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eddiemunsonsbabygirl · 28 days ago

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BBYYYYYY OMGGGGGG I LOVE THIS SO MUCH! 🖤❤️🖤❤️

The way you wrote Eddie is so real and how you wrote reader is so- like I really did fuck this man omlllllll 😩🥴

And the end!?!? CUTEST THING OMG HE’S SUCH A CUTIE AND DORK I LOVE HIM!!! 🥰😍💕 taking with pride 😜❤️‍🔥💅🏻

Me at because pathetic!Eddie omgggggggg GIMME GIMME GIMME HE’S SO UGHHHHH!!! 😩🙈🫶🏻

Also the mixtape *chefs kiss💋🤌🏻* AHHH I LOVE IT!

Makeout Mix Volume One

Actual mix you can listen to right here!!

Summary: Eddie Munson whisks you away in his thrashed van for yet another evening. It's business as usual for the most part-- but he's made you a mix tape, and you're catching feelings... so the usual smoking, warm beer, and making out gets a little more heated tonight.

Word Count: ~4.8k

Warnings: 18+ MDNI!!! smut & fluff, porn with (some of) a plot, FWB type of vibe (but you've obviously both caught feelings), Eddie x you, gender non specified, no y/n or gendering of reader, AFAB reader, inexperienced kink, detailed smoking, drinking, grinding, making out, unprotected p in v, mentions: scratching, hair pulling, biting, hickies, tiny bit of choking (all Eddie receiving), virgin!Eddie, sub!Eddie, masochist!Eddie

A/N: y'all I'm so fucking proud of this one honestly. I was researching, and I made a period accurate mix tape for your enjoyment so you can really pretend, and I just think this loser virgin is the best thing since sliced bread. Please let me know all your thoughts and feelings, I thrive on feedback! I poured my heart and 11 hours over two days into this?! Hyperfixation is wild...

The van is vibrating with bass as it rattles and squeaks to a stop at the curb outside your house. You wish you could say you had kept busy, but the reality was you had been sitting, giddy and fidgeting, for the past 30 minutes.

8:30 PM had become the ritualistic time that you and Eddie had set for your evening sessions in the van. Enough time to eat dinner, do any leftover tasks, and sit and wait with a racing heart for the brown-eyed angel to arrive in his chariot.

You could hear him a block away. By the time he actually comes to a stop, you’re already flipping on the porch light as you practically skip out your front door.

What you and Eddie had was “hard to describe” as you told your friends, but it wasn’t. Not really. You guys smoked weed, drank shitty (potentially stolen) beer sometimes, and made out. You were hooking up with the town freak, while keeping v-cards intact. Something had shifted lately though… Things had gotten a little more Hot ‘N’ Heavy. The making out had come with more poorly hidden whimpers, more needy subtle grinding, more tightness in the front of Eddie’s torn up jeans. And you couldn’t stop spiraling down the rabbit hole of your feelings and desires when you got home late at night reeking of him. You didn’t know how to suddenly shift to telling your friends about where and how and why your hands wandered in the wee hours of the morning because of him.

Eddie barely made it around the front of the van to open your door when you came bounding up.

“Howdy!” you said excitedly, giving him an obvious once over. His beat up shoes, ratty jeans, wild hair, thinly worn Metallica tee, and unwashed battle jacket made your heart flutter. The glorious mess that he was, glimmering with studs and pins.

“Hi,” he replies with a wicked grin, matching your full body scan like yours gave him the permission he was waiting for. You can’t help but notice how his eyes sparkle and wrinkle at the edges when he grins like that, smile lines echoing across his cheeks, dimpling his chin along the way. You have to bite the insides of your cheeks a little to not let your smile get too much wider.

You roll your eyes at his chivalry before you heave yourself into the passenger seat, and make a point of slamming the door shut yourself, yanking it out of his hand. He throws his head back and laughs then runs back around the front of the van, popping back into the driver’s seat before pulling his own door shut. He shifts into drive and takes off like a bat out of hell, tires squealing in the quiet street while he careens towards whatever abandoned parking lot is next in your rotation.

