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#there is just No in between with English teachers
brairslair · 18 hours
Note
(i debated whether or not to ask this anonymously)
so yknow how eddie has a W.A.S.P pin on his vest? can you plz write an eddieXreader scene inspired by their song
Animal (F*** Like A Beast) ?
😅😊
i absolutely love this reqqq, tysm for letting me run with this! hope you like how it turned out @nerdyhooker
Like an Animal - E.M.
18+ ONLY (minors please dni)
a/n: finally figured out an idea i liked for this, and i think it turned out pretty good! although i may have gotten a bit carried away lmao. not sure if this is as rough as you might have had in mind, but i tried to pull as much from the lyrics as possible! i hope you like what i ended up with <3
wc: 5.8k
cw: eventual smut, fem!reader, bartender!eddie + english teacher!reader, kinda fuckboy eddie vibes?, enemies to lovers vibes, light bondage (handcuffsss), p in v sex, unprotected sex (do not do this), oral (fem receiving), pet names (princess, sweetheart, honey, baby), technically drinking and driving, smoking (cigs + i don’t smoke so idfk what i’m talking about), brat reader but she gets super subby, kinda mean but soft dom eddie?, light dacryphilia, these idiots have been head over heels for each other since high school and neither of them knew it bc they’re stupid and stubborn, extremely vague mention of aftercare, not proof read, lmk if i missed anything!
don’t forget to like, reblog, follow, and comment to support my work! it always makes my day, mwah
“well if it isn’t the little princess”
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Just like that, nine months down the drain. You massage your temples as you recall the past few days. The countless arguments between you and your, now ex, boyfriend form a persistent migraine between your eyes.
In hindsight, you really should have seen it coming. Your relationship had been rocky for months, but you were so busy with other obligations that you hadn’t had the time to confront any of it head on. Fortunately for you, he was more than willing to step up to the plate.
You wouldn’t let yourself admit it out loud, but you almost felt relieved with his absence in your small apartment. That was until you remembered the loss of his half of the rent.
Everything happened so fast, it was hard to process any of it. It all felt like it was swirling around and around too quickly for you to pick any one thing out. Your solution? Alchohol.
You grabbed your keys and hopped into your polished, clean, mint green beetle, setting off for the local dive bar. You could only recall one other time you had been to the small bar, having been dragged there by colleagues in the name of “bonding” after a particularly long day at work.
Drinking wasn’t something you did often, reserving a glass of wine for holidays and special events. Tonight, you decided you needed to make an exception.
As you parked and stepped out of your car, you felt nerves twist in your gut. The place was undoubtedly busy, which wasn’t shocking for a Friday night. People were smoking and talking out front, and you couldn’t help but notice how out of place you must’ve looked.
A knee length grey skirt fell loosely over your hips, paired with a rose colored, ruffled blouse, and a pearl necklace with matching earrings to top it off. Not a single tattoo in sight, and certainly no cigarette in hand. Your heels clicked against the pavement, smoothing down your skirt as you made your way inside.
The second you enter, you’re hit with a haze of smoke and the overwhelming smell of alchohol, nicotine, and sweat. It takes a moment for your eyes to adjust to the dim lighting before you head for the bar.
You shuffle your way over to an empty stool at the front and take a seat, plopping your beaded purse on the counter. As you wait for the bartender to make their way to you, you take a better look at your surroundings. The place felt oddly cozy for being in such a frumpy looking building, and a band was playing some sort of aggressive rock song you had never heard before. Despite it being a little too loud, and a little too cluttered, you were already starting to relax a little.
“Hey there, what can I get for ya?”
You whip your head around at the voice, and your stomach instantly falls into your shoes. It would be impossible not to recognize the dark mop of curls that you got so used to seeing bouncing about the halls you shared all those years ago.
Although now it was pulled back into a sloppy bun at the back of his head, loose curls falling around his face. You’d hate to admit it, but he looked really nice.
“Well if it isn’t the little princess.” he laughs, and you feel your fists clench at the old nickname. “Didn’t think this was really your scene.”
“Well that would be a correct assumption, Munson.” you bite, bouncing back from the initial shock, “Unfortunately, it was the closest bar to my apartment, and I wasn’t in the mood to drive across town.”
Your grumbling makes you feel like a petulant child with a grudge, but you can’t help it. Eddie just always has getting on your nerves.
“I didn’t know you worked here, or I would have made the sacrifice.”
Eddie smiles his big, toothy, infuriatingly smug smile, and shakes his head, “You haven’t changed one bit, huh princess?”
“Don’t call me that.” you demand through gritted teeth, holding on to every ounce of restraint you have not to scream at him to just get you a drink.
He leans forward on the counter with a lopsided, goofy sort of expression, invading your space and ignoring your little outburst. “So what brings you in here tonight, princess? Boy troubles?” he mocks with a pouty tone.
You glare daggers into his skull, and he knows he’s hit the nail on the head. “Just a beer will do.”
He gives a small salute before leaving to get you your drink of choice.
The rest of the night is spent drinking, wallowing, and actively avoiding any and all interactions with the familiar bartender. The minimal interaction you did have involved him pushing every button in sight, and you fighting to maintain an ounce of self control.
Any time your eyes made their way over to him, of their own volition, his eyes were already on you. He had this look, like he knew something you didn’t, and it infuriated you. Oh how you hated him.
