Kiss Kiss Fall In Debt

kabedon!

part 4 of 19 of kinktober: dreams

bill cipher x reader

plot: you couldn’t truly escape bill, not even when you slept and tonight, he had a special sort of visit arranged — a/n: there is some plot to this one — themes: yan!bill cipher, dreams/mindscape, teasing, orgasm denial, gn!reader, dubcon — w.c: ~1.6k

kinktober masterlist • main masterlist • ao3 • part 2 >

Sleep was something of a fifty-fifty endeavour for you.

In the best case scenario, you would wake up fully rested with no further issues, but in the worst case? You’d see him there; his looming presence haunting the darkest depths of your mind—forcing you to remember just how much control he truly had over you—again and again.

For a while, he left you alone, letting your mind recover for just long enough to be lulled into a false sense of security. Tonight however, just as you finally were about to fall sleep… you got a bad feeling.

Bill was waiting for you and you could tell.

(It was all too good to be true. You were never free to begin with, you silly thing.)

Your dreamscape itself was pretty simple, as far as you understood it. Your mind presented memories in a large paper calendar with core fragments highlighted in a red marker. A lot of what was stored was mundane, but if you flipped the pages back far enough, you could relive the one and only time that you allowed Bill to get close to you.

It wasn’t just highlighted in red marker, but it had been tampered with; decorated around the borders by Bill himself. Small yellow triangles scratched in glittering ink and etchings of singular eyes familiar to his own.

A memory locked away of you being just nineteen, maybe twenty, wasting away over the summer back home from college. You didn’t have much going on and the temptation to let Bill in was stronger than ever.

You shouldn’t have done so…

(…But you did.)

You hated that memory; a sign of momentarily lapsed weakness captured and replayed for as long as you lived. Dreams were something you didn’t have anymore otherwise. It was either nothingness or it was something like this.

You were exhausted.

The memory was always the same, too.

You watched on from within the shadows as though you were a helpless passenger with no control of the vehicle; witnessing the time that you let Bill in when you shouldn’t have. His sudden appearance and mocking demeanour betrayed no hint at him likely anticipating it at the time—so smug and prideful—a willing victim fallen to manipulation.

It was a humiliating sight to witness as your past self became so flustered and overwhelmed like soft putty in his hands. You had no choice but to endure this replaying memory, watching as his arm snaked towards your lower body, going places where you should never have let him go.

Curse that… entity.

That wretched demon.

Why did he have to make you relive this scene again and again? Was it because he knew about your struggles to get off in the waking world? You betted that he did. Watching from the shadows as you tried to touch yourself to relive that moment, only to be shamed by your own self out of doing so.

You couldn’t ever follow through.

Not when he was potentially watching.

(And you would hate for him to tell you that he told you so, that you can’t help but still want him back. Oh no, no, no. The very least you could do was to deny him that pleasure.)

While distracted, you accidentally gulped just loud enough for your voice to bleed into the memory. Shit. You managed to avoid him for so long by enduring and keeping quiet, but now you had inadvertently doomed yourself to something else.

Bill dislodged from your past self, leaving them to sulk back onto the floor. His voice was deceptively enthusiastic as always, emanating an eerie whimsy, “Well, well, well. Look who’s all red faced from spying on what was supposed to be a private moment? Who knew that it would get you so worked up?”

“I’m not…” you trailed off, feeling less than confident in your reply, “I'm not worked up.”

“No?” he taunted, sounding disbelieving before pointing his cane back to your dream self, still sulking but otherwise panting and recollecting their breath from stolen pleasure. “I think that you’re lying…! Or, no… Could it be that you’re—that you’re jealous? Oh wow, now this is rich!”

You didn’t dare reply but you did freeze a little as he resumed his actions on you instead. This was a new development. He pushed his cane in between your legs, willing you to clench tight against it with an unseen force before wriggling it around long enough to elicit a pleasured response.

