#and ALSO their monster ball fit

[solstrix]

Yeah, you could say I’m pretty amped about this design lmao- (gets sniped)

[rotton-teeth]

Toralei Fearbbok after school activies that arent just ~Music~

[delightfuldevin]

I am become Pokemon

[biteofcherry]

All the better to eat you

werewolf!Steve Rogers x female reader

summary: You muster the courage to visit Scaretale, with your heart full of hope for a magical romance. After all, the club promises that no client would leave without having their wishes fulfilled. So the love you've been longing after should be waiting for you, right?

warnings: werewolf!Steve; dark!Steve; monsterfucking, but no bestiality; heavy dub-con; blowjob/facefucking (possibly the nastiest bj I've ever written 😳); unprotected sex; knotting; biting; size kink;

word count: 5.3k

Author's Note: This is a part of the Scaretale universe. I think it's fitting I'm starting the monster fucking extravaganza with my fave man to ruin me, right? 🤭 The title is an obvious tease on the classic Red Riding Hood text.

It was a thrill reminiscent of the first minutes of a movie. The kind you watched on a late autumn evening, with a candle lit up and hot chocolate in hand, curled up on a couch and wary of any sounds creaking inside the house. 

It spiked pulse and lured in with the mystical, almost forbidden atmosphere; keeping you on your toes in fear of something truly scary jumping out at you. 

You grew up in a rather tolerant household, taught not to be scared of monsters more than you should human men. Still, certain caution and fear pumped through your veins as you neared the entrance of the Scaretale.

A building straight out of a fairytale, situated on the border of lands between human and monstrous worlds. Though those merged fluently over the past half a century, or so. Half of your coworkers were other species. It was impolite to call them creatures, or monsters, even if that word somehow always echoed in your head. 

Perhaps you’d never have the balls to visit Scaretale, if it wasn’t for the deepening sense of loneliness and heartbreak. And since your regular methods at dating all failed, leaving you with an even worse feeling of self-loathing, the glow of the letters embroidered on the dark leaflet enticed you even more.

All fairy tales install fear, but they also give satisfying completion in the end. Come and start your own tale, find who you’ve been missing. We promise that once you get inside, you won’t leave without your ever after.

Scaretale tempted with making those dreams come true. Was it naive of you to have your heart squeezing in hope at the prospect of it? 

Not a part of you was a romantic - it was all of you. Craving someone to share the life with. You didn’t expect perfection, that was unrealistic. But you yearned for connection and support, for a warm embrace to hold you after a tiring day, for someone to call you theirs and mean it. 

Oh gods, how obsessively you sometimes wished that someone would really consider you theirs - even to the point of possessiveness, of certain ownership. 

You explained it with your prolonged lack of any deep connection and love. A hole in your heart that kept growing and growing, until it was no longer sated by casual dates and sweet flirting, but needed a more intense, obsessive kind of love.

If human men failed in that department, maybe a monster would be your match. Didn’t even have to provide a warm embrace, you joked to yourself as you readied for the night. A nice, cold vampire would do. They had years to mature, most of them had an established income, or savings, a sense of dark humor.  

So you left your apartment with your heart fluttering, moved by the flashes of dreams of a great love you’ve been chasing half of your life. 

However, the second you stepped inside the Scaretale, your heart froze for a second. 

It didn’t look scary, nor was it filled with screams and sounds of violence. Quite the contrary, the air of tranquility coated the space. But the glow within, that didn’t seem to come off of any actual lamp, heightened the sense of wariness. 

Humans were here, but it was obvious this space belonged to the monsters and was most of all their realm. That enchanting sense of calm began feeling like a mesmer that forced your body to move forward, while your brain filled with rising anxiety whispering that perhaps it would be better to leave.

Somehow, you couldn’t. 

You took a deep breath, smelling sweet berries and gardenias in the most natural combination, as if you were walking through an actual garden. It was relaxing, yet in a way seemed to clog your mind.

Maybe if you went outside for a minute to breathe the crispy, chilly air of late October evening, it would clear your head and help you regroup your thoughts. 

Even as that thought formed in your head, your body didn’t move toward the exit. Only a step forward.

At your pace - shy and unsure, but never a step back.

The echo of the words from the leaflet clenched your heart in a tight grip. We promise that once you get inside, you won’t leave without your ever after. It appeared to be an actual enchantment. 

Scared, you looked around. No one was charging at you, no gnarly vines gripped you to swallow you under the ground. Patrons were calmly mingling around. Some sat in booths alone, simply observing the others. Maybe even looking for the same thing as you - someone to love. Or less romantically, someone to share a passionate night with. 

There were also groups, like in one of the big booths where a bunch of thickly muscled, quite scary looking orcs were drinking beer. Neither of them looked approachable, their faces seemed frozen in permanent scowl. Their bodies, though clean of any trace of it, screamed of bloodbath. 

In the center of the room, far deep inside the neverending space of the club, stood an oval bar. The shelves hanging above the counter were so thin it looked like the glasses and bottles were floating in the air, among teardrop-shaped bulbs of light. A slim, graceful bartender was running the bar; her hair long and a color of impossible blue. 