It had always been this way, ever since high school. He made it his mission to push you to your limit, and you always had to one up him somehow. It became almost like a game. You weren’t surprised to see he hadn’t changed after all this time. It was almost comforting in way, if you thought about it long enough.
As the night went on, the activity slowly started dying down, and the atmosphere got quieter. You were on your second beer of the night, trying to let the cold liquid take the edge off. Even still, you felt your fingers tap against the counter with anxiety.
How could he leave you to fend for yourself at the drop of a hat? After nine months? Did your relationship hold that little of value? How were you supposed to afford next quarter’s rent? There’s no way you could afford to live in your current apartment. You would have to move. How would you find somewhere decent to stay in such a short amount of time? You were screwed.
“Hey sweetheart, we’re gettin’ ready to close up.”
You were pulled out of your thoughts, looking up to see the one person you wanted to see the least right now. His expression was soft. Softer than you’ve ever seen it aimed in your direction. It made you want to dig your nails into his skin.
“You alright?”
The question takes you aback, your brows furrow at the uncharacteristic behavior. “Fine, thanks.” you mumble, taking another gulp of your drink.
He looks at you with what can only be described as sympathy, and you feel your chest tighten. “Wanna step out for a smoke?”
You mull over the words for a moment. The answer should be so simple. You don’t smoke. In fact, you’ve never smoked once in your life. Why would you ever agree to smoke with him of all people?
But then his hand is outstretched across the bar for you to take a cigarette, and his eyes look so… kind? You’ve never thought of that word to describe him before. Maybe it was the alchohol, or maybe he put some sort of curse on you, because suddenly you’re taking the cigarette and following him out front.
You can’t help but watch as his thumb flicks at the lighter, putting it up to your lips before bringing it to his own. You follow his lead inhaling the smoke, and then you’re instantly coughing and spluttering it back out of your lungs.
He laughs lightly as he cooly blows the smoke to the side to avoid getting it in your face. “I take it you’ve never smoked before? If you wanted to talk to me, all you had to do was ask.”
“Shut up, Munson.” you spit out, face heating up with embarrassment as you make another attempt, ignoring the burning in your throat.
It’s silent for a while, before anyone decides to break it.
“So,” he starts, “You a big time writer now?” he asks, staring at the pavement.
He remembered you wanted to be a writer? You didn’t even think he knew that about you. “English teacher, actually. Hawkins High.”
He looks at you then, dropping the butt of his cigarette to the ground and crushing it under his boot. “You stuck around that hell hole? No wonder you’ve still got that stick up your ass.”
You scoff bitterly, “Well I guess some of us are more academically inclined than others.” you glare, “I actually enjoy my job, shocking as that may be to you.”
“I'm sure you do, sweetheart.” Eddie replies smugly, causing you to grit your teeth as he leans against the brick wall of the building. "Gettin' to boss people around all day must be a dream come true for you." The parking lot is almost completely empty at this point.
Of course his civility was just a calm before the storm. You mentally pinch yourself for your momentary lapse of judgement. “God, you are such a-“
“Comedian? Kind soul? Sight for sore eyes?” he offers dramatically, eyes twinkling at your grimace.
“I was going for obnoxious, conceited, prick.” You hiss, stomping out your cigarette, “and I do not have a stick up my ass!” you shout, turning on your heel to leave.
Eddie rushes to catch up to you, laughing boyishly in a way that makes you speed up. “Aw come on, princess, don’t be like that. I was just teasing.”
“I said not to call me that-” You whip around to face him, and suddenly you’re practically chest to chest, craning your neck to meet his eyes. You’re so close you wonder if he can feel your heart racing behind your ribs.
Then he’s looking at you with that look. The one that makes your insides bubble over with fury. The one that makes you feel like he knows some sort of deep secret about you. It makes you want to slap him in his smug face. Yet, for some reason, you can’t seem to look away from his gaze.
Finally, you pull yourself away, and march over to your car. Just as you open your door, you hear a retreating shout of, “Next drink’s on me, princess!” and then you’re out of there faster than you can process your heaving chest and shaky hands.
After that, you somehow end up back in that same bar every Friday. Some sort of force, unbeknownst to you, seemed to draw you in like a magnet. As promised, the next drink was on him… and the next, and the next, no matter how many times you tried to refuse.
No matter how much you tried to talk yourself out of it, you always ended up sitting on the same stool, at the same time, with the same drink in your hand. Every week, without fail, you would leave the bar a fuming, heated mess with only one thing on your mind. Eddie fucking Munson.
This week in particular was different. You were absolutely swamped with assignments that needed to be graded, and you spent all of Thursday night and Friday working on getting them done.
It wasn’t until you woke up the next morning that you noticed the hiccup in your routine, and for some reason it made you sad. It wasn’t like you were obligated to go every weekend, but a part of you had grown to enjoy your Friday nights at the bar. Then some sick, twisted part of you wondered if he had noticed your absence, but you shoved the thought away as soon as it surfaced.
As the day went on, you convinced yourself it wouldn’t hurt to just go tonight instead. After all it was a Saturday night, and you had already cleared your workload for the week, so it’s not like there was any real harm in it.
Alternatively, it was a Saturday night. Eddie’s band performed Saturday nights. You didn’t want him to think you were there to see him, because you most certainly were not. You just didn’t want to miss out on your weekly drink, that’s all. Nothing more.
Still, it was a Saturday night. It would do you some good to look a little nicer, right?
