belly. Robin's eyes are on you, her face giving nothing away, but you can feel the judgment in her stare.

The noise level in the club goes up a notch as the first band starts setting up their instruments on the stage. Unlike The Hideout, where recycled pallets serve as the platform for musical acts, Stone church has a real stage with professional sound and lighting, giving every group that performs a taste of rock stardom. The original church has been extended into a crucifix-shaped building with a generous backstage area, pool tables, and long double bars that line the walls with back bars lit in red neon holding shelf after shelf of bottled liquor. The enormous red neon cross that hangs above the stage and the dark wood and religious imagery keep the theme going through the interior of the space. 

Jonathan walks over, sets a beer in front of Nancy, and takes the seat beside her. Steve's just behind him, two brown bottles in each hand. Robin takes one out of his hand, and he sets one in front of you before placing the other two on the table and pulling out the chair beside Robin.

Warm arms circle your shoulders, and you smile as Eddie presses his soft lips against your temple. Turning toward him, your lips meet his for another quick kiss. 

"I didn't know if we'd see you before the show started," you happily capture one of his hands between both of yours.

"I had to come out and make sure my lucky charm is in the audience," he says, kissing the back of your hand while crouching between you and Nancy, "Thanks for coming out, Wheeler."

"We wouldn't have missed it," Nancy says warmly. Eddie's cheeks tint a soft pink, still not used to others showing up for him. 

"Byers, good to see you, man," Eddie says, standing and nodding toward him. Jonathan leans back and gives him a two-fingered salute as he sips his beer.

"What do you say, Buckley? Are you ready for some real music?" Eddie puts his arm around Robin and shakes her a little. 

"I'm ready to get my face torn off," Robin holds her hand up in the rock 'n' roll salute.

"Melted off, not torn off, but I appreciate the effort, doll," he says, holding out his hand to Steve, who responds by doing a half-shake half-slap greeting, "Thanks for being here, dude."

"Sure, man," Steve says, "break a leg or whatever shit you're supposed to say."

"Aww, buddy, I'm touched," Eddie rests a hand over his heart. Steve rolls his eyes and waves him off, "Alright, wish me luck," Eddie says, rubbing his hands together, "I'll try to come out after our set," after a chorus of good lucks, Eddie disappears into the crowd. 

The stage lights begin to circle and change colors, and a round of hoots comes from the crowd as a man with shoulder-length blonde hair wearing a Winger shirt and ripped jeans walks to the mic. 

"Welcome to the Stone Church. I'm Mack The Knife, your host for this year's Metal Showcase Showdown. If you're looking for the David Hasselhoff concert, this ain't it," a burst of laughter comes from the crowd. 

"You know how this works, ten bands battling it out for a weekly spot here at the church, and just to make it interesting, we've got some new prizes this year. There are two open spaces at The Indianapolis Metal Fest this summer. That's right, the winners and the runners-up will be heading to Hoosier City to melt some faces. Third place gets to clean the johns at the end of the night. Alright, thrashers, let's get our first act out here. Let's give a big church welcome to Iron Spawn." 

A round of cheers and applause comes from the audience as Mack The Knife leaves the stage, and the group launches into their first song. The metalheads in front of the stage start moshing, causing those who wish to stay out of the fray to step back, making the crowded space feel even tighter. Leaning forward, you look down the table at Steve to see if he's reacting to the crowd. His head is tipped back with the beer bottle at his lips, chugging down its contents. Nancy mirrors your position looking down the table.

"Hey Steve," she yells over the din, "Are you double fisting?" she tips her head toward the second beer in front of him. He leans around Robin and yells back. 

"I'm not driving. I'm not babysitting, and there's nothing trying to kill us. Seems like a good reason to have a few," Steve raises his bottle to clink with Robin's.

"I'll drink to that," Jonathan says, raising his beer. 

Nancy notices the confused look on your face and leans towards you, "He's kidding," she says, trying to explain Steve's odd toast, but you don't know if you're buying what she is selling. It's useless trying to get any information out of this group, who all seem in on whatever secrets Eddie and Steve are keeping, "When does Eddie go on?" she asks, changing the topic. 

"I'm not sure," you yell into her ear, "Each band plays four songs." 

Nancy nods in understanding, "It's too bad Dustin is too young to get in. He would have loved this," she gestures around at the dimly lit space packed with people swinging their heads in time with the hard rhythm of the song. 

"Next time we'll sneak him in," you say, and Nancy laughs. Although you doubt Nancy will make metal shows a regular thing, you peg her as more of a pop-synth girl. Jonathan seems to like it, you note as he lightly head bangs from his seat. 

"Eww, gross," Robin complains when Steve pulls out an unopened pack of cigarettes from his pocket and tosses it on the table, "Where did you even get those?" She crosses her arms while yelling at Steve. 

"From the vending machine," Steve shrugs, taking a sip from his second beer, the first bottle sitting empty on the table next to him. He taps the box on the table a few times before unwrapping the cell phone and pulling a matchbook from his pocket. 

"I didn't know you smoked," you yell, partially leaning over Robin. 

"Only when I drink," he replies, putting a cigarette between his lips and striking the match. He takes a drag and rests an elbow on the table, the other moving to the back of his seat, his tight t-shirt stretching across his chest as he leans back, crossing his legs before he purses those pouty lips, letting the smoke slowly trail into the air. Your pulse skips, and you grab your beer, taking a long pull.

"I think I'm having an asthma attack," Robin yells, fanning the air in front of her and pushing the ashtray further down the table. 

"You don't have asthma, Robin," Steve yells back. 

"I might now. Prolonged exposure to secondhand smoke can cause asthma," she puts her hand on her throat and coughs.

"Can I have a drag?" you ask over the music. 

"You smoke?" Robin asks like she found out you eat puppies for breakfast. 

"I do. Just usually not cigarettes," you wink at her.

"I guess that shouldn't be surprising," she says, catching on. 

"It really shouldn't," you say, laughing, after all you're dating Eddie. Steve reaches across Robin offering you his cigarette.

"Oh no," Robin says, jumping to her feet. I'm not sitting in between you if you're smoking, "I can feel my throat closing up. Anaphylaxis. I think I'm allergic," she leans forward with an exaggerated wheeze, "Switch seats with me if you're both going to smoke." Steve's mouth stretches into a cocky smirk. 

"No, that's okay. I don't have to smoke," you say loudly, waving her off. 

"Come on," Steve yells, "She could pass out. We'd have to call an ambulance." Robin's eyes get big, and she starts shaking her head at you.

"Fine," you grumble, sliding your beer down the table as you move into the seat next to Steve and angle your body away from him. 

"You better give her a little more space," Steve says, grabbing the bottom of your chair and pulling it until it's touching the edge of his. Under the table, you cross your legs, but he just spreads out further until his thigh is pressed right against yours. "Is that better, Robin?" Steve yells around you, smoothly moving his arm to drape over the back of your seat. She nods, still clutching her throat and hyperventilating. 

"That was mean," you yell. He takes the opportunity to lean even closer to you, pretending he can't hear. 

"She'll be alright," he says into your ear, tipping his head towards Robin, who is already laughing with Nancy and Jonathan. He extends his hand, offering you the ciggy he holds between two fingers. His eyes are trained on your mouth as you bring it to your lips, inhaling the thick smoke into your lungs. The gentle headrush hits you as you exhale, but you're not sure if it's from nicotine or Steve's fingers trailing down the bare skin of your arm. There's a satisfied look on his face as he takes the cigarette back from you. 

The lights flash, the audience cheers, and claps as the first band finishes their set and starts to unplug their guitars. The chatter from the patrons seems quiet compared to loud music, and it feels like you're hearing everything underwater. The reprieve from the loud volume is short-lived as Mack runs back on stage to announce the next band. The new drummer holds his sticks above his head, tapping them together, setting the beat for their first song, a cover of Dream Warriors. 

