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srjlvr · 2 months

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꒦꒷ enhypen ! oopsies…! fans actually caught your relationship….

in which you and your partner are really awful at keeping your relationship as a secret. || Idol-ot7!Enhypen X Idol-fem!reader … full fluff!! … no warnings!! … not proofread<3 || note. this one is very similar to the shipping scenarios, but not quite the same.

ε ї з — heeseung ; having temporary matching tattoos.

you and heeseung felt a bit childish in your last hangout at your dorm. you told him you ordered those little temporary tattoos that kids do these days and joked about doing it. one thing led to another and both of you ended up with a weird heart shape right on the back of your hand.

“i think it looks cute” you looked at it and smiled.

heeseung chuckled and kissed your cheek, “but you’re cuter”

“if i could i would get a permanent tattoo with you”

“our fans will probably notice it if we do”

you forgot the next day that both of you have a performance to do.

no one noticed it, it was as if it never happened, your staff members and manager didn’t even notice, your own group members were too oblivious to it as well.

it was only after your performance that a hashtag with both of your names became popular on every platform that ever existed. fans going crazy and posting pictures of your performance with the tattoo circled, then compared to heeseung’s picture with the tattoo as well.

not only that, you actually uploaded a photo where it was clearly seen and not even a bit hidden. your company thought they were fast enough to delete it, but fans are much quicker these days.

it was very much needless to say that you found yourself in your CEO’s office the next day.

ε ї з — jay ; performing and showing everyone your matching bracelets.

jay had recently bought the both of you matching bracelets. he knows you love bracelets and he’d do anything to make you happy.

your bracelet had a few charms he picked that perfectly completed his own charms, if you ask any other person, they’d tell you it’s the perfect matching symbol.

being too excited about the bracelet idea, you forgot to take it off before your comeback performance.

at first fans thought it was just a beautiful bracelet your stylists gave you.

that was until you decided to show it again on live, and jay decided going on live and showing his matching one five minutes after your live ended.

“is that a new bracelet? yes actually, isn’t it so pretty?” you answered your fans’ questions and showed it off.

“show us your bracelet?” jay read one comment and immediately showed it on screen, “i love this bracelet a lot, i don’t think i’ll ever take it down” he chuckled.

not even a minute passed and the whole comment section began asking about his bracelet again and why it looks so similar to yours. jay’s eyes widened and quickly came up with an excuse to end the live.

“please tell me you took it off before going on live” he told you over the phone.

“i did not, why?” you asked innocently.

“i guess i’ll see you tomorrow at the CEO’s office, i love you” he chuckled.

“oh,” you started laughing, “it’s about time we reveal it actually”

ε ї з — jake ; mindlessly hanging out in public.

life had been so stressful lately for both you and jake. him being on tour and you being too busy with your upcoming comeback just added up to the stress you’ve been already having.

you barely found time to hang out or even have video calls. the time difference was sometimes too much for you and you found yourself going days over days without texting properly.

“i miss you so much” he said in one of your very rare video calls.

“i missed you so much more” you replied quietly.

you’ve been on a call for more than four hours, either of you wanted to hang up, you don’t know when will be the next time you’ll be able to talk like that.

as soon as he came back to korea, he texted you, asking to meet up and hang out at the very late night hours.

you being so drunk in love, missed your partner and had to hold him again in your arms, you agreed instantly and made your way to the dorm as fast as the light.

after reuniting he suggested both of you will get out and get some fresh air, the inside was suffocating both of you.

you decided to have a walk in the nearest park and even go to that one arcade he told you he’d take you to when he has the chance. you ended the night with some ramen you bought from the closest seven eleven store.

this idea of publicly hanging out without your managers or even group members knowing was a mindless idea, but you missed each other too much to care.

fans went crazy the day after when dispatch revealed pictures of the both of you hanging out, and just then you realized you fucked up.

ε ї з — sunghoon ; posting the same location photos.

you and sunghoon recently went on a vacation in a very quiet yet beautiful place. no one could recognize you no matter where you went. it was the perfect place for the both of you.

sunghoon brought his cameras, and you as well brought yours. of course, the perfect couple would also have some shared interests.

“the view is so beautiful” you took in the beautiful view you were looking at, and raised your camera to take a picture of the beautiful place.

“you’re way prettier than the view” sunghoon back-hugged you with one hand and raised a camera with the other to take a picture of the view as well.

you chuckled at his remark and shook your head, “you’re the prettiest view i’ve ever seen”

a few days later and your vacation sadly ended. on your way you asked sunghoon for suggestions, he told you which ones he thinks were the prettiest and you happily agreed.

the next day you uploaded the pictures you were discussing on with sunghoon, and got lots of compliments for your little hobby.

it didn’t take that long for sunghoon to also upload a post. you being a supportive girlfriend opened your fake account to give him a like and look at the post your pretty boyfriend uploaded.

your smile quickly faded when you noticed his pictures were oddly similar to yours. you entered the comment section and fans were already discussing on whether this is all a coincidence or not.

you decided to leave the post on, and hope for the best, knowing that you and sunghoon are probably going to get an angry lecture.

ε ї з — sunoo ; uploading the wrong tiktok.

you and sunoo filmed the new comeback’s challenge after constant beggings that it would be only the two of you.

the staff members were so supportive of your relationship and hyped you up a lot.

“let’s do one for fun and a serious one” he told you and you nodded.

“wait what do you mean one for fun?” you asked.

“one that i’d keep for me only to watch” he cutely smiled and hugged you.

you wondered what he was up to but cooperated and did your best for this tiktok, on the few freestyle seconds, he kissed your cheek and winked at the camera while you were left blushing.

“that was the one for fun?” you asked and he nodded, “we can’t show that to fans, they’ll know we’re a couple the second they see it”

you filmed another one with a cute pose at the end and agreed it’d be the best one to upload. you thanked everyone as you were called back to your dressing room, you kissed goodbye your boyfriend and signaled him to text you.

a few hours passed and you noticed enhypen uploaded a new tiktok. you tapped the screen to give it a like even before watching it until the end.

you focused on your dance moves and the way your chemistry with your boyfriend was displayed over the screen, but your mouth dropped to the floor when you noticed the last seconds of the tiktok.

it was the wrong one. and it was too late to delete because fans were already reposting it and going crazy over it.