You start to regret it the second you park your car. The shift in the air is blatantly obvious as you enter walk towards the crowded space. Men out front whistle at you as you walk to the door, and you can feel eyes practically digging into your skin as u head for your usual seat at the bar. Your leg bounces with nerves at the attention. You've never worn this dress before. Never had a reason to. You don't allow yourself to wonder why you chose to wear it tonight.
You ask the bartender for a long island iced tea, and catch yourself checking the small stage in the back of the room. You internally scold yourself and glue your eyes to your drink.
It isn’t long before cheers are heard around the bar, pulling your attention up to see Corroded Coffin walking out on stage.
“How’s everybody doing tonight?” Eddie’s voice booms out of the speakers, causing people to whoop and holler in reply. You feel your leg begin to bounce.
He continues talking to the small crowd while his band finishes setting up, and you can’t stop yourself from ogling at him. You desperately want to pull your eyes away, to look at anything else, but you can’t.
He’s wearing an old band t-shirt with the sleeves cut off, showing off his arms, chest, and a sliver of his waist. Your eyes trail across the exposed skin, noticing he has quite a few new tattoos littering it, and your stomach twists. He has leather and chain bracelets decorating his wrists, curls falling wildly around his face, and you notice light bouncing off of his signature rings still adorning his fingers. You definitely don’t remember him looking like this in high school.
As he moves around the stage it’s abundantly clear how confident he is up there. His stage presence is truly impressive, and his voice is really something. It's gotten deeper since the last time you heard it. You subconsciously wet your lips as you watch his fingers move around the neck of his guitar. He’s come a long way since the last time you saw him perform. You can’t help but smile as you watch him in his element.
Then the smile is wiped clean off of your face when he makes direct eye contact with you from across the bar. You freeze, feeling like you suddenly have shards of glass lodged in your throat. Has he known you’ve been sitting here the whole time? If he saw you smiling you might have to run into oncoming traffic.
Then you notice what he’s singing.
“I'm on the prowl and I watch you closely I lie waiting for you I'm the wolf with the sheepskins clothing I lick my chops and you're tastin' good”
Your stomach flips and you can feel your whole body heating up. Something tells you he notices too, which makes it a million times worse. What the hell is wrong with you?
“I do whatever I want to do ya I'll nail your ass to the sheets A pelvic thrust and the sweat starts to sting ya I fuck like a beast”
You shift in your seat, the eye contact becoming far too overwhelming. You opt to look down at your lap for the remainder of the song to prevent yourself from doing something embarrassing.
Soon enough the set is over, and the band starts breaking down their set up. You’re so deep in your own thoughts by the end of it that you fail to notice the man approaching you, until his arms are caging you against the bar.
“Well hello there, pretty lady.” You gasp at the familiar voice speaking directly into your ear, feeling his shirt graze your back. “Didn’t expect to see you here tonight.” He beams down at you, watching you huff and roll your eyes as you turn to face him. Your fingers wriggle with the efforts not to hit him.
“It was an impulsive decision.” You mutter quietly, eyes briefly darting to his toned arm beside you before snapping back to his face, “I didn’t come yesterday.” You concede, unsure of what else to say.
He smiles, seemingly amused. “I know. Your seat was empty all night.” he says lowly, face so close to yours that you can feel his breath against your lips. For a moment you think he’s going to kiss you, and then he’s pushing off of the counter to head back behind the bar and help clean up.
So he did notice. Did he miss you? Was he saving your seat, or is it just a coincidence?
You feel dizzy with a million questions. Why did you let him get so close? Why were you going to let him kiss you? Why does he look so good. Why do you care so much? You should have said something, anything.
You finish your drink in silence, watching Eddie as he flits around tidying up the place, and then the bar is closing. You feel your gut twist at the thought of going home, and you don’t quite understand why, but you blame the alchohol.
As if he could hear your thoughts, Eddie jogs up to you as you grab your purse, arm outstretched and offering a cigarette. His hair falls prettily around his shoulders, and you only now notice that he takes much better care of his curls now than he did in high school.
“Care for a smoke?”
His charm must be cranked up to 100 tonight, because, once again, you agree with less hesitation than you would have liked.
You stand out front, Eddie waving goodnight to Garret as he heads to his car, and you watch as the last car whirs out of the lot. Then you are alone. Just you and Eddie. Your heart hammers in your chest.
“How’d you like the show?” he asks, exhaling a puff of smoke in the process.
You handle the burn better this time, holding back a cough from erupting as you take a drag. “It was… good.” You say hesitantly.
He quirks an eyebrow at you, “Just good? Wow, then we really need to get our shit together if we're gonna-“
“You were amazing.” You blurt out, unsure of why you felt the need to boost his ego. You clear your throat before amending your statement, “It… The show was amazing.”
Eddie hums in satisfaction, smile tugging at the corners of his lips around his cig. “You know, you didn’t have to dress all fancy for lil ol’ me.”
You wore a tight, low-backed, black dress that hugged your curves perfectly, sheer black stockings, black boots, and some dainty silver jewelry. Nothing too crazy, but definitely much different from how you would normally dress. Admittedly, you felt a little self conscious.
“Well good thing I didn’t dress fancy for you.” You huff, starting to feel a little silly for trying so hard to fit in. God, did he always have to be so cocky?
“I mean, I’m not complaining.” He starts, pushing off the wall to step towards you. “You look fucking incredible. Of course, you always look incredible.”
Smug bastard.