Goosebumps break out across your skin as Steve lifts his thumb from the back of your chair to trace patterns up and down your spine. The way it leaves you tingling, you wonder if everywhere he touches will be permanently marked. You're starting to second-guess your choice of shirt. If you asked him to stop, you know he would, but it would let him know how much his simple touches were affecting you. He seems unphased as he watches the band letting the cigarette hang between his lips. Picking up your beer, you hope concentrating on draining the rest will give you a distraction. Steve stubs out his cigarette and takes a sip of his beer, his lips lingering on the head of the bottle. Inhaling deeply, you can't seem to look away. He sets down the empty bottle and turns to you, brushing the hair off your shoulder before leaning so close his lips brush your ear as he speaks. 

"You wouldn't let me tell you earlier, how you look tonight," his fingertips drag over the uneven texture of your fishnet-covered leg. "I think you're the sexiest fucking thing I've ever seen," he moves his mouth lower and tongues the sensitive skin right beneath your ear before his lips close over the same spot, gently sucking. Warm waves of arousal fill your pelvis, and you squeeze your legs together as you tilt away from his mouth and steal a nervous glance down at the other end of the table, but no one is watching. If they were, it would look like Steve was in your ear, trying to be heard over the music. Sure he was a little close, but that wasn't unusual for Steve. 

"I dressed like this for my boyfriend," you brush his hand from your leg. 

"You keep telling yourself that, sweet girl, but he's not the only one that knows how you taste," he pulls back, giving you a little space as Jonathan passes by the front of the table. He pauses and yells over the music. "I'm getting another round. Want anything?" he points toward the bar.

"I'll go with you," Steve yells back, and you notice he adjusts himself under the table before standing to go with Jonathan. At least you're not the only one affected. Grateful for a moment alone, you try to calm down. 

"Are you alright?" Robin leans towards you, "You're a little red," her finger points at your face making a circle. 

"It's hot in here," you fan the air in front of you and try changing the subject, "Are you having fun?"

"This is wild," she says smiling, "I like the energy."

More metalheads have entered the pit thrashing along with music. The third band has taken the stage and is playing Metal Health by Quiet Riot by the time Steve and Johnathan make it back from the bar carrying three beers each. Steve sets the bottles on the table, sliding one in front of you and keeping the other two for himself as he settles back in his seat. 

Lifting an eyebrow, you ask, "Trying to get me drunk?" 

He smiles and leans in. "No, I'm trying to get me drunk," he lifts his beer, taking a long pull as if making his point. 

"We're going to the bathroom. You wanna come?" you jump at the sound of Nancy's voice in your ear, so wrapped up with Steve that you hadn't noticed both she and Robin standing right beside you, "I'm okay," the two of them walk off to stand in, what you're sure is a very long line. Turning your head, you watch Jonathan alone at the end of the table, nursing his beer, air drumming from time to time. Eddie might make a metalhead out of him yet. 

Something warm and wet presses against your bare shoulder, you close your eyes, and you know Steve's kissing you. His mouth drifts across your skin, hot and smooth. Your toes curl inside your shoes, and your pussy clenches around nothing. Since your conversation in the hallway, he's had you in a state, heating you up and then letting you cool down, and each time the ache gets more intense, you've had enough. 

"Stop teasing me," you demand, spinning your body towards him, dislodging his lips from your shoulder. 

His mouth twists into a smirk, "I like seeing how much you want me," his hand moves to your leg, "It's only fair. It's easy to see how much I want you." Like magnets, your eyes go straight to his lap, his tight jeans doing little to hide the outline of his girthy hard cock. 

Looking away quickly, you pick up your beer, a light condensation clings to the outside of the bottle, and you hope the cold liquid can cool you down. But it's too late, images of Steve driving into you fill your mind, your breathing fluctuates, and your clit pulses. Those long blunt fingers start to work their way between the gaps in your stockings, rubbing against your overly sensitive skin and leaving you shivering. 

"Fuck, your nipples are so hard, I can see them through your shirt," his eyes are locked on your breasts where your hard nipples strain against your shirt, the outline of your puffy areolas clearly visible. The attention has your breasts feeling heavy and aching to be sucked and fondled.

His face is inches from yours, his breath coming in pants through his parted lips. His eyes don't leave yours as his finger jerk, "Oops," his eyes look black as he tears your stocking, "I'll buy you another pair," his fingers widen the hole as they move in circles on the inside of your leg. 

"Steve," you moan, sounding breathy and as out of control as you feel. Clamping your hand on his wrist, you mean to pull him away but end up holding him against you. 

"Jesus, I know, sweetheart," his mouth brushes down your temple, moving along your jaw, "Are you wet?" His words have your legs parting and your whole body trembling, "Not going to tell me?" feeling too dizzy to speak, you stay quiet and let your head lean against his forehead with his lips at your ear. 

"I guess I'll have to find out," he rasps, his fingers moving to the inside of your thigh, high up at the very edge of your shorts. There's an audible rip as he shreds your stockings, thick fingers working their way into your shorts toward your very wet panties. 

"And next up, all the way from Hawkins, we have Corroded Coffin," The host's voice is like cold water cutting through the haze of your lust. Nancy and Robin appear out of the crowd. Coming towards the table, you shoot out of your seat and away from Steve. Without looking back, you grab onto Robin's arm. "Let's get closer," you yell in her ear, pulling her behind you toward the stage.

Eddie is just starting the first gentle chords of Fight Fire with Fire by Metallica when the two of you make it to the front of the stage, carefully staying off to the side, so you don't get dragged into the pit. The two of you scream as the band blasts into the hard and fast tempo of the rest of the song. Robin falls against you, laughing, getting high on the crowd's energy.

Your breath is still coming in pants, clit throbbing, and watching your boyfriend on stage is doing little to curb your needy state. The whole band looks formidable under the swirling colored lights that change with the beat but Eddie…Eddie looks like a rockstar. His fingers fly over frets, not missing a note, his eyes moving over the crowd connecting with them, drawing them in. Jeff belts out lyrics into the mic, and Eddie jumps into the air at the key change. The extra practice has been worth it, he makes the complicated song look easy, and the crowd is eating it up. 

Sweat coats your skin as people brush against you, but your eyes are on him, thoughts filling your head about finding him backstage and how hard he would fuck you while coming down from his performance high. Steve finds you both and slides his hard cock against your ass-pushing it inside. Fuck, what is wrong with me? 

Eddie moves to the very edge of the stage, his arms making big movements as his guitar whines out the song's last notes. Someone in the crowd screams, "fuck yeah!" as the band is treated to heavy applause. Eddie looks over at you and winks, you never would have guessed he even knew you were there between the bright lights and his intense focus. He steps up to the mic and sings the opening lyrics to Cum On Feel The Noize. His voice flows smoothly through the speakers with just the right amount of rough edge for this song. Jeff joins him for the chorus, the two of them playing back to back. The hot lights show off the light sheen of sweat covering Eddie's bare arms, his muscles flexing as he plays, tattoos peeking out from the rip at the neck of his shirt. There is no doubt he belongs on a stage. 

Yelling out the chorus, you and Robin bounce on your toes. Every movement has your nipples scraping against the fabric of your shirt, sending little shocks through your body. Eddie's eyes are on you, tongue sneaking out to run along his top lip.The ache to be filled is overwhelming as a fresh wave of slick has your panties sticking to your pussy. The song ends. Gareth bangs out a quick beat on the drums transitioning to Hot For Teacher. Eddie jumps in with a brutal riff, followed by the rest of the group. He moves around the stage, jamming out, almost randomly heading back to the mic to belt out a few of the sexual lyrics, clearly having a ball covering this song. 

