#A Qs

[pullhisteeth]

hi! i don’t know if you take requests or are taking requests, but i was wondering if you could write a little something about reader telling eddie she loves him for the first time or vice versa. i always feel like eddie would cry upon hearing that someone loved him back but idk. alsoooo maybe a little smut if you’re feeling up for it 👀

(if you’re not taking requests then please disregard this lol i just love your writing 💕)

xxx

thank you for the request my love! I adored writing this - I got very very carried away (it's over 3k words lol). I hope it's what you were after. and thank you so much for being so kind! you're the best <3

contains smut so 18+! minors dni.

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Lover's Lake is quiet at this time of night. It's the best place to see the stars over Hawkins, and Eddie knows this. He also knows you'd die for the night sky; you've spent enough night-time drives with your head stuck out the passenger seat window to get a better view. He's considered sawing a hole out of the roof of the van just so you can lie in the back and stare up at the sky while he drives.

That'd be stupid, of course, but you have a habit of sending Eddie stupid.

It's so quiet out here that you should be completely at peace. Instead, all you can hear is the blood rushing past your ears; you feel the throb of your heart in your fingertips and the warmth of Eddie behind you is like a bonfire on your back.

"You okay?"

His mouth is right by your ear, and his breath brushes your hair and inflames the skin beneath your jaw. Your back is to his chest, his arms around your waist, the two of you perched in the doorway at the back of his van with your legs dangling over the bumper.

You hum in response, confident he'll hear you since his chin's resting on your shoulder.

"Are you?" you whisper.

"Never been better," he whispers back, punctuating with a kiss to the space under your ear. You feel his sly smile when you shiver.

It's early September. Hawkins is warm, summer ebbing away slower than usual, and you're coming out the other side of a summer that makes your head spin if you think about it too hard.

"Hey," Eddie murmurs, shifting behind you. His arms relent their grip on you, so you turn. Even in the depths of this summer night, skin flushed by the lingering heat and Eddie's affection, you don't dare look him in the eye.

"What?" you ask, eyes dancing around the floor beneath him.

"Look at me," he says, voice firm. You do, ignoring the wild hammering inside your chest, against all your better judgement because it's Eddie, and you'd do anything for him.

"Are you okay? Really?" he asks, and the crack in his voice sends you reeling. With eyes all sad and brows turned down, he looks at you, imploring.

You move quick, legs swung up into the van so you can move over to him on your knees. He's moved himself away from you and you're not sure why, but you are sure that you despise the space between you.

Settled on your knees about two feet away from him, you say, "So okay. Why?"

"Your heart's beating like a fuckin' timebomb, sugar."

"Oh," you breathe. He's trapped you, and there's only one way out of this. 

You reach your arms out to bridge the gap, making stupid grabby hands that he can't help but laugh at. He takes them and pulls you in, helping you lift your knees over his legs, arms returning to their rightful place around your middle. On his shoulder you rest your cheek, mouth close to his neck but not touching it, and you wind your arms around his back.

"I love you," you murmur, scared that if you say it too loud something cataclysmic could happen. Hawkins can't take another chasm.

You feel him relax under your hands. It's as though the muscles are sighing, settling back into their usual spaces. You realise he'd been tense beneath you and you breathe out as you feel him go limp.

But he doesn't say anything. You push yourself off of him to look at him but he turns his head to the side so you can't see him.

As if that's gonna work, you think, bringing your fingers up to trace the side of his jaw you can't see. In fact, his whole face is obscured by his hair. You frown, concerned.

"Eddie, baby," you coo, voice low and soft. "You gotta look at me."

On your wrist you feel the long, slow breath out of his nose. Though you can't see him you know what he's doing - when the nightmares got particularly bad in June you'd taught him this technique, a way to slow his heart and stop his mind racing. Close your eyes, breathe in, breathe out.

It turns your stomach to think he feels like that now.

Your fingers on his face don't apply any force. You're willing him to turn to you on his own, hoping desperately that this isn't the end, that you didn't just ruin this.

You hear the blood more than ever now. It reminds you of the way you feel after sex with Eddie, after he's taken care of you so many times in a handful of hours that it barely feels like your skeleton is holding itself together. You never imagined you'd be the kind of person to have a summer fling, always thought that was something that happened in the movies, to people like Danny and Sandy, but in May you'd found yourself in Eddie Munson's bed and by July you'd fallen deep, deep into the abyss you've come to know is love.