“Thank you.” You feel yourself flushing at the words, immediately getting sick to your stomach at how much you care what Eddie Munson thinks about how you look. “Glad I got your seal of approval.” You quip sarcastically, desperately trying to pick a fight. Anything to stop you from feeling whatever it is that you’re feeling right now.
Why did he always find a way to get under your skin? No one else makes you feel as utterly frustrated as he does.
He’s absolutely unbearable.
You force down another inhale of smoke as you watch Eddie slowly make his way closer to you. The way he’s looking at you makes your mouth go dry. You can’t tell what he’s thinking and it’s driving you up the wall.
“You know, you don’t always have to be such a brat.” He exhales casually, pausing in front of you. Your heart stops. “It wouldn’t kill you to be nice to me every once in a while.”
“It might.” You rasp out curtly, just now realizing how out of breath you suddenly feel.
He laughs, and the sound makes your insides flip.
“You have such a big fat crush on me, don’t you sweetheart?” He smiles down at you wolfishly, and it almost makes you shrink under his stare. You suddenly are acutely aware of your surroundings.
You scoff and cross your arms defensively, “I most certainly do not have a crush on you, Munson.” You spit out venomously. How dare he even suggest such a thing? It couldn’t be farther from the truth. You loathe him.
“Oh yeah?” he challenges, taking a stride closer to you, making you step backwards.
“Think I don’t notice how you stare at me? How you sit up a little straighter when you see me?”
Your back hits the wall.
“You aren’t subtle, princess.”
You feel like a fucking deer in headlights.
“Staring and glaring are two very different things.” You pant, desperately searching for oxygen. Anger burns in your throat at his absolute audacity, and your skin feels like it's buzzing.
“Is that so?”
You can feel his chest press into you as the brick digs into your shoulders. He takes a long inhale of smoke, and your head is screaming at you to push him off of you and curse him the whole way home, but you can’t bring yourself to move.
It feels like everything is moving in slow motion as he grabs your chin, and then, unexpectedly, he‘s pulling your jaw down to part your lips. All you can do is stare at him and his cocky fucking smile at your compliance. You feel like you’re in a trance.
Before you can even think, his lips are pressed against yours and pushing smoke past your lips. You gasp at the contact, effectively inhaling the smoke and sighing against his lips. Your brain short circuits and goes completely numb. His lips feel like the cure to a disease you've been plagued with for years.
For a moment, you almost forget who you’re with, until he pulls back to look at you.
“Well if you hate me so much, then why are you squeezing your thighs together?”
You immediately rip your legs apart, not even realizing what you were doing until it was too late. You can feel steam pouring out of your ears at this point.
“You’re insufferable.”
“You love it.”
He’s right. For some reason, you do love it. Something about him makes you crave more, and you’re starting to believe he may be an incubus. It’s making you go insane.
So you finally wave the white flag.
“Just shut up and kiss me, Munson.”
So he does. Again, and again, and again, until somehow you end up back at Eddie’s trailer with your wrists handcuffed to his bed frame and your clothes thrown around his room.
Hard rock music plays faintly in the distance, and the room smells vaguely of incense and weed. You feel like you've been transported to an alternate dimension.
His lips feel like they’re everywhere. Your mouth, your jaw, your neck, and then he’s leaving sweet little kisses on your tits, making you whine and arch your back towards him.
“Gotta teach you how to let loose, yeah?”
He gently tugs on one of your nipples and you gasp, and Eddie can’t help but laugh as he kisses his way further down your body.
“You’re fucking adorable when you’re not being a pain in the ass, you know that?”
You groan as he spreads your legs open, kissing and biting at your thighs. “Shut up, Eddie.”
“Oh I’m Eddie now?”
Your hips buck up in frustration, glaring down at him with a scowl. It feels like he’s been teasing you for forever. “Eddie” you whine out, “Stop teasing.”
He slowly starts kissing closer to where you need him most, but not quite close enough. “You don’t think you deserve it? Why do you think your wrists are locked up then, sweetheart?”
You wiggle and writhe beneath him, but don’t answer. Eddie moves his face closer to your cunt, and you finally think you’re going to get what you want, and then he blows on your clit. You whimper and clench around nothing, flinching away from him. It's absolutely pathetic, getting so worked up when he’s barely even done anything yet.
“I asked you a question.” Eddie tries again, rubbing soothing circles into the back of your thigh while he waits for a response.
“My wrist’s are locked up because…” You take a deep sigh and force yourself to just spit it out so that he’ll touch you already. “because I was being a brat." you grumble. He’s lucky your wrists are locked up right now, you think.
Eddie kisses your thigh in approval, “That’s right, and bratty girls don’t get to call the shots. Right?”
You huff and pull against your restraints once more, before ultimately complying. “Right.”
You figure it won’t do you any good to act out, especially given your current position.
“There you go, that wasn’t so hard was it?” Eddie grins up at you, before finally leaving a gentle kiss right on your clit.
You throw your head back into the pillows, immediately feeling relief at the small touch. He then runs his tongue up your slit, swirling it nice and slow around your little button, making you sigh and melt into the bed. His curls tickle your thighs where he works diligently.
It quickly becomes apparent that he knows exactly what he’s doing, and that makes you wonder how many other women have been in this exact same position. The thought makes you dig your nails into your palms, but the it’s is quickly forgotten when you feel him slide a finger into you.
"See?" He starts, words muffled by your folds, "Just needed someone to put you in your place, huh? To take the reigns?"