Ronnie James Dio and guitar have been screeching relentlessly into the small space for a handful of minutes, headbanging settling into rhythmic nods.

“Made ya something,” he says, turning the blaring music down. Still keeping it loud enough to buzz the speakers slightly, but you no longer have to yell over it to be heard. He pulls one hand off the wheel, ejecting Dio and reaching into the inside of his jacket. Before you can voice your incredulousness at the idea of him having a gift for you, he pulls out a tape. You barely catch a glimpse of the jagged hearts drawn on the front in black sharpie as he pops it into the cassette deck. The moments of quiet as he switches tapes feels eerie and unfamiliar in the van.

“A legendary Munson mixtape?!” you gasp, exaggerating excitement and flattery that help mask how much you’re truly excited and flattered. The jokes help with the blushing and butterflies you’re trying to push away, the buzzing you still feel in the absence of bass. He glares at you for a brief moment, but softens when he sees the genuine smile you can’t wipe off your features. His eyes linger a little extra while he admires you in the glow and flashes of the streetlights you’re veering past.

“Oh, yeah,” he croons, back to playing it cool, “you’re about to learn why they’re legendary.” He reaches down and turns the volume up to max, like it wasn’t just threatening to blow out the speakers a minute earlier. The low, driving beat of Kashmir by Led Zeppelin starts to convulse through your bodies and the van. He drops his right hand to your thigh– you look at it, then up to him, but he’s looking out his own window and then back out the windshield, really putting in the effort of playing it cool.

This is totally normal, he puts his hand on your thigh like he’s your boyfriend all the time, your heart totally isn’t racing at this new sweet little kind of contact.

You thought you were giddy before, now you feel like you physically can’t wait until he parks and you get to kiss him.

He finally pulls into the chosen parking lot of the evening, dusk barely lightening the sky still, while he parks on the side furthest from the single flickering yellow light. Eddie kills the engine and relents the volume a little bit.

“Makeout Mix Volume One,” he declares unprovoked, tapping his fingers on the dash.

“Volume One? That implies a Volume Two,” you tease him. “Is there a Volume Two?!”

“That really depends on how Volume One goes over…” His eyes flicker with fire, and then you’ve got his denimed ass in your face as he jams himself over the center console and wiggles into the open back of the Metal Mobile. You scoff and laugh, clambering after him and landing next to him with a thud and a huff. The two bottles of Iron City he holds up in an offer clink together, his raised eyebrows asking the question on behalf of his mouth. You take one of the bottles in answer, and take a swig of the mostly room temp carbonated bread soda. Beer is nasty, but beer with Eddie is somehow heavenly.

He takes a swig too, not taking his eyes off you until his mouth leaves the lip of the bottle. He pulls his metal lunch box of contraband off the floor and onto his lap, popping it open with a jangle and starting the process of rolling.

He rolls like he’s sculpting the Venus de Milo– every move intentional, every speck of flower accounted for. He loads up the paper, places a prepped filter on one end, and starts rolling back and forth between his fingers to press out the air pockets, zeroing in on the task. He catches one corner under the other side near his thumb, laser beam focus, tongue sticking out a little. You love watching him roll, his focus-face is so cute, and you’d be slow to admit it– but you love that he puts so much care into something that’ll only be shared between the two of you.

He rolls up the perfect cone shape, leaving just a tiny strip of the edge, and then he leans in, fingers holding the joint in place, and carefully licks the length of the paper. You can’t help the way you stare at his tongue gently caressing up the paper, leaving a shiny wet trail in its wake. He finishes the roll by pressing the wet edge down, and whips his head up at you with a smile. Your eyes drag from his lips up his face to meet his eyes, and you think your mouth might be hanging open as you blink at him and smile a little.

“Do I have something on my face?” his eyebrows furrow a little as he wipes at the corners of his mouth, and you shake your head, chuckling lightly.

“No! Sorry, I…” you trail off, eyes darting away. “You’re good.” you say finally, not giving him more room to question.

“Alrighty… Good.” It’s clear he’s a little befuddled, but he lets it slide anyways. “You want to, or should I?” he holds up the joint and the lighter, asking who’s gonna light it tonight.