The more the seconds pass, you two sat in stillness in the back of his van like this, the more you convince yourself that for him, this was just that. A fling.

Finally, you feel him stir and his breath falter. And then he turns slowly, a hand rubbing down his face, and as he does you brush the hair out of his face. Your own breath hitches when you see his eyes.

His gaze is fixed downwards, but you can still see that he's all red and wet. There are smudged tears around his lashes. It takes everything in you not to kiss them away.

"Eddie?"

You reach your hand to mirror the other, holding his head in two palms. He brings his own around your wrists where he holds them, gentle but firm, thumb swirling circles into the skin.

"I'm sorry," you whisper, and you watch as his eyes rise to meet yours. You damn near kill him when they do, your face all soft and sad. He wants to fix it.

"No, shit, babe, you don't have to be sorry." His voice is as wet as his face, thick like treacle, words like cotton wool.

"But-"

"I love you," he says. His voice is louder than before, cutting you off mid-plea, though it's still full of affection. "But it scares me."

"Why?" You tilt your head like a sad puppy and Eddie all but combusts on the spot.

He does it again - closes his eyes, breathes in, breathes out - and then says, words wavering but intentional: "No one has ever told me they love me before."

You can't help the sharp breath you take in at his words. It seems to take your brain a moment to catch up, and it's Eddie's nervous chuckle that draws you back.

"You're serious?" you say, completely unable to compute what he's said.

"Uh, yeah."

"Oh, Eds," you breathe, a whine, hovering your lips close to his face. You kiss his cheek three times, then his nose and the space between his eyebrows. His eyes flutter shut under your touch, your palms still either side of his face and his own hands still clutching your wrists. "I love you," you tell him again with a kiss to his brow. "I love you," with a kiss to his temple. "I love you," with a kiss to the corner of his mouth.

He laughs, and asks, "what are you doing?"

"Making up for it."

His fingers clench tighter around your arms and you pretend that you don't feel the jolt to your centre at the pressure.

"What?"

"Making up for the 23 years you've not had people telling you they love you." Kiss. "'Cos they do, y'know." Kiss. "Just have a weird way of saying it." Kiss. "So I'm telling you: I love you."

He manages to catch your lips with his own and kisses you back, deep and moved by warm, syrupy love.

"I love you, too," he says again, mouth on yours. He moves down your jaw, peppering kisses along it and down the column of your throat. His fingers on your wrist were already sending you dizzy in your post-anxious haze, but now you know where this is going. You know that he knows what this does to you, and when he makes for your collarbones you're sure you're a goner. 

The lock of his fingers releases and he traces them down your forearm until they settle on your waist, skirting the hem of your top. The sensation of them on your skin there, on the hollow of your sides, sends jolts down your spine and between your thighs, where you squirm in an attempt to relieve at least some of the tension.

To distract yourself, you raise your arms, a signal that he should lift your shirt. He pulls the fabric up and over your head, laughing softly with you when it gets caught in your hair.

Eddie has seen you naked more times than you can count since May. The first time, he was a nervous wreck, mind half on not tearing open his two-month-old wounds and half on making sure you had the best time. And you did, and he only got better each time after that.

Here, underneath you, he sits staring at your bare chest like he's a starved man. It's kind of feral, which should perhaps worry you, but he's so loving that it only winds you up more.

His lips are on you before you can think to feel too softly about all of this.

"Eddie," you pant. He groans into the stretched skin of your sternum, where he's kissing down, down, down, as low as his dipped head will allow. With his hands now on your back, one up between your shoulder blades and another lower down, he leans you backwards so he can keep going. You crane your neck back and think, briefly, about how pornographic this must look. The thought drives you completely wild. 

He lowers you slowly to the ground. Sitting back up, he reaches to pull his own shirt over his head, before climbing awkwardly over you to pull the doors shut. There's no one out here, there never is, but he knows you'd spend the whole thing anxious about being caught. All he wants is for you to be comfortable.

You sit up to pull your sneakers and shorts off, so that when he's back you're lying down again in just your pants and white tennis socks. He lowers himself, knees either side of your thighs, hands on the flesh there, kneading it like dough, and bends over you. He kisses across your collarbones, back up your jaw, retracing his steps. When he kisses the corner of your mouth, he says, "I love you."