You flutter around him, and every fiber of your being wants to say something snippy in response, but all you get out is a blissed out sigh. He hums happily.
His fingers are much thicker than your own, calloused from his years of playing guitar. Looking down you notice he took all his rings off and set them next to you on the bed. He never takes his rings off, ever, you remember that. For some reason the simple act makes your heart leap out of your chest.
He pulls his face back from your slick for a moment just to watch the way you suck in his finger, and he moans at the sight of you. The sound makes your brain feel like static. “Fuck, baby, you needed it bad, huh? You’re fucking dripping all over my sheets and I've barley started.”
All you can do is nod your head and hum in response, and your jaw drops open with a soft moan as he slides in a second finger with ease.
“How long have you been wanting me like this, sweetheart? Be honest.” He asks, never faltering in his pace.
You whine at the question, embarrassment flooding your features as you turn your face to hide it in his pillow. He quickly kisses up your body, gently turning your head back to look at him. “You can tell me. No need to be embarrassed.”
You take one good look at his face, and you know that he already knows. He’s giving you that look. He just wants to hear you say it.
“Mm… Since-” you hesitate to finish your sentence, and then a particularly hard thrust of his fingers does it for you. “Since fucking high school! Christ, Eddie-”
A groan erupts from the back of his throat as he kisses you hard, licking and biting at your bottom lip, and then suddenly his mouth is back on your clit and you feel like you’re floating. He picks up the pace, eating you out like a man starved, flicking his tongue in time with the thrusts of his fingers.
You feel your hips start to move against him, and he groans into your pussy making you cry out. “Yeah, that’s it.” He mumbles against your core, “Ride my face, honey.”
You can’t control the plethora of sounds that escape you, and your body seems to have a mind of its own. You writhe on the bed as Eddie devours you, holding your thighs over his shoulders. He searches for your sweet spot with every thrust of his fingers, and he knows he’s found it when your eyebrows pinch up, a high pitched whine reverberating throughout his bedroom.
You can feel him smile against your cunt, continuing his assault against that spot that makes you see stars. He never stops looking up at you to watch your face contort with pleasure. His already dark eyes are now fully eclipsed with lust and need.
“Oh my god-” you gasp out, heaving for air as your legs begin to shake around his head.
He can tell you’re close from the way you’re squeezing his fingers and writhing under him. He doesn’t speed up or change his pace, he keeps doing exactly what he’s doing, moving the flat of his tongue back and forth against your clit and curling his fingers up into you just right.
“Eddie, mm… i’m so close-”
The second the words leave your lips, he pulls off of you. His mouth and fingers are completely gone in an instant, and you feel like you’re about to cry.
“What the fuck?!” You shout at him, voice weak with tears threatening to spill, “Why did you stop?”
Eddie grins from ear to ear, lips and chin glistening with your slick, “We talked about this, remember?” he says cockily, leaning down to lick a bead of sweat from your chest, “Brats don’t get to call the shots. You’ll take what I give you, won’t you sweetheart?”
You grumble and kick your legs out in frustration, but he kisses you to make it better. You slowly let him melt you back into putty in his hands, tasting yourself on his tongue. He presses his knee directly against your puffy cunt, groaning at your wetness against his skin as you sigh into his lips. You go to move your hips against him but he quickly stops you, moving his hand up instead to push down his boxers, his dick already hard and aching to feel you.
“Promise I’ll make you feel so good, just gotta be good for me first alright?”
You nod your head frantically, completely and utterly at his mercy. He looks like sex personified, and you just want to feel him. “Please, Eddie-”
He smiles sweetly at you, kissing your cheek as he slides the tip of his cock through your folds. “Awh, look at you and your manners.” he taunts, but this time you can't seem to care. In fact, you realize, you kind of like it.
You like hearing his voice.
You like it when he’s mean.
He pushes just the tip against your dripping hole, and you’re practically sobbing. “How can I say no when you asked so politely?” and then he’s sliding all the way into you, and you’re already a wreck.
“Holy shit- you feel so fucking good” he groans and huffs as he starts to slowly pump in and out of you, making sure you feel every drag of his cock inside you.
You’re already panting, stretching your hands against the cool metal to try and grasp for anything that can ground you, but you come up empty. He’s so much bigger than you expected him to be, and the stretch is practically making you drool.
“Eddie, fucking- god”
“That’s it, keep screaming my name just like that baby.” He encourages, kissing and biting at your collar bone, sure to leave marks, “You sound so goddamn pretty when you say my name.”
Eddie adjusts your position, pulling your leg over his hip and pushing it against your chest. The new angle has your back arching off the bed, a whimpering mess as you claw at the handcuffs.
Eddie leans his head to rest in the crook of your neck, panting and whining into your ear. “Shit, princess-”
Your cunt squeezes him at the nickname, and the moan that slips past your lips is guttural. “Oh, fuck-” He clamps his eye shut with a deep groan, gripping your thigh so hard it’s sure to leave little bruises.
That’s the first time he’s used that nickname since you started, and he knows it. He did it on purpose.
He lifts his head to look at your blissed out face, a goofy, lopsided, fucked out grin on his lips. “I knew it.” he gloats, thrusts getting harder, “Look at me.”
You muster up the energy to flutter your eyes open and look at him. The pretty smile on his face makes your legs shake.