Two men sat at the bar, their gazes turning your way as you walked closer. At a first glance they appeared human, but the similarity quickly dissolved. Their dark skin had markings of burgundy red that flashed with a shade of molten lava. Between the curls of their dark hair sparked flickers of pure fire. 

Ifrits. 

A flush of heat passed over you as they scanned your form with interest. For a moment you felt a spike of curiosity, wondering how an ifrit’s heat would feel against your skin. But it quickly passed, being only a figment of natural desire, but not the deep connection you searched.

The men seemed to read you well enough to realize you weren’t one looking for an adventure and they weren’t interested in providing more than that. They nodded politely at you, then moved their gazes to roam around.

Though you felt a certain relief, there was also that bitter pang of sadness. Once again, you weren’t what someone was looking for. 

All those years you repeated over and over again to yourself, that it was okay to not be interested in someone. After all, you weren’t interested in some people either. But for so long it felt as if you were never anyone’s choice, that you couldn’t help but think you would never be. 

When you went out with your friends, back in college years, or even recently, someone always flirted up, or approached your group. Just not you. All your friends, but never you. Some talked to you, but it was obvious they weren’t interested in more. 

A dreadful thought settled with heavy weight on your shoulders. What if you were now trapped here forever? Not leaving without your ever after, but if there was no one for you, what would happen to you? 

Just when your heart squeezed painfully, your chin dropping to your chest as you stared at the dark green floor in hope to hide the shine of your tears, a low, rumbling sound teased your ear.

You didn’t feel anyone’s presence behind you, or anywhere near you, but you heard that sound. That… growl. 

Slowly, you raised your head and looked around. For a long moment you didn’t notice anyone who could’ve been the owner of that voice. Until your eyes settled on the shadowed nook across from the bar. 

Only a faint outline of the silhouette was visible from your standing point. And a pair of glowing, blue eyes. Beautiful, but wild. Something dangerous lurked in that gaze, raising goosebumps on your arms. 

Anxiety rose anew, your instincts screaming at you to run. Fast and far. But you couldn’t move your feet an inch back, only stay in place, or move forward. 

Breath hitched in your lungs as the mysterious shadow slowly stood up, stretching to its full form. He was even bigger than you assessed him to be while sitting. Those eyes held yours captive, demanding you watch him as he approached in slow steps. Once he got into the light and you took in all of him, your breathing stopped altogether. 

He wasn’t just big. He was huge! And broad. Massive. His dark clothes didn’t hide what was obviously cords of muscles on top of muscles on top of muscles. While his shoulders were wide enough to get stuck in the door, his waist was tapered. His legs were long, but with thick thighs. Legs built for running.

For chasing…

His dark blonde hair curled at his nape, his beard was thick and trimmed. You saw curls of dark golden hair covering his forearms, where the sleeves of his dark sweater were rolled up, revealing skin. 

As he approached you, his tongue swiped out to lick his bottom lip, then over the upper row of his teeth. You caught a glimpse of a sharp canine, but it wasn’t a vampiric one. 

No, this monster was very much living. Blood and flesh and all things primal.

A werewolf. 

Your body jolted, struck with an inner bolt of adrenaline. Like at a jumpscare in a horror movie, but this one very much real. 

Your heart thumped rapidly, forcing your blood to rush so fast it almost made you dizzy. It was scary. He was scary. Yet, you couldn’t help, but follow that sensation further. Just like never turning off the horror movie and continuing to watch it, even though you’re shaken and sweaty. 

“Hello.” 

His greeting was so simple, seemingly unimpressive, but the timbre of his voice alone made it a knee-weakening seduction. 

Or maybe a threat…

Because the way he loomed over you, his eyes never leaving you, you started to realize that he wouldn’t allow you to step away from him. 

“Hi,” you squeaked out, then cleared your throat to hopefully regain your normal voice. 

“I won’t ask what a sweet bunny like you is doing here,” his sharp, white teeth flashed in a truly wolfish smile, “but I will ask that you stay still while I take a first deep whiff of my future mate.”

What?! Your mind screeched. Your body, meanwhile, went still. Just like he asked. 

“Ma- what?” Your tone dried breathless. “We’re not- I’m not-”

Your words got stuck in your throat when the werewolf breached your personal space and bent down to drag the tip of his nose against your neck. 

A shiver rocked you, but a solid arm wrapped around you in a flash, steading you. Or maybe holding you in place, so you wouldn’t dare inch away from him. His incredible warmth engulfed you like a weighted blanket - a layer of comfort hidden deep beneath the scary sense of constriction and suffocation. 

He smelled of pine and burnt wood and a heady note you couldn’t describe as anything other than masculine. 

“Absolutely delicious.” He hummed appreciatively, leaning back with visible reluctance. 

“I’m not your mate,” you managed to blurt out, looking around in panic in hope that someone would come to your aid. 

“Of course not.” He smiled, but it wasn’t reassuring at all. “Not until I have you writhing on my knot and bite you.” 

The visual of it had you whimpering in fear; your eyes stung with tears that threatened to spill out. He had you caged out in the open of the club, publicly; you were sure your discomfort and trembling were visible to others; yet no one came to help you. Were they scared of the huge werewolf, or maybe they just didn’t care? 

