Dancing To The Beat Of Our Hearts

Dancing to the beat of our hearts

Zoro Roronoa x reader

Summary : being Zoro's lover,was a dream come true. Everything was perfect about him,but...when the night comes and you see couples dancing,you cant help but to wish for more...

Warnings : none, slightly hurt/comfort,Zoro being a simp for you,soft Zoro, FLUFF,gender neutral reader

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"ANOTHER VICTORY FOR STRAW HATS!!!CHEERS!!!"

Luffy's excited shout echoes through the night,as everyone cheer and down their drinks. All around you,people were celebrating,and happily serving you and your crewmates drinks after drinks.

You and your crewmates had managed to save yet another village from pirates,and it was time to celebrate.

Everything about this village was absolutely beautiful;from the cherry trees that had blossomed just recently,making the scenery breathtaking,to its kind and warm-hearted people who knew nothing but how to love and be happy.

They apparently,also loved to dance.

When the song changes to something soft and more melodic,you watch from your place across the bonfire how couples start to gather around;hands being placed on shoulders and arms around waists. You watch and sip your suddenly too bitter drink as they dance,and the sound of their laughter fills the air.

Your eyes wander to the green haired man sitting next to the open bar across you,and your lips pull down to a frown;Zoro didnt like to dance.

You loved Zoro,of course you did,but ever since you two became a couple...things didnt get too different between the two of you.

Obviously there were small kisses here and there,and Zoro became even more protective of you if that was even possible,but you craved real romance. Like the ones you would see young couples do,or read in the books; running under the rain while laughing,going shopping or matching clothes,and of course, dancing .

You could've made a list of the dances you wished to have with Zoro on so many occasions,but you never asked. You knew Zoro;he wasnt a big fan of showing his affection openly,always choosing to show his love to you through his actions. So it didnt take a genius to guess he would absolutely rather die than to dance.

You swallow the lump in your throat and stare down to your drink. You weren't even sure what it was; probably something light since you weren't feeling even slightly drunk. Something sweet. Maybe cherry? It sure had a good smell to it. As you swing the last of your drink around the glass,you make a mental reminder to tell Sanji to get some with you back to the ship. A small smile graces your lips as you think about sailing tomorrow morning once again with your new family,but the happiness is short lived as a bitter feeling fills your chest and you find yourself blinking rapidly in hopes of not bursting in tear right there.

Was it too much to ask to have a romantic love life?

As you start to wonder whether to return to the Going Merry or ask the musicians to play some other song,a small tap on your shoulder makes you jump in your sit slightly. You turn your head,and find yourself face to face with your boyfriend.

At first, Zoro's eyes search yours for a second,before jerking his head toward the back,where the road leads to the cherry garden.

"come with me for a second."

you silently nod,and accepting his offer to help you stand,you take his much larger hand in yours and make your way toward the garden. And when you finally step inside,you let out a loud gasp.

You dont think you've ever seen anything more beautiful in your life;the way the petals of the cherry blossoms dance in the air and settle on your hair,the air having the sweet smell of the drink that you had earlier,and the moon shining the brightest you've ever seen-

And none of them could compare to the picture Zoro was making.

You've always loved Zoro;ever since the very first moment you saw him,the first time he smiled at you,and the first time he held your hand. You loved Zoro,and you believed with your soul that there was no one prettier than him.

But now,as you watch the flower petals dancing around him,and the moonlight shining on his green air as he stares at you with the softest look on his face,you cant help your heart from beating awfully faster.

You loved Zoro. And gods above,he was the most beautiful being in the whole universe.

You're so busy admiring his features that when his fingers brush against your cheek,you jump slightly. Zoro raises his fingers up to you hair,and you feel him pluck something out.

When he lowers his hand,he shows you a small cherry blossom that was trapped in your hair. And in that moment,when he raises it up to his lips,you swear the time stops all together.

Zoro closes his eyes as his lips make contact with the flower,and he slowly opens his eyes to meet yours.

"y/n," he puts the flower in the pocket right over his heart and as he takes hold of your hand,with the sound of his three swords clanking together,he kneels right in front of you. Your gap at him,and you're torn between laughing and kneeling as well.

"Zoro,whats going on?"

Zoro scowls at you.

"what does it look like I'm doing?"

"proposing?!"

"no," Zoro deadpans,and your face visibly falls, "that has to be special. Not out of blue."

Your face brightens and small laugh escapes from your lips

"then,whats going on?"

And for the very first time since meeting him,he actually looks embarrassed.

You didn't know he could feel that kind of emotion

"I'm planning to ask you for a dance,if you let me finish."

When your mouth slams shut,he sighs and unconsciously rubs his thumb against the back of your hand.

Your heart flutter at how comforting he can be even when he's not realizing it.

"Babe,i know I'm not the most romantic person in the whole world," when you let out a snort,he scowls again, "but i promise,its not because i dont love you."

He slowly raises to his feet once again,and gently leans his forehead against yours.

"i know i dont say it enough,but i love you." His hand find your waist,as your arms wrap his neck;your eyes shining with unshed tears, "and i will continue loving you until my last breath."

You let out a small sniffle when he kisses your wet eyelashes.

"sounds pretty much like a proposal to me."

"oh,babe,i promise you that after my proposal, you'll cry your eyes out."

You tug at his short hair and give him an unimpressed look.

"you're making my heart beat with your smooth talk,Zoro. Keep it up and you'll no longer have a lover to propose to."

And when he laughs quietly,you cant help but to pull him down for a kiss.

The sound of the music in the background,makes everything feel surreal. The way Zoro holds you so gently,and his lips moving against yours with urgency,reminds you how passionate he can be. And its right there,that Zoro reminds your how much he actually loves you.

The sound of the music is still audible in the background,so when he starts swinging you side by side,you cant help the giddy laugh that escapes you. Zoro gives you a gentle smile,and kisses your forehead.

"from now on,tell me what you desire. I'll make all your dreams come true."

And when you raise your head to lock your lips with his once again,a small whisper leaves your lips.

"dont worry. All my dreams had already came true the moment i laid my eyes one you."

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P.s : thank you everyone for 400 followers!!!

HELLO YOU JUST WROTE ME AN AMAZING DRABBLE FOR MY ANGST PROMPT BUT I AM GREEDY GUTS AND AM BACK FOR MORE

PLZ DO you're the first person to ever ask AND I just feel stupid, okay? IN SOME KIND OF NAMJOON FLUFFY MUTUAL CRUSH SHIT 😚

(hello again miss rose i am so glad you're back~ this one kind of got away from me but i loved writing it so i hope u love reading it!! ♡)

"you're the first person to ever ask" / "i just feel stupid, okay?"

pairing: namjoon x reader

wc: 4k (what's a drabble never heard of it)

warnings: swearing, alcohol usage, mentions of sexual situations & content (nothing explicit in this fic but minors please dni regardless), side sope bc it's me and rose, i didn't edit this bc i'm lazy, ??? this is just a best friends who are idiots 2 lovers fic idk what else to say.

send me drabble requests!

“This is so weird.”

Namjoon looks over at you, his cheeks bulging like a hamster around a buttered dinner roll. Yoongi hadn’t been thrilled with their existence. He’d stressed the importance of serving authentic Korean food, said his grandparents would throw a fit if not, but that’d thrown the resort into chaos, so Hoseok had to step in, smooth out the wrinkles, tell them the five-star menu looked great, thank you so much—

“What is?”

“That,” you say. At the end of your pointer finger are Yoongi and Hoseok, heads knocked together as they speak in a code only they understand. Hoseok’s laughter rings out, prompting a gummy smile from Yoongi. Beside you, Namjoon sighs—a breathy, lovestruck sort of sound. “I can’t believe they’re married.”

Namjoon mirrors Yoongi’s smile. Looks at his two best friends like they hung the stars in the sky. Like they’re relationship goals, or whatever the kids are saying nowadays. “They’re perfect together.”

A choked sort of sound escapes you, prompting a sharp glare from Namjoon. “Don’t look at me like that,” you scold him, handing over another roll on a tiny, fancy dish.

Taehyung frowns, reaching for it back. “Hey! I was gonna—”

“No, you weren’t.” You slide it closer to Namjoon, not wanting to risk another lecture on your romance-based cynicism. Over the years you’ve heard them all, and the thought of enduring another—especially at Yoongi and Hoseok’s fucking wedding—nearly has you retching in your seat.

Because—okay, you can see where Namjoon’s coming from. Where he’s all flowers on the first date and proper courting methods and you don’t have to let me know you got home safe because I’m going to walk you there myself, you’re more… well, none of that. Dating app hookups, horror stories told over brunch about the guy you’d taken home from the bar who didn’t even bother to go down on you before trying to stick it in, months-long situationships that are more like a flashbang than any kind of real relationship.

Namjoon says you’ll have more luck if you’re more receptive. You say he needs to stop taking dating advice from Disney movies.

You sigh. Yoongi and Hoseok are cute. They spark a little bit of hope in your chest, a little bit of longing, but you swallow it down along with the rest of your drink. Something fruity and disgusting Jimin had handed you, claiming Taehyung didn’t want it because all the sugar would give him a migraine. Something definitely not strong enough if you have any hopes of lasting until the first dance.

“I’m going to the bar,” you announce. “Anyone want anything?”

Jimin and Taehyung immediately pipe up with their orders. Seokjin and Jeongguk don’t pay you any attention at all, too busy ripping off pieces of bread and rolling them into tiny balls, trying to toss them into each other’s mouths from across the table. Namjoon watches them, jaw slack with horror, and immediately announces he’s coming with you.