Without warning, he rushes to the side of the stage where you're standing, leaning forward and singing directly to you. 

"I've got it bad, I've got it bad, I've got it bad"

"I'm hot for teacher"

"Ooh, yeah"

Hollering like fangirls, you and Robin pretend to faint against each other. Eddie's smile widens as he dashes back across the stage for the song's end. It's clear he's having a blast, and it's well-deserved. Jeff waits for the applause to die down before he addresses the audience, "This is the last one from us," a wave of disappointed noise rises out of the crowd. Jeff and Eddie give each other an amused look. 

"We'll miss you too," Eddie blows the crowd an exaggerated kiss, and they react with light laughter. 

"Hopefully, we will be back real soon," Jeff says into the mic," You can come see us at The Hideout in Hawkins every Tuesday night. It's been real fun playing for y'all. Here's one you might know," Jeff steps back. 

The bass and drums set the fast-paced rhythm for Ace of Spades, another guitar-heavy song spotlighting Eddie's skills on lead guitar. More moshers join the pit, the metalheads cheering their approval. 

"They're gonna win this thing," Robin says in awe, looking out into the crowd. 

Grabbing her hand, you move her pointer over her middle, "Fingers crossed."

All the bands tonight have been great, some a little more seasoned than Corroded Coffin, but none of them have matched their energy, and Eddie is untouchable on guitar. Life has dealt Eddie a shitty hand, but he pushes on. Whistles and yells accompany the clapping as the last song closes and the band gathers their instruments. "Please let him have this," you mumble in prayer to whatever gods are listening. 

"They were so good," Robin says, wiping the sweat off her forehead as the two of you work through the crowd. 

"They really were," you agree," thanks for braving the crowd with me."

"Are you kidding? I loved it. Sign me up for the next show," she says as the table comes into view. Steve and Nancy are sitting close, talking, but as if he senses you, his eyes snap to yours, an intense expression taking over his face, stopping you in your tracks.  

Robin grabs your forearm, her eyes bounce from you to Steve and you can feel her hesitancy before she says, "Someone's going to get hurt." 

"It's too late," you say, shaking your head, "we all are." Turning away from her, you push back into the crowd, trying to get lost amongst the mass of bodies. 

A little pocket of space opens up just before the bars, and you settle there, trying to look like you're watching the show. A metalhead and his girlfriend to the right of you, eye you curiously as you stand there panting, your body tense with alarm. 

An audible moan leaves your mouth as a big hand slides around your waist to your stomach, fingers working their way under your shirt. Steve sloppily mouths your neck, his wet tongue licking off your sweat. He pulls you back into his hip, his erection pushing into your ass. With eyes closed, you melt into his strong chest and wrap your hand back against his thigh. 

"We're always getting interrupted," he says into your ear before giving your earlobe a little nip. The smell of beer and cigarettes mix with his usual scent.

"Are you drunk?" you ask as his fingers pop open the button of your shorts.

"Maybe a little but not enough to forget how much I need you." his fingers are slipping into the front of your pants, "Kiss me."  

It's a demand. His other hand grips the back of your neck, and it's all too much, your mouth finds his, and you slide your tongue inside. He groans against your lips, and the hand in your pants slides farther down, cupping you over your stockings and panties, rubbing over the wet material. 

"Someone is going to see," your hips roll in a slow rhythm grinding against him.

"I don't care. I want inside you. Now," his other hand drops to your breast, kneading it over your shirt, "Come with me. We'll find someplace to be alone."

Yes sits on your tongue, waiting to push past your lips. He's rubbing you faster, and you're not going to last much longer, the coil already tightening in your belly. Your eyes flutter open, and through the haze, they land on the side door next to the stage. The one that Eddie has just walked through. He's moving in the direction of your table.

Steve calls your name, but you're already walking away. Bodies brush against you as you push through the crowd, heading straight towards Eddie, your vision tunneled solely on him. A soft smile tugs at his lips when your eyes connect, and he starts moving to meet you. His damp curls stick to his forehead, and his arms and neck still shine with sweat.

"What did-" you cut him off, grabbing his jaw and attacking his mouth. His arm goes around your waist, pulling you closer as he opens for you, and you waste no time licking inside. The kiss is sloppy, all tongue, mouths open wide. It isn't enough, you end the kiss biting his lower lip and grabbing his wrist.

"Baby," you ignore his endearment as you pull him behind you towards the side entrance hall, "Baby, where are we going?" He asks, chuckling, not put off by you taking control. Long lines snake down the hall, and people wait impatiently for one of the four bathrooms. A door opens as someone exits. Curses and moaning follow as you cut the line pulling Eddie inside behind before you turn and lock the door. The fluorescent light flickers overhead, the sink drips, and the trashcan is overflowing with paper towels, and God knows what else, but you don't see any of it as you push Eddie up against the wall, rubbing your body against him and sucking on his tongue. His hand moves to your ass, trying to bring you closer as you grind all over him, your hands clawing at his wettish shirt. Your mouth moves to his neck, licking and sucking his salty skin as your hands unbuckle his belt. 

"Jesus, baby, what are you doing?" he asks as you pull his jeans and boxers down enough to free his cock. Dropping to your knees on the filthy bathroom floor, you hold his eyes as you lick the silky head of his hardening cock.

"Okay…fuck," he pants as your other hand rolls his balls. Licking up and down his veiny shaft, you drool out as much spit as possible, soaking his cock before your hand wraps around the base. Sucking the red leaking head into your mouth, you hollow your cheeks while the tip of your tongue pushes into the slit tasting the precum. 

"Goddam Baby, that's it," his hands move to the back of your head as you start shallow, bobbing your mouth while your hand works the velvety skin of his hard shaft with smooth regular strokes. His blown-out eyes are almost black as he looks down at you, moaning with your mouth full of his cock. Your cunt is wildly clenching, the ache turning painful. With your free hand, you rip down one side of your halter freeing your breast so you can tug on your hard nipple. 

"Can you take me deeper?" His hands gently press on the back of your head, guiding you down until you're gagging when his cock hits the back of your throat. He lets go expecting you to back off, but your hands run up his denim-covered thigh until you're gripping his ass, holding him in place as you swallow him down until your nose is pressed into the coarse hair at his base. A string of curses leaves his mouth as he turns into a moaning mess above you. You release him when you're struggling for air, spit running down your chin and eyes watering.

The pumping bass reverberates through the black-painted walls of the tiny bathroom, and the antiseptic smell of the cheap pink soap dripping from the dispenser fills your nose as you breathe deep, catching your breath while continuing to stroke his wet length up and down with your hand. 

"Oh my god," he pants, gently stroking your hair, softly tucking it behind your ears. 

A frustrated cry spills from your lips as you try working your other hand under the tight waistband of your stockings and panties, the material sticking to your sweaty skin.

"Touch yourself," Eddie encourages, his hooded eyes drinking you in.

"I'm so wet. I need to come," you whine, tears rolling down your cheeks, your fingertips finally reaching your engorged clit, your hips rolling and grinding against your hand. 

"I want you to come while I'm in your mouth," his request has you moaning as you return to him, working him deeper and faster between your lips.

The emptiness inside you nudges away the pleasure. Like a cheap knockoff, your fingers feel inadequate after Steve's touch. The fierce craving to be stretched and filled consumes your thoughts. Eddie would have fucked you. Held your hands against the wall while his hips pistoned, driving into you or watching your face in the mirror as he took you from behind. But you hadn't asked. The whole truth hitting you at the same time as your orgasm, it wasn't Eddie you wanted inside you. That's why you are on your knees in a dirty bathroom, working toward repentance, letting him use your mouth while you ache for someone else. The guilt fizzles out your climax leaving you wet and uncomfortable. 