“No, I meant that I won’t-” your nervous explanation died on your tongue the second his hand snapped your way.

His large hand cupped your chin; surprisingly gentle, even in its firm hold. However, the long claws protruding from his fingers, grazing the delicate skin of your cheeks, were far from non-threatening.

Shockingly, your body responded in contrast to your mind’s anxious thoughts. As the werewolf’s claws dug into your soft cheeks, your nipples hardened into stiff peaks. 

“You will.” Came his calm, unyielding decision. 

He yanked your face up, forcing you to stand on your tiptoes and rely your weight to be supported by his hold alone. Starking blue eyes stared down at you, the rim around the irises glowing a silvery moon. 

Then there was that grin again - sinister and teasing, with a flash of teeth (which made your skin prickle in fear of the vicious bite mauling your flesh). 

“Scaretale promises its patrons realization of their deepest desire.” He said and you felt dread building in your chest with a silent scream. “But I’ll let you in on a little secret, bunny. It’s the monsters that get the privilege of having their desires met. Sweet humans are the prey that gets to fulfill our demands.” 

Your hope shattered into a million pieces. Or was it your heart that broke for yourself and the love you were dreaming of finding. Tears welled up in your eyes as the heavy reality of entering a nightmare settled in. 

“Aww, why the tears, sweet bunny?” He cooed at you, with the pad of his thumb brushing away a tear trickling down your cheek.

“Because I didn’t want this,” your meek voice barely made it past your lips.

“I would perhaps believe you, if your nipples weren’t poking right through your pretty dress,” he chuckled. “Or-” he leaned closer, lips brushing the corner of your mouth- “if I didn’t smell your pussy priming itself for me.”

A flush of heat scorched your cheeks. You weren’t paying much attention to that part of your body, too lost in the anxious wailing of your mind, but as he mentioned your core your focus shifted to the pulse between your thighs. You weren’t wet, not exactly. But you felt that warmth and tingling; the growing interest your body had in the werewolf’s brutal ways. 

“Will you let me go? Afterwards?” You asked, sniffling quietly. 

A part of you wondered, if you had any chance fighting him off, but logic itself made that calculation quick. There was no way you would manage to slip away from his grip, without him allowing you to. So as bitter and numbing it was to accept, you knew you had to give in, to at least protect yourself from too much damage. 

A frown marred his handsome face for a second, before it relaxed into that easy charm he first greeted you with. 

“There’s no afterwards. There’s only forever.” He tenderly stroked your cheek with his thumb. “Werewolves mate for life, bunny.”

Your crushed heart gave a pang, a reawakening jolt. 

Didn’t you want someone to call you theirs forever? To own you? 

Scaretale gave you that wish, in its own very twisted, cruel way. 

“But I don’t even know your name.” Your hands twisted in the fabric of his sweater; half of your mind still considered trying to fight the monster off. 

“Steve,” he grinned. He released your chin to run his fingers down your neck and then to the back of your head. “You can tell me yours, or I can keep calling you bunny.” He gripped a fistful of your hair and nipped your earlobe with his teeth. 

“Though, I admit, I’m a sentimental man and I’d like to groan your name when I break your holes.” 

You made a pitiful sound of protest, which didn’t get a chance to really resound as Steve’s mouth claimed yours. Like with the way he moved and touched, his kiss spoke of the wild beast that ruled him. He wasn’t just kissing you, he was devouring. Conquering. 

And you melted into it. Your body became pliant and aroused. 

He tapped your swollen lips with a sharp claw, once again asking for your name. You whispered it and as your mouth parted to sound the word, Steve slipped a finger into your warm cavern. Tip of his claw teased at your tongue, causing you to stiffen in fear. Suddenly, there was pressure on the flat of your tongue as his thick finger settled on it and massaged; but there was no slice of claw anymore. 

Steve withdrew his finger, but the grip of his other hand on the nape of your neck tightened. He pushed you in front of him and led you deeper into the club’s depths. In time, lights seemed to dim and the main room divided into three corridors.

The left and right corridors were shrouded in darkness, your human eyes couldn’t see any path other than the abyss. The middle corridor was doused in glow - soft, magical, luring. 

Steve turned left and you felt yourself shiver as darkness engulfed you. He didn’t seem to have any problem in navigating the eternal, starless night that filled the tunnel. Finally, you reached the end, marked by the outline of an ornate door. The markings lit up as Steve’s hand touched the frame. 

When he pushed you through it, you stumbled into a bedroom. A cozy looking, not too big bedroom, with a massive, wood frame bed taking most of the space. The place didn’t look like a fancy hotel room, nor like a bedroom that could match Scaretale’s interior. No, this place was personal and lived in. It was someone’s home. 

A home that smelled of pine, burnt wood and musk.

You turned around, glancing at the door now closed behind Steve’s back. They didn’t look anything like the ones you stepped through, but like a normal door in what could be a cabin in the woods. 

An intricate marking glowed on the upper beam of the frame, suddenly igniting in flame that burnt all the magic out. Leaving only a reminder of the portal that was activated, but now closed permanently.