“Be my guest,” you say sweetly.

“I thought you were my guest?” he hassles you, words slightly contorted as he sticks the joint between his lips. His perfect, soft, pink lips. As you mock him with a snarky fake laugh, he smirks and purses his lips. The lighter flicks to life, dancing orange light and dramatic shadows across his face. His cheeks hollow a little as he sucks in through the joint, pulling the heat of the fire through it until you see the cherry catch. He gives it a few puffs, ensuring an even light, and lets the smoke out through his nose as he passes it to you.

“Thank ya,” you say, plucking the joint from his fingers. He watches you pull a deep drag and hold it for a moment, the smoke comes out smoothly until you start choking on it and coughing. He cracks a smile, and when you cough more he downright laughs at you. Fighting for air you smack him, eyes watering, handing the joint back while you and your lungs duke it out.

“Shut the f–” another cough interrupts you. “Shut the fuck up,” you finally croak out quickly before hacking a little bit more and grabbing his arm with an iron grip.

“Hey, the more you cough, the more you get off,” he winks at you and then takes another hit while you smack his shoulder and shove him some more. Laughing and smoking don’t mix, so now he’s also hacking up a lung and suffocating on smoke.

“Who’s a bitch now, huh?!” you jab at him, another round of smokey laughing coughs erupting out of him, not enough air to defend himself.

By the time the joint is burnt to the filter, you two have become a little more tangled. Giggling idiots in a haze of smoke trapped inside the van. Mouths no longer occupied by the act of smoking, you both start to inch your faces closer together, ready to occupy your mouths with another familiar activity. Before you make contact though, he abruptly taps the tip of your nose with his finger and leans forward, much to your confusion. He sits back up with a water bottle in hand.

“Dry mouth, sorry,” he says sheepishly, smirking. He unscrews the lid and takes a sip, offering it to you next. You roll your eyes and laugh, but take a sip too.

He sets it back on the floor of the van, then re-settles into his spot. His big soft eyes gaze at you for a long moment, then, fucking finally, he closes the small gap between your faces and kisses you. It’s a little wet and sloppy, mashing into you like he might miss the window of opportunity, but you both melt into it. After the first couple messy smooches, your soft lips find their rhythm together.

Makeout Mix Volume One is melting into the background of the moment, but The Runaways chanting that you’re Eddie’s ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch-ch--cherry bomb isn’t lost on you.

The kiss between the two of you heats up, following the recent patterns of slow but steady escalation. Smooches start to descend into open-mouth drawn-out making out. You’re sharing breath when his tongue darts out. The feeling of him running it along your lower lip makes you hum a little into his mouth, absentmindedly. You part your lips a little more, giving his tongue a small swipe with yours, inviting him to press forward and explore more. And as oblivious as he can be to some things, he catches his cue perfectly. With only the slightest nervous hesitation, he pushes his tongue into your mouth, chasing after the teasing muscle that has retreated to the other side of your teeth. So he licks your teeth too– the beginning of his tongue’s voyage into the depths of your mouth.

... my guardian angel’s rung down my telephone… Something about the T. Rex song just pulls you over and up into Eddie’s lap, straddling him. Your hands slide up his chest and into his hair in the process, pulling the two of you closer together as you settle, never breaking the obscene kiss. This does feel like a teenage dream. You grab his face and push your tongue into his open panting mouth, feeling bold with want, rolling your hips forward all in one sweeping motion that crashes over him before he knows what’s happening. Eddie lets his first true moan of the evening out into your mouth while he drowns in your invasion, hands frantic on your sides and back when his hips buck involuntarily. You smile into the kiss, not laughing quite enough to break it, continuing to occupy his mouth. You suck on his tongue and he moans again, a whiny sound that drops into a rumble in his chest. His hands slow down and grab into the meat of your thighs, and he gets his bearings a little bit again– still jolting when your hips roll through the height of your gyration. And still making desperate little sounds for you.