He moans above you, lost in his own haze, "I'm so close..so close," he swells in your mouth, the taste of him changing as he leaks in a steady drip.

Letting him slide past your lips, you give his tip one more kiss while you free your other breast, lifting yourself higher, "Come for me. Come on my tits," you plead, rubbing his dribbling head against your nipple. 

"Oh fuck I'm coming," he groans, voice rough and rasping. He nearly falls forward with the force of his release, batting away your hand so he can paint your chest with the hot sticky ropes of his cum.

When his last spurt is dripping down your breasts, he grabs you under your arms, lifting you to your feet, pushing you into the opposite wall. One hand grips your chin, opening your mouth for his plundering tongue, kissing you in a frenzy. While his other hand kneads your breasts, catching your nipple between his fingers while he rubs his cum into your skin. His kiss turns lazy as his cock softens against your belly. 

"I love you," he presses small kisses to your lips, "did you cum?"

"Mmmmhmmm," you mumble, nodding your head, kissing him back, and enjoying his hands on your skin. 

"What got into you?" he asks, peppering kisses over your face. 

"I wanted you to have the full rockstar experience," you lightly brush your hand against his cock, and he shivers.

"I don't even care if we win anymore. That was the best head I've ever had," he says, sucking down your neck. Shame washes over you. 

Clamping down in his hair, you pull his head back until he's looking into your eyes, "You were fucking amazing. I've never heard you sound so good. I'm so proud of you."

He smiles and kisses you. Someone starts banging on the door. The two of you go about cleaning up and redressing. You're met with more curses and boos as you leave the bathroom and walk down the hall. Eddie has to return backstage until the end of the showcase when they announce the winner. Before he walks away, you grab his hand, "I really love you," you say, suddenly overcome with emotion. Whatever has happened hasn't changed that. He pulls you into his arms, his hands tangling in your hair.

"I love you too," he says into your ear. He holds you a minute before waking away, and you stand there watching until he's through the door. Deciding you need a drink, you wait in line at the bar, not in a hurry to return to the table. When it's your turn, you order and wait patiently at the busy bar for the bartender to serve you. He pushes a bottle your way, and you pull a couple of folded bills from your pocket and leave them behind. Stepping away from the line, you pause to sip your drink, but the bottle slips through your fingers and smashes on the stone floor. The sound is barely loud enough to be heard over the loud metal music, but a bartender with a weary face slips out from behind the bar with a towel and broom.

"Are you alright?" He asks, wondering why you are standing there frozen in a puddle of beer and broken glass. Stepping back, you run your shaking hands through your hair and mumble your apology, still unable to take your eyes off Steve. He's at the end of the bar standing close to a stool taken by his new blonde friend from earlier. His tongue is in her mouth, and his hand is up her skirt. She's enjoying it, holding his head in place while she tries to swallow his entire face. 

Turning away, you wrap your hands around your middle, feeling sick and gut-punched. He's not yours, and you know that. If the pain you're experiencing can be used to measure the depth of your feelings, you've fallen further than you thought possible. Feeling foolish and angry, all you want is to leave, but you can't. You're not going to ruin this for Eddie. Swallowing your anguish, you walk back to the table and plaster on a smile as you sit next to Robin. 

"What happened?" Robin asks, pointing to your legs. Besides the holes Steve ripped, your stockings have sizable holes in each knee, and your skin is scraped and scunned. 

"I tripped," the lies are stacking up. Her expression doesn't hide her disbelief. 

"Have you seen Steve?" she asks, studying your face.

Shaking your head from side to side, you quickly turn away from her, swiping some wetness in the corner of your eye. He's not getting your tears. 

"They should be announcing a winner soon. I think this is the last band," you try changing the subject.

"Do you want to talk about it?" she asks in a lowered voice. 

"No…but thanks, Robin," your smile is sincere. The two of you sit and watch the last band finish up. During the break, Nancy and Jonathan pull you into a conversation about some things happening at school, reminding you that graduation is right around the corner. Eddie's taking you to pick out a car next week. Maybe you can get a second job, and when Eddie finds something, you can bring up moving into your own place again.

The stage lights start circling and changing from purple to red to yellow and back again. The members of the ten bands crowd onto the stage followed by Mack who steps up to the mic, "Alright, Alright, another Showdown has come to an end and this was one for the books. If metal is God's apology for pop music, then we worshiped hard tonight, my friends." 

The crowd cheers, and Mack waits for the noise to die before continuing, "And now for the winners. Let me tell you, the judges had a hard decision to make. It was close. Closer than your balls in leather pants, and many of you know how close that is," Mack points at a few people in the audience, "Second place who will be joining us at this summer's Metal Fest.."

Eddie's standing with his hands behind his back, nervously looking down at his feet. Everyone at your table is holding their breath.

"Is our new friends, Corroded Coffin," Mack says, pointing to the group. The boys' mouths fall open, and you jump to your feet, yelling and clapping. Jonathan whistles loudly. Nancy and Robin join you, cheering for Eddie and the rest of the band.

"These guys are definitely the ones to watch at next year's Showdown. Congratulations, guys," Mack joins the rest of the audience clapping. Jeff slings his arm around Eddie's neck as he stands there dumbfounded. The rest group is fist-pumping and high-fiving. 

"Now for this year's Stone Church Showdown winners, one of our long-time favorites, Severed Monkey Heads," Mack points out the other band, and the applause continues, "Thanks for coming out tonight, thrashers. We hope to see you all back at the Church real soon. Now you don't have to go home, but you can't stay here."

After another few minutes of applause, the stage empties, and people start to shuffle out of the building. Nancy and Robin are beginning to get concerned with Steve's disappearance, and you're trying your best to act like you don't notice. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Eddie walking toward the table, a big smile plastered on his face. 

With a smile, you run over to meet him, and he sweeps you up in his arms. 

"Babe, you are so metal you're going to rust in the shower," you say, peppering his face with kisses. 

"You've been saving that one up, haven't you?" he laughs, "but I am pretty metal."

"So metal," you agree. Nancy, Jonathan, and Robin start clapping and congratulating Eddie as he takes your seat and pulls you onto his lap. 

"You're too kind," Eddie says, soaking up their praise. 

"Not that second place isn't a perfectly respectable position, but in my humble opinion, you definitely melted the most faces," Robin says, "You should have come in first."

"Well, thanks, Buckley, I'm going to put you in charge of our fan club," Eddie laughs, "but the good news is Jeff is backstage right now talking to Mack about booking us a few gigs here."

"That's great, Eddie," Nancy says genuinely, "Don't forget to call Dustin when you get home. You know he's waiting by the phone to hear, and I don't want Mike telling him before you get a chance."

"Will do," Eddie says, giving her a salute, "Baby, your knees," Eddies says, noticing your scraped skin and wincing, "I guess we got a little carried away." 

Robin bites her lip, trying to hide her smile as she shakes her head.

"Are you guys taking off?" Eddie asks, looking around the empty club. 

"We're just waiting for Steve," Nancy tells him.

"Oh shit, I was supposed to tell you," Eddie says, smacking his forehead, "I saw him when I came out. He left with some girl and told me to tell you he got a ride."

"What girl?" Nancy asks.

"Did he give you a phone number? She could be a serial killer," Robin panics.

"Calm down, mother hens," Eddie says, making a downward motion with his hands. Jonathan snorts, and Nancy smacks his arm.

"He's getting laid. He's a big boy. He can handle it." Eddie assures them as you try to act indifferent.

"Eww," Robin blanches. At the same time Nancy says, "Really, Eddie?"

"Just get my girl home, okay, Wheeler? If he doesn't show up by tomorrow, we can send out a search party," Eddie turns to you, "I've got to get all this shit back to Gareth's. I'll be home as soon as I can."