You immediately forget what you’re supposed to order the kids so you just order two more fruity things and something strong for yourself. Something from the top shelf that’ll burn as it goes down. Namjoon orders something boring your grandfather would drink and looks very pleased as he mixes it around with a little cocktail straw, ice clanking against the glass as it’s twirled around.

It’s at this exact moment that you realize, not for the first time, how attractive he is. How devastating his dimpled cheeks are—all the time, but especially when he smiles. How golden his skin looks under the amber lighting of this fancy hotel ballroom. How his eyes seem to twinkle when he looks at his two best friends so overwhelmed by love and happiness and the pure joy that accompanies a lifelong promise to love someone forever.

And this—this simply will not do, so you order another drink. Something stronger than the last one, which had been infinitely stronger than the first.

Namjoon doesn’t notice, too busy pointing out people you’d supposedly gone to school with that you wouldn’t be able to name with a gun to your head. He smiles at each one, whispering their names to you before they approach to say hello and you’re put in an awkward situation. But Namjoon’s just like that. Remembers all these little details about everyone—not because he has some crazy strong memory, but because he genuinely cares enough to learn.

It’s horribly endearing.

It makes your stomach hurt.

Because this is not the first time you’ve looked at Kim Namjoon and felt the world tilt. Sometimes you look at Kim Namjoon and you’re overcome with such fondness it feels like it’ll come spilling out of your ears. Sometimes you look at Kim Namjoon and you start to believe all those ridiculous poems he makes you read about destiny and love and soulmates. But sometimes you look at Kim Namjoon and you want to cry, because Kim Namjoon doesn’t look at you the same way.

Time for another drink.

Four turns into five turns into too many. By the time you return to your table, everyone else is gone, taking up space on the dance floor or mingling at other tables like socially well-adjusted adults do. Yoongi and Hoseok are making rounds of their own in between making heart eyes at each other and stealing little kisses that make everyone coo. Which is fine. You’re beyond buzzed, well on your way to full-on wasted, and seeing Yoongi and Hoseok kiss doesn’t fill you with existential dread the way it normally does.

Namjoon would be proud, you think. Maybe the secret to being more receptive to love had been at the bottom of a bottle the entire time.

A displeased scoff pulls you back into the moment. Namjoon’s beside you again, frowning at the empty bread basket. “I’m going to murder Jeongguk and Seokjin.”

“Why?” you ask, despite thinking it’s not a bad idea regardless of the reason.

Namjoon tilts the basket in your direction. “I’m fucking starving and there’s only little bread balls left.” Pure agony flashes across his face. “I’m fucking wasted, too. Drank too much on an empty stomach. Hey, did you know—”

As if by divine intervention, your stomach growls, too. “Yeah,” you say, cutting off whatever fun fact Namjoon was about to share with you. Probably something gross about ruminants and camelids. “Shit, I’m hungry, too. When’s dinner supposed to be?”

“No clue. Some fancy place like this, though? Probably late. Hobi said something about springing for the extended cocktail hour.”

You frown. “Not one person in a weird bow tie has offered me a bacon-wrapped scallop on a skewer or a tiny quiche. I feel ripped off.”

“I’m way too drunk to eat a quiche right now. I’d probably throw up.”

A snort escapes you. “Good, because there aren’t any.” You sigh, then, a wistful look on your face as you recall all the nights in university that you and Namjoon had gone to parties. Got too drunk and had to stumble back to your dorms, stopping every so often so he could groan and throw up in some poor bastard’s shrubbery. Sometimes you’d drink a lot but not too much and stumble into a McDonald’s instead, order way too much food, and eat it on a curb in the parking lot.

“Oh my god.” You moan in a way that’s not appropriate for a wedding reception. Namjoon chokes on a bread ball. “You know what I just thought about?”

“McDonald’s? Because that’s what I’m thinking about.”

Chicken nuggets dance at the edge of your vision. Greasy, soggy fries call to you like a siren song. You can feel the burn of that demonic Sprite in the hinges of your jaw, your lips puckering in anticipation. “Yeah,” you reply, tone a little dazed. “Fuck, I’m so fucking hungry.”

Namjoon looks around the room. Takes note of where everyone is, what they’re doing, how long it’ll take before they’re done doing it. “We couldn’t,” he says, but the wistful look in his eyes gives him away. “We shouldn’t.” A pause. “We shouldn’t?”

No, you probably shouldn’t. “No, we probably shouldn’t,” you agree, “but I know from experience we can bribe Taehyung to cover for us if we bring him back a McFlurry. And, really, if you think about it, Yoongi and Hobi can’t even be mad because who lets their wedding guests starve.”

Namjoon clicks his tongue. “That’s a good point.”

“You say that as if I don’t always have good points,” you quip, almost offended at the insinuation.

“You don’t.”

It’s full-blown offense, now. “Excuse you. What the hell does that mean?”

Namjoon looks ready to fight to the death over this, a PowerPoint presentation full of bulleted lists practically shining behind those eyes of his, but then his stomach rumbles embarrassingly loud and he flushes. “Do you wanna…?”

Those goddamn chicken nuggets are calling to you again. “Yeah,” you decide, no hesitation as you stand and hold your hand out to him. Well, you try to stand. All those drinks you’d thrown back are hitting you at once and you teeter a little on your feet, your hand missing Namjoon’s the first four times he tries to grab it. “Let’s go,” you say once there’s finally contact. Namjoon’s hand is warm, steadying.

You pluck a flute of champagne off the tray of a passing waiter, unable to cope.

For some reason, Namjoon does the same.

***

“I always told you I’d take you to dinner in Paris.”

You snort, choking on a piece of chicken nugget. The replica Eiffel Tower gleams behind you as you both sit on the sidewalk, too drunk to care about ruining your expensive clothes. “Not once have you ever said that.”

Namjoon frowns, looking far too serious for a discussion like this. “I definitely have.” Looking over at him, you shake your head as you fight off a smile. Namjoon has never told you he’d take you to dinner in Paris. That’s not something you’d forget. “Well, I’ve definitely thought about it, then.”

“I don’t think that counts,” you say, shoving a handful of fries in your mouth. Your lips are greasy when you smack them together, the salt making them burn a little. “What good does it do me if you just think about it and never do it.”

The words seem to strike a chord with him. He looks over at you, gaze sharp and stone cold sober. Not like he’s seeing you for the first time, but—there’s definitely something there. Something new.

You think he might say something. Feels like the time and place for a confession. Namjoon’s definitely antsy like he’s talking himself up to deliver one, but he just snaps his jaw shut each time he opens it. Shoves more food in his mouth each time you think he might finally do it. Then he’s reaching into his coat pocket to pull out two tiny bottles of liquor he’d nicked from the mini bar in his hotel room.

He offers you one and you take it, unable to wipe the disappointment off your face.

***

The inside of your mouth tastes like battery acid.

Not to mention the throbbing in your skull, the way your entire body protests as soon as you open your eyes to golden sunlight. Your brain seems to be protesting most of all, seemingly taking the day off from recalling everything that happened once you and Namjoon had left the reception the night before. Fast food seems to have been involved, judging from the way your stomach roils, but there’s only a Windows shutdown screen beyond that.

“Wow, I feel like shit.”

You startle, barely resisting the urge to scream. Whether it’s out of fear or the overwhelming sense of disappointment that you’d taken someone back to your room that was almost certainly subpar, you’re not sure. You’re far too hungover to deal with the awkward this was great, but I have places to be talk.

But that voice—you’d know that voice anywhere, and that overwhelming sense of disappointment turns into an overwhelming sense of dread. Having sex with Namjoon has always been at the very top of your list of No Good, Very Bad Ideas. A logistical nightmare, if you’re being honest and completely putting aside the two billion daydreams you’ve had about how it’d feel to get railed by your best friend. Not to mention you’d done it drunk, because now you know how it feels to get railed by your best friend and you can’t even remember.

You swallow, trying desperately to keep the nausea at bay. You’re never eating McDonald’s again. “Um. Did—did we…?”

Namjoon’s silent only as long as it takes for him to take stock of the situation. The gears are clearly whirring in that giant brain of his, and if you didn’t feel like your entire world was falling apart, you’d spare a moment to appreciate how fucking hot he looks when he’s thinking. “I don’t—” He takes a peek beneath the duvet and immediately looks less green. “Well, I’m still wearing my suit pants, so I don’t—I don’t think we did.”

“Oh.” You take a peek, too. “I'm still in my dress.”

Namjoon nods. “That’s… that’s good, right?”

“Yeah. Yes.”

“Do you remember anything after we left the reception?”

You stay planted on your back, refusing to meet his eye. The ceiling is nice. A great ceiling. Has probably seen lots of debauchery. “I vaguely recall choking on a chicken nugget.”

“Okay. That’s—it’s a start.”

“Yeah. Do you?” Namjoon shakes his head. “Okay. Well, I guess—maybe we just ate McDonald’s and went back to the reception?”

Namjoon nods again, but it’s very weak and not at all convincing. “Yeah, maybe. Hey—maybe we can try, uh, checking our phones? We promised Tae a McFlurry. He definitely would’ve thrown a fit if we forgot.”

“Good point.”

You can see Namjoon smile in your peripheral vision. “You say that as if I don’t always have good points,” he teases gently, parroting your words from the night before.

Despite the clusterfuck in which you’ve found yourselves, you smile, too.