“You like it when I call you that,” he beamed, “That’s why you hated when I used that name for you in public, huh. Cause’ it made you fuckin’ soak your panties?” he laughed meanly, watching tears fill your waterline. He leans down to brush his lips against yours, voice lowering into something sweeter. “Isn’t that right, princess?”
Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you practically scream. He looked so pretty, and he felt so good, and you wanted him closer. It was all too much, you needed to hold something, anything. You needed to pull yourself back down to reality.
“Eds- Eddie, please can I touch you?” your fingers twitch where they’re held above your head, “Wanna feel you- please, i’ve been so good-”
Eddie whines at your sweet pleas, but maintains composure. He wanted to stick to the plan.
“Oh, honey, no” he pouts out at you mockingly, watching the way you strain for anything to grasp and his dick twitches inside you, “No, you gotta give me one first. Can you do that for me, baby?”
Too fucked out to formulate a simple response, you simply sob and nod your head. Your hips start to rock up into his thrusts, but Eddie grabs your hips with one hand and pushes them back down into the sheets. You feel like a live wire.
Then he brings his thumb down to your clit, gently rubbing circles on it, and your eyes clamp shut. He kisses your open mouth and you try your best to kiss him back, but he’s moaning into your mouth, and he’s touching you, and fucking you, and Eddie Munson is fucking you, and it’s all so good that you just can’t.
“Eddie, i’m gonna-” you babble, almost incoherent, feeling the knot getting tighter and tighter, “Please please please don’t stop!”
He puts more pressure on your clit and leaves sweet little kisses on your neck, “I’m not got stop, it’s okay.”
You’re so close you feel like you’re about to explode.
“You can cum for me, princess”
That’s all you needed to see stars, black clouding your vision as he rides out your high, not once stopping or slowing down his pace. You can vaguely hear him talking you down, but nothing registers past your ears ringing.
Then your wrists are released and he’s flipping you over so that you’re on top, straddling him, and your hands and lips are all over him in an instant. In this position he hits your g-spot perfectly, and you can’t help but sob against his chest at the overstimulation.
“Just one more for me, I promise.” he soothes, gently rubbing your hip as his guides your hips back and forth on his cock, making you both cry out. You start to set your own pace riding him, leaning back against his legs to give you the perfect angle.
“You’re so perfect.” He mutters, breathlessly, “My pretty girl- fuck.”
Eddie was now moaning and whining louder and more freely than before, you can tell he’s getting close now too, and you’re already reaching your second climax of the night.
“Wanted you for so long,” Eddie admits, gripping your hip tighter, “can’t believe this is real.”
You whine at the confession, leaning forward to press your lips to the shell of his ear. You make sure to let your pretty noises and praises flow freely, just for him. Your fingers gently brush hairs from his forehead before scratching your way down his chest.
“You fuck me so well, Eds”
“Oh my god- you feel so good”
“Please, Eddie, I wanna feel you cum”
He’s an absolute mess, wrapping both hands around your hips and bending his knees up so that he can fuck you down onto him. “Wanna cum with you sweetheart. Want you to give me another one.” He rambles against your chest, and your nails dig into his shoulders, leaving little red marks behind.
“I’m so close, honey, c’mon. You can give it to me."
You bite and claw at his skin, so close to tipping over the edge.
"Soak me.”
You collapse forward as tears of overstimulation fall onto his inked skin, and he sinks his teeth into your shoulder to ground himself while he paints your walls white. You ride out your highs, clutching each other like a lifeline. When you’re both back on planet earth, he cleans you up nice an gentle, and whispers pretty little praises into your skin as you fall asleep with your limbs intertwined.
“Knew you had a crush on me, princess.”
Let’s just say you no longer have to go apartment hunting!
asks are open!
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inkskinned · 1 year
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one of the things about being an educator is that you hear what parents want their kids to be able to do a lot. they want their kid to be an astronaut or a ballerina or a politician. they want them to get off that damn phone. be better about socializing. stop spending so much time indoors. learn to control their own temper. to just "fucking listen", which means to be obedient.
one of the things i learned in my pedagogy classes is that it's almost always easier to roleplay how you want someone to act. it's almost always easier to explain why a rule exists, rather than simply setting the rule and demanding adherence.
i want my kids to be kind. i want them to ask me what book they should read next, and i want to read that book with them so we can discuss it. i want my kid to be able to tell me hey that hurt my feelings without worrying i'll punish them. i want my kid to be proud of small things and come running up to me to tell me about them. i want them to say "nah, i get why this rule exists, but i get to hate it" and know that i don't need them to be grateful-for-the-roof-overhead while washing the dishes. i want them to teach me things. i want them to say - this isn't safe. i'm calling my mom and getting out of this. i want them to hear me apologize when i do fuck up; and i want them to want to come home.
the other day a parent was telling me she didn't understand why her kid "just got so angry." this woman had flown off the handle at me.
my dad - traditional catholic that he is - resents my sentiment of "gentle parenting". he says they'll grow up spoiled, horrible, pretentious. granola, he spits.
i am going to be kind to them. i am going to set the example, i think. and whatever they choose become in the meantime - i'm going to love them for it.