You say it back, pushing the words back into his mouth, kissing him softly.

Sex with Eddie is always tender, sure, but it's also almost always quick, rough and time-efficient. Not in an unsexy way; it's how you've both liked it for the last few months, stealing moments when you can between pool parties and movie nights and shifts at work.

You'd known tonight was different when Eddie had asked you up here. You're not not exclusive, though the question's never been explicitly asked - if anyone was to pry, you'd always refer to him as your boyfriend - but this feels like a real date.

And so this sex is different, too. Softer, warmer, slower. You help him pull his jeans down, all the way off, and then you hook your fingers over the waistband of his underwear. But he comes to grip your wrist again, stopping you, and he huffs a laugh when you whine.

"Not yet," he breathes, lifting himself up.

"But Eddie-"

"Stop being impatient," he teases. His fingers are still locked around your wrist. "We have all the time in the world."

You melt. Is this what you think it is?

"Really?"

"Really."

He kisses you again, and you keen into his mouth. You feel his touch against your hip bone, and his fingers curl around your underwear. Tugging them down, his other hand runs down your thigh and under your knee, helping himself undress you completely.

"You," he breathes, "are so fuckin' beautiful."

You giggle, biting your lip to suppress a grin. You turn your head to one side, cheek brushing the old blanket that covers the floor, and he seizes the opportunity to kiss under your ear and down your neck.

"Look at me," he says again. When you don't, instead craning your neck to wind him up, he digs his fingers into your sides and you squirm beneath him, laughing.

Your eyes meet his and as they do, you feel his fingers on the skin right above where you want him most. He plots a dance across your hips and down between your thighs, teasing and cruel, but his eyes are so gorgeous and dark and all lovesick and it's so hard to be mad at him.

Finally, they find your clit, find purchase on the skin despite how wet you've become. He hums a smug, proud noise when you arch your back at his touch.

You feel euphoric at these light swipes alone; God knows what you'll be like when he's inside you.

As you think this, the thought consumes you. It swallows you whole, filling every space with thoughts of Eddie.

"Need you," you whimper.

"Oh yeah?"

You groan at his cockiness, at his teasing and the fact his fingers still aren't inside you.

You try to say, "please," but the word comes out strangled. You're desperate, aching, caving in from the inside out.

"You're asking so nicely," he croons, tone mocking. And then he moves, leans down over you so your bare chest presses to his, and he says in your ear with a new breathlessness, "you're so good."

The praise is like gasoline on this incredibly torturous fire. You can't bear it, your hands are everywhere, all over his back and down to his underwear which you want rid of immediately.

"Please, Eds," you say again, and you smile when you hear him groan at the petname. You are the only person who calls him that, and you reserve it for when you want something from him.

"I'm trying to be romantic," he says with a breathy laugh.

"I don't care," you bark out without thinking.

"Fine," he says back, resolute. "You wanna be like that? You'll get what you ask for."

The switch in his tone is like a firecracker. You're all wriggly and about as impatient as a person can get by now, enthralled by the prospect that he might finally get inside you.

He sits up on his heels and manages to get his underwear off. You sit up on your elbows to look at him properly, wonderstruck.

"You're so pretty," you breathe out.

He laughs at you, and says, "y'really know how to get a guy goin', huh?"

You just reach one arm up, shifting your weight onto one elbow, and make those same grabby hands at him that you had earlier, before you'd bared all to him and told him you love him.

"Alright, alright," he says, leaning back over you. Your impatient fingers coil around his cock, at which he hisses out air through his teeth. You flick your thumb over the tip and pull your hand up and down a few times, before he covers it with his own hand and pries it away gently. He locks his fingers with yours and you think you really might melt from how happy you are.

"You ready?"

"So ready," you plead.

But he doesn't move, even when you scratch his back lightly with your other hand. Instead, he looks down at you with a strange expression.

"What?" you ask.

"I love you," he tells you again. It makes you flush; you feel a warmth spread up your scalp and across your cheeks, and you can't help the way you smile back at him.

Finally, he adjusts himself at your entrance, and slowly pushes in. Even now, after months of this, you need time to get used to him and he knows it, relishes in it. Arching your back you dig your nails even deeper into the flesh of his back, grip his hand even harder, and moan a sound that makes him answer your call with his own.