And it’s immediately wiped off your face once you grab your phone and take a look at your lock screen.

Because there, set as your wallpaper, right below the time and the onslaught of text messages asking where you were, is a picture of you and Namjoon, clearly taken the night before.

Because you’re in your dress—the expensive one Jimin has insisted on, and thank god he did because you look incredible—and Namjoon’s in his suit.

Because there’s a man you’ve never seen before standing in between you, smiling at you both.

Because he’s dressed like Elvis.

Because you and Namjoon are kissing, each of you holding up one side of a sign that says JUST MARRIED!

“Oh no,” Namjoon wails. “Oh no, oh fuck, please no—”

You want to say something, maybe give him some kind of reassurance or comfort, but you can’t stop staring. Your life is in shambles and all you can think about is how good you look together. How it must’ve felt to finally kiss him, if those plush lips felt as good as you’ve concluded they must.

Namjoon holds his left hand in front of him. It’s shaking horribly, but not badly enough to obscure the thin gold band on his ring finger. “Please tell me we didn’t…” He takes in a deep breath, tries not to hyperventilate. “Oh my god. Oh my fucking god.”

He reaches for your hand, then. Finds it beneath the comforter and holds it up, face crumpling immediately as he sees a matching ring on your finger.

And it’s not really the point, all things considered, but Namjoon’s reaction makes you want to cry. Of course he doesn’t want to be married to you, but the obvious and enthusiastic rejection still stings. You’re not sure what other response you expected, but this one’s about as bad as it can get.

You roll onto your side. Pretend to be rifling through your things so Namjoon doesn’t see the swell of tears on your lash line. “I, um. I’m sure it wo-won’t be hard to get it annulled.” You thumb away the wetness beneath your eyes. “I’m sure there’s a million places. We’re—we’re not the first people to get drunk and wake up married, you know?”

Namjoon hears the thickness in your voice. There’s no way he doesn’t, because you can hear it too and it’s impossible to hide. And he just sighs, places his hand cautiously on the swell of your hip. “I’m sorry,” he says, and you’re not sure he’s ever sounded so small. “I shouldn’t have…” He trails off, clearly unsure what he’s apologizing for.

“Yeah. It’s—it’s fine. Maybe we should just… take some time. Come up with a plan. We can reconvene in a few hours once we’re thinking more clearly.”

Namjoon just nods. He doesn’t say another word as you gather your things and slink down the hall to your own room.

***

“You did WHAT?”

Sighing, you pinch the bridge of your nose and tell yourself not to cry. You’d done enough of that in the shower. Over all four cups of coffee, too. “Don’t—please don’t yell at me.”

“Why not?” Hoseok huffs on the other end of the phone. You can hear Yoongi asking stupid questions in the background.

“Because,” you argue weakly. “I—I just feel stupid, okay? You know I’ve had feelings for Namjoon forever, and maybe something could’ve come from that, once upon a time, but we just fucked up so bad there’s no coming back from it.” A shaky exhale.“He’s probably never going to speak to me again, so not only do I have to mourn a relationship that never was and never will be, I’m also going to lose my best friend. And get a divorce. All before noon.”

Hoseok scoffs. “First of all, I’m your best friend, so that part is clearly untrue. And secondly, you’re not getting a divorce, you’re getting an annulment.”

Let no man say Jung Hoseok isn’t comforting.

“Wow, thanks a lot, Hobi. You’re a real pal.”

He clicks his tongue. “Wow yourself! You’re the one who called me in a panic the day after my wedding! I was blissfully getting railed by my husband—”

“Okay,” you sigh. “I get it. I’m sorry, I’ll let you go.”

“Hey, no, that’s—I didn’t mean it like that. I’m sorry. I just… didn’t expect this. I’m sorry.”

“You and me both.”

Hoseok’s tone is impossibly soft when he speaks again. “What are you gonna do?”

“What choice do we have? We’ll obviously get it annulled and pretend this never happened.”

He hesitates. “Yeah, I—I guess that’s the best idea, huh?”

Before you can answer, there’s a knock on the door. You bid Hoseok a quick goodbye before you move to answer it, feet dragging the entire way. You’re not surprised to see Namjoon, but that doesn’t stop your hands from shaking. Doesn’t mean the sight of him doesn’t take your breath away.

“Hi,” you say, trying to offer up a smile. “Come in.”

You’re not sure what to do with all your nervous energy so you perch on the edge of the bed, run your sweaty hands up and down your thighs. Namjoon doesn’t seem to be faring much better. Can’t seem to leave his hair alone. Can’t keep his eyes off the floor.

Finally he sighs, sits next to you on the bed. Not close enough to touch, but close enough for you to feel his body heat. “I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to be honest with me, okay? And I mean honest-honest. There’s no wrong answer here.”

You gulp. “Er, okay.”

Namjoon gulps, too, Adam’s apple bobbing obviously in his throat. “Doyouhavefeelingsforme?”

You blink. “What.”

“Doyouhavefeelingsforme,” he repeats.

“Joonie, can you slow down? I can’t understand a fucking thing you’re saying.”

He whimpers. Takes a deep breath. “Do. You. Have. Feelings. For me.”

Oh. Well, this certainly feels like a question that has a right or wrong answer. Feels like a question that’ll decide the fate of the universe, one that has an impossible amount of consequences.

“Uh,” you respond eloquently.

Eyes still locked on the floor, Namjoon grabs your hand. You try to ignore the feeling of his wedding band against your skin. “Honest-honest, remember?”

Of course you remember, but how can you possibly put years of feelings into words? How can you justify being in love with your best friend for so long and never telling him despite there being no secrets between you? How can you tell the truth and be selfish enough to ask him to stay, to fix the mess the two of you have made? Because you can be honest, you can deal with the repercussions, but you can’t stomach losing your best friend.

But, if nothing else, you can at least give him what he’s asking for.

“Yes.”

Namjoon slumps. Releases a very fractured breath, and this is it, you think. This is the part where he lets you down with a kindness only Namjoon possesses. This is the part where he regrets to inform you he doesn’t feel the same and extends a half-assed offer to still be friends because he feels obligated to.

Instead, this is the part where he says, “Thank fuck,” and laughs at your dumbfounded expression. Then he moves in to kiss it off your face entirely, and yes, those plush, pillowy lips of his do feel just as good as you’ve imagined. Better, even.

The two of you kiss for what feels like hours. He kisses you slowly and with intent. Kisses you until you feel all the love you have for him returned tenfold. Kisses you until you’re dizzy and drunk on him. Kisses you until you’re laughing until you cry that the first time the two of you are kissing is as husband and wife. Kisses you until you don’t care about the consequences. Kisses you until he’s pulling away to say—

“Maybe it’s too soon to ask, but do you want to, maybe, like… stay married?”

And then you’re laughing again, tears staining your cheeks that Namjoon thumbs away even though he doesn’t get it. Doesn’t know why you’re laughing, if it’s at him or with him or at the situation.

“Sorry,” you giggle, “it’s just—you’re the first person to ever ask me that.”

Namjoon’s smile is large and infectious. Has his dimples displayed prominently. “Oh, really?” He presses another kiss to your temple. “So this isn’t a habit of yours, getting drunk at weddings and waking up married?”

You press your no into his mouth. “Just this once.”

“And what’s the verdict?” he asks, tone teasing but there’s vulnerability beneath it. “No wrong answer again. I know this is really backwards.”

You go quiet. “You’d want to stay married? You, Kim Namjoon, the most traditional man on the face of the earth?”

He scoffs. “I am not—”

“Mr. House in the Suburbs With a White Picket Fence?”

“Come on—”

“Mr. Two Kids and a Dog? Mr. Five-Hundred Wedding Guests? Mr. One True Love? Mr. Wifeguy—”

Namjoon groans. “I want a divorce.”

“It’s an annulment, not a divorce.”

“Then I want that, too.”

You shriek with laughter, rolling onto your side to face him. Namjoon is gorgeous all the time, but he’s most gorgeous when he’s happy. That pure, untainted happiness you see on him now. “Do you really?”

“No,” he answers, whisper-soft. “Do you?”

Maybe it’s the dumbest idea you’ve ever had, or maybe it’s the smartest, but you press another no into his mouth.

I just love pure devotion for each other 🫶

fictober idea (if ure up for smut): eddie & reader go to a haunted house. eddie, obviously, gets a boner bc hes a weirdo. reader notices & begs to touch him right here, right now even tho theyve never done anything in public before. so, eddie finds a place to *kinda* hide & reader gets him off, but ofc, eddie cant let reader go without cumming as well.

thanks for requesting :D — eddie gets turned on protecting you at a haunted house, and you obv have to reward him for it (smut 18+, 1.5k)

fictober leftovers (㇏(•̀ᵥᵥ•́)ノ)

Eddie’s been called a freak his whole life. He knew he was different since he could understand what being different meant, and if that made him a weirdo, then so be it. But now he thinks everyone might’ve been right about him. He’s a complete, utter, and total freak.

He walks with you through a haunted house, surrounded by creepy masks and fake blood and your screams, and he’s hard. His dick’s as stiff as a rock and throbbing with a distant ache when most people are scared out of their minds.

It’s all your fault, honestly. You’re clinging to him with an ironclad grip and using him as a shield every time something jumps out at you. Eddie can’t even be scared with you because all he can think about is how masculine he feels protecting you like this. Metalhead freaks like him never get to feel this way — all manly and muscly and brave.