You pull back from his face, lips pulsing and shining with spit. You take in his flushed cheeks and lips, his even more fluffed curls, and the glaze of his eyes. He looks at you, a twinge of a pout skittering across his face as he tilts his chin up at you a tiny bit, parting his lips ever so slightly more. He wants you to kiss him more, bad, and you lean in like you’re going to, but you kiss just to the side of his mouth instead. He lets out a tiny whimper, but doesn’t protest much more when you start trailing kisses across his jaw. He’s back to squirming his hips around under your slow pressing grinds when you start dragging your teeth over his throat. You just can’t get enough of him, you need to hear him and taste his skin. You kiss and bite and suck on his neck, leaving a map of where your mouth has been in red marks and spit.

And he is just coming unraveled underneath you.

His head rolled back, mouth agape, as he moans relentlessly, vocal chords vibrating against your lips. His hips shamelessly buck and grind up into you now, fingers digging into your skin and pressing your hips down into him, like he’s fucking you through both pairs of pants. His neck is very sensitive, you’d figured that out a couple nights ago, and you’re fully taking advantage of it right now. His strangled groans are becoming pathetic, winding all over in pitch and volume, conducted by your actions and reactions.

“Hold me… Hold me… harder,” he manages to grunt out, not quite even sure how to communicate the desire that’s burning in him, just that he knows he needs whatever it is.

“Hmm, wha Eddie?” you ask against his skin, and he groans again when he hears his name from your lips.

“Harder,” he whispers desperately, “more,” and he reaches his hand up to lay it over yours, pressing your fingertips into his flesh.

Still a little unsure what exactly he’s asking for, but humming out a moan at how fucked out he sounds, you drag your finger nails into his skin tentatively and a pornographic moan erupts out of him. He’s mostly incoherent, but you catch a few yeses and swear words at the tail of it. You moan in response and pull your mouth off him at the reaction, devouring him with your stare as you dig your other hand’s nails down the other side of his neck, mirroring the first scratch. He whines and shutters at the pain you’re inflicting on him– panting and moaning more as you taper off the red lines blooming on his skin. Like stems for the bouquet of red and purple hickies you’ve painted on his pale skin.

“Like that?” you ask breathlessly, your voice low, the realization sinking in that he likes it exactly like that.

He nods a little desperately. “Yes… p-please like that,” he huffs.

And that stirs something deep in your belly. The plea makes your heart pound in your ears. You let your eyes linger for a moment longer on his neck and then glance up at his face to find his gaze boring into you. Eyes begging and hazy, glimmering dark. When you sear back at him, and your mouth twitches in the corners with a grin, you swear the glassy orbs in his face literally twinkle at you like a goddamn cartoon.

“Please,” he repeats, “need you more…”

You burn a little at his choice of words. In this vulnerable state he’s in, brain seemingly clouded with need, he still needs you. It feels fitting that Confessions by the Violent Femmes twangs in the speakers, because this does seem like somewhat of a confession on his end.

And so you give him more, rewarding his words giving him what he’s groveling for. You grab the hem of his shirt, pulling it up and exposing his tummy before he leans up and lifts his arms for you to pull it completely off of him. You drag your nails down his chest and his hips lull back to life, ready to continue your dry humping. Not that either of your underwear were particularly dry at this point. It might just be categorized as humping. He might have actually come in his pants a little already, but he’s truly in a euphoric blur as you explore the more intense contact together, so it’s tough to know for sure.

You discover that he lets out those bedraggled pornographic moans from scratches, hair pulling, your hands around his throat, and hard bites on more muscular areas. And his body and breath quiver when you lick and nip at his ears.

His hips have a mind of their own at this point, blatantly rubbing his hard cock on the heat between your legs; keeping any kind of steady rhythm by grinding out the dark driving beat of the Ministry song that feels like it’s been on forever. He starts moaning in time too, his succession of whimpers getting higher and breathier. You bite into the top of his shoulder where it could technically be deemed the crook of his neck, the vampire spot, Eddie had called it once. And as you sink your teeth into his sweaty tender skin, salty on your tongue, you dig your nails across the skin of his shoulder blades hard enough that little tiny prickles of blood dot parts of the welts left. He gasps– fingers digging into the crease of your hips while he holds you against his throbbing cock as best as he can while his hips thrust needily.