“Oh, don’t tell me that this is all it takes to get you going these days?” Bill mocked, slightly pumping and stirring the stick around your clenching form. “I didn’t think that you would be so sensitive, so desperate and dare I say… needy? You really are full of surprises!”

Finally finding your backbone, you attempted to put a stop to the madness, “Get out of my head, Bill.”

He could only let out a dry, humourless laugh before sliding out the cane from your teased sex at last.

“Silly you!” he beamed once more, pushing you up against the wall from that same hidden power from before. “Why not just admit it, huh? You actually kind of liked that! Didn’t you?”

“N-no,” you denied with an unconvincing stutter, “it’s n-not like that.”

Bill however didn’t waver, slipping his hands beneath the fabric of your crotch, reaching to feel the evidence of your arousal. “Wow! So excited and just from a little touch! If you didn’t like that, then why are you reacting that way, huh?”

“Stop—“ you tried to punch back, your own words betraying you as you in fact didn’t want him to cease.

“—yeah, yeah,” he sneered, pulling back at your request, but you could tell that it was far from over.

You watched as he floated around with some sort of purpose, the once nostalgic interior of your old bedroom fading away into a blank void, along with your past self dissolving into nothingness.

“You can pretend to hate me now,” Bill continued after a moment of tense silence, “but deep down, I know you crave a release, don’t you? And hey, I’ll tell you what. Give in to me and I’ll leave you alone for a whole year.”

“What’s the catch?” you wearily sighed.

Bill laughed heartily to himself before propping the came back to where it was, his voice thoroughly amused, “Aw, nothing! Why do you always think there’s a catch?” he asked, lazily stroking at your sex, seemingly taking pleasure in watching you writhe, “I can be nice… sometimes! As long as you can admit that you can’t live without me… then I’ll give you that and more.”

“You know that I’ll never do that,” you shot back.

“Still playing hard to get?” he asked, swirling the wand around some more. “Not a problem. I can always rekindle that spark. How about I remind you exactly why, that for a while, you couldn’t stop thinking about me all the time…” he trailed off slightly, his voice temporarily fond before returning back to ridiculing, “…or maybe I’ll tease your past version who did like me over and over. Or better yet! Maybe I’ll just stick around in your head forever. You’re too much fun to mess with, after all.”

The atmosphere in the void pocket then dropped to something else, something thick with danger and perhaps even longing possession. His form faded towards you, flashing up tight against you in stark, jarring clarity.

With a wide, manic eye, his voice became low, methodical and even suggestive, “Let’s face it, you’ll never get rid of me… at least not fully. I’ll always be a part of you and because of that… I’m… not… going… anywhere!”

His words built up in slowly charged pulses, practically erupting with menacing glee by the final word. In a way, you had to admit it, he was good at messing with you.

You had barely any time to process what he was saying however, before his hands were back to where they were. He stroked at you with more passionate fervour that time, stealing occasionally uttered moans that broke out of your lips, sending radiating waves of red that coloured your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Aw, look at ya,” Bill caught on, catching the note of your slipped whimper by holding one hand to the side of his linear surface, as though taking it into his body. “So confused, but so aroused…! Oh, that’s adorable!”

You bit your lip as the pleasure within you rose with simmering force, feeling a tightening stir boiling from within your lower abdomen. He knew exactly what he was doing—getting you all hot like that—writhing and squirming at his will and yet, as he drove you closer towards the edge, he stopped. Bill abruptly pulled away from you and didn’t allow you to have the final push that was otherwise needed for you to come undone. Being as cruel as he was, he yanked his hand back and hovered ever so slightly above you, feeding you a look of pure, utter contempt.

“Not so fast, silly. Looks like you got a little too excited, huh?” he laughed, propping his cane that time underneath your chin before forcing you to look up at him, “you know the drill: I’ll only play nice when you can finally admit that you need me… until then, enjoy waking up all alone, frustrated and confused.”

And with that, you tore upright into the waking world a cold, clammy sweat feeling angry. The last remnants of an already fleeting warmth evaporated away into nothingness—leaving you to wonder if it actually did happen—but if Bill had forced you to forget the pleasure he had caused.