ε ї з — jungwon ; forgetting to hide your framed photobooth pictures.

due to their upcoming reality show participation, enhypen members were required to clean their rooms from any suspicious things that fans might see.

the reality show showed enhypen members’ own room and dorm in general. so the rooms had to be very cleaned and organized.

jungwon took in the request very seriously and cleaned every part and any corner of his room, or so he thought.

your framed pictures stood there right next to his bed stand, he can’t go sleep without it being right next to his head and he forgot to hide it somewhere else.

he only figured about it when they showed him his own room in the show, he tried to hide it and tried to stay unbothered as much as he can so fans won’t notice anything suspicious.

too bad fans have 6/6 vision and they’re actually specialists at finding stuff like these.

as soon as the show was aired, fans tried to find out who’s the mysterious girl in the framed picture who’s seen kissing his cheek and smiling widely with him.

luckily, the picture was very much blurred so it was hard for fans to see, it was an easy pass for the company to say that these pictures just so happened to be pictures with his sister.

the company’s plans were ruined when you decided to post a vlog in your room and there sat the same framed picture behind you. it was very far and really hard to notice, but as we all know your fans are crazy.

“you forgot to hide it too?” you giggled over the phone as he laughed as well.

“i love this picture too much i guess”

“i don’t regret not hiding it”

“me neither”

ε ї з — riki ; posting a selca with his sunglasses.

everyone knows about riki’s obsession with sunglasses. he’s like the sunglasses king.

you yourself even bought him a few sunglasses that he tends to wear very often. fans don’t notice it since they always assume it’s always him who buys them.

however, there’s one particular sunglasses that riki has been known for. it’s one of the rarest sunglasses and riki decided to draw some random things on the sides of it and showed it to his fans.

he was so proud of himself, showing his pure talent on his favorite sunglasses, it’s actually one of the sunglasses you bought him as well, but no one has to know that.

you asked for his sunglasses one day, you felt cute and your outfit matched perfectly with his sunglasses.

you also asked him to take a few photos of you with his sunglasses. he smiled through the whole process.

“wait let’s do it like that” you said as you bent down and held the sunglasses that were sitting right on the end of your nose.

“you look so cute” he complimented, “focus on taking the pictures instead of simping!” you ordered and he laughed.

“you can keep them to yourself! it looks better on you”

“i’d never do that to my very lovely boyfriend! ….but if you insist then i will”

one of the first mistakes you made was not noticing a glass window was right behind you, and so the reflection of riki was much seen behind you.

you uploaded the pictures, feeling so cute and excited about the outfit with your boyfriend’s sunglasses.

your second mistake was forgetting that those sunglasses were only unique to riki since he designed and drew on it on his own.

it didn’t take that long for fans to notice his sunglasses and his reflection behind you.

PERM TAG-LIST ; @sungwhoonz @ohdudehesflirting @unlikelysublimekryptonite @deobiis @manooffline @miumiuoi @in-somnias-world @lovelovelovebts @filmofhybe @wonbinsnovia @daegutowns @aurumiee @soobywon @dhriti-stories @ariadores @firstclassjaylee @watamotee33 @moons-v @s00buwu @hoonheepretty @jjeoni-7 @dimplewonie (bold means cannot be tagged)

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mystra-midnight · 5 months

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— CALL ME LITTLE SUNSHINE | part i

pairing: rockstar ! eddie x innocent ! reader

tags: pet names. dirty talk. making-out. fingering. oral; (fem receiving). marking; (hickeys). loss of virginity. corruption kink. semi-public sex. eddie is entirely pussy whipped.

w/c: 6.7k.

a/n: welcome to part one! it's been a hot minute since i've posted anything as thought out and in-depth as this so if you could take a few minutes to reblog or comment some feedback, i'd very much appreciate it. ♥

"Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin! Corroded Coffin!"

The ever-growing crowd had been calling for the band the entire time you'd been waiting in line, which, after looking at the watch tucked beneath the sleeve of your cardigan, had been almost an hour and a half. The chanting had gotten so loud that, at some point, you'd stopped being able to hear yourself think, instead relying on Steve's large hand clasped around your own to tell you when to shuffle forward.

You felt out of place, unlike Steve and Robin. Everywhere you looked, people were dressed in leather and chains; piercings here, there, and everywhere; fishnets; big black platform boots; heavy make-up; and tattoos. And then there was you, dressed in a simple summer dress, hugging a knitted cardigan around your shoulders, wearing strappy sandals, and looking like someone right out of the Stepford Wives.

Other people noticed; you'd swear it, though no one said anything. As you looked between people, you caught a few of them looking at you, their expressions a motley of emotions that made you shift uncomfortably. Metal music had never been a particular favourite of yours, and concerts like this—where people were packed in like sardines—definitely weren't your preferred scene. The thought of being alone, snuggled beneath a blanket, and enjoying a glass of Moscato was much more appealing.

But you'd promised Steve and Robin that you'd come.

Well, no, not exactly. You hadn't promised either of them anything; instead, you'd given in to their constant whining. Steve and Robin had hung themselves from your legs as though they were dramatic, tantruming toddlers, pouting, and begging you to go with them. And after promising to cook dinner every night for a week—no, wait, a month!—your resolve finally broke.

That was how you found yourself finally walking through the double doors of the stadium. A gust from the air conditioner greeted you as you stepped inside, blowing your hair into your eyes and lip gloss, but it was a welcomed relief.

"I think that took literally forever." Your feet were already aching, and the thought of standing for another two hours was mentally and physically exhausting. Sure, you'd listened to some of Corroded Coffin's songs and thought they were good, but you weren't looking forward to standing in a sweaty crowd.

"Right. That was crazy, and they only have two scanners going. It's going to take forever to get everyone inside." Steve replied. His fingers tightened around yours when he felt your strides slowing, and he turned to notice your attention was on the merchandise display a few feet away. Following your gaze, he found the band tees hung up on a pinboard, images pressed onto the fronts and backs of each one. Some showed the band's tour dates and the cities they were scheduled to stop in, while others had stylised versions of Eddie's face.