And even though it’s hard to walk while adjusting his pants every five steps, Eddie thinks he’s hiding it pretty well. Well, he was, anyway. Until your ass brushes against his lap, and you clock him immediately.

Trapped in a secluded area of the haunted house, lit up red and blaring the Halloween theme song, you spin around to face him. “Are you hard?” you ask him over the music, face twisted in confusion. You’re not weirded out by it exactly, just genuinely puzzled.

Eddie freezes, chocolate eyes wide. He plays coy despite being caught red-handed. “No.”

You shoot him a deadpanned look, brows raised as you peer at him through your lashes.

He caves. “…Yes.”

“Does scary shit turn you on?” you wonder, laughing softly.

“No!” he responds with a dramatic drawl, sounding more offended than he should be. He is standing rock-hard in the middle of a haunted house, after all. He shifts his weight on his feet and stammers for an answer. “I just… I like being able to protect you and… everything.”

“Aw…” you hum, melting into a puddle at his feet. “That’s kinda sweet, actually.”

Eddie’s visibly surprised by your response. He was prepared to get made fun of at best — slapped and dumped entirely at worst. But here you are, all but admiring how much of a freak your boyfriend is.

“Wait, really?”

You shrug. “Yeah. Especially considering last Halloween, the guy I was dating left me behind at a haunted house.”

“Pussy…” Eddie grumbles under his breath.

“Exactly,” you giggle. “So this is definitely an upgrade.”

Your palms smooth up his chest and over his shoulders. Your fingers entwine behind his neck, halfway embracing him in the middle of the haunt. His hands settle warm and wide on your sides. He squeezes you gently there and lets out a sigh of relief.

“I’m just glad you don’t think I’m a total freak,” he confesses with a forced chuckle. 

“Oh, I definitely think you’re a freak,” you retort in a monotone, then flash him a sickly sweet smile. “I’m just too obsessed with you to care.”

Eddie nods and tries not to smile too wide when you lean in to kiss him. “Noted,” he murmurs.

You do a whole lot more than just kiss him, though. You open his mouth with your own and lick inside with a confident tongue. You take the breath from his lungs with little effort, leaving him more breathless than he has been all night.

“Wanna suck you off,” you murmur, slurred and muffled against his mouth.

He jerks away from you on instinct. He couldn’t hide his shock if he tried. “Huh?” he wonders in a tone that borders on cartoonish. His soft features twist in confusion.

“I need your cock in my mouth like I need to breathe,” you confess with an unabashed groan.

Maybe he wasn’t the freak after all. Maybe this whole time, it was you.

“Well, that’sa tad bit dramatic, but—” You cut off his teasing by fussing with the buckle of his belt. His eyes widen in shock, but he doesn’t try to stop you. “Whoa. Okay. This is… This is great and everything, babe, but there’s— there’s people around. Someone could walk in.”

You look to your left, then to your right. There’s no one here but you and Eddie in this small square room, filled with a fiery red like the warmth swirling in your belly. You blink at him with doe eyes and shrug innocently. “I don’t see anyone.”

Eddie breathes out a laugh, one mixed with amusement and disbelief. “I just don’t wanna us to get caught, babe,” he tells you, smoothing wide palms up and down your arms. “Don’t want you to get in trouble.”

“Do you want a blowjob or not?”

“Well, yeah, but I—”

“Good,” you hum with a smile before sinking to your knees in front of him.

Eddie’s too stunned to stop you. He doesn’t want to stop you.

Bathed in a sinful neon red, you unbutton his pants and free his half-hard cock from the confines of his jeans. You tug at the hem of his underwear until his heavy balls hang over the plaid fabric. 

“Shit,” he mutters when you press a sweet kiss to his weeping tip. He bites back a moan when you swirl your tongue around the bulbous strawberry head. “Shit— you’re so fucking hot.”

You worship his cock like it’s not just some random Tuesday in the middle of a haunted house. You don’t mean to, really, but he’s making such pretty noises for you — little puffs of tiny breaths and small whines he tries desperately to hide from you. 

His thighs twitch every time you run your tongue over the veins on the underside of him, going slow to feel the rapid pulse there. His fingers crawl in your hair, palms settling on your temples — not pushing you or pulling you away, just holding you as you suck gently at his aching cock.

His pink lips are parted, airing out little moans of ecstasy. His chocolate eyes are dark and glazed over in a honeyed look. His hair hangs over his face, wild and desperate to be pulled.

You let his tip linger in your mouth, drool pooling around him and soaking his twitching cock. The feeling makes him moan — a deep, hearty sound that stems from his chest. 

When his lolling head drops back, you take him in your fist. You don’t bother to work him up to a rapid pace. Using the lubrication of your spit, you jerk him with an expert hand and lick away the pearly beads of pre-cum he leaks for you.

“Ah, shit,” he groans, eyes rolled back before he squeezes them shut. “Oh, fuck, babe—”

You’re already opening your mouth for his cum before he can warn you it’s coming. You know him too well. You notice all the telltale signs before you think he does — the whimpers, the shaking thighs, the rambled moans, the way his balls draw slightly upward. You’re ready to accept his warm, salty loads the second he gives them to you. 

Eddie cups your warm cheek with a ringed hand. He tries to tell you he’s cumming, but his whines get in the way. He grunts quietly, tilting his head backward and holding tightly to you as cum pulses weakly from his slit. 

The tang dribbles over your tongue and mouth. You take it all with ease. You make a big show of it, too — lolling your tongue out of your mouth and letting his cum drip onto the softening pudge of his head. Eddie’s whole body twitches when you take his sensitive cock in your mouth again to swallow it down, like a goddamn lightning strike up his spine.

“How’d I—” His voice is hoarse, so he has to stop and clear his throat. You smile, lips swollen and spit-slick, as you tuck his soft cock back into his jeans and button them again. His eyes are half-lidded and darkened when you rise to full height. “How’d I get so fucking lucky with you, huh?”

You make a vague I don’t know sound and shrug your shoulders with an innocent grin. You lean into his palm when he puts his ringed hands on your jaw. 

“Jesus fucking christ— you’re so pretty, baby— fuck.”

He’s just rambling now, still a bit dazed from his orgasm. He kisses you harder than anyone’s ever been kissed before, stealing the air from your lungs with ease. It’s like he’s amazed by his own adoration for you — the sheer intensity of it — the way it makes him stupid enough to let you suck his cock in a poorly hidden spot of a haunted house.

You don’t get caught, though. 

Not really, anyway.

There’s a security camera in front of the door you leave from. You make sure to give it a little wave on your way out.

Eddie holds your hand the entire way back to his van, opening the door for you like a total gentleman. It’s not the passenger side door, though, but rather the one in the very back. 

“What are you doing?” you wonder, all innocent like you still don’t have the taste of his cum in your mouth.

Eddie just grins at you, lopsided and pink and boyish. “Gotta return the favor, don’t I?”

Knockin’ on Heavens Door

Eddie Munson x Reader

Prompt: Eddie meets reader when he’s locked himself out of his place, only wearing a towel, and it’s freezing out…

This took me far too long to write but I’ve done it and literally only survived thanks to the help and (a lot of) inspiration from @somnambulic-thing and very very importantly @bettyfrommars who has put up with my neediness and motivated me without giving up on me even though I give her hell :)

Word count: 3.8k

Enjoy 🧖‍♀️🧡

You know you probably shouldn't be doing this – it's a bit intrusive, but there's something about it that you just can't resist. It's almost as if he intentionally leaves the blinds wide open, playfully showing off his lean torso. It's practically criminal the way he stretches.

Your eyes have been locked in for a solid minute, completely transfixed. Then, out of nowhere, a damp trickle makes its presence known, spreading down your thigh and catching you entirely off guard.

The dampness continues its journey, seeping into your snug jeans. It's only when you feel the warm splash against the linoleum flooring that your eyes finally snap out of their hypnotic trance. 

With the soapy water pooling at your feet, cursing under your breath, you hastily twisted the tap off, a sheepish grin playing on your face. But before you could wallow in self-loathing for too long, a symphony of clattering china stole your attention.

A precarious tower of plates teetered on the edge of disaster. Time seemed to slow down in your trailer, as the top plate threatened to take a nosedive into the soapy abyss below. With the grace of a ballet dancer plagued by a sudden case of clumsiness, you lunged to save it.

However, fate had other plans, and your socks, now co-conspirators in chaos, decided to engage in an impromptu water ballet. The kitchen floor became a slippery stage, your socks doing a merry jig with the water, leaving you no choice but to join the unintentional performance. As you contorted yourself in a desperate attempt to save the day, you found yourself executing a perfect slip-and-slide routine, courtesy of your soap soaked footwear.

In the grand finale of your spectacle, you let out a scream—because, let's face it, what else does one do when caught in the act of a kitchen acrobatics routine? The sudden noise echoed through your trailer, a bizarre symphony of curses, clattering plates, and your own ungraceful descent—

Tap Tap Tap. A hasty knock echoed through the room. 

You freeze. Still sat on the floor clutching the plate. 

The tapping morphs into more of a smack, a knock that kind of screams 'panic mode.' And then, a voice breaks in – 'It’s just me, Eddie from next door.'

You catch his huff on the other side.

 “I heard a scream, and I—I'm just wondering, are you alright? can you maybe open the door?” His voice is laced with concern, and then he goes quiet, almost whispering the next part.

“Or maybe you can't. Shit. Okay, if you don’t reply in the next minute, I'm just gonna come in, alright?”