That's all you can hear: your own breathy moans, Eddie's groans, and skin on skin. It's otherworldly; you'd be happy here forever.

In and out, he thrusts slow and firm. He's being gentle; you can tell that even though he'd feigned a roughness that usually excites you, he'd been intent on tonight being like this since the beginning.

It's unlike any of the sex you've ever had with him before, and you could see yourself getting used to it.

"Eddie, oh my god-"

"I know, I know," he pants. He's squinting, eyes tight shut, so you reach up to hold one side of his face. He opens them and looks at you as he slows his thrusts, and comes down to kiss you. As he picks up the pace again, it becomes a mess of lips and teeth.

"Eddie, I- I-"

"I've got you, sugar."

In answer to your unspoken request, he relinquishes your hand and moves his fingers between your bodies to your clit, drawing quick circles that make your eyes roll back into your skull. You're close, so close; there's a fire within that is spreading, your walls are clenching tighter, your vision's burning brighter.

You know he's there, too, close to the edge you're both about to fall off. Just a few more thrusts, a few more deft movements of his fingers on your clit and you burst, a supernova, bright and hot.

You scream his name as you come undone, limbs limp and mind blank. He pants above you, concentrating, murmuring sweet nothings that make no sense but send you dizzy anyway. 

"Good girl," he says through swift breaths. "So, so good."

He's riding you through your orgasm, bringing you to the very edge of sensitivity, until he goes, too. You feel him go rigid and with a groan he comes, warm and familiar inside you.

As he rests on you for a moment, still inside you, you brush his hair out of his face and kiss him gently on his cheek.

"I love you," you tell him again, for the thousandth time that evening.

"I love you, too," he repeats.

-

[extrajigs]

Styraphant average size ref! They're p large. Lady on the left and gentleman on the right! The males are a good percentage larger than the gals and are mainly differentiated by their 'bottom heavy' crest. Which is mainly for show.

[suqarbreadz]

CAN YOU PLEASE DRAW THE GANG WITH YIPPIE CREATURES OR AS YIPPIE CREATURES (PLEAAASEE)

also HAII QQ>;)))))

bonus: title screen

doki doki yippee club <3 ALSO HAI HAI HELLO these were super fun to draw :3 if anyone wants to use these as a pfp or sum feel free to do so <3 credit is appreciated <33

[trektown]

Another post to show off my Q cosplay. Shout out to the other two Qs I met on Saturday

[multipearionare]

CW: BLOOD

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Save me vengeful spirit Taka, vengeful spirit Taka save me

[tezzbot]

Baby Brozone headcanons bc I was feeling sillyyyy :P Some are based on stuff we see in backgrounds in the movie and some are just some personal headcanons for me smile

I def have more ideas but I got! tired U.U

EDIT: I got untired heres the continuation LOL

[qs-art]

in my redraw era rn

[jamesmotorcompany]

and what happened to me at the end of all this, you ask? heh…well buddy… [puts on sunglasses, smiles, looks at the sun setting beneath the ocean horizon]

lets just say…my tummy hurts

[CREDITS]

[oscarcito]

the #1 oscar piastri fan

[pullhisteeth]

sooo excited to read your next eddie fic!! i’ve been checking your blog all weekend!! pls don’t feel rushed though take your time <3

oh this is the sweetest thank you so much! I've been so busy the last few days - making progress but I think it might be a little while 🥺 thank you though!!! Soon I promise xxx

[suntails]

[sharing/rb appreciated 💛]

my silver artbook is FINISHED and will open for preorders on 8/31 at 12pm EST!! it's been almost 3 months of work and i'm so excited to finally be able to share all the art i've worked on, PLUS a small bonus charm!

if u know silver fans,,, tell them

[ooctlt]

how old is everyone?

theyve been living together since harrow was 17

[bethanysmiled]

The Immaculate Birth of Fortune

[thefailedabortioon]

(ref under the cut ;3 + click for better quality!)

[dogwithapog]

intro to pure mathematics prof always talking about "p" and "q"

this is the only p and q i want to hear about

[suqarbreadz]

request from a friend ov mine <3

fun fact: the animals theyre holding are jus my ocs LMAOA except the dog monika has, shes holding the phogs dog (super cute dog coop game u should totesss play it)