Steve practically beamed with pride. He was proud of how far Eddie had come since they'd met—from school freak to famous rockstar. It was a big change, but a well-deserved one, given all the shit he'd been through. Somehow, he'd remained modest and hadn't forgotten where he'd come from; he'd gotten his uncle out of the trailer and into a two-bedroom apartment; he thanked his uncle and friends during every interview; he'd even forgiven his childhood bullies, though he never forgot what they'd done to him.

"Come on," he said while tugging your hand. "We should get in before the show starts," he said when you hesitated, teeth tugging on your lower lip as you continued to eye the shirts, bandanas, and posters on display. It was called the Upside Down Tour, and the band had released a limited-edition shirt for the tour.

"I want to get a shirt; this is the first concert like this I've ever been to. I want something to remember it." You explained. You wriggled your fingers in his, hinting that you wanted him to let go. If you'd have blinked, you might have missed it, but you swore that Steve and Robin shared a look—the kind that carried secret conversations and amusement.

Your heart stuttered in your chest, painful and sudden, while your mind raced to a dozen terrible thoughts. What if they regretted bringing you along, even though they'd practically begged you to go? What if they were angry? Fuck, what if they hated you? You must have looked like you were about to pass out because Steve took pity on you, reassuringly squeezing your hand as he stepped closer.

"Shit, sorry," he apologised with a crooked smile. "It's all good. We can pick one up after the show, okay? We need to get inside before security locks the doors."

"Oh," you answered. You ducked your head to hide your face, which felt like it was burning with embarrassment. You suddenly felt childish for letting your anxiety get the better of you, especially given that this was Steve and Robin, who had been nothing but kind from the moment you'd first met them. "Of course. After the show."

As though she sensed your distress, which she more than likely did because you radiated emotions like the sun radiated heat, Robin grabbed your other hand, lacing her fingers with yours, and gave you a sympathetic smile that mimicked the one on Steve's face. You loved them, but sometimes you hated them. So often, Robin and Steve seemed to be on the same page, on the same mental wavelength, having entire conversations with the lofting of a brow or half-smirk while you were on your own, a stranger looking in.

You tried not to think about it and tried desperately not to let negative emotions get the better of you tonight. You were at a concert with two amazing people, about to see a fantastic band play live. It was going to be a good night. Steve showed his ticket to one of the women managing the traffic flow, who motioned down a steep staircase into a standing pit right in front of the stage.

As you predicted, the crowd was already massive; there were too many people to fit comfortably within the stadium, but no one would complain as long as everyone behaved. And everyone would behave if they were able to see the band play. It wasn't long before the lights went down, and the crowd's cheering rose to a thunderous crescendo.

You felt the violent vibrations of the bass guitar as the bassist began the opening rift—how it rattled the ivory cage around your lungs until your entire body swayed to the rhythm. A sudden fireworks explosion dazzled and blinded you as the crowd rushed forward. Then the atmosphere turned electric, casting a weaving web on the crowd and drawing them in.

When the smoke settled, you saw the band had taken their places on stage, dressed in black denim, leather, chains, tattoos, and wild hair. They preened beneath the attention of their peers as the frontman and lead singer, Eddie Munson, moved to stand before a microphone. "I hope you're ready to rock, Hawkins, 'cause we're not stopping until the cops come knocking!"

Steve grabbed your wrist and dragged you in front of him, pushing you closer to the stage. That was how you found yourself standing front and centre. One of his hands grabbed your hip firmly, ready to break the fingers of any other wandering hands. He wrapped his other arm around Robin's shoulders, holding her to him as they sang along to a song you didn't know the words to.

It wasn't your proximity to him or the bruising grip of his fingers that warmed your blood, but the singer on stage. You'd seen pictures of Eddie in the trashy magazine you picked up from the gas station occasionally; each one seemed to be a different headline, each as scandalous as the last. Corroded Coffin's singer caught with another woman? Eddie Munson, Satanic Priest! Some of them were ridiculous, and none of them had been particularly entertaining, especially when, in every interview, he seemed humble, perhaps even flustered by the fame.

The sight of him on stage sent heat dripping down your cheeks and into your neck, spiralling through your veins to gather at your core.

He looked like a devil but had the face of an angel—wild curls bounced around his face, you caught glimpses of his inked skin, and there was a perfect trail of hair on his abdomen. He strummed at his guitar strings as though it were his lover, plucking the cords with perfectly practised movements. You wondered what else his fingers could do, and a wild blush crept into your face.

As though your thoughts weren't mortifying enough, he seemed to have noticed. His eyes found yours in the crowd, as if he could see straight into your brain and was plucking the fantasies from your mind.

The world slowed to a crawl and faded until it was just the two of you and your racing thoughts. You drank in the sight of him. You caught glimpses of his tattoos, watched how droplets of sweat rolled down the hollow of his throat as the heat of the stage lights bore down on him, and watched how his lips moved as he sang, the rasps of his voice enough to make you tremble.

You tugged your lower lip between your teeth, almost afraid to look away; you wanted this moment to go on forever and ever. But as abruptly as it began, the fantasy ended when he looked out across the crowd, and as he did, the world snapped back into place. Your heart was racing, and your breath was erratic.

You felt silly having been caught up in such an intense moment with a perfect stranger, even if he was handsome and famous—a perfect mixture of exhilaration and embarrassment. You glanced at Robin and Steve, hoping they hadn't noticed your captivated state. They hadn't.

The two were still singing and enjoying the music, bouncing up and down as a guitar solo swept through the speakers. Worrying your lip between your teeth, you looked back at the stage, trying valiantly to refocus on the music. After a while, the guitar's pounding bass and electrifying energy were enough to pull you back into the moment.

You felt captivated, as though whatever dark spell he was weaving had fallen upon you, too. His performance was filled with raw emotion and a rebellious spirit, with the lyrics resonating with something deep inside you, echoing your desires, and enticing a wildness to spark in your veins.

You stole another glance at him, and his eyes again met yours. It was almost as if the universe had conspired to connect you two in a chaotic sea of people. With a sudden burst of courage you didn't think yourself capable of, you gave a bashful smile and lifted your hand, waving at him.