You take a deep breath, debating whether to open the door or respond. Your hot neighbour is at your door. You are sitting on the floor in your own soapy mess. What are the positives here? The room feels tense, and Eddie's words hang in the air. After a moment, you decide to break the silence.

"Hey, Eddie," you call out, your voice a bit shaky. "Yeah, I'm here. Just had a little... moment. Give me a sec."

As you slowly stand up, you notice the plate you were clutching is now slightly cracked from your grip. You shuffle over to the door, tugging on your sweater before unlocking it and pulling it open. Eddie stands there, a mix of relief and concern on his face. Eddie more importantly is standing on your trailer step in a towel, curls damp, tattoos fully exposed and his chest heaving slightly as if he’s ran a marathon. 

"Everything okay?" he asks, peering past you into the room. Behaving like the towel attire isn’t present. 

You manage a half-smile, real casual.

 "Yeah, yeah, just a clumsy accident. Thanks for checking in, though. I appreciate it."

Eddie nods, still looking uneasy. You watch his wide, worried eye’s take in the wet patches dotted over your legs, the little bits of foam sticking to your clothing.

 "No problem. Let me know if you need anything, okay? Seriously." 

"Thanks, will do. Enjoy your shower," you say with a casual grin. You observe Eddie's confused face as he processes your words. Suddenly, his cheeks tint pink, and it dawns on him that he's standing at your door clad only in a towel.

After a tight-lipped smile, he chuckles, visibly embarrassed, and swiftly turns to leave, only managing a small “see ya!”.

 You stand there, watching his retreat, and as he struts away, you can't help but feel a mix of amusement and awkwardness. Closing the door behind you, the realisation hits, and the only logical response seems to be to smack your forehead against the white plastic in a silent scream. 

‘Knock, knock, knock.’

It had barely been a minute and you were still leaning against the door. Either you’re stuck in a time loop or Eddie has come back to laugh at you a bit more. 

You hear an awkward cough come from the other side of the door. Swinging it open you see Eddie standing back on the step, only this time his face has gone from tinted pink to ‘kill me now’ red. 

“Hey, again”,he manages to greet, paired with a tight lipped smile.

“You don’t happen to have one of my uncles spare keys?”

 Naturally you frown, trying to think if you did. Eddie hating the silence continues while crossing his arms over his chest.  

“I didn’t really think when I heard you screaming, and I just rushed out, forgetting the door is broken and the outside handle doesn’t work without a key and…”

“Shit, just come in”, you cut him off noticing his teeth starting to chatter in the Indiana frost, toes curling and you feel dreadful for just letting him stand outside to tell his story.

“I think I have a bowl of keys somewhere”, you mutter out loud, swiftly shutting the door after he scuttles in and cringing at the mess your trailer is in. 

Eddie hates silence. You can tell by the low whistle he’s performing.

“Feel free to take a seat and a blanket or um-yeah”, the teetering tension hangs, it suffocates and pricks at your skin. The very person you lay awake at night dreaming about is basically naked in your trailer. Just one problem with your fantasy - in your reality it's a mistake. 

“So”, you begin, trying to fill this silence while you dig around the random bowl of keys. 

“Any new years plans?” 

“Changing my name and moving state”, he replies, voice slightly muffled from him anxiously biting a hangnail. 

You laugh, but think the same. 

His whistling continues. 

“Feel free to use the phone to call someone”, you suggest, knowing that may give you a bit of space to calm down. 

“Sounds like I'm in jail”. But he takes the bone and follows your feeble mumble of “by my bedroom door”, but he now not only wears the towel, but also clutches onto the scratchy knitted throw around his shoulders, swamping him.

 You don’t have his key. Each one in the bowl had a little label attached and not one said anything remotely similar to ‘Munson”. Why would you? You avoid him and never see his uncle so why would you be trusted with such a thing. 

Your thoughts stop there as you hear Eddie’s whispered voice flutter through into your mini kitchen. The ultimate one sided phone call eavesdropping.

“Steve?”

“Yes, Hey, No, just shut up.” This poor Steve guy, he’s really getting it. 

“Can you bring me the spare key I gave you, it’s urgent”.

There’s a pause, long enough that you know Eddie’s being heavily questioned. 

“Yes, I locked myself out and I’ve taken shelter at my neighbours, but I'm just in my towel… I was about to shower…no that’s not…so you know if you could be quick i'd appreciate it.”

There’s a beat of quiet.

And then you hear it. Strained and broken up, but you definitely heard him clearly. 

“Yes THAT neighbour”.

“Yes and I’m only in a towel…No… just hurry the fuck up!”

It sounds as if this Steve has given up, the biggest hint is Eddies frustrated huffs that are filling your mini hallway and -

“Steve? Steve? Asshole”. 

The phone clicks back onto the wall and you quickly grab the key bowl again, purposely frowning in false concentration. 

“Any luck?”Eddie asks, entering the small space again, only his hair now looks a little frizzy, like he’s been tugging at it. 

Shifting your gaze from the bowl up towards him, your eyes soften as you hum a small no apologetically. “Do you want me to go and check next door or perhaps-”

“Honestly, I’m starting to think my Uncle doesn’t trust anyone.” He replies using a cheeky tone but the small sigh that follows hints to something hidden. 

Placing the bowl back down, you dare to take Eddie in, standing in your trailer in only a towel, realising that from an outsider perspective this scene would seem maybe normal. Domesticated and comfortable. However, inside these 4 walls it's anything but. The chill returns to Eddie’s body, a light splatter of goosebumps becomes clear and you’ll just pretend that you aren’t fully aware of his hardening nipples.

“Let me get you a sweater or maybe something to make you feel a bit less vulnerable?”

“It’s fine, Im sure my mate won’t be long”

“Yeah I’m sure calling him an asshole must have made him hurry”. 

“Shit, you heard that?”

 “Oh, um- only that bit”.

A smirk teases Eddie's lips, and his worry lines fade a tad. It's a refreshing change from awkward politeness, leaving you with a friendlier feeling blooming. 

Without asking again, you manage to shimmy around Eddie, heading to your room after stepping over the knitted throw that must have fallen from Eddie's shoulders during his heated phone call. Once you’ve slipped into the bedroom and caught sight of yourself in the mirror you indulge in a silent scream you’ve been holding in since he’s graced your presence semi naked. 

The room is a mess. A room where chaos and laundry has had a wild party, and now there are piles of clothes doing the conga, tapes attempting the tango, and random odd bits engaged in a lively game of hide-and-seek. It's a mess so legendary, even dust bunnies are wearing sunglasses to blend in.

There must be something for Eddie amongst this disaster that is the product of you picking up extra shifts and just never having time to tackle the spectacle. Once you dived into the full pile on your bed, all you could dig up was a silk robe that's seen better days, a mysterious swimsuit thing that might have teleported from the '60s, and a sweater with a front that's a questionable blend of mud and hopefully melted chocolate.

 Laundry day avoidance level: expert.

Leaving the room, you shuffle back into the little living area to find Eddie perched on the arm of the couch, seemingly having a conversation with himself. As you get close enough, the realisation hits that your little grey cat has escaped from your bed pit and scuttled to Eddie’s side, occupying his right hand while his other clutches his towel still.

“I see you’ve met Bertie”. You have a chance to break the silence as your four legged companion nuzzles into Eddie’s thigh so desperate for his attention. Relatable. 

“ um- I apologise in advance, I don’t seem to actually have much for your  modesty”,

Eddie snorts at that. Knowing that he’s way past being modest in front of you now, but you watch him eye the fabrics under your arm with humorous curiosity.  

“So here’s the options,” you announce, holding up the first item, “I’ve got this sweater.” You notice his eyes dart to the mysterious muck, but you press on, determined to sell it. “I-I swear, the brown mud on it totally matches your eyes.”

Without uttering a word, he screws up his face, lips creasing like sour lemons have tainted his tongue. The sweater is promptly discarded out of sight. Undeterred, you move on to the next option.

“Then there's this bathing suit type wetsuit thingy. It could be warm? I mean, it’s a bit out of fashion, but hey, beggars can't be choosers, right?”

With Bertie now curled up on the opposite end of the couch, Eddie's already slipped himself onto the cushions, arms crossed, and behaving like he's enjoying some awful magic act. There's no clear reaction to this item, prompting you to quickly untuck the last garment from your elbow.

“And, oh, this silk robe, super nice on the skin.” His eyebrows shoot up; you can hardly blame him—the robe is very…pink.

“Sorry, I was supposed to do laundry, like, two weeks ago... Oops!"

Eddie clears his throat, ready to reveal his grand choice. “Robe, please?” He sounds unsure, one second away from entering a laughing fit, his two front teeth seemingly biting hard on his bottom lip for support.

“Really?” you respond, unsure if it's a joke. But he sits up straighter, serious, and pops out his palm to swoop the material from your grasp.

“Anything that isn't wet... or muddy... or a bathing suit,” he wriggles into it, aware he looks ridiculous, “works for me.”

The way his hands thread the tie through the loops captivates your gaze. He cocoons himself inside the garish piece of fabric with satisfaction, pleased to have a little extra coverage even if he looks like a walking one night stand.

"Actually suits you quite well."

"Oh, really?"

"Absolutely. You're like Mrs. Fitz's attention-grabbing flower pots incarnate."

His eyes crinkle, radiating fondness and ease— a man at ease in a hot pink robe. Metal. 

"Oh, don't get me started. I need sunglasses just to pass her lawn."

An instant laugh escapes you, and there's a twinge of almost painful comfort settling in. It stings, though, because you're well aware he's not truly yours.