Knowing him, that’s exactly what he did.

Just to be cruel.

⚠️ PLAY TO WIN ⚠️

A big thanks to the wonderful @mushroomstairs for coding & lettering the instruction panels! Here are some closeups and the the pinball design flats-

Ok but they didn't know this

would be their last time on the swing set together. Like, of course, they were talking about their future and how things would change soon. But "soon" didn't mean "tomorrow", or at least it wasn't supposed to. They thought they still had time. And even when Ford would eventually leave for university, he'd still be in contact with his family and his brother, so of course they would still come to their favorite hang out spot, if only for old time's sake. (A thing a lot of people seem to forget is that Ford very much didn't want Stan out of his life before the science fair. I don't think he even considered something like this a possibility, because why would he?)

There's something so profoundly sad about someone visiting their childhood favorite place for the last time without knowing it. But to think about how for the brothers it was not them having fun, or chatting or looking at the sea like they always used to. It was them talking about their futures (which had just recently become futures —plural instead of future —singular) that would very soon tear them apart, so much more than they thought it would.

happy theraprism bill day to all who celebrate

HEYA, THE NAME’S BILL CIPHER, BUT YOU ALREADY KNEW THAT DIDN’T YOU?

YOU MISSED ME RIGHT? ADMIT IT, YOU MISSED ME. BUT YOU MAY BE WONDERING ‘BUT BILL, HOW ARE YOU HERE? AREN’T YOU IN PRISON? YOU’RE NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ABLE TO CONTACT ANYONE.’

WELL SURPRISE, SURPRISE, THE OL’ FRILLY SHMUCK IN THE SKY GAVE ME A SECOND CHANCE. AGAIN. SOMETHING ABOUT HOW THEY’D NEVER SEEN ME SO MOTIVATED FOR THERAPY THAN WHEN I WAS WORKING ON MY LITTLE DIARY~! SAID THAT I THRIVE ON ATTENTION AND THAT MAYBE IF I HAD A LITTLE MORE OF IT, I’D ACTUALLY LEARN A THING OR TWO FROM THIS HUNK A’ JUNK PLACE.

HA! WISHFUL THINKING IF YOU ASK ME! BUT I WON’T TURN DOWN THE CHANCE TO MANIPULA— I MEAN TALK TO YOU LOVELY FLESH GOBLINS ABOUT— THE HUNDREDS OF ORGANS PULSING AND OOZING INSIDE OF YOU AT ALL TIMES, WHAT YOUR DEEPEST DESIRES ARE, THE EXACT TIME AND DATE OF YOUR DEATH, PALMOLOGY, OR WHAT YOUR FAVORITE SPORTS TEAM IS, GIMME A HOLLER!

AND IF YOU’RE FEELING EXTRA FRISKY, MAYBE WE CAN EVEN MAKE A DEAL~

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hello little humans, this is the axolotl. I have given Bill this blog as a way to amends within himself and with all of you. I’d like to keep his words true, but from the blue I ask of you to take precaution. This notion is under my lock and key to prevent setting him free. Follow these rules to keep this blog in motion:

1. Keep your horrors in the deep, no pedo, incest, or other creeps

2. Do not spam or clog the ask box as this blog is not yours to hog

3. Remember there is life behind these lines, attacking it would not be wise

And please, try not upset Bill, we’ve had to replace walls and supplies and section off other patients as it will. Thank you for taking the time to listen to my rhyme.

the trauma compelled him to correct stanley's grammar

If you’re being questioned about a murder by one of those hobbyist detectives. it is an absolute rule that you have to be washing the dishes or pruning some plants while talking, so that when they finally get around to asking a pointed question about where you were at the time of the murder you can freeze for a second with a knife in your hand. It’s enrichment for them you gotta understand. They thrive off of red herrings, it’s their favorite treat, so even if you have a rock solid alibi and weren’t involved with the murder at all you have to give them some reason to be suspicious of you. It’s what friends are for.