You had no way back to the Scaretale. Or your home. 

“Steve-” you took a tentative step back as your gaze returned to him.

“Strip.” He ordered, taking off his own sweater in one, swift move. 

“P-please…” you felt the sting of tears again, even as your walls pulsed at the sight of Steve’s half naked, impressive body.

His skin was fair, near marble like sculpture of defined muscles. But not as bare and smooth. Thick curls of dark golden hair covered his arms, shoulders and chest, from where it trailed low across his torso in a stripe leading to…

Holy fuck, you were going to die! 

His cock wasn’t just proportionate to the rest of his massive body, it was near monstrous looking in its shape - with the bulbous head angry red and shiny with pearly precum; pulsing veins that curved along his girth; large, heavy sack nestled in a crown of gold hair; and a thick, wide ring of a knot at the base that already felt impossible to push into any of your holes, much less when it inflated.

“I’m growing impatient, bunny,” Steve snarled, prowling towards you. “I can rip it off of you, but I don’t know if it’s a dress you really like, so I don’t want to make you sad by ruining it.” 

“Why don’t you care about making me sad by ruining me?” You snapped, but it lacked viciousness. Partly because of fear, partly because you were breathless with unexpected need. 

You had nowhere else to run when the back of your legs hit the bedframe and Steve loomed over you. 

“Trust me, bunny,” he emitted a low growl, “when I ruin your holes, you’ll feel nothing but delirious pleasure and happiness.” 

He didn’t give you a second chance to undress. With two harsh moves he ripped the fabric apart, his claws so sharp they easily sliced through. He held your gaze as he hooked one pointy talon beneath the lace of your panties. 

“Such beautiful eyes,” he murmured, slowly dragging his claw back and forth. “That fear and arousal. Can’t wait to see it as you struggle to take my cock.”

A single snick and your panties were ripped away and tossed to the side. Then Steve’s hand was curling on your shoulder and pushing you down.

“On your knees, bunny. And open your mouth wide.”

You obeyed, feeling yourself shiver as your face found itself at level with his hard dick. Your fingers trembled against your thighs; the need to slide them between your folds growing stronger than the instinct to push the predator away. 

“It won’t fit,” you stared wide-eyed at the cock bobbing in front of you. 

“It sure won’t,” Steve chuckled, cupping your face in his big palms. “But you’re still going to take it. Now, tongue out.” 

A whine shrilled in your throat when the wide crown stretched your lips and pushed deep inside. The more of him was forced forward, the wider your mouth had to open and the less room to breathe was left. A cry for mercy became only a garbled pitch as Steve held your head in place and pushed his cock to the back of your throat. 

Tears streamed down, your drool flooded out as he slowly withdrew. Your spit was sticking to the curve of his dick, strings of saliva breaking and splashing on your chin. 

When he surged forward again, your hands flew to his thick, hairy thighs. But there was no way of stopping him from taking you as he wished. It terrified you. 

It also made your pussy drip. 

“That’s all sweet, bunny,” Steve groaned, feeling your tongue moving against him helplessly, your throat constricting in resistance as he speared your mouth.

“But I need more from my little bitch!” He snarled and abruptly stepped forward. 

You were pushed backwards, forced to change your position from kneeling to landing on your butt. Your back hit the sturdy frame of the bed; your legs spread wide, knees pressed to your chest. 

Steve had your head tipped back, hands holding you in place as he fucked your face straight from above.

With your mouth and throat in one line, he could force his cock deeper. His balls were hitting your drool-covered chin over and over again. Your choking and obscene wet sounds mixed with Steve’s lewd groans of pleasure. 

“That’s it!” He moaned, dipping in and out of your throat. “Taking your mate’s cock like a good little bitch and enjoying it. I can smell it, you know.”

You wouldn’t be able to protest, even if you wanted to deny his nasty claim. The worst, however, was that Steve was right. You were spread open, dripping slick down your buttocks; your pussy clenched around nothing, desperate for that monstrous cock. 

You coughed and spluttered when Steve pulled out, a wheezing sob leaving your sore mouth. Steve slapped his wet cock against your cheek, then rubbed it all over your face, smearing your own spit and his pre-cum all over you. He barked at you to keep your pretty mouth open, then stuffed it with his heavy sack. Well, as much of it as he could fit in. 

“Suck a little, bunny,” his instruction came out breathy, betraying how affected he was by the whole ordeal. “I know they’re a mouthful, but they’re just full of all the cum I’m going to fill you with.” 

Your cunt spasmed and you let out a garbled moan. 

Finally, another reprieve for much needed air was granted. Steve took half a step back, breathing heavily as he looked down at your messy, shivering form at his feet. Dark hunger flashed in his eyes and you weren’t sure, if it was only desire, or something more dangerous. 

He picked you up so easily, lifting you into his arms with no strain and tossing you onto the bed. Instinctively, you squirmed up the mattress, seeking escape. Steve followed in that unrushed, steady prowl; like a predator, who already knew his prey was his to devour. 

He spread your legs. You stilled, feeling tips of his claws pressing into your skin. 