He saw and acknowledged you with a knowing smile, to your surprise and amusement. It felt like a dirty secret. You would swear that your face was on fire from how hard you were blushing, your fingers wringing together nervously at the front of your dress.

It seems silly. In fact, you knew it was silly, childish, and stupid.

You didn't know him, and he didn't know you. You knew the media's version of him—the stylised rockstar who'd grown up poor, defied the odds, and came out on top—the playboy who had a different girl every other week and who'd been caught having sex with fans in odd places. But what you'd felt, however brief, had ignited a fire in the pit of your stomach. You felt it smouldering as you were lost in the music and its wild energy.

The last guitar riff played, and the crowd erupted into thunderous applause. You expected the crowd to thin down now that the show was finished, but they remained, hooting and hollering, vying for his attention.

"He was incredible!" You shouted as you turned to Steve, straining to be heard above the crowd. He gave you a funny expression and tilted his head to the side, causing a stir of hair to fall into his face.

"What?"

"I said," you shouted while moving closer to him. "That was incredible!"

This time, he heard you, chuckling under his breath and holding you in place when you tried to slip through the crowd. And then you saw Eddie standing at the edge of the stage, a security guard at his side. You could see they were talking, now if only you'd learned to read lips. Except you didn't need to read lips to know he was pointing right at the three of you.

Your heart stopped mid-beat, your mouth running dry, as a second security guard approached the three of you. From where you were frozen in time, you didn't see Steve and Robin grinning at each other or the glint in their eyes.

You were star-struck, staring at the security guard as if he'd grown a second head. And he might as well have because things like this didn't happen. Maybe it happened in the movies, but not real life and you weren't some perfectly poised beauty. You were a real woman with feelings; they were all over the place right now.

You grabbed Steve's arm when he stepped away, pulling him to a stop. He looked down at you with a furrowed brow. "What the hell is going on?" you hissed at him, not angry but entirely surprised and uncertain. He gave you a dashing and daring smile.

"Think he just invited us backstage."

"What?"

You'd tried to convince yourself that this was a wild dream. You even pinched yourself—twice. Things like this didn't happen to ordinary people, especially people like you. The shy woman who had to have a drink in her hand, the woman who took sips to fill the silence when talking became overwhelming, the woman who stammered and blushed with little more than a wink from a handsome man.

But it was happening. And now there you were, backstage, with Steve and Robin at your side, staring at a door with the band's name written in block letters. You could hear people milling about inside.

The security guard knocked, and you heard the muffled sound of movement, followed by something being knocked over and a chorus of laughter. Finally, the door was hauled open.

"Eddie!"

Robin's outburst startled you. She pushed past you and Steve, then the security guard, and threw herself at the man. You gawked at them, eyes wide as your soul burst to life, heart skipping several beats when he spun her in a circle. Robin's feet didn't touch the ground as they laughed.

You couldn't believe it.

There, standing not even five feet away, was the lead singer of Corroded Coffin, Eddie-fucking-Munson—the very same man you'd been eye-fucking on stage not even an hour ago. A part of you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you whole. Another part screamed at you to cling to him as Robin had done.

"Hey," Steve whispered, leaning slightly closer to your ear. "Are you doing okay? You look like you've seen a ghost or something."

"What?" You replied, your voice rising an octave in panic. Your gaze whirled between Steve and the duo, who seemed oblivious to your presence, and then back again. "Yes, well, no! You didn't tell me you knew him!"

"Who? Eddie?" He asked.

"That guy, right there, the famous guy hugging our friend?" You were incredulous, your arm flailing in their direction, much to Robin's amusement and Eddie's confusion. "Yes, him! You two know him?"

"What about Eddie?"

The sudden appearance of his voice made you squeak in surprise. His voice was dark, deep, and delectable, like chocolate, and hoarse. It felt like liquid heat pouring down your spine, flooding every intersecting bone until you trembled. Eddie smiled, and his cheeks dimpled in a way that had you blushing wildly.

You stared as Steve and Eddie swept each other into a bear hug, slapping each other on the back and again on the arm as they came apart. Robin gave you a playful poke in the side, bringing your attention back to her.

"What about Eddie?" She asked, which inevitably brought all of their attention to you. You shifted beneath the weight of their combined stare. Your eyes found Eddie's, and you looked away quickly.

"Yeah, what about Eddie, girl?" He playfully added.

"Nothing! It's just that—um—well, I didn't know you—uh—that they knew you. That's all." You say, stumbling over the words like an awkward teenager. You mentally kicked yourself, but in truth, you'd never been good at talking to people. You'd always been a little shy, and everyone made fun of you before Steve and Robin slowly started coaxing you out of your shell.

And it wasn't as though he knew you. He probably hadn't seen you in the crowd. Now that you think about it, Eddie was just as likely to be smiling at them, not you, when he was on stage. But that didn't do anything to pull the blush out of your face or stop the way you shuffled under the gaze of the trio.

"Oh, yeah," Eddie said with an awkward laugh, reaching up to scratch the back of his head. Your eyes went a little buggy when his shirt rode up, revealing that trail of hair that disappeared into the band of his jeans.

You looked away quickly before he could catch you staring, finding something on the wall that suddenly fascinated you. He didn't notice, or at least didn't say anything if he did. "Yeah, yeah, the three of us went to high school together. It seems like a lifetime ago."

Robin stared at him, her expression incredulous. "It was, like, five years ago, Eds. Don't you dare make me older than I am!" She said as the back of her hand connected with his stomach. Eddie huffed as he doubled over dramatically, clutching his stomach and coughing as though she'd just punched the air from his lungs. You laughed despite yourself, momentarily drawing his attention to you; he flashed you a dazzling smile before hustling the three of you inside.

It would have been spacious inside the room if it wasn't filled with boxes of merchandise, band equipment, and the rest of the band. The little composure you'd managed to hold onto disappeared when Steve and Robin rushed inside, similarly greeting the others, hugging and laughing like old friends.

You lingered at the door, unsure what to do with yourself, when you felt a hand against the small of your back, fingertips tapping just above the curve of your ass, high enough to be respectful but low enough to send a delicious shiver down your spine.