"Okay," you say, kissing him and standing up so he can go get packed up. 

"Tripped my ass," Robin says, elbowing you on your way out of the bar.

The house sits dark and imposing, the tall tree's swaying in the light breeze. You wished you had somewhere else to go for the first time since moving in. The key sticks in the lock, being recently cut, not having the wear of an older key, you have to jiggle it a little to get it out. You go straight to your room without bothering with any lights and strip off your clothes. The stockings go into the trash, and you let the shower run, filling the room with steam while you look at your reflection in the mirror. Once you're in the shower, you allow yourself a little cry. Just once, where it won't hurt anyone, your tears disappear into the water flowing over your face. Does it even really count? The peach-scented soap scrubs away your makeup and your sweat and both their touches. Stepping back into your bedroom, you pull a tee over your head, and it's not until you're crawling into bed that you realize it's Steve's. Your hands clutch the hem, wanting it off your skin, but in the end, you leave it and burrow deeper under the covers. 

When you hear the first bump, you're not sure if you have actually been asleep or just hovering in the space between. Heavy, uneven footsteps stomp up the stairs, an occasional thud as something hits the wall. The first giggle leaves you nauseous, an acid burning in your gut. A deep exhale leaves your lungs as you hear his door shut, and you shut your eyes, trying to head back into oblivion. The moans started low at first but quickly ramped up to almost screaming. Obscenities of all kinds yelled in a high-pitched voice accompanied by a rhythmic banging of something hitting the wall. But the first "please, daddy" has you burying your head under the pillows. It seems like it had been going on for hours when you feel Eddie sliding in beside you.

"Are you still awake, baby," he asks, rubbing your back.

"What do you think?" you ask grumpily as the sex olympics continue across the hall.

He chuckles, "Harrington picked a real screamer."

"It's not funny, Eddie. I'm tired. I have to work tomorrow," you roll over to face him.

"Not until tomorrow night. You can sleep late tomorrow morning. You don't have to get up with me," he's trying to be helpful, but rationality has gone out the window with the mood you're in. With a quick succession of bangs and an exaggerated, long shriek, the house goes quiet.

"There you go, baby. All done. Let's go to sleep," he wraps an arm around you, and you rest your head on his chest. Your heart rate is just returning to normal when the whole thing begins again.

"That's it," you say, sitting up, "You need to go say something."

"I'm not going to do that," he says, clearly annoyed by your request, "If he wants to bang her all night, it's his own business. Besides, we're not exactly quiet."

"Are you saying I sound anything close to that?" You point towards the door as the sound of a cat being strangled echoes through the house.

"Not you. I'm talking about me," he tries to joke, tugging you down next to him, "You know we could always make a little noise of our own," his fingers are sliding under your shirt.

"I think I had too much to drink. I'm really tired. Let's just go to sleep," you say, rolling away from him.

He sighs and rolls away from you.

There is nothing but the sound of Eddie's deep breaths filling the room, but you're still awake. Frustrated, you stare up at the dark ceiling, wondering when things got so complicated. The floor feels cold after the warmth of your bed as you leave the room, making sure to close the door as quietly as possible, not wanting to trigger another round of…whatever they were doing to each other in that room. 

Only turning on the small light above the sink, you fill the kettle and pull a box of tea from the cabinet. Once the water is ready, you fill a mug and sit at the table, dunking the tea bag listlessly while you watch the soft waves moving on the pool's surface lit up by the underwater lights. The water is soothing. Its motion lets you shut off your brain and just be still. 

You're taking your first sip when Steve comes padding into the kitchen, hair a mess in just his boxers. He heads straight to the refrigerator. The light from inside makes the circles under his eyes look deeper. He pulls out a can of beer and chugs it while leaning against the kitchen island.

"Finished performing your exorcism?" you ask from your seat at the table.

"Sorry. Am I keeping you up?" he doesn't seem surprised to see you. He didn't even jump. He knew you were there. 

"She's pretty… um…vocal," he says with a little smirk setting his can down on the counter.

"No, I enjoyed it. It sounded like a bad porno," you sip your tea calmly.

"Trust me, that would have been quality porn," he throws out flippantly as he rubs his chest.

Getting up from your seat, you dump your tea in the sink, "I can't believe you brought her here. Did you want to rub it in my face?" you ask, placing your mug on the counter and turning to face him.

"This is my goddamn house," he puts his hands on his hips, "You can't be mad at me for that. You left me there… ready and needing you." 

"You sure didn't have any trouble finding someone to give you what you wanted," you turn to leave, but he grabs your wrist.

"At least I know who I fucked. Who were you thinking about?" he boxes you in against the island, "Who made you cum? Him or me?"

There's a sting as tears fill your eyes, "What do you want from me, Steve?"

"Everything. I want all of you," in this light, his eyes look more brown than green as they bore into you.

"Go back upstairs. She's waiting for you," you keep your voice even trying to sound sure. 

"I don't want her," his hands move gently over your jaw, "Don't you know that? Don't you know you're all I can think about," he uses his thumb to brush away the tear that was running down your cheek.

"Kiss me."

"No," you pull his hands off your face and shake your head.

"Kiss me like you did the last time we were here. Like I'm the only one," he moves closer, putting his hands on your hip.

You turn your head away from him, repulsed, "No, I can't. God, I can smell her all over you."

His mouth opens in shock, his hands drop, and he steps away from you. He's pinching the bridge of his nose and leaning against the counter as you rush out of the room.

To say your shift was miserable would be an understatement. Your sleepless night has left you grouchy and clumsy. The latter you discovered when you bumped into another server who was carrying a tray full of dirty dishes that went crashing to the floor. Fortunately only one broke. The night was busy enough to keep Leigh out of your hair, the one bright spot of the evening. Two tables left without tipping which you’re certain had nothing to do with your sunny disposition. 

Steve is standing on the curb leaning against the BMW when you walk out the front door of Enzo’s at the end of the night. Crossing your arms, you huff and start to walk down the sidewalk.

“Hi, Steve,” you shake your head when you hear Leigh's voice behind you.

“Hi, Leigh,” Steve calls over his shoulder as he catches up to you and stops you with a hand on your arm.

“Where’s Eddie?” you ask, shaking him off. 

“Wayne needed him for something. I told him I’d come and get you,” he looks more like himself today, showered and shaved. And fully sober.

“I’d rather walk.”

“Yeah, well, we both know that’s not happening so can we please just get in the car,” he stands there, arms crossed, voice full of reason. 

Rolling your eyes, you change direction and walk back towards the car, hating that he's right. 

He doesn't say anything else as he pulls onto the road. After he misses a turn you realize he's not taking you home. 

"Where are we going?" you ask as you stare out the window at the houses blurring past.

"Somewhere we can talk," he says, heading toward the edge of town. Turning, you look behind you at the way you came, surprised when he turns off the pavement following a set of tire tracks up a grassy hill. It flattens out when you reach the top, there's an antenna that looks homemade, the headlights bounce off a few pieces on the arms wrapped in tinfoil. When Steve cuts the engine, the lights from downtown seem brighter. Hawkins looks serene spread out below you like a picture from a book.  

"I'm sorry," he says quietly, keeping his eyes on the view.

"For which part?" you ask incredulously. There have been too many transgressions.

"I'm sorry you weren't the one in my bed last night," he's looking at you now, gauging your response.

Covering your face with your hands, you slide them up, raking them through your hair before you get out of the car and slam the door. 

A weariness hangs off your shoulders, one that you are too young to be carrying, one that comes later when you've been beaten down by life. It clings to this whole town. Disaster after disaster breaking down its residents, leaving them to clean up the broken pieces. Leaning against the car, you wonder if you'll ever make it out. 

The car door opens and closes. And Steve is standing in front of you. 