“Ohfuck ohfuckohfucck–” his moan is this chest rattling guttural sound, and comes out of him in waves as he sucks in jagged breaths and comes in his pants the hardest he’s ever come in his life. The pain and pleasure completely overwhelming his senses. You can feel the wet spot he’s pressing into you through all four layers of fabric between you. You moan happy little approving sounds, cooing at him practically, straightening up so your hips tilt down into his withstanding bulge while you wrap your arms around his head and anchor your hands into his hair, pulling him into your chest. You keep grinding your hips, realizing how easy it would be to chase your own release over the edge with how wound up you are. He’s making all kinds of growls and groans trying to handle how sensitive his dick is, but he keeps pressing into your hips– he just hopes to god you’re as close as you seem, because he isn’t sure how much more he can stand.

His prayers are answered by the honey of your long and loud moan, and he feels your thighs shaking on either side of him. He tugs his thumbs out of the creases of your hips, and snakes his arms around your back while you come in his lap.

You just sit like that for a minute or two. The aftershocks of your drawn out orgasms being released through your tight embrace. The mixtape ended at some point, so the little whimpers and heavy breaths sporadically coming from the both of you, and the crickets outside the steel walls, were the only things combating silence in the van. The silence felt warm and triumphant though, and there was something a little special about it that you didn’t care to overanalyze right now.

You both eventually come down from the rush and adrenaline some, pulling apart, but not enough for your arms to untangle from the other. You blink at each other a few times.

“Legendary,” you murmur, nodding in agreement with yourself. And I didnt even catch it all, you tag on internally, unsure if the tape even got flipped or not.

Eddie’s entire face breaks out in a smile. He’s definitely back on Earth, but he feels like he might be dreaming now. And he just beams at you with adoration.

“I’ll make as many volumes as you want,” his voice is still ragged, the words a little thick with effort. “Whatever you want, sweetheart.” The sweet honesty in his voice lingers in the air.

“I want…” you lilt out, looking at his mouth, and his big doe eyes. He perks up slightly, not actually having expected a request, but eager to please you. Your eyes flicker in mischief, making him wait like a well-trained dog. You try to keep your braves intact, and try to ignore your increasing heart rate at the confession you’re considering. “I… want…” you draw out again, carefully considering your words.

The word anything is written all over his face as he scours your blushing features for any clues, searching your eyes like he might be able to peer into your thoughts. His own heart rate increases slightly, a tingling in his body from the anticipation.

He sees your smile start to crackle as you lean in, and you brush his ear with your lips, your breath hot as you whisper, “I… want to feel you… without all these layers between us,” your words are crisp and quiet, and the final s hisses a little. His arms tighten slightly around you, a shiver runs down his spine as your words sink in and ghost over the shell of his ear. He didn’t think it would be possible, but his dick convulses and hardens a bit again. When you look at his face you can see the cogs turning in his brain. There’s really only one conclusion that can be drawn. Your words were chosen well. But he’s still not entirely pieced back together, and now the blood is rushing out of his head and back into his pants, so it takes him a few seconds. But he starts to slowly nod, slack jawed and also blushing again.

“Yeah?” you confirm sweetly, feeling his cock pulse a little more.

“Yeah… I wanna feel you too,” he’s still nodding as he stares at you, a little frozen for a moment. But he drops his hands and slides them along your waistband until they meet at the button and fly. His hands shake a little, but he pops the button, and starts to fold and push down on the edge. You huff out a nervous little breath, but press forward on your knees so he can pull your pants and underwear over your ass. “Do you wanna…” he awkwardly tries to push them down further but they’re stuck bunched around your thighs.

“Not… really?” you whisper, “kinda want you just like this…” you look down between you, gently rubbing your warm hands over the bruises and scrapes on his chest, and start working on unclasping his pants. The idea of pulling any distance away from him to get more undressed is completely off the table to you.