"Come on, sweetheart. They don't bite," Eddie said with a laugh before leaning down to whisper in your ear. You felt his breath against your neck, the warmth of it making you shiver as he caught a glimpse of your cleavage before you hugged your cardigan around yourself.

"Well, I might," he added. "If you ask nicely."

He didn't wait to see your reaction, but from the beaming smile plastered on his face, he'd heard your squeak of surprise. Instead, Eddie flounced into the room, joining Steve, Robin, and the others as you followed.

Once official introductions were made, you sat at the end of one of the couches next to Eddie, who seemed entirely unaware of your nervous inner turmoil. Occasionally, his thigh brushed against yours, jostling you in his excitable state as the group recalled their high school years.

"You were quite the ladies' man in high school, Steve. Don't act bashful now," the drummer, Gareth, said with a booming laugh. You found yourself smiling and laughing with him, amused by the way Steve rubbed at the back of his neck and tried to deflect.

"I remember Robin telling me that the girls used to call him King Steve." You added. Gareth howled with laughter at how Steve flushed a deeper shade of pink. You smiled at him, pretty and sweet, but should have known he wouldn't let that slight go unanswered. You hardly had time to steel yourself before he returned fire.

"Hey now," he said, his smile positively devilish. "Don't start throwing shade if you can't handle the sun, sweets. Because I could tell some stories about you, too. Well, no, I couldn't. I don't think I've ever heard those bed springs squeak."

You choked on a mouthful of beer, coughing as you glared at him in horror. "Steven Joseph Harrington!" Your face burned at the revelation of a secret you'd shared with him one drunk and wild night. Using his full government name was enough for him to know he'd crossed a line, but the laughter of his friends encouraged him.

"I can't help it if that's the truth, you know," he said with a shrug.

"Wait, wait, wait!" Eddie shouted, shaking his hand wildly to get everyone's attention, especially yours. You squirmed in your seat, pushing yourself hard against the arm of the couch to try and escape his intense stare when he rounded on you.

"Never? As in never, ever?"

At that moment, you wanted the ground to open wide and swallow you. It wasn't that you were embarrassed to be a virgin, but the attention made you uncomfortable. You'd never been the type of woman to want a one-night stand with a stranger. Steve had offered once when you'd both been drunk and confessing secrets, but you'd never felt the itch.

And it wasn't that you considered your virginity to be a cherished and sacred part of yourself. But you'd never wanted to be that vulnerable with someone unless you trusted them entirely.

"Bullshit." Eddie spat, not nasty, but disbelieving. "You've gotta be shitting me. A pretty thing like you hasn't ever had sex? I know you're lying."

You stared at your hands resting in your lap, fingers wringing the hem of your dress until the stitching threatened to fray. From across the room, you heard the vague sound of Robin talking, mumbling something about you being as ripe as a cherry. She purposely popped her lips, and you wanted to die.

"Jesus Christ," you managed to choke out. "Yes, okay, I'm a total virgin. Can we talk about something else, please?"

The universe appeared to take mercy on you because the conversation changed topics at breakneck speed. One moment, Eddie was gawking at you; the next, he was focused entirely upon Jeff, who'd bought up something called the Hellfire Club. You took the opportunity to down the rest of your beer, letting the flavour of it wash away the taste of embarrassed tears.

The night went on in relative peace. You drank with them, listening to their wild stories of high school shenanigans and offering your own when prompted. You hadn't realised how much time had passed until you glanced at your watch and gawked: two in the morning.

"So, never?" Eddie asked without warning, his voice soft and almost innocent, breaking the silence that had blossomed within the room. You pulled your cardigan around your shoulders as though the thin material could shield you from his gaze. The others had fallen asleep, either drunk or high or just beyond exhausted. It was just the two of you.

Just you and Eddie.

"Look," you said with a sigh, your face burning again. "I really don't want to talk about that."

He held his hands in the universal sign of hold up. "I'm not judging you, sweetheart. I'm just curious. A pretty thing like you has to have a trail of broken hearts behind her."

You laughed despite yourself and relaxed back onto the couch, enjoying the warmth radiating from him. He was so close that you could see the way his Adam's apple bobbed with each swallow, the way he traced his lips with the tip of his tongue, the way the fabric of his jeans stretched across his lap, the bulge there. . .

You snapped your head away when he caught your staring.

"It's not like that. I've had boyfriends. I've just never felt comfortable doing anything with them. Not that they were bad people. I didn't want to do it because everyone was doing it. Then I got busy, and dating stopped happening. You understand? Of course you do. You're famous; I doubt you have much time for dating. Not that anyone wouldn't want to date you."

You were rambling, the words falling from your lips like verbal vomit, and you couldn't stop. Eddie silenced you, moving without warning to close the distance lingering between the two of you. He grabbed you by the back of the neck, his fingers rough and warm, pulling you into the wall of his chest so that he could slot his mouth against yours.

Eddie Munson tasted like cigarette smoke and alcohol, dark desire wrapped in leather. Eddie Munson smelled like adrenaline and sex, a woman's wet dream. Before you knew what you were doing, you kissed him back, desperate for more.

Eddie led you into an adjacent room, his fingers enveloping yours, providing a comforting anchor. The soft snores of the others faded into a distant hum as he closed the door. Your gaze traced the contours of his back, the curve of his shoulders, the way his studded jacket draped over them, the weight of his chunky black boots and the ruggedness of his ripped jeans. The belt cinched around his narrow waist, crowned with a buckle shaped like a bat, adding a touch of mystery to his rugged charm.

He turned abruptly, his hand slamming against the door beside your head, eliciting a startled yelp from you. Eddie pressed against you, your hands instinctively clutching the fabric of his shirt. Caught between the desire to pull him closer and the instinct to push him away, you found yourself staring at him with wide, uncertain eyes. Your heart pounded against its ivory prison, the uncertainty of the moment adding to its frantic beat.

"E—Eddie?" You managed to stammer his name, your voice impossibly quiet, overflowing with uncertainty and a mix of fear and desire. He didn't seem to mind. He smiled at you, his breath washing over your mouth and nose like a sweet rum, leaving you light-headed. You squeezed your thighs together as tight as you could, desperate to stifle the growing heat at your core.