“My, my, bunny,” he licked his lips, “what a pretty, soaked cunt you have.” 

Steve swiped his fingers higher. You squeaked when he lightly brushed your puffed, glistening folds with his claws. It made him grin wolfishly and he pressed a little harder.

“All the better to take all of your mate’s cock,” not easing his pressure on your core, Steve stretched above you.

Your thighs stayed parted wide for him, allowing him to brace the weight of his body on one arm placed next to you, while he settled on top of you. 

“What tempting, hard nipples you have,” he continued his twisted fairy tale, his voice a deep, haunting caress. 

“All the better to suck on and torment,” Steve closed his mouth around one peak and sucked, at the same time flicking his tongue over it. 

Your back arched. Your arms encircled his back, fingers digging into the steel muscles as you held on. When his mouth moved to your other breast, one of your hands weaved into his hair. Your tugging evoked a growly rumble that reverberated against your sensitive nipple.

Steve trailed open mouth kisses up your chest and along your neck, grazing the dip over your pulse with his sharp teeth. You squirmed, a new surge of adrenaline quickening your blood flow as you remembered his promise about the bite. 

When he took your mouth, it was with less vehemence than the first kiss. He coaxed your lips open and teased your tongue with his own. The fingers splayed over your pussy kept steadily moving, smearing your slick all over. 

“What a sweet mouth you have,” he murmured, nipping your bottom lip. “And we already know what can be done with it.” 

His blue eyes sparked as your breath hitched, when he spread your folds and dipped his fingers deeper. The fear of pain from the claws had you reacting first, though there was nothing to hurt you. He retracted them. 

“You’re fucking dripping, bunny.” Steve groaned in satisfaction. “So much that I bet it trickled to your dirty rosebud, too.” 

He didn’t wait for your confirmation, just slid a single digit lower, where he found exactly what he predicted. You strained against him; one of your hands shot down between your bodies to clutch at his wrist. But Steve didn’t budge, pressing his finger against your tight rim, which was slick with your juices. 

“Shh, shh,” he cooed. “Why are you fighting so hard, bunny? Afraid it’s going to hurt? Or that you will cum from having your ass played with, like a weak, needy bitch?” 

He circled and pressed, circled and pressed, driving you mad with sensations you couldn’t untangle. 

“I promise you, my lovely bunny,” though he removed his finger from between your asscheeks, there was nothing reassuring in the dark promise he vowed against your lips- “You will cum from anything I do to your sweet body. Because you are my little bitch.” 

“And it’s time that I claim what’s mine!” His snarl combined with your cry as Steve suddenly sat back and flipped you onto your stomach. 

He yanked your hips up, making you kneel on the mattress. One of his hands pressed against the back of your head, pressing it into the sheets. You felt pinpricks of claws grazing your skull. 

Steve settled behind you, coarse hair on his thighs tickling your delicate skin. His cock spread your swollen folds and he rocked his hips, rubbing the whole length of him against you, soaking himself in your slick. He was already wet with your saliva, but considering his size you didn’t mind him adding more lubrication. 

“Ungh!” You keened when he pressed into your hole. “Too big! Steve, it’s too-”

Your toes curled, feet kicking helplessly against the mattress, as Steve ignored your pleas and inched forward. 

At least he was taking it slow. But maybe slow was more tortuous than if he broke you on one, single thrust. 

His hand on your head pressed harder when your body jerked in an instinctive attempt to scramble away. The other hand landed on your ass with a hard slap. 

It made you clench around him, causing a new kind of ripple of pleasurable pain. 

He was stretching you so much, so close to the edge of ripping pain. But for the most part it was igniting a delirious ecstasy, confusing you and burning away any protests. Your pussy wasn’t used to sensations like that, yet she welcomed it with creamy joy.

“There you go, bunny.” Steve encouraged you, delighted in the way you moaned obscenely when he was halfway in and the head of his cock nudged that special spot. 

To reward you, he withdrew and slid back in, once again teasing that point. And again. And again. Until your thighs were shaking and your wetness was dripping onto the sheets. 

“Almost there, huh?” He chuckled, feeling your walls fluttering. “Well then-”

He withdrew in the same steady pace, only to ram the whole length of him in one stroke on the next thrust.

You screamed, but even as the pain short-circuited your consciousness for a split of a second, your pussy spasmed. 

Steve stayed buried to the hilt, relishing in your orgasm milking his cock. He didn’t wait for the aftershocks to subside, before starting a brutal rhythm. He fucked you like the animalistic monster that he was - with unparalleled hunger, incessant need, and no regard for your discomfort. 

“Good girl, bunny.” He draped his weight over you, hot breath fanning your cheek. “Such a good bitch for your mate.” 

He licked a wet line along your jaw, then down to the crook of your neck. Your mewling protest was ignored as Steve scraped his teeth over the spot he was going to mark. 

“Do you feel it swelling?” He teased. “Do you feel it spreading you wider each time I drive into your tiny pussy? My knot ’s about to pop, bunny. And when it does, I’m going to fill you so much. It’s going to lock your cunt in place, so that you have no other choice, but to take every fucking load.”