He goes back to nodding at you with his brown eyes, nearly black in the night, locked on your face. “Yeah… yeah okay,” he remembers to respond. “This is nice.”

You nod and stare back at him, his belt unbuckled in your hands, and the zipper on its way down. “Nice…” you mutter, before he presses up and shimmies his pants down, bouncing you a little in his lap, and you giggle, steadying yourself on him and the wall.

His pants are also down just enough to expose him, and you look down and a moan falls out of your lips, finally seeing his cock erect in the space between your bodies. Your breathing gets heavier, and you look at him, his eyes wild and his throat bobbing as he swallows.

“... yeah?” you breathe out again, a little speechless.

“Yeah, yes, please,” he says with a little more oomph, running his hands on you but waiting to follow your lead.

You almost laugh, and then he feels the pressure on his shoulder increase as you raise yourself to hover above the tip of his cock. You brush against it, and you both keen at the initial contact. He reaches under you, and steadies himself with a hand around the base of his shaft. You lower yourself slightly, and you both throb at the feeling of his tip sliding over you, both of you contributing wetness. You can feel that he’s lined up right at your entrance, and so you press down, moaning at the sensation of his head pushing inside of you with a little pop. He chokes on his own moans as you slowly but steadily sit all the way down on his aching cock. He’s still a little sensitive from earlier, and pressing into you for the first time ever is an intensely good feeling. It feels so good it almost hurts, he can’t fucking breathe. You're so tight and hot and wet around his cock, he feels like he’s actually melting. Maybe getting mind flayed. He thinks he’s absolutely about to make a fool of himself, he’s gonna come on stroke three and you’re gonna laugh at him in a not fun way. He’s focusing so hard on trying not to panic or come, that it takes him a moment to notice that you’re trembling in his lap, his cock staying sheathed deep inside you. Your breath is this sharp melody of inhales and exhales, your thighs are clenching and shaking, and all of a sudden you’re even tighter and convulsing around his cock.

“Eddie!” you scream out his name, moaning from your chest, fists tightening in his hair and yanking with the magnitude of your next orgasm.

He smacks your thigh rapidly, trying to warn you, “oh fuck I’mgonna come again,” he slurs out, but you lean all of your shakey weight down onto him, grinding on his cock and riding out your orgasm still. “Oh shit oh fuck I’m coming, I’m comingfuck you’re so fucking hot,” his words are desperate and shrill, and you feel his thick cock twitching as warmth oozes into you. You’re both instantly thrown into a vicious cycle of grinding and twitching and moaning, setting each other off, and hurtling into over sensitivity as one tangled mess.

You manage to pry off of him once you’ve both caught your breath some, still twitching and moaning occasionally.

He pulls out his lunchbox once more a few minutes later, excited to roll the Post Sex Joint he’s been imagining he’d smoke for years.

“Oh! Here,” he says nonchalantly, pulling a little rectangle of brown cardstock out of the metal box, not even looking up at you. You take the piece of paper he has extended towards you, and examine it.

A single block letter is inked by hand in renaissance-like motifs.

“Is this your fucking v- card?!” you balk. You burst into loud howling laughter and flailing as he giggles, real pleased with himself, and keeps rolling.

He'd been hopeful when crafting the gag that whoever he “lost it” to would appreciate the silly gesture as much as you are right now. You're both delirious giggles and smiles.

You lean over the front seats and pull out the tape, examining the handwriting and doodles on the front, smiling to yourself. You realize at some mystical moment lost to lust he had in fact flipped to side B. Wizard, you think. You flip it back over and restart side A. You want to hear every single song.

Definitely need Volume Two, he notes to himself, watching you, buzzing, picking up his forgotten beer, on the brink of fantasizing about your next session already.

Taglist? Do I have one of those??? @eddiemunsonsbabygirl @take-everything-you-can lol gotta start somewhere let me know if you wanna be on it next time!

#Need a volume 2 omgggggg #i love this sm like genuinely #reader is perfect #he’s perfect #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader smut #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x latina reader #eddie munson x latina!reader #eddie munson x female reader #chocolate button eyes #riko 🖤💕

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