He felt it, your nervous shifting and the wild beating of your heart as he cruised a hand along your body, from your hip and then over your breast to clutch the back of your neck. He rubbed his thumb over your racing pulse. "Has anyone ever kissed you like this before? Pushed you against a wall, touched you, told you how beautiful you are?"

Your face burned. Eddie knew that you'd been kissed before; you'd told him as much. But you'd also told him you were a virgin. At twenty-four, you'd almost grown out of being embarrassed by the fact.

"No," you answered in a low exhale, trying to duck your head to avoid his smouldering stare. His eyes were blown with lust, almost black as coal, as he pushed his thumb against your chin, forcing you to look at him.

He leaned in closer, the feel of him like a weighted blanket on your chest, making it harder to breathe but in a pleasant way. It made your head fuzzy, like floating in a beautiful daydream, except his lips ghosted over yours. The faintest of touches had reality snapping into place around you.

"Never, ever?" Eddie whispered, his lips brushing, tugging, teasing yours. He was so close that he'd invaded all your senses until all you saw, heard, and breathed was him. He held fast when he wanted to move. Eddie waited for someone to give in to desire and bring the other into the flames. He wanted and needed it to be you.

The tiny whimper you made shot through him, racing through his blood like a bolt of electricity until his cock throbbed. And then you took the plunge, a hand at the back of his neck, the other hauling him in by that pretty studded jacket so you could brush your mouth against his.

It was all he needed—a silent confession, unspoken permission.

Eddie pushed against you until you felt the studs of his leather jacket and his dangling chains pressing into you through your clothing, your dress suddenly restrictive and in the way. His hands were everywhere, cupping your face, running through your hair. And then he dropped to his knees with a thud, pressing kisses down your stomach, leaving wet marks against the fabric of your dress as he ran his hands up the backs of your legs.

"No one ever touched you like this?"

You felt like you were going up in flames. His touch was fire licking your skin, beautiful and pure, leaving you trembling. His hands moved up the back of your thighs, and when his mouth found your belly button, tongue swirling once, then twice, you grabbed him by the shoulders to steady yourself.

"Words, sweet girl. I need you to answer," he said in a husky tone, pinching the back of your thigh to bring you out of your mind and into the moment. He looked at you from beneath his impossibly dark lashes, his eyes dark, twinkling with mischief.

"Never," you managed to gasp when his hands began drifting high, pushing your dress up until he could bunch it at your hips. And then he was face-to-face with your panties, groaning dramatically, making a sound that would make a pornstar blush.

"Have mercy," Eddie moaned, his breath hot against your mound even through the barrier of clothing. His eyes moved back to yours, and you flushed with embarrassment. He was staring at you like he wanted to devour you. "Even your fucking panties are adorable. That little bow? I'm going to take my time unwrapping this present."

Yet, despite this admission, he didn't take his time.

His mouth landed on your clothed cunt without a preamble. Your knees shook and threatened to give out as he worked his tongue against the wet fabric, tasting your arousal and letting it slide down his throat like a fine wine. Eddie found that virgins were quick to get wet. His calloused fingers kneaded the globes of your arse, pulling you closer, his talented tongue pushing your panties into your slit so he could tease your clit with gentle licks.

You bit your knuckles to stifle the sounds of your moans as pleasure snaked through your veins, creeping through your bloodstream until you broke into a sweat.

"Put your hands in my hair," he demanded with a rough voice, and like a mindless fool, you complied. His hair was a mess of wild curls that you pulled on, sinking your fingers deep into his plush locks when he started to work your panties down your thighs. "Good girl."

"Oh god." As the fabric pooled at your ankles, your head hit the door with a soft thud. You were like putty in his hands—willing to walk through the fires of hell if it meant he'd keep touching you. Eddie freed one of your ankles and threw your leg over his shoulder, bringing you closer.

Words could not describe the feeling of his tongue against your slick folds or the sensation of the tip flicking against your clit. It was like lightning arched through the sky to melt the skin from your bones. You were burning up. And he'd lit the match.

Eddie was loud and messy, lewd. The sounds that clawed up his throat were pornographic. Each wet schlick of his mouth was accompanied by a throaty moan as he sucked your clit and teased your throbbing hole with the tip of his tongue.

It was an out-of-body experience—you never realised you could feel this good. Eddie held you by the back of the thighs, his grip firm, pulling you onto his tongue until your flesh goosepipmpled beneath his touch. You could have collapsed when he withdrew, a line of saliva connecting the tip of his tongue to your clit.

"Words, pretty girl. You gotta use them, or I'm going to stop."

You whined desperately, weaving your fingers deeper into his wild hair. "Please don't stop, Eddie. . ."

"Then talk to me. Let me hear those pretty sounds."

He waited only a moment, his dark eyes staring into yours with the intensity of the sun. He took in your flushed cheeks and shallow breaths that made your chest heave. Then he resumed his meal. The sound you made in response was embarrassing—at least, it should have been. You should have wanted the ground to split open and swallow you. But you didn't.

"It's good," you choked out, squeezing your eyes shut as he ran the flat of his tongue along your slit, the tip flicking your clit in a delicious way that made your hips twitch; forward, then back, like you wanted him to eat you alive but also to escape.

The feeling was exquisite—like nothing you had ever felt—knocking the air from your lungs, making the muscles in your legs tense and your core weep. Your whole body jerked under his tongue, a shiver shaking your spine, your bones turning to jelly as he licked and sucked your drenched cunt. "Oh god. . . I think. . . I—I'm close."

You'd had orgasms before, but nothing quite like this. It was a slow build, each swipe of Eddie's tongue amplifying the pressure between your hips, sending jolts of electricity through your veins until your nerves crackled and popped. It was difficult to describe; you could taste the words on the tip of your tongue, but they melted away with each moan he drew from your lips.

And then it spread out through your body, a searing warmth that threatened once more to melt the skin from your bones.

"You're so wet, sweetness, m'fucking drowning here," Eddie said. Even though his words were vulgar, the low growl with which he spoke sent you tumbling down the other side of pleasure. The first wave zinged through you, knocking the air from your lungs and sparking every one of your nerves to life.

