I really don’t care who the stalker is, what I do want to know is who the hell the scum of the earth man who took advantage of and sexually abused him is
If Danny were the Entity's favorite the same way that he's my favorite, then I think he should be put in more dumbshit situations for fun. Give him baby Legion.
May I prompt... more Floyd and Bitty B interactions? 🫣 Lots of untapped potential in their shared snarkiness...
(Also, hi! I've been a fan of your art for a long time and I've been so happy to see you posting Trolls art recently! You make them so Squish....)
(hello!! glad to have u along for the ride ^^ the Beans are here to stay)
not so much snarky as sentimental with this one, but here u go. this is based on my experience of holding my newborn sister for the first time when i was five
I wrote another one. Thought up this idea and couldn't put it down. For @steddiemicrofic March prompt 'pin'.
388 words | Explicit | CW: physical restraint, use of "make me take it" for those who aren't a fan of that
“So what are those about?”
“What’s what about?” Eddie asks in return from where he’s hunched over, digging through his dresser, trying to find a specific shirt that Steve is 80% sure is in the dirty laundry. They’re supposed to be going to see some new movie, but Steve doesn’t mind stalling if it means he gets to see Eddie shirtless a bit longer.
“The handprints. You’ve told me about your other tattoos, but not about those.”
Steve’s noticed them before, of course he has. The two handprints on Eddie’s back are stark against his pale skin, like someone’s dipped their hands in black ink and pressed them to his shoulder blades.
They’re enticing. Steve has fantasized about lining his own hands up with them, of using them as a guide to hold Eddie against the wall or pin him down to the bed. Thoughts that have only increased as they’ve continued to dance around each other, neither willing to make the first move.
Eddie stands up straight and turns to look at Steve with a sharp grin. “Those? They’re so pretty boys know where to hold me down while they fuck me.”
Jesus Christ.
Every filthy thought Steve’s ever had about those marks flashes through his mind, and he’s paralyzed with desire as Eddie stalks over to where he’s sitting on the bed. The tension that’s been building between them is increasing rapidly, the atmosphere stifling as Eddie reaches down to take one of Steve’s hands in his own.
“Your hands are pretty big, Stevie. Wanna see if they match up to mine?”
They don’t match up, but only because Steve’s hands are bigger than the inked ones.
He eclipses them completely as he pushes down on them, pinning Eddie to the mattress as he fucks into him from behind. It’s better than anything he dreamed of, especially with Eddie’s eager babble and the sinful arch of his back.
“Fuuuck yes, that’s it. Make me take it, Stevie, so fucking good.”
Steve groans at the encouragement and snaps his hips harder, digs his fingers into Eddie’s skin and thinks about leaving bruises, leaving his own mark on the man. He wants Eddie to feel the ache later, a reminder of just how good Steve is at holding him down.