Before that idea gnaws at you, the mention of your shared neighbour reminds you of something useful. 

 “Actually, speaking of Mrs fitz, she gave me this god awful mystery boxed wine from her little sunday stash and I just couldn't say no to her and I guess conquering the fashion world really works up a thirst-”

“Go for it”, he intrudes with a gentle smile,  leaning away, distracted by the cat, who's lapping up his attention like it's nectar from the gods. Little shit.

You give a little curt nod deciding to stop babbling and just take the risk that the old bat from trailer 478 doesn't want to poison you. 

Half the box has been drained, the pair of you sipping out of chipped mugs and entering a hazier territory filled with loose tongues and fingertips not far from reach. 

The sun has started to set and Eddie’s friend hasn't called or shown up, not that he’s mentioned it, he’s too busy telling a story about the last hideout disaster that went down last tuesday. 

“So there I am, I’ve only got one more riff to go and it’s like the floor began to hum. I don’t stop, just let my fingers meet the chords, but the hum turned into more of a rumble and then the stage had this unsteady rattle-”

He stopped talking suddenly, with a wide eyed look on his face. Leaning closer, his robe slid down a bit, and the drink inside the mug splashed around, showing how excited he was. "Okay, picture a huge wave like a tsunami."

That was not what you expected him to say. Giggling, you jokingly asked, "Why?" and joined in by leaning forward, creating a shared moment.

"Don't question, just do it!" he scolded, quickly licking his dry lips, eager for what comes next. Eddie didn't wait and closed his eyes tightly. You followed suit, too scared to be caught staring.

"Okay—where was I—right… The rattle."

You chance an eye open, taking a peak, but Eddie dramatically bursts out “shut!”, grinning.

“So the tsunami, it's a wave, a mighty one right? Now picture that suddenly emerging from the dingey rotten door of the guys bathroom, greyish in colour, all sorts mixed in the cocktail of pipe water and its at full force. The guys stopped playing but I just kept going, fingers racing against this septic fluid and I needed to ride the metal wave you know”-

The buzz from the wine helps you let out a raspberry splutter, a burst of laughter, yet you're still eating up each word.The courage to fully open your eyes sets in knowing Eddie must be rounding up, but no, he motioned with his palm for you to shut them again. A dramatic huff leaves your mouth but its teasing tone informs Eddie that you’re still on board. 

His pace intensifies, words tumbling from his mouth at high speed, “I can’t stop, only 3 bars left, the burst pipes drainage hurling towards me and then it happens…”

His mouth slams shut. The trailer that was once filled with his shrieked vocals has suddenly muted. You wait in the sudden silence,  it's tense and for some reason your body feels the need to lean a little forward, like it's expecting a whisper from Eddie’s lips. 

“Closer-”, and he did. He whispers, luring you even further forward. Then another silence. You are tilted on a weird angle, mug held loosely by your thumb and forefinger, the other hand inches away from Eddie's exposed knee. “It’s even closer”, He adds again, only even more hushed.

“And then…” Eddie, draws in a breath, making you hitch your own.

A wet sprinkle enters the conversation. A splash of wine turns the moment into a surprise party for your face and causes your eyes to flutter open in confusion. 

You gasp! “Did you just-“

Eddies now away from you, back pressing into the couch and his hand is wedged into the mug. The teasing grin on his face shows he’s not afraid to strike again. 

 You hurriedly dunk your fingertips into the little liquid you have left and with just as much childish thrill and flick the droplets right back at him.

He flinches, but manages to dodge.

“Hey!”

Laughter ripples through the air as Eddie retaliates with a mischievous glint in his eyes. He swiftly lifts the mug, twirling it like a water wizard conjuring a spell, and a cascade of liquid arcs towards you. With a nimble twist, you manage to avoid the wine.

In desperation you grab a nearby cushion, using it as a shield. Eddie, undeterred, counters with a strategic fling of his hair, like a true professional headbanger, sending droplets flying. You can't help but marvel at the absurdity of the situation, the once serene atmosphere now transformed into a battleground of playful chaos.

Giggles mix with the splattering sounds of liquid projectiles as you both engage in a dance of water warfare. A strategic retreat takes you behind the safety of the couch where the rest of the boxed beverage is hiding and you quickly refill the mug. 

Droplets cling to hair, clothes, and the very air seems charged with the energy of uncontained tipsy fun. The both of you are now standing, in a standoff, mugs full. Your unimpressed cat spies from the crack in the couch where he takes cover. 

“Hang on,” you breathlessly announce holding your hand up in surrender “Time out”.

The mischievous expression fades from Eddie's face, like a fear or insecurity has been planted in his mind and he takes your request extremely seriously. 

“You alright?”He relaxes his body, no longer in fight mode and patiently awaits for your answer. However you just nod, before bringing the mug to your lips and appearing to take a leisurely sip. A very long sip. 

Maintaining eye contact, you shuffle towards Eddie, closing the gap between you so you are less than a metre a part.

“We can stop”, Eddie tries again, confused by your silence. 

You bring the mug back up to your lips once more, blocking your face with the cup, obstructing Eddie's view. You tilt the mug down, hold direct eye contact with your hot neighbour and without any grace or elegance your cheeks swell.

And you do it. In one quick motion, like a free flowing fountain in the park. A burst of wine is sprayed towards Eddie’s direction. The liquid that was stewing in between your cheeks now drips from Eddie's nose, his eyes screwed shut on instinct. 

And then he’s charging, towel still tucked tight but the robe isn't as strong so it’s beginning to gape,the tie draping on the floor. You retreat with a manic laugh, uttering a “shit” at the fact you very much may become completely drowned by the awful sweet wine that is sloshing from Eddie’s mug.  

“You little shi-sugar!” It slips from his tongue with a bemused chuckle. This means war. 

Eddie is now fully chasing you with a wide smile, both caught up in a frenzy and equally feeling as fuzzy inside at this comfortability. And then it changes. Your foot collides with a chair leg. 

The sudden impact sends you tumbling down with an involuntary "aah," catching Eddie off guard. Despite his proximity, he can't halt his movements in time, and he ends up following your unanticipated descent. Bertie, the cat, startled by the commotion, leaps in anxious panic. In the midst of it all, he inadvertently hooks his claw onto a delicate silk string hanging in front of his face. Big mistake. Huge. 

The trailer door slams open. It’s a man, maybe the friend, Steve, but all you see from your horizontal angle is his jaw hanging wide open and eyebrows raised unnaturally high. You notice his eyes then scan Eddie. A very much naked Edward Munson.

Nobody moves. It’s as if a pause button has been inflicted inside your trailer.  

Steve’s the first to break. “I heard screaming so-I-um”. He then bites his tongue, shuts his eyes and swivels back out the door. A short second after, you hear Eddie’s friend snicker and then shout through the door, 

“Good for you, Munson!” 

You and Eddie are still very much sandwiched. But he doesn’t break.

“Fuck, I think we need to kill him now.”

You don’t move, just break the tension saying,

“I’ve got a shovel.”

It’s then you both realise that reaching for his fallen towel proves to be impossible, because Bertie is perched on top, purring. 

There’s not a lot to do other than chuckle. 

Eddie sighs, “and then shall we move states?”

“Absolutely.”

“Or is that too much for a first date?”

Eddie exhales, then carries on further, “been wanting to ask you that everyday since you moved in, but I’m a coward and Mrs Fitz’ wine seems to have helped, so I-I thought, hey, already got my dic-”

You don’t want him to ramble the rest. It’ll ruin the moment. So you strain your neck upwards and take the dive, pecking his dimple dented cheek.

“Yes.”

“To what?”

“Just, Yes.”

🤩

if you're still interested in smutty requests.. what about the line "want me to serenade you while you strip?" and it's eddie jokingly saying this to reader and she runs with it and he tries to keep playing but COME ON there's more important things those fingers should be doing 👀

congrats! u win the award for most eddie coded request of all time :D — eddie makes you laugh when you get nervous undressing in front of him (18+, allusion to smut, 0.7k)

bug's one year celebration ♡

“Stop looking at me like that!” you whine with your arms crossed over your nearly bare chest. “You’re making it weird!”

Eddie laughs loud. “Where am I supposed to look?” he asks, leaning back on the mattress and propping his weight on his elbows. He’s got a better view of you from this angle. More of your half-naked body in his sight.

“I can feel you looking at me— It’s making me feel weird.”

“Well, how am I supposed to look anywhere else when you’re in front of me like this, huh?” 

His eyes are lidded and swimming with melted chocolate. You’re not sure how you’ve captured his attention like this, in the tamest underwear you own and your most ancient bra. He’s looking at you like you’re already undressed — like you’re still pretty even though you aren’t.

“You’re an idiot,” you giggle, glittering with adoration.

“And you’re the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen,” he quips without thinking twice, wild head titled to his shoulder and a crooked smirk on his kissed mouth. “So I guess we’re even.”

His eyes rake over you again, heavy like it’s the first time they’ve ever seen you. 

He pulls his plush lip between his teeth and, almost absentmindedly so, brings his palm to the crotch of his jeans. He grips his covered cock with a pale hand, shifting it slightly within the confines of the denim. It grows slowly and achingly stiff the longer he looks at you.

Eddie looks like a Renaissance painting like this. Ethereal and hedonistic. You almost forget to breathe.

“I haven’t even done anything yet,” you say with a forced laugh.