You bit your knuckles hard until you tasted blood, but the flavour was quickly lost as the second wave seared through your limbs. Eddie didn't stop—not once. Each swipe of his tongue against your clit, each push of it into your virginal hole, sent wisps of fire shooting through your veins, adding stars and galaxies bursting to life behind your scrunched-shut eyes.

When you returned to earth, you found yourself trembling, his strong hands the pillars that kept you upright. Eddie kissed his way back up your body, slowly working your dress up as he went until he could pull it over your head. He threw it over his shoulder, the fabric a distant memory as it hit the ground, lost and now forgotten.

"No one ever made you cum before, have they?" He whispered, his breath hot, his smirk feral, as he teased his lips along the slope of your neck. You whined when your bare cunt rubbed against his dark denim jeans, the rough drag of the rips and tears against your lips sending you hurtling toward the sky once more.

"No," you managed to say before catching his mouth for a wild, clumsy kiss. Eddie happily obliged, pushing his tongue into your mouth and licking your teeth so you tasted yourself.

"Touch me. . ."

"What do good girls say?"

"Please."

You would die if he didn't touch you in the next three seconds. You would collapse to the ground, melt into a puddle at his feet, and literally die.

Thankfully, he took pity on you.

Eddie kissed you deeply, with the fire of a thousand suns; his hot breath stole through your lungs when he swallowed your moans, leaving you on the verge of combustion. You felt lost in him, touching him here, there, and everywhere as you tried to strip him. Eddie didn't let you. He grabbed your wrists and held them at the small of your back, and he moved you both across the room.

Your lips never once parted. The moment was composed of hot breaths, searing kisses, and teasing bites, weakening your knees terribly. Eddie fell back into a high chair in front of the make-up mirrors. You were desperate to climb into his lap, to wind your legs around him and leech the warmth from his chest, but instead, he turned you and pulled you into his lap, back to chest.

"Eddie," you whispered his name in a sigh, heady with desire. "I want more. . ."

He pressed a kiss against the shell of your ear, smiling in response. His lips were wet, his mouth wanting as he lowered it to your next, sucking a mark into your plush skin. "Open your eyes, sweetness."

Eddie hooked your knees over his thighs, spreading you open and exposing you to the mirror. The tips of his fingers ghosted along the crease of your inner thigh, making your breath hitch in anticipation. "You're beautiful," he said with a hum, nuzzling his nose into your hair. You caught his eyes in the reflection and saw the stark desire that had turned his pupils black, the hunger.

And you saw the expression mirrored in your own reflection. Your skin was flushed the subtlest shade of pink, pussy glistening with arousal. Eddie honestly thought you were the prettiest thing he'd ever fucking seen; so sweet, so innocent.

The stretch of his thick fingers was immediately exquisite, the slick of your arousal coating them entirely. Eddie watched the mirror, transfixed by the way it dropped from around his fingers, sliding down the curve of your ass to darken his denim jeans.

He felt you clench around him, tension seeping through your body as the pain collided with pleasure, twisting through your veins like snakes, intertwined, threatening to consume you from the inside out. You cried out when he crooked them, hips rising in search of more; his other hand cruised up your body, the soft swell of your stomach, cupping a tit in the palm of his hand, thumb teasing your nipple into a hardened peak.

Eddie growled against your neck. He was as hard as a rock, and each jolt of your hips had your arse rutting against his aching cock. You reached back to grab his hair, winding your fingers through his wild curls as the pleasure mounted. You were a guitar, and he had years of practice. He watched the rapid rise and fall of your chest, the way you couldn't sit still as he fucked his fingers in and out of your cunt, the way you clawed at his jeans.

You put a hand over your mouth to stifle the way you moan, loud, wantonly, like a whore. You felt dirty—like this was a scandalous secret. The thought of being found was erotically terrifying.

"You getting close, sweetness?" Eddie asked; no, he growled the words against your neck, teeth clipping the sensitive skin. "I can feel it. You're squeezing my fingers so fucking tight. Are you thinking about my cock? How much better it'll feel than my fingers?"

As though to emphasise his words, his thrust against you, his erection hard against the globes of your arse, leaving him moaning as his own muscles twisted with desire, pure liquid heat pouring through his bones.

"Cum for me, baby."

He wasn't asking; no, he was demanding.

tag list ::

@micheledawn1975 | @maxstecc

—interest in being tagged in future chapters? send me a message!

#eddie munson #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #rockstar!eddie x innocent!reader #call me little sunshine #call me little sunshine - part one

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firesnap · 7 months

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This is the only post I will be writing in regards to Wilbur Soot's statement.

It was a shit apology. I'm not going over that. We can analyze it to death but it absolutely reads like the apology of someone who is now represented by some label's legal team. The only thing I'm thankful for is that he did not release text messages between him and Shelby in some attempt to distract people. She doesn't deserve that embarrassment.

But, I really hope you read this, I need you to stop treating this like a party. I need you to stop giving every CC that speaks up about this a hit post or hit tweet by liking it.

Almost none of these people liked a single post of Shelby's or uttered the words "I'm so sorry for what Shelby went through" They waited until it was safe to say something. They waited until they could write a "coming in with a steel chair reply." They waited until they knew it would look good.

They revealed that Wilbur has always been manipulative, a narcissist a bully and mean to his friends. They revealed they've always thought he was a bad person. They've revealed that they don't think he's taking accountability while they stayed silent.

And not just silent for a few days. Some of these people are saying they knew for better for weeks, months, years that he was a horrible person. And they said nothing. They let people spend time and money and energy on a community of a person they knew was dangerous and cruel and they said nothing.

They didn't need Shelby Shubble to come forward and say how bad of a person Wilbur Soot was. They didn't need Shelby's story, if they thought he was a bad person, to not appear in videos with him or be in a group channel with him or mention him on stream or tease content with him or be on Anvil Cards or follow him on all social media platforms.

But they did anyway because, to these content creators, it's better to be silent and let a bad person flourish than cause "drama" online.