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omoghouls · 3 months
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Working at the middle school today, wish mr luck babes🫡
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lesbianseaweed · 2 months
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I just remembered 13yo me made a school presentation abt Rebecca Sugar 😭
and I presented to the whole class
I had no shame
I'd do it again tbh
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the legends of localization book has reawakened my love for the nuances of translation and now i REALLY wanna take all the undertale dialogue and narration and translate it into french. for funsies
#i know i know french bad and all that. fair. but also: it's the only other language i know and am good enough at to feasibly do something#like this#dr could be fun too. i've got some ideas knocking around for that as well#the intricacies between characters of which would call frisk tu right off the bat and which would use vous#and the point in the game at which the latter characters would switch to vous.#mettaton's dialogue wouldn't be fun though. there are VERY few gender neutral terms of endearment#that serve as a good stand-in for 'darling' in french#very few gender-neutral terms in french at all honestly. but that's beside the point#maybe since french people are accustomed to a certain amount of english in their media#for example 'battle time' and 'game is over' in off and the like#i could just keep darling in places. it might be easier to have him use gendered terms of endearment#for people other than frisk. i'm thinking 'ma belle' for alphys. just affectionately. my grade 5 french teacher#who was from france#used to call me and the other girls in our class that affectionately#i mean. i wasn't a girl really. but you get it#ooh and i wonder what pronouns napstablook should use. i know there are community-made#nonbinary pronouns in french#such as ol and iel#they seem like an ol to me#i know many nby people aren't happy about iel since it's a mashup of il and elle#and therefore still built around a binary#and i totally get that but i don't think they're useless or actively harmful as pronouns! i'm sure there are some who like them and use#them#seam seems like an iel to me tbh#anyways this has been my short ramble about how i would go about localizing undertale into french. thank you very much for listening. bows
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miodiodavinci · 9 months
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taking a moment to add my two cents i think
#i am awake because sitting up prevents me from coughing as much it seems#my hot take of the evening is i think that a lot of people who resent literary analysis just didn't get proper scaffolding#when they were exposed to it#i think a lot of people had english teachers who didn't know how to properly structure their instruction and just let kids loose#sending them out onto the seemingly empty field of the page and then immediately lining them up in their crosshairs for judgement#or at least my english teacher was a lot like that#i think a lot of people perceive literary analysis as pointless frustrating right/wrong busy work#or some kind of painful arduous endeavor that rewards nothing#because their teachers effectively set it up to be just that#an effective literary analysis curriculum should involve modeling and repeated practice with frequent feedback#but i feel like so many english teachers when we were growing up just focused on lecture and then assessment#leaving a massive gap between what skills students come in with and what's expected of them#not only that but also i feel like the lack of relevance in literary content has a lot to do with it#i didn't especially enjoy proper literary analysis until i had a choice in what to analyze#and had consistent scaffolding to support the direction i wanted to go#i didn't write 23+ pages on kafka because it was a requirement--i wrote it because my professor got me invested in it and provided support#i think that's an issue with a lot of areas in education#thankfully it's changing (however slowly) but god. death to the lecture -> assessment model of instruction
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Seeing Joel send Sausage the child they share custody of with 'something hard from other Daddy' is definitely not what I was expecting if I'm honest...
At this point I'm just waiting for Joel to send the child to Sausage with a goat horn and somehow make 'horny' work.
Minecraft players, everybody. Minecraft players.
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getting to spend even just an hour doing nothing but reading Mira’s book was wonderful. Love Me More Than Anything in the World is captivating in a manner in which so few works are for me.
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drowsyanddazed · 1 year
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just sorted through and counted my vinyls i have 243.. a frankly absurd number. bitches love me for my extensive vinyl collection xx
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professionalowl · 4 months
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not reblogging the post because i know it's a flawed test (and infuriatingly poorly worded to wit) but the RAADS-R autism test is going around again and i got an 87, which is i think what i got the last time i took it and also tracks - i'm personally pretty certain that i'm not autistic, but (autistic) friends of mine have historically been split on the issue because apparently i 'act' like an autistic person and they're often surprised when i say i'm actually not
#my *closest* friends tend to think i'm not but - to quote one guy - '[i'm] very smart and smart ppl tend to have traits that overlap'#which is an interesting assessment (he's autistic tb clear) and i think i know where it's coming from#i'm very direct with comments; i often have trouble with empathy; i'm clever (or y'know 'clever' for a given value of the word);#i don't feel emotions particularly strongly - or immediately - and this comes across in my speech#which i've been told can come off as detached/disaffected/uncaring even when it's not trying to be;#i'm apparently quite difficult to read sometimes? or come off as intimidating per neutral expression;#uh. one time an english teacher told me that i'd taught her to 'think more logically' whatever the fuck that means;#these are i think stereotypical autistic 'smart guy' traits which do not actually map on to the majority of autistic people afaik#at least not as a package or all expressed the same way - but in this case i think it's a category error#interesting food for thought nonetheless. i spend some time thinking about it because people do ask me occasionally#and the general autistic mileu of tumblr.com has actually helped me be nicer to myself about those traits#(as well as check myself abt other people; i'm not going to pretend to be some kind of saintly autistic whisperer or w/e)#considered going back and taking the test with the 'most generous' and then the 'least generous' answers and comparing them#but i can't be bothered. add a button for 'in specific situations' or die by my hand#i WILL say that some of said autistic friends who were surprised to find out i wasn't#expressly thought i WAS because they drew a correlation between their behaviour and my own#so it's not just 'people are misreading me because of stereotypes about how autistic people act' although i do think that can be an element#let me know if this post is weird or w/e it is literally just speculating on myself and how people perceive me#as a consequence of tending to occupy circles otherwise occupied largely by neurodivergent people#('fandom' and 'archaeology and anthropology')
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porto-rosso · 4 months
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on the UK unit in my comparative government course and its a little funny almost? how hard it is for some of the people in class to wrap their heads around the north/south divide
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seawitchkaraoke · 11 months
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So when does french actually use "on"? I was taught back in school that it's equivalent to the german "man" which we basically use as a passive third passive singular kinda like "one shouldn't do that" (which obviously english doesn't use much but it exists)
But I'm now doing the duolingo french course from english and there they consistently translate "on" with "we". In some sentences both versions make sense, but I just got "Ils savent qu'on va en Australie" which the english translation "they know we're going to Australia" makes sense but the translation I learned back in school for this would be smth like "they know, one goes to Australia" (or "sie wissen, dass man nach Australien geht*)
Which.... Is a completely different meaning that doesn't make a lot of sense like "one goes to Australia"? What? Is that just a common thing one does? Would only make sense for like, idk if this is about middle class germans doing a gap year after high school, bc yeah sure there going to Australia sure is a common thing to do
But if my french teacher was wrong and it's actually always "we" then... When do I use "nous" and when "on"?