“Until it feels like your belly is too heavy. Like you’re about to burst at the seams.” His thrust became harsher, jerky and - just like he said - each stretching you with the growing knot. “Like your cunt aches from taking too much.” 

“And you will take it all, bunny. You know why?” Steve’s teeth dipped into your skin, not yet breaking, but threatening. “Yeah, you do. You know why. Say it!”

He slapped your ass when you didn’t reply, only moaned helplessly..

“Say it!” He spanked you again.

“Because I’m your little bitch!” You cried out, face half buried into the sheets and tears streaking down.

Beast’s teeth sunk into your skin, breaking it and drawing a flow of blood. His jaw locked in, just like his cock did in your pussy. Inflated knot, spreading you wider than ever before, shifted your channel so that the crown of Steve’s cock rested right against your cervix. And he bathed it in his seed. 

White haze filled your brain as the pinnacle of pleasure and zap of pure pain switched off your consciousness. 

When you groggily reconnected with bits of reality, your body was curled on its side. Steve’s body was aligned with yours; his cock still nestled deep inside of you. His arms were holding you tight, providing enough warmth for you to realize the tremors rocking you weren’t from cold, but the aftershocks from an orgasm.

Though you weren’t sure if it was still the one his knot ignited, or if the werewolf coaxed another climax out of you while you were unconscious. 

You wouldn’t put it past him. 

“Steve-” you croaked out.

“I’ve got you, bunny.” He tenderly kissed your shoulder. “I’ve got you and I always will. Your ever after, mate.” 

[kittykat-pikachu]

list of things about mussed up houses

house of leaves by mark z. danielewski

skinamarink by kyle edward ball

the house in the ocean by mister manticore

myhouse.wad by veddge

this house has people in it by alan resnick (possible? its more like the people are the strange thing)

monster house by gil kenan (maybe not messed up in the right way for this list)

burning down the house by the talking heads (only in passing)

additions:

the haunting of hill house by shirley jackson (book)

the haunting of hill house by mike flanagan (tv adaptation of the book)

rose red by stephen king

vivarium by lorcan finnegan

changing planes by ursula k. le guin (not a house, but thematically close)

charlotte markham and the house of darkling by michael boccacino

slade house by dave mitchell

little, big by john crowley

the inner room by robert aickman

phantom architecture by phillip wilkinson

bite size terrors: erobos heaven by anoverthinker (seems like possibly the house isnt whats strange? but i dont know for sure i havent played it)

anatomy by kitty horrorshow

childhood homes (and why we hate them) by qrowscant

the house next door by annie rivers siddon

white is for witching by helen oyeyemi

haunted by poe (album counterpart to house of leaves??? holny crap)

the house with a clock in its walls by john bellairs (also has a movie adaptation)

p.t. by hideo kojima

coraline by neil gaiman (more like the creature is making the house messed up but yeah ill count it)(EDIT: okay yeah that house IS just messed up. forgot the beldam didn't make the other house)

starling house by alix harrow

the witch's house by fummy

house (hausu) by nobuhiko obayashi

the house is alive and the house is hungry by the paper chase

my house walk-through by nana825763

control by sam lake

house of bones by jeffery scott lando

lungbarrow by marc platt

if anyone knows of other things that fit this niche, any type of media, feel free to add on. i'll edit and add it to the original post. i just really like this specific niche

thank you to @bas-fish, @eggmixercortex, @ohiotpke, @posteriorpeasantpresents, @hadoom, @dougielombax, @lite-weaver, @mimillion, @elvriskastello, @apotheoseity, @hauntedhousez, @sophiewooloo, @jumbledthemes for contributing :3

i should sort this + add links putting that on my to-do list

[kobbers]

I actually really love this little guy. Fun to think through the ecology for it.

Day 4 - Forge.

Funny beard bird observe its orb.

[princesssarisa]

Disney's unconventional "Cinderella" (1950) (long)

Having watched most of the many adaptations of Cinderella, I've come to realize what a unique adaptation Disney's 1950 animated classic really is. Unlike Snow White, which only had a few stage and screen adaptations before Disney produced its groundbreaking film, Cinderella had already been adapted many times before Disney's turn came, and Disney's version makes a surprising number of departures from the standard Cinderella "formula." It was definitely a fresh, creative Cinderella when it made its debut, and it arguably still is. Yet because it's become so familiar in pop culture, and today so often serves as our childhood introduction to the tale, it's easy to overlook its inventive storytelling choices. The 2015 live action remake uses several classic Cinderella adaptation tropes that the original 1950 film actually subverts!

Here's a list of the often-overlooked ways in which Disney's Cinderella stands out from earlier adaptations, and from many later ones too.