These people do not give fuck. I need you all to please take this advice that none of these online creators are worth the time and energy you put into them. You don't know what else they're sitting on. You don't know what they've done. You are lying to yourself, right now, if you think Phil or Tommy or Tubbo or Jack or whoever your current fave is wouldn't have been fine saying nothing if Shelby hadn't spoke first. You're lying to yourself if you think whatever new smp or content creator group you're currently into doesn't have horrible shit that they're all choosing to ignore.

The amount of manipulation required by these content creators to maintain the devotion and investment of their communities is horrific.

Do not trust your mental well being, your comfort, your whatever to these people. Any of them.

#wilbur soot

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anemoiashifts · 2 months

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why you should get off social media if you want to shift.

before you scroll away, i want to challenge all of you to read all of this. this is one of my longest blog posts ive ever made with over 1,000 words. if you can or can’t make it through the whole post, please let me know how far you’ve gotten in the comments below. you’ll get a surprise at the end 🥳 !

social media isn’t an inherently bad thing. however, outside & inside of the shifting community social media (specially tiktok) has been shown to effect our attention span. this shows in my comment sections on my longer tumblr posts that i also share on tiktok, such as this one, when people say things like “im not reading all of that” or “can someone summarize” also “what method should i use” and “why am i not shifting”.

let’s start with the basics of shifting. shifting attempts need some kind of focus; an affirmation, a visualization, some sort of task like counting. if you’re someone who struggles to focus, you will struggle to learn how to meditate or any hobby or task you’re tying to accomplish. all shifting methods are is a meditation. while no, you don’t need a method, I would make the argument learning how to meditate & focus your attention to what you are trying to manifest is an important part of shifting. if social media creates an instant dopamine reward without little effort, the appeal of shifting seems less. this is why i think a lot of people actually like thinking about shifting & creating content for it rather then doing it — because trying to shift requires some level of work without instant reward even if it’s as simple as laying down & setting intention.

if you try to shift & you wake up in your cr still, that isn’t as exciting when comparing it to the idea of shifting. rather, if you post an edit or a video about your dr you will receive a dopamine hit through video interaction (comments, likes, how social media platforms are set up in general). even maladaptive daydreaming can fall into this category to some. the interest in attempting to shift dies because we feel like we aren’t gaining anything from it when that’s not true. when laying down & attempting to shift, we are meditating & training the brain to focus on what we desire most: we’re correcting our attention span.

social media destroys the ability to focus & what we focus on & give our attention to allows room for that desire to grow, to become reality. if we’re always so overwhelmed with information & have so much to stress about, it’s important to recognize what we consume & how it effects our mood & mental health & how it can sometimes delay our manifestations. im not saying you have to be positive all the time, but we’re exposed to so much that it’s important to check in with yourself every once in a while. this can be where shifting content comes into play vs non shifting content. think demotivation, you don’t look for it, it just appears. & how many times have you opened tiktok to look something up to only be distracted by a completely unrelated video that automatically started playing ?

what i mean is people are telling you what shifting is, what works for them (which you could register subconsciously & believe that’s a step by step guide), rather then self discovery. people are telling you what shifting is, how to do it, what to think, what to script, what method you need to do, even if they say “this may not apply to everyone” because of how it’s being presented & spoken about. the said popularity of a method or definition may also come into play & feeling like something has to be right or work because other people align with it. its like math class, the teacher shows you one way to solve a problem then says “your allowed to use your own methods” & shows you one example of it then goes back to using the original method in class that you don’t understand.

another reason is opinions. when being shown so many people speaking on shifting & their thoughts it can be overwhelming. it’s a great thing so many people are willing to talk about their experiences in their desired reality or want to share their personal breakthroughs & opinions on what shifting is, it can be confusing. while everything i just listed is well intended, leaning about shifting through places like tiktok & not venturing out & doing your own research — or just searching methods online & trying it yourself while going in blind — it takes away self discovery.

so, how do we learn about shifting ?

when i say get off of social media, i don’t exactly mean all social media. yes, all of these things happen across the internet but the difference with tiktok is that the fyp isn’t so prominent. this of course also applies to other feeds that are generated, but a lot of the shifting community is ok tiktok so im using the most known example. it’s important to search & decide what information you consume & seek out rather then being told something without stopping to think for yourself. you want the chance to be able to create your own thoughts. your own unique thoughts you have about things make them personal & your own beliefs become stronger when you realize things on your own. it’s more satisfying that way.

places like reddit & searching for questions you specifically have so you don’t have ten more questions shoved in your that you didn’t have before that cause you added worry or unnecessary fear is helpful to keep in mind.

there is room for grey area. not everything needs to be black & white. there should be no consciousness vs multiverse theories because two things can both be true at once. Ike thing doesn’t have to be against something, you don’t have time pick a side. it’s all theory & hypothetical. it’s okay that we 100% don’t know (& will probably never know) what shifting truly is. not everything needs to be discovered to preform it “correctly”. you don’t need to be a master at painting to paint, you don’t need to know how paint brushes are crafted or how canvas is stretched to preform, anyone can sit & learn as they create their first & second & tenth piece. even people who have painted & sold their artwork for millions, don’t know the great’s techniques. they know pieces of them & take what works & discards what doesn’t serve them.

this post isnt to negate any of the good social media has done or sound like my mom & preaching about how social media destroys your brain…but i think we should be mindful of what we consume & how it makes us feel & if we’re speaking for ourselves or parroting others words. there are so many great people & advice out there & im not trying to take away from that. i just think taking a moment to stop & digest what we’re seeing is healthy. this blog post has been a long time coming but i know a lot of people wouldn’t want to hear it. i can promise you, you are more addicted then you think — myself included. i just don’t wake you guys to look back in 10 years & have spent more then half of that looking at a screen when there’s so much life to be lived. i don’t want social media to take away from what we are all here for which when we come down to it is living. shifting is literally wanting to experience life & i can’t help but find it ironic that this is the opposite of everything we wish to accomplish through this practice.

please take care of yourselves. much love.

surprise :) congrats you made it ! here’s your digital slice of cake ! 🍰

#desired reality #reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #shiftok #shifting motivation #shifting realities #shifter #reality shifter

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