“You’re half-naked in my bedroom, doll— that’s all you need to do,” he chuckles, golden and more sincere than yours. His ringed fingers clutch tighter at his covered bulge. He breathes hard through his nose. “You could be fully clothed, and you’d still turn me on.”

“Stop messing with me,” you argue in a tiny voice, features twisted in a subtle pout.

“I’m not messing with you.”

“Do you want me to get naked? Or should I just stand here for the next two minutes?”

“Two minutes? C’mon. Give me a little credit. At least, two-and-a-half,” Eddie jokes. And then, when you laugh, he assures you. “You don’t have to get undressed if it makes you uncomfortable. Unless it would make you feel better if I serenaded you—”

“No.”

“—Too late.” 

You reach your arms for the clasp of your bra. Eddie’s voice fills the trailer — “do, do, do, do-do-do-do-do-do” — the high-pitched intro to “I Was Made for Loving You.” It makes you laugh loud. A big, girlish laugh that makes your head drop back.

Your bra comes off, and you forget to be nervous.

“Why are you laughin’ at me, huh?” Eddie jokes, eyes going squishy around the edges when he looks at you.

“‘Cause that’s, like, the least sexiest part of that song.”

“I beg to differ.”

“Well, are you gonna keep singing, superstar? Or am I gonna have to keep my underwear on?”

He goes dumb for a flash of a second, forgets the lyrics and how to form the words of them in his mouth. He jumbles them together for a second in mindless mumbles until the real thing spills from his lips. “—‘Cause girl, you were made for me… And girl, I was made for you…”

You tug your panties down your thighs while he sings for you. You make a big show of it too, tossing the pair of them into your lover’s lap and giggling when it gets him all flustered. 

“Fuck— c’mere,” he urges, as dumb as he is breathless, now that you’re fully naked in front of him. His hand drops to his lap again, palming at his stiffening length to ease the ache there. His free hand reaches out for you. “Can you— Just come sit in my lap, baby, please.”

You don’t know why he’s groveling. You were breaking the second you saw him melting for you. Not thinking straight enough to tease him about it, you settle yourself over his lap — kneeling on the mattress, both of your thighs straddling one of his.

You linger there, just above him. Eddie’s ringed hands reach gently for your warm jaw to pull you closer to him. You don’t give in so easily — “Keep singing for me, rockstar. You got a show to warm up for, remember?”

Eddie blinks up at you, eyes wide and lidded and honeyed. He looks at you like you hung the moon in the sky. Like you’re some ethereal being carved out of stone. Like you’re the prettiest thing he’s ever seen because you are.

“Shit,” he curses under his breath. “This is so fucking metal.”

🤩

𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐋𝐎𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑 𝐑𝐎𝐎𝐌.

virgin eddie munson x experienced fem reader

summary: you go into the boys locker room with a plan to steal the polaroids your now ex boyfriend took of you to show off to his friends, but the last thing you suspected was to be met with Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson and his very big friend.

warnings: smut ahead, 18+ minors dni, no use of y/n (use of pet names), non consensual sharing of nudes, reader technically cheats, big dick eddie, slight fingering, oral (m receiving) unprotected p in v, cream pie, fluffff.

authors note: I feel like I haven’t written a one shot in awhile, so…hope you like. As always thank you to my lovely beta’s @take-everything-you-can & @xxhellfiregirlxx <3

wc: 3.4k

You are fuming, absolutely seething with rage.

You couldn't believe your boyfriend, scratch that ex boyfriend would do this to you. How could someone swear to be ‘so in love” with you but turn around and do this? It just didn’t make sense, but you only have yourself to blame.

All of your friends warned you about Andy, said he was a pig and would just use you as another notch for his belt, but you wanted to believe you were different or that maybe you could’ve changed him. Instead you allowed him to take very x-rated polaroids of you, that he in turn showed to all of his basketball buddies, who told their cheerleader girlfriends, who then told you he’d spent all of gym bragging and showing them off in the locker room.

So…you’d devised a very impulsive and hell bent plan; while they were all outside running the annual mile, you decided you would sneak into the locker room, find Andy's locker, then you would break into it and steal the polaroids back. It was a fool proof plan… or so it seemed in your frenzy of rage.

But as you walk into the quiet, cold, sterile room filled with green lockers. You quickly realize you're not alone.

“Oh my god!”

“Oh fuck!”

Was said in unison as you and Eddie ‘the freak’ Munson locked eyes, but they didn't stay connected for long as yours roamed his body, all the way down to the biggest cock you had ever seen in your life. Not that you’ve seen so many, but you’ve had your fair share of hook ups and I mean c’mon you're not a prude, you do watch porn.

But, even so… his cock was still bigger than anything you’ve come in contact with, albeit on screen and off.

“I’m so sorr–”

“What are you do-”

You both say again, voices overlapping as Eddie catches the wide eyed stare you're giving his flaccid manhood.

He quickly covers himself with his hands, his cheeks pinkening in embarrassment.

Eddie was rather dense when it came to his size, considering he was a virgin and he’s been using the locker room while it was empty since he started at Hawkins High, not wanting to give the jocks anymore fuel for their relentless fire. He didn’t have much to compare it to, nor did he want to participate in any dick measuring contests. The only porn he had hidden under his bed were his dirty fantasy magazines but all the dicks in there were monster cocks, literally.

“What are you doing in here?” Eddie huffed in annoyance as your eyes continued to burn a hole into his now covered groin.

“I um, I–” You couldn't even find the words to explain why you were in the boy’s locker room, not one that would make any sense to him, anyway.

“You what, huh? Spit it out.” Eddie didn’t mean to snap at you, but he was already in a foul mood. He had been present when Andy was showing off your goods to his ogling friends, who all agreed he was a ‘lucky guy’.

Eddie patiently waited for them all to retreat out and onto the track so he could finally shower and get dressed back into his all black attire. Eddie, oh lovesick Eddie had been nursing a mammoth sized crush on you since your freshman year. So, to say he couldn't help but roll his eyes and clench his fists at not only the thought of all these other dudes getting to see you, but also the fact that you even picked a shit stain like Andy Clayton to give an ounce of your time to, really pissed him off.

“I came to try and get something back from my ex.” You bashfully murmur as your eyes once again find the metalheads.

A remorseful look passes over Eddie's face at your revelation, as you both continue to stare at each other you quickly notice his wet hair has been dripping down onto his tattooed chest, the scene makes your breath hitch and you want so badly to clench your thighs from the heat that's been ignited in your center.

Eddie’s confidence begins to grow as he notices the flush of your cheeks and the way your breathing went ragged as your eyes wandered.

“Ya’ know, if i didn't know any better i'd say you’re checking me out?” He declares with a cocky smirk.

“What? I-I’m not-” You stutter before shutting your eyes tight, as if it’d shield you of your utter humiliation. You quickly exhale in an attempt to rid yourself of the mix of arousal and embarrassment that has simultaneously filled your body.

“Okay, I was… but I didn’t mean to, I'm sorry.” You whisper as your eyes meander the tiles under your black loafers and white slouch socks.

“You didn't mean to check out my dick?” Eddie says in bewilderment as his brows raise, disappearing behind his shaggy, wet bangs.

He’s surprised he has the confidence to stand so close to you with his dick literally in his hand, but watching you stutter and squirm has got to be the highlight of his whole high school career.

Well this and that time he, Gareth and Jeff left that flaming bag of shit on Mr. Higgins doorstep. Yeah, watching that old fuck struggle to put out a burning bag filled with dog shit was definitely up there.

“I mean, I did mean to, it’s just– nevermind, I'm sorry. I’ll leave.” Your words fly out of your mouth before you begin to turn and leave, back out the way you came without fulfilling the mission you were on just five minutes ago.

You didn’t even make it two steps before Eddie was gently grabbing your bicep, his hands no longer covering his cock that now grows hard between his scrawny thighs.

“It’s just what?…Color me curious sweetheart.” He says as his calloused fingers slowly run down your arm and back to his side.

Sweetheart, you liked hearing him call you that. Jesus, what is happening?

“Well um, your dicks like really big.” You say as your eyes fall back to his package, you lick your lips at the sight of it twitching at your words.

“Really?” The way he questions you is confusing because there is absolutely no way he doesn’t know he’s hung like a goddamn horse.

“You’re joking right? You’re gonna act like you don’t know your cock is massive?” You say with a tilt of your head.

His eyebrows shoot back up in amusement, the cocky smile on his face a complete rival to his rapidly beating heart.

You move closer into his space, looking up into his innocent looking doe eyes.

Eddie Munson is anything but innocent, right? I mean he sells drugs for fuck sake! You’ve even heard about him grabbing a cheerleader's tit during a drug deal, of course she was trying to get him to lower the price, but still…well now that you come to think of it, that's really the only sexual thing you’ve heard about him. There’s no way he could be a… yeah right.

“Can I ask you a question?” You whisper as you move in even closer, moving a now damp, stray strand of hair behind his reddening ear.

“S-sure.” He whimpers when your long nails lightly scratch down his jaw, which he quickly covers with a cough.

You bit at your lips trying to hold back a giggle at the noise that went straight between your legs.

Okay, fuck those pictures! What better way to get over a guy than to get under a new one…right? Especially one your ex hates…who has a huge cock…I mean this shits a no brainer… you’re gonna fuck Eddie Munson.

“Are you a virgin?” You question sweetly as you ‘innocently’ play with the hem of your plaid dress, the white turtleneck underneath making your already hot and bothered body, burn more with the intense electricity radiating between the both of you.