Languages are confusing and I am doing three way translations here trying to make sense of everything, it's hard lmao
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firebirdsdaughter · 10 months
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As the daughter of a history major…
… Where the hell are so many americans on tumblr going to school???
I just saw a post about how ‘it’s taught in america that the pilgrims were Good and fleeing religious intolerance but they were actually Bad’ which first off, you cannot make those distinctions bc freaking everyone was up to kill anyone who didn’t agree in those days, but also… People claiming to be american claiming that they were definitely taught exactly that??
Maybe… If you never took a history class past elementary school, I guess. Or maybe you were in Florida (oh, gods, get my mother started on people killing each other in Florida).
Bc, resident American here, albeit one in Massachusetts, and… No. We’re not taught that. You get a romanticised version in early grades maybe, but the higher you go, you get taught that the most Puritans had different religious beliefs than the standard in England, so they took the opportunity to ship off to the colonies. There’s no victimisation, it’s just straight facts. And that usually, that was the category of people shipped off to the colonies—criminals, religious differences, poor people… Like no one in their right mind wanted to go off into the ‘wilderness.’ They did it bc they hated being where they were, and England was all too happy to get rid of them. Hell, they were also completely unprepared and many of them died on the way over. Like that shot went super bad for so many reasons.
I’m not going to claim I remember every detail I was taught, and I had a bit of a deeper knowledge bc my mother is, again, a history major w/ an interest in American history bc it is whacky), and I do remember the ‘founding’ being a little simplified, but I also distinctly remember going into higher grades and having teachers outright explain ‘what you were told as kids was a very simplified version, let’s talk about it in more detail.’ We weren’t taught that there were ‘good’ or ‘bad’ guys, we were taught that these people had a difference in belief and that for that reason, they ended up shipped off to the colonies. We talked about the conflicts, the damage, the ugly bits.
I think people claiming to have been taught a sanitised version either didn’t take many history classes, didn’t pay attention, or don’t remember much of what they were taught (which no judgement here, I barely remember). Or maybe they’re just trying to sound Cool on the internet? I can’t know. But I remain baffled by certain myths about the us that alleged Americans come out of the woodwork to claim are true when… Your experiences are not universal???
Like I’m happy to criticise the education system, bc excuse me while I cry about not being able to hold a conversation in Spanish, but like. Unless you were in a very particular environment (I went to public school, btw)… No, you weren’t taught that shit. There’s parts missing, sure, but they did not, at least not beyond elementary, try to claim the ‘Pilgrims’ were blameless. I remember being taught that life was harsh and short, and people bitter and stubborn. I don’t doubt that the words ‘fleeing religious intolerance’ might’ve been used, bc technically, yes, they were. But I am also intolerant of trolls, and mosquitos. That’s a statement, it has no bearing on what kind of people either group was.
#Firebird Randomness#I find it fascinating how this site veers between shitting on England and holding it up and some noble paragon#like I'm sorry you wanna shit on the Puritans like go ahead but don't make out like they were any worse than any other religious sect#esp in England at that time#or hell Europe you wanna talk about the Spanish conquests of the Americas??#but I literally just had an exCUSE me??? reaction to that post#like our education system is BAD I wish I could speak another language properly for one#terrible at dealing w/ learning disabilities#and maybe some stuff requires a little effort#but DEF by high school my history teachers made no secret about the effects of colonisation#or the extremism of the puritan beliefs#this is one of those prove you've never been to the us w/out saying it moments#like obvi history is taught differently#per a British friend the US actually disappears from English teaching after the Puritans leave until the revolution#additionally we also get taught that many of them still considered themselves British#like they weren't 'trying to find a new world' they just hated everyone else as much as everyone hated them#but many of them still thought they were 'British' that didn't change until later#but serious geebus people here will just take anything at face value#history is bloody and colonisation and conquest may have most famously started in Europe#but that also means that you can't wash your hands of it and say 'it was them they were bad'#like I'm digressing here I'm just so baffled
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monstermoviedean · 1 year
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highly underrated skill to be able to communicate with people who have different levels of technical knowledge without being condescending or shitty about it
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jayswing101 · 2 years
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.
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glossytoothpick · 1 month
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Shoutout to that time I unironically drew gay fanart between the protagonist and Roderick Usher from the Fall of The House of Usher.
Sophomore year was a wild time
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