"We're just hurting each other," you say, trying to get him to understand. 

"What's hurting us is being apart," he's so sure. How he can be that way when you feel nothing but confused.

"Remember what I told you about when you first showed up with…Eddie. Fuck, I can't even say his name anymore," he scrubs his face with hands.

"Maybe that should tell you something, Steve," you say, trying to catch his eyes as he looks all around the hilltop, "This is wrong to do to him."

"I know, okay. It's eating me up. After what we went through," his hands move to his hips, "I tried. I really tried to stay away from you. When you moved in I was so fucked up. I was so alone. I watched you with him. At first I thought I just wanted someone to look at me the way you look at him but I was wrong. I wanted you. And just having you around was enough but then he…offered you. I couldn't say no," he moves closer, his hand slides down your arm until he can wrap his fingers around yours, "I wanted to kiss you just once and you said yes. After, I noticed it. You were looking at me…the way I wanted you to. I hadn’t seen it before."

"No, Steve-"

"Why did you say yes?" he's asked you this question before, you didn't want to answer, didn't want to think about it but you knew. When you stay silent he steps closer, his body brushing against you, he asks you again, "Why did you say yes?"

His eyes are so hopeful, his heart wide open and you can't hide when he's looking at you like this, so you try and look away. His hand moves to your neck holding you in place. Your head is swimming, and you can't think straight with him this close.

 "Tell me," his hand tightens on your neck, not allowing you to run from his eyes. 

"Because I wanted you," you cry out.

"And now?" his eyes are pleading.

"I still do."

The words spill from your lips, a defeated cry, too weak to fight any longer. His thumb traces your bottom lip just before he seals his mouth over yours, claiming you, and there's no going back. The sounds of his longing escape into the night as his tongue delves inside, hot and slick. He's an arsonist, setting you a blaze, your whole body fully consumed in the white-hot flame, nothing existing beyond this kiss.

Strong hands dig into your thighs as you're lifted onto the car's hood. The cool metal chills your exposed skin when your skirt rides higher as you spread your legs, the hard length trapped in his jeans pressing against your wet panties. The kiss breaks as your shirt is peeled over your head. He licks his way down your neck while his hands rip down the cups of your bra, exposing your soft full breasts into the cool night air, leaving your nipples incredibly hard and aching. His wet, open mouth kisses a painfully slow path until he finally fastens onto your riotously sensitive nipple. He moves from one to the other and back again. The combination of his light stubble and grazing teeth has you singing a chorus of desperate moans. 

"Steve," your soft plea brings his mouth back to you while his hands take turns teasing your breasts, sending sparks to your core.

Your greedy fingers work their way under his shirt, needy for the feel of him. Knowing what you want, he pauses to remove his shirt, a silent pledge that he will never deny you his body. All the beautiful freckled skin covering his lithe muscles is finally accessible to your covetous hands and mouth. There's not an inch you don't want to taste and touch. 

A gruff hum sounds from his throat as your lips close over his collarbone while your nails scratch through the trail of light hair on his belly. His patience is slipping, he cups your jaw bringing your mouth back to him to indulge in one more sweet kiss before he gently encourages you back onto your elbows. His hands stroke up your legs, the stiff corduroy of your skirt is roughly pushed around your waist, and your panties are gone a moment later. Your teeth bite into the flesh of your lip as you watch him free his hard thick cock from his jeans.

"Tell me to stop," his voice shakes while he glides his fat tip up and down the folds of your drenched core. 

"I can't," you gasp as he bumps your clit.

"Please, tell me to stop," he pleads. The two of you stand at the edge of betrayal, your feet struggling for purchase on the rocky cliff. His loyalty for Eddie a fraying teether just about to snap.

"I need you," wrapping your leg over his hip, you nudge him closer, "I want this," you’re too far gone to think of the consequences. 

He surges inside, every inch of him stretching you to complete fullness. Euphoria spins dizzyingly, taking hold as he begins to stroke into you. 

"You feel so fucking good," he breaths, his cock draging along your insides, "I knew.." His hand presses into your stomach while his thumb circles your clit. "I knew once with you was never going to be enough." You knew it too. All along from the very first kiss.

Lowering your head, you lie flat on the car's hood. The rigid steel is unyielding against your back, his wet saliva cools on your breasts, you look up and see stars. The black night sky teams with the glimmering light, and he sees them too, reflected in your eyes. 

"You feel so…" he captures your hand and places it just above your pelvis, covering it with his, pressing down so you can feel him moving under your skin, "you feel like…." he stutters as his tip kisses your cervix, "Mine." 

His deep voice is so full of emotion as his rhythm picks up, and he drives into you harder, "Tell me you're mine," he begs.

"I can't," you can't give him this, he's already taken too much. Above you more stars appear like an enchantment as your eyes dilate and adjust. 

"Please," a piece of his heart has broken off and lodged in his plea, another one he'll never get back.

"I love you," his confession cracks you open, your heart bursting in exultation and agonizingly breaking, "I do. I love you."

"Tell me," His hips snap punishingly, "Say you're mine." His body owns you while his heart begs for you. Tears blur your vision, and the light from the stars fuse together and streak across the sky. You begin to climb toward the edge, almost frightened at how high he's taking you. 

He tugs you up, hugging you closer, his heart drumming wildly against yours, and you wrap your arms and legs around him, trying to protect you both, his cock still thrusting inside-pleasure mixing with the heartache. 

"I love you...I love you…I love you," he chants against your mouth. The words long held back, his only defense against you destroyed, and now they tumble out eternal and unrestrained. 

"Please, I love you," tears run down his cheeks, mingling with yours. Flowing past your lips until their salty taste mixes in his kiss. 

"I love you too," you quaver, the words rushing out, finally admitting the truth as your climax hits and you fall, waves of ecstasy cresting endlessly, body trembling around him, the verity that you love them both shattering you into thousands of sharp pieces that slice you from the inside. 

Your forehead rests against his, fingers smoothing along his jaw, your body still shaking and milking him, you say it again, "I love you, Steve," wanting him to know he's not alone, wanting your words to soften his fall. His muscles tense as he clings to you, a sharp inhale of breath through his parted lips that keep brushing over yours, exhaling a groan as he comes with his cock buried impossibly deep, warmth filling you as he pulses. 

"But I'm not yours."

“I know it’s not supposed to be like this,” you say, sitting in his car parked in front of the house, “I love you, but I love him too.”

“So what do we do now?” he asks, looking up at the light coming from your room. 

“I don’t know,” you know you're hurting him but you're being honest, “Can you give me some time?”

He nods his head but doesn’t look at you. “Are you coming in?” you ask with your hand on the door handle.

“No, I’m going to drive around for a bit,” he tries, giving you a little smile. 

“Okay,” the door creaks as you open it and climb out. 

He leans toward the open door, “I never would have shared you.”

“Isn’t that what you're doing now?” you close the door without waiting for an answer and watch as he backs down the driveway.

Part 7 The End is live.