“I uh, how’d you know?” He sighs as his shoulders drop in exasperation, not at you but at himself for being so fucking obvious.

“Well, with that third leg I never would’ve guessed…but you have this innocence in your eyes that’s kinda telling.” You giggle as your eyes meet his still hard cock, and all you wanna do now is wrap your hand around it and watch him lose his mind.

Eddie throws his head back and laughs into the open air of the now humid locker room. He whispers third leg to himself, nodding his head as if he was hearing that term for the first time. He was.

“Do you wanna stay a virgin, Eddie?” You whisper as the tips of your fingers gently trail over the patch of hair on his lower stomach, just above the spot your hand is aching to touch, that he’s aching for you to touch.

Two things in this moment make the metalhead equally lose his mind, he might actually cum untouched if he’s being honest. Your hand is so close to his throbbing cock, just a few centimeters down and you’d be brushing against his pink, sensitive tip. And hearing you say his name. Wait, you know his name.

That alone is an aphrodisiac for him.

“No, I-I don’t.” He admits before swallowing hard, his damp Adam's apple bobbing at the motion.

“Can I kiss you?” He surprises himself as the question leaves his mouth.

“Please.” you whine with desperation, making Eddie groan as his lips find yours in a frenzy.

Your fingers slowly trail down, finally wrapping your dainty hand around the sheer girth and length that is Eddie’s cock.

Another whimper falls from between his pretty lips, but this time it's unashamed and without a cough to cover it up. No, he wants you to hear what you’re doing to him.

“That feel good, baby?” You murmur into his mouth between the smacks that echo off the barren walls.

“Fuck, yeah mhm, it does.” He rushes out awkwardly, making you giggle into the kiss.

He wraps his arms around you, in an air of confidence and pulls you in closer, chests now flush as your hand continues to softly tug at his cock.

“Do you wanna fuck me, Eddie?” You whisper as you lean your forehead against his, wet bangs be damned.

“I’ve wanted to fuck you for a very long time, princess.” He admits without much thought.

You break away from him, eyes boring into his as you take in his confession. You step back and Eddie’s heart shatters as he curses himself for opening his big, stupid mouth and scaring you off. But before he could get down on his knees and grovel for you to just ignore him and stay, keep paying attention to him. You take his hand and lead him to the wooden bench towards the back of the locker room.

He follows you like a lost puppy before you’re gently pushing at his chest, a silent instruction for him to sit down. He quickly takes the hint, clumsily plopping down onto the stiff wooden bench.

He looks to you for direction, those innocent eyes blinking up at you and goddammit if it doesn't chip away at the walls your now ex boyfriend has helped you build. But, that's a thought for another day.

You fall to your knees, cold tiles digging into your skin as you wrap your hand back around his cock in a wildness that you’d never felt for any of your previous partners.

“Holy shit.” Eddie spits out in disbelief. This has to be a wet dream, there's absolutely now way this is happening to him…he’s never this lucky, and in typical eddie cynicism, he looks around to make sure no one is filming or waiting to pop out and laugh at him or better yet, to tell him this was all some elaborate prank, get the freak all riled up just to leave him high and dry.

The thought is quickly extinguished when you wrap your lips around the head of his cock, gently sucking before you're removing your soft, pillowy muscles that are now coated in his precum, you alluringly flick your tongue across them gathering it all, just to get a good taste of him. His soul just about leaves his body and you've barely even started.

You take him back into your mouth, but this time without mercy as you relax your throat, slowly moving down inch by delicious inch as you try not to gag, his tip now bullying your uvula like his own personal punching bag.

“Oh, oh fuck, please. I-I…” He stammers as his hands flex and clench beside him, too afraid to run his fingers through your hair like he so badly wants to.

You fuck his aching cock into your throat, bobbing your head up and down, over and over before you’re popping off of him, placing a sweet kiss to his tip then standing back up onto your feet, your knees burning from the pressure that was placed on them, red indents now take their place leaving very little mystery as to what you’ve just done.

“I need your cock so bad Eddie.” You moan into his mouth before kissing him, it’s deep and needy and you never want to kiss anyone else like this for as long as you live.

“Use me, please. J-just fuck, just use me pretty girl.” Eddie whimpers, before he begins attacking your neck, sucking hard before soothing the skin with his tongue. You couldn’t care less if he leaves marks, in fact you want him to mark you up, make you his.

You thread your hand into his still damp hair, pushing him closer as he begins to suck at a particularly sensitive spot, just below your ear.

Eddie places one last tender kiss there, before he removes his face from your neck. He confidently lifts the hem of your dress up and over the tops of your thighs, exposing your slick soaked, red panties. The metalhead swipes a finger over the thin, lace fabric that clings to your hips.

“Can I take these off?” He asks as his eyes continue to bore into the growing wet patch in the center of your covered slit.

“Mhm.” A high pitch whine escapes from the depths of your throat at how harshly he tore them off from between your legs. Needy boy.

“Fuckin’ aye.” Eddie murmurs to himself at the sight of your glistening cunt right in front of him, so pretty and wet just for him. He wanted to run his fingers through the damp, trimmed coils on your mound but quickly decided against it, he didn’t want you thinking that was weird.

“H-have you ever seen a pussy before?” You chirp up, bashful as you grab his hand and move it towards your soaked slit.

He clears his throat before answering- “just in magazines.” He admits as his cheeks tinge a pretty shade of pink.

He’s embarrassed by his revelation, but you can’t help but think that’s the hottest thing you’ve ever heard.

You work his fingers through your slit, rubbing at your own clit with his hand and it all just fuels that fire growing deep in your belly.

“Oh!” You moan as your eyes gently roll back, you swipe his finger through your wetness again, “you feel that? Feel how wet you make me Ed’s?” You whisper as your eyes now hold his.

“Fuck, you’re so beautiful! I-I need to fuck you or im gonna cum. You can’t just talk to me like that, princess.” He mutters as he loses all resolve, not that he had much to begin with.

“Yes, sir.” You whisper into his ear before you’re placing a gentle kiss there. You turn around, hand grabbing onto his still hard cock, you lower yourself into his lap, pink tip already prodding at your hole as your back becomes flush with his chest, you lay your head back against his shoulder and burrow it into his neck, both of you moaning in unison as you sink onto him, slowly.

He’s so big it’s like he's ripping you in half, but you welcome the burn. The pleasure and pain of it all makes your cunt drip even more, further creating less pain and a whole lot more pleasure.

“Mmf.” Eddie moans into the side of your face, as you’re finally seated flush in his lap, cock buried deep inside your aching pussy, you clench around the intrusion, making Eddie gasp and whine.

You smile back at him before you’re doing it again.

“Fuck, do you want this to be over before it starts? Huh?” He says threw his teeth, as he grabs your chin to reprimand you. And you want nothing more than to play further into that dynamic.

Andy was a shit lay compared to this, Eddie Munson a virgin is fucking you better than your ex, and if that doesn’t speak volumes as to how the relationship was. The thought makes you feel stupid.

Before you can fester anymore on your dumb mistake, Eddie begins to fuck up into you, all his patience seeping through the air vents that you now realize are on and blowing, creating a chill throughout the room and goosebumps to trickle over your body.

His big hands grab at your waist, roughly bouncing you up and down on his cock as he follows the same rhythm. You’re both moaning into each other's mouths as you bring your hand to the nape of his neck and holding on, as you get absolutely railed in the boys locker room.

Not only is the location turning you on but the thought of being caught by anyone, especially Andy, has got your cunt dripping and making a mess of the metalheads balls.

“Shit, you’re so wet and warm and so fucking tight, baby.” Eddie huffs as his words begin to spill out with no filter, theres no fucking way he can think about what he’s saying before he says it with you clenching around him like that.

“I remember the first time I fucked my fist thinking about you; you wore that little jean skirt with those fucking red cowboy boots a-and the tightest little white shirt, I could see your nipples perfectly. Didn't even bother to wear a bra, just wanted everyone to see, didnt you? Mmm, bad girl.” He starts his confession out whiney and whimpering until he gets to the bad girl with a growl and an extra hard snap of his hips that make your eyes cross in complete carnal delight.

“That’s so fu-ucking hot that you think about me when you jack off, fuck.” You stutter as your body continues to be used as Eddie’s personal little fuck toy.

“Yeah? But I don’t have to do that anymore do I? You’re gonna let me fuck this tight little cunt whenever I want, aren’t you baby?” The confident rasp in his voice is a complete 360 to the awkward, innocent boy he was just seconds ago. But, the way your pussy tightens around him tells him you fucking love it, so he files that information away for next time.

“Yes, yes whenever you want Eddie!” You wail as your legs begin to shake, your cunt clenching around him as your nails dig into his thighs that continue to slap up into the backs of yours. The sounds were filthy, but they egged you both on as your highs so quickly approached.

“Ed- I’m cumming, oh my god!” You sob, fully convinced someone has had to have heard you both by now. But you don’t care, how could you when the most intense pleasure was coursing through your body, turning you into a twitching mess.

“Fuck, me too baby, wher-” He doesnt even get to finish, before you’re begging him to cum inside you. Of course he obliges, eyes rolling back into his head and cock throbbing as his heavy load shoots deep inside you.

“Goddammit.” He whispers into your neck after you've both come down from your panting highs. The breath he exhales tickles you, making you giggle. His arms wrap around your front, holding you tightly before burrowing his head deeper into the skin between your jaw and clavicle, he blows a raspberry and you can't help the shriek that leaves your mouth as he continues to tease you.

“So, you want help getting those pictures back?”