Cinderella herself. Disney's Cinderella isn't a traditional Cinderella in personality. The "traditional" portrayal of Cinderella, seen in virtually every adaptation before Disney's and several afterwards too, is the portrayal I call "The Waif": a very young, fragile, melancholy girl, dressed in pathetic rags and smudged with ashes, who makes the audience want to rescue her and who wins the Prince's heart with her wide-eyed innocence and artless charm. But whether chiefly to set her apart from earlier screen Cinderellas or from Disney's earlier delicate ingenue Snow White, Disney's Cinderella is none of those things. She comes across as older, or at least more sophisticated. Nor is she waif-like, but instead combines down-to-earth warmth with ladylike dignity, even at her lowliest. She doesn't sit in the ashes ("Cinderella" is her real name in this version), and her servants' dress is humble yet clean and only slightly tattered. She's gentle and kind, yes, but also intelligent, practical, playful, sometimes sarcastic, philosophical, optimistic, genuinely cheerful when she's with her animal friends, and yet angrier and stronger-willed than virtually all earlier Cinderellas. She doesn't beg to go to the ball, but asserts her right to go, and then sets to work fixing up an old dress of her mother's for herself. Only her stepfamily's sabotage, first by keeping her too busy to finish the dress, and then by destroying it after the mice and birds finish it for her, prevents her from taking herself to the ball without a Fairy Godmother. To this day, she stands out as a complex, unique Cinderella, which pop culture too often forgets.

Lady Tremaine. Some critics today complain that Disney makes Cinderella's stepmother a total monster instead of giving her "nuance" and call her portrayal "sexist." But can't we agree that her sheer cruelty enhances the film's dramatic power? And compared to earlier portrayals of Cinderella's Stepmother, it definitely makes her stand out. In most pre-Disney Cinderellas and many after, the Stepmother is a pompous, vain comic antagonist. Once again, Disney was innovative by portraying Lady Tremaine as a dignified, manipulative, and truly sinister villain, who takes quietly sadistic pleasure in abusing Cinderella and will stop at nothing to prevent her from going to the ball or marrying the Prince. As far as I know, she's also the first Stepmother to realize before the slipper-fitting that Cinderella was the lady at the ball and to take action to prevent her from being found. That's a commonplace plot device in more recent adaptations, but in 1950 it was a creative twist!

The mice and other animals. Viewers debate whether Cinderella's mouse friends, Jaq, Gus, et al, and their misadventures evading Lucifer the Cat are a welcome addition or take away too much screen time from Cinderella herself. But there's no denying that the presence of the mice and birds is an inventive storytelling choice, which makes Disney's Cinderella stand out! And I can provide a long list of reasons why they're more than just "filler." (1) They add liveliness, humor, and appeal for younger children. (2) They gave the animators an outlet for the type of character animation they did best, rather than binding them to the harder work of animating realistic humans. (3) They give Cinderella someone to talk to besides her stepfamily. (4) They give her a way to demonstrate her kindness. (5) The struggles of the mice with Lucifer parallel Cinderella's abuse by her stepfamily, and Cinderella's undying optimism not only keeps her from despair, but inspires them too. (6) They arguably provide a further reason why Cinderella stays with her stepfamily – not only does she have nowhere to go, but an entire community of small sentient creatures relies on her for food and protection. (7) They reward Cinderella for her kindness. From the start, her friendship with the mice and birds makes her life easier to bear, both by easing her loneliness and because they do helpful deeds for her, like mending and cleaning her clothes. They fix up her mother's dress for her to wear to the ball – only the stepfamily's last-minute cruelty requires the Fairy Godmother to step in. And in the end, they're directly responsible for Cinderella's happy ending by freeing her from her locked room. They do all these things because Cinderella has protected them, fed them, made them clothes, and been their friend. Therefore, Cinderella's good fortune never feels "just handed" to her: her kindness directly earns it.

The Fairy Godmother. It's always varied between illustrators whether Cinderella's Fairy Godmother is portrayed as a grandmotherly old woman or as youthful, regal, and beautiful, but screen and stage adaptations before the Disney version virtually always took the "youthful, regal, beautiful" approach. That is, when they didn't change her into a wise, fatherly male magician-advisor, as in several opera adaptations! At any rate, seriousness and dignity were the norm for this character in most adaptations from the 19th century through the 1940s. Making her a sweet, comforting, grandmotherly figure, with a comically and adorably absent mind, was another of Disney's fresh choices.

Cinderella's entrance at the ball. We all know the classic image of Cinderella's entrance from other adaptations. Cinderella appears at the top of the grand staircase that leads down to the ballroom, and a hush falls over the assembly, as not only the Prince, but all the guests and members of the court are amazed by the unknown lady's beauty and magnificent dress. Even in versions without a staircase, Cinderella captivates the room the moment she enters. Adaptations both before and after Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 live action remake, play her entrance this way. But the 1950 animated classic subverts it! The grand staircase leads up to the ballroom, not down to it, and Cinderella's entrance isn't a triumph at first, but a vulnerable moment as she makes her way up the stairs alone, dwarfed by the splendor around her. Then, when she reaches the ballroom, no one notices her at first, because the other ladies are being presented to the Prince and all eyes are on him. But then the Prince notices her in the shadowy background as she quietly marvels at her surroundings, and leaves his post to approach her and invite her to dance. Only then does the rest of the assembly notice her, because she's the one the Prince has singled out. It's more understated and it feels more realistic than the traditional entrance, as well as more clearly symbolic of Cinderella's venturing above her station, then both literally and figuratively being led out of the shadows by the Prince's unexpected attention.