AN: Thanks for your patience. I know it's been a while between chapters. This one had me in a state. I felt like it ripped out my insides and put them on a platter. Let me take a moment to thank the folks who poked and prodded and seasoned them up for your consumption. @loveshotzz @myobmaya @superblysubpar @boomhauer

Tag List @boomhauer @onlyangel-444 @breehumbles @myobmaya @arsenicred @kiki17483 @stolen-in-moonlight @sometimesamysometimesjo @ladybug0095 @sammararaven @tlclick73 @munsonology @totally-bogus-timelady @katelyndestini95 @munsonswhore86 @kelsietilley-blog @figmentofquinn @champagne-glamour @ilovecupcakesandtea @bimbobaggins69 @munsonsgirl71 @sidthedollface2 @eddiessweetheart86 @miarosso @micheledawn1975 @eddiescorrodedcoffin86 @takeitsteddie @tiannamortis @sllooney @manda-panda-monium @prestinalove @sunfl0wern1kk1 @pbeckn26 @yogizzz @justmeandmymeanderingthoughts @samunson83 @spidey-fez @loving-and-dreaming @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn @harrys-tittie @hoesbloated

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfic #steve harrington #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #eddie munson smut #eddie munson #steve harrington smut #steve harrington fanfic #stranger things fanfic #steddie x reader #steddie series

[mico-evelyn1]

Everything you need to know so far about the NHL all-star weekend ↴

[article: NHL All-Star, this is just a summary]

📍Scotiabank Arena, Toronto, CANADA

🗓️ February 1-3

FAN VOTE IS BACK: you will get to vote for 12 players, 8 skaters and 4 goalies. You can submit a ballout 10 times.

FEBRUARY 1: PLAYERS DRAFT

A player (the captain) will be paired with a celebrity. They will pick 11 players (9 skaters and 2 goalies)

Entertainment

Man of the Year will be announced

PWHL (Professional Women's Hockey League) will have a 3-on-3 (more information below)

FEBRUARY 2: SKILLS COMPETITION

12 Players will compete in 8 events. The player with most points takes home $1 million (USD) (or $1,329,136 in CAD). Each player will compete in 4 of 6 events. THE EVENTS:

Fastest Skater

Hardest Shot

Stick-Handling

One-Timers

Passing

Accuracy Shot

Top 8 point-earners will advance to the 7th event: the SHOOTOUT-> each player will choose a goalie to shoot against.

The top six point-earners will advance to the 8th and final round: the OBSTACLE COURSE-> points doubled.

FEBRUARY 3: ALL-STAR GAME

3-on-3 tournament between 4 teams, winning team receives $1 million (USD)

There has already been a player chosen from each team (here are the players): [Name, team, position]

Frank Vatrano, ANA, F

Clayton Keller, ARI, F

David Pastrnak, BOS, F

Rasmus Dahlin, Buff, D

Elias Lindholm, CGY, F

Sebastian Aho, CAR, F

Connor Bedard, CHI, F (injured)

Nathan Mackinnon, COL, F

Boone Jenner, CBJ, F

Jake Oettinger, DAL, G

Alex DeBrincet, DET, F

Connor McDavid, EDM, F

Sam Reinhart, FLA, F

Cam Talbot, LAK, G

Kirill Kaprizov, MIN, F

Nick Suzuki, MTL, F

Filip Forsberg, NSH, F

Jack Hughes, NJD, F

Mathew Barzel, NYI, F

Igor Shesterkin, NYR, G

Brady Tkachuk, OTT, F

Travis Konecny, PHI, F

Sidney Crosby, PIT, F

Tomas Hertl, SJS, F

Oliver Bjorkstrand, SEA, F

Robert Thomas, STL, F

Nikita Kucherov, TBL, F

Auston Matthews, TOR, F

Quinn Hughes, VAN, D

Jack Eichel, VGK, F (injured)

Tom Wilson, WSH, F

Connor Hellebuyck, WPG, G

Vincent Trochek (New York Rangers) and Kyle Connor (Winnipeg Jets), to replace Connor Bedard (Chicago Blackhawks) and Jack Eichel (Vegas Golden Knights).

FEBRUARY 1st ENTERTAINMENT

PWHL 3-on-3 showcase

There will be 2 teams 12 players on each, 10 skaters and 2 goalies.

Team King (Cassie Campbell-Pascall): named after Billie Jean King

Team Kloss (Meghan Duggan): named after Ilana Kloss

MASCOT SHOWDOWN

Thursday 1st, 6:00-7:00 p.m: Dodgeball

Friday 2nd, 5:00-6:00 p.m: Skills Competition

Saturday 3rd, 12:00-1:00 p.m: Street Hockey Game 

Sunday 4th, 1:00-2:00 p.m: Musical Chairs

2:00 PM: Championship Trophy and "Most Valuable Mascot" Belt Presentations

THE FAN VOTE RESULTS: [name, team, position, votes]

Thatcher Demko, VAN, G: 1,398,699

William Nylander, TOR, F: 1,393,578

Cale Makar, COL, D: 1,065,367

Elias Pettersson, VAN, F: 976,716

Leon Draisaitl, EDM, F: 967,975

Mitchell Marner, TOR, F: 946,154

J.T. Miller, VAN, F: 839,215

Morgan Rielly, TOR, D: 830,480

Brock Boeser, VAN, F: 762,378

Sergei Bobrovsky, FLA, G: 712,100

Alexandar Georgiev, COL, G: 584,071

Jeremy Swayman, Boston Bruins, G: 578,739

10 players have been selected and you can vote for 2 more skaters:

Auston Matthews

William Nylander

Nathan MacKinnon

Cale Makar

Connor McDavid

Leon Draisaitl

Nikita Kucherov

Jack Hughes

David Pastranak

Elias Pettersson

Quinn Hughes and J.T. Miller were voted in to participate in the All-Star skills competition.

NHL All Star Jerseys:

🔴Pacific Division

🔵Atlantic Division

⚪Metropolitan Division

🟡Central Division

THE CAPTAINS HAVE BEEN ANNOUNCED!

Team Matthews: Auston Matthews, Justin Bieber. Assistant Captains: Morgan Rielly.

Team McDavid: Connor McDavid, Will Arnett. Assistant Captain: Leon Draisaitl.

Team Mackinnon: Nathan MacKinnon, Tate McRae. Assistant Captain: Cale Makar.

Team Hughes: Quinn & Jack Hughes, Michael Bublé.

#update: jack Hughe is out due to injury and will be replaced with Jesper Brett and Matthew barzal took his place in the skill comp #and Elias petersson will be Quinn’s assistant captain #if i missed anything add it in the tags also this used to be reblogged when new info came out so i decided just to put it into 1 big blog #nhl all star game #nhl all star 24 #nhl #quinn hughes #jack hughes #sidney crosby #cale makar #nathan mackinnon #connor mcdavid #auston matthews #leon draisaitl #jeremy swayman #nick suzuki #sam reinhart #morgan rielly #william nylander #brady tkachuk #cecilias nhl post

[hottest-fromsoft-monster]

Without further ado, the winner of the Hottest Fromsoft Monster Tournament and the great Scalie vs Furry finals showdown is…

Bloodborne’s Cleric Beast!

A special shoutout to the monsters that just missed out on the finals, Mergo’s Wet Nurse and Presence. And, of course, to our runner up Kalameet.

There’s been plenty of memorable moments during the tournament, from Capra Demon’s 4chan post resurfacing, Bloodletting Beast and Blood-Starved Beast becoming a bonded pair, the host’s favourite being kicked out on the first day, and Kalameet pushing past the Wet Nurse by getting 100s of votes in the last hour, fuelled by scalie determination.

I’ve really enjoyed hosting the tournament and I hope that you‘ve all had fun seeing your favourites showcased. Uniting Tumblr’s Fromsoft monsterfuckers is one of my proudest achievements at this rate, honestly.

There will be a Fromsoft Armoured Hotties tournament soon, once the host (myself) has taken a little break. I think I deserve a rest! I’ll use this blog to advertise that tournament when it’s ready, and occasionally a Fromsoft related poll if one arises.

Thank you all for for taking part, it means a lot that it got as much appreciation as it did :)

#host posts #finals #results #bloodborne #dark souls #elden ring #demon’s souls #sekiro: shadows die twice

[markantonys]

Someone on Twitter:

"Have we even had a scene showcasing Rand's potential/ power? Neither the Eye of the World nor the "battle“ with Ishamael felt like Rand's accomplishments I think."

I'm tired. 1. The Eye absolutely counts. 2. Okay I was underwhelmed with the Ishy battle I wanted it to be more flashy cause that was supposed to be his declaring himself Dragon moment and that definitely didn't land for me because of that. 3. Did Turak and his soldiers not count? That was brutal and efficient and definitely shows his potential imo. Rand doesn't even reach the same power levels that he does at the Eye bookwise til at least Knife of Dreams so like...I think people need to chill

man i'm so tired of people who have no idea how power progression is supposed to work lmao if they want rand to be having flashy big showdowns in the first 2 seasons then they'd better be prepared for him to feel stagnant and/or like a letdown in future seasons 🤷 you just know they'd be going "but why isn't rand able to do X in this season when he could do it LAST season?" if the show did exactly what the early books did in constantly giving rand a big blowout moment at the end of one book and then resetting him to being a helpless baby channeler at the start of the next one.

as for his ishy showdown not being ~flashy~ enough or not being ~his moment~, that's literally the point. it's a pyrrhic victory for rand - he was able to defeat ishy, but absolutely would not have been capable of it without his friends & moiraine assisting him (and risking their own lives to assist him, at that), and i'm sure he's very aware of this. this will motivate him to be desperate enough to improve his channeling skills that he's willing to get training from a forsaken. simple as that. if he was already skilled enough to have a big exciting moment of self-obtained victory in 2x08, then why would he need asmodean to train him in s3? audiences wouldn't buy him being desperate enough to resort to something so drastic.

especially since the show has upped the threat level of the forsaken massively and is actually making them frightening villains. book!asmodean is sad wet and pathetic for all of his onscreen-time despite his evil backstory, so it doesn't feel that risky for rand to take him as a teacher, but if show!asmodean is made more competent & scary in the same way as ishy, lanfear, and moggy (based on her one scene) have been, then that means rand is taking a much bigger risk in the eyes of the audience and we thus need a much stronger reason to believe he would be wiling to take such a risk. rand needs to consistently fail in the early seasons so that he's motivated to improve his skills by any means necessary in s3, same as how nynaeve needs to consistently fail so that she's motivated to break her block by any means necessary. basic cause and effect here, people! basic character progression! characters need to fail so that they can grow, and people who do not understand this have no business criticizing the storytellers who do understand it (not directing this at you here anon haha just at the annoying crew whining about rand and nynaeve Not Getting To Succeed At Anything).

"bUt EgWeNE-" egwene is not the same character as rand, and thus is not developing at the exact same rate as rand, and thus is allowed to have her victories whenever it suits HER progression, even if rand hasn't gotten his victories yet. egwene's victory came in 2x08 because s2 is when her biggest formative storyline of the early books occurs, whereas in s3/TSR she takes a step back while rand comes to greater prominence with HIS biggest formative storyline of the early books. and egwene sure as hell had her share of failures in s2 before getting her victory, just the same as rand even if he needs to cook a little longer before getting his own victories.

#anonymous #answered #wot book spoilers

[perpetual-stories]

How to Write an Action Scene

Happy Thursday everyone! I decided to work on a different post today and take a break from posting literally essential devices.

Today this post will be all about action scenes and how to write them.

Let's get to it!

4 Types of Fight Scenes

First we need to learn that there are various types of fighting styles or rather common fighting scenes that we see in the media and in writing.

Fight scenes can take on many iterations, but most fall into one of four categories:

Hand-to-hand combat: These fight scenes focus on the abilities and limitations of the human body. Boxing matches, martial arts battles, and straight up brawls between the good guy and the bad guy all fit this category. While there’s more to these films than mere fist fights, they’re nonetheless remembered for the fighting styles they showcase.

Fights with weapons: Weapon-based fights date all the way back to classical theater. For instance, Shakespeare concludes Hamlet with a fatal sword fight between Prince Hamlet and the aggrieved Laertes. Contemporary fights often involve guns, and indeed nearly every action movie of the past several decades seems to involve a shootout of some sort.

Fights on the run: Many of the best fight scenes pass through multiple locations before reaching a climax. Think of Indiana Jones battling villains on a train or James Bond dispatching villains using all manners of cars, boats, and helicopters.

Fights involving superpowers: Many a great fight scene has functioned as a showcase for characters’ superpowers—from the superhuman strength of a main character to the shapeshifting menace of a supervillain. These fights can thrill audiences as they push the boundaries of possibility, but writers should take care to sculpt these scenes carefully and not let them devolve into a checklist of cool stunts.

The Challenges of Writing Action Sequences

The art of writing fight scenes involves two main challenges.

Technical writing style. Whether you’re writing descriptive paragraphs in a novel or stage directions in a script or screenplay, you must be able to articulate the fight you envision in your head without wearing down your reader with technical drivel. Balancing specific details of your action sequences with a propulsive story isn’t easy to do. Sometimes a great fight sequence doesn’t come together in a first draft, so focus your revisions on clarifying each action and providing vivid detail without besieging your reader with dull technical terms.

 Storytelling during fight scenes. Your fight scene has to be part of your overall narrative, not a diversion from it. The key elements of a good story—character development, rising conflict, and detailed worldbuilding—must not be abandoned just because a fight is happening. A great fight scene will flow seamlessly from the story that comes before it into the story that comes after it.

Remember the actual actions of fighting are quick and sudden movements and it is often best to portray that in your writing with quick, short sentences. Unless you feel the need to write lengthy sentences that is!

Tips on How to Write a Fight Scene

Plan fight scenes to logically fit with your overall story. Some amateur writers use fight scenes as irrelevant set pieces—fixed moments in a book or script that other plot elements center around. In the best writing, however, fight scenes serve the overall narrative, not the other way around. When evaluating a brawl or a battle showdown in your narrative, ask yourself: Does it move my story forward? Does its inclusion align with my main character’s motivations? Does the story naturally flow into and out of this brawl?

 Include some technical details, but not too many. When you’re putting a fight scene into a script, you’ll likely want to indicate some degree of choreography so that directors and actors can envision what you have in mind. Likewise, in a novel or short story, you’ll want your fight scenes to have specific detail so they stand out from the pack. At the same time, recognize that the way to a reader’s heart isn’t through minutia. It’s through long arcs in character and story. Bogging down a fight scene in technical details will distract from those arcs and disengage a reader.

 Write in first person to try something different. Most fight scenes are told in the third person by an omniscient narrator who can describe every detail from every character’s perspective. Omniscient narrators can be great for worldbuilding, but they’re standard issue when it comes to action scenes. By contrast, a first person narrator provides a visceral perspective on a fight. Which is more unique: a narrator telling you that a boxer gained the upper hand in a fight, or the boxer himself describing the sudden shift from imminent to defeat to looming victory? First person narration connects your story to real life and can promote a deeper level of investment from your reader.

Things to Consider When Writing Action Scenes

hand to hand combat are often quick sudden movements and can cause the characters to tire out faster, unless they have good training such as boxers, who know how to use their space, distance and energy wisely.

things can get messy! There will be blood and sweat. Remember these can get in the eyes and cause irritation ad prohibit the fighter from being at their best.

Contrary to beliefs, adrenaline will not always give you the boost you need. Sometimes it will inhibit you from moving or causing damage to your opponent. It can make the fighter shake, throw inaccurate punches, jabs, weapons, sorcery, etc. Sometimes the nerves get the best and prohibit the character from expelling spells from their hands/fingertips, wants or magic object.

Weapons can and will break. What will the characters do then?

If the character isn't the best at fighting, will they use objects around them to protect themselves? Will they fight or run (flight).

There you have it! Something different from what I have been posting.

Like, reblog and follow if you find these helpful!

#writing #writing advice #writing tips #original writing #writers on tumblr #writersconnection #writerscommunity #short story #storytelling #writersupportingwriters