The slipper-fitting plan. Over the years, it's been fairly popular to mock the idea of using the glass slipper to find the Prince's love, as if there were no chance it would fit anyone else. Disney's version is creative by having the slipper-fitting search be the comical, hot-blooded King's idea, not the Prince's, and making it clear that it's not, nor is it meant to be, a foolproof plan to find Cinderella. The Duke points out that the slipper could fit any number of girls, but the King doesn't care if they find the right girl or not: he just wants to hold his son to his pledge to marry "the girl who fits this slipper" and force him to marry the first one who fits it. This also means that Disney doesn't do what most adaptations do and have the Prince conduct the search himself, but follows the original Perrault tale by having a gentleman, in this case the Grand Duke, do it instead. This prevents audiences from mocking the Prince for relying on the slipper instead of knowing his beloved's face.

Cinderella breaking free and asking to try on the slipper. Even though in Perrault's original tale, Cinderella asks to try on the slipper, she almost never does in adaptations. In most versions other than Disney's, including Disney's own 2015 remake, Cinderella's presence in the house (and/or the fact that she has the other slipper) is either discovered by accident or revealed by Cinderella's allies, not by Cinderella's own initiative. In some versions, she even tries to hide from the Prince and/or the search party, either out of fear of her stepfamily or because she feels unworthy of the Prince in her rags. But not Disney's animated Cinderella! First of all, she has an assertive emotional breakthrough when she calls on her dog Bruno to chase Lucifer away and free Gus to slip her the key to her locked room. Earlier on, she urges Bruno to try to get along with Lucifer, lest the stepfamily not allow him to sleep in the house – it's clear that Bruno represents her own rebellious side, and in that scene she's really talking about herself, revealing that she tolerates her stepfamily's abuse so she won't lose her own "nice warm bed" and be homeless. But in the climactic scene, when she finally sees a way out, she gives up playing nice and seizes her chance. First she unleashes Bruno on Lucifer, and then she runs downstairs and directly asks to try on the slipper, not caring how her stepfamily will react, or what the Grand Duke will think of her shabby dress, or whether the audience will accuse her of gold-digging or not. This isn't a common breakthrough in other Cinderella adaptations, but it fits perfectly (like a glass slipper, you might say) with the Disney Cinderella's stronger-willed and more self-assured characterization.

"I have the other slipper." We can probably all safely assume that when audiences first saw Disney's Cinderella in 1950, they all expected Cinderella to try on the glass slipper she lost, with her identity revealed by its perfect fit. They never would have expected Lady Tremaine to trip the footman and break the glass slipper... only for Cinderella to calmly reveal that she has the other one. It's yet another clever and unexpected twist, not seen in any other version. Not even Disney's own 2015 remake.

Disney's Cinderella deserves far more credit than it gets for being unique among the myriad versions of the tale, especially compared to the versions that came before it.

[pinkgy]

𝗪𝗛𝗕

𝗞𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦

𝗗𝗜𝗖𝗞 𝗛𝗘𝗔𝗗𝗖𝗔𝗡𝗢𝗡𝗦

GN!READER

𝗖𝗪: Oral (receiving), Size Difference, Dick Piercings. A lot of Dick and Cum, that’s the CW.

𝗦𝗔𝗧𝗔𝗡

𝗦𝗶𝘇𝗲: 19 cm / 7.4 inches

⇒ Not the biggest neither the girthiest between the kings, but he’s still above average.

⇒ His dick is ghost white, a lot of visible veins and it gets flushed easily, mostly the tip.

⇒ Satan has an average girth, not enough to tear your insides (like a certain someone that goes after this headcanon) but enough to get you dumb after a few minutes.

⇒ Just the way he fucks you makes you feel like you have 10 inches inside of you.

⇒ He has a pretty mushroom tip that is big enough to stretch you out when he puts it in, the color is # 4011 UP, if he gets too aroused, the blush from his tip spreads to part of his dick.

⇒ It’s curved upwards and when he takes his boxers off, it slaps his abdomen. And it’s pretty too.

𝗠𝗔𝗠𝗠𝗢𝗡

𝗦𝗶𝘇𝗲: 27.5 cm / 10.8 inches

⇒ You should be thankful that he’s considerate and has patience, because there’s no way in the world those inches don’t hurt.

⇒ Big and Girthy, very Big and very Girthy.

⇒ His tip is bigger than the rest of his dick (#4014 UP), but his base is like a whole inch girthier than the body of his cock.

⇒ His balls are also very above average and they get bit swollen when he’s about to cum.

⇒ Mammon’s dick is kind of straight, but if he gets erect enough, it curves a bit to the left.

⇒ The body and his balls are the most sensitive parts of his dick.

Bonus: He has that kind of dick that gets rock hard to the point it hurts.

𝗕𝗘𝗘𝗟𝗭𝗘𝗕𝗨𝗕

𝗦𝗶𝘇𝗲: 21 cm / 8.2 inches

⇒ He’s above average both in length and girth, how those that even fit in his tight pants ?

⇒ Bell is perfectly proportionated, has the slightest curve upwards and just everything about it looks like it was symmetrically carved.

⇒ His dick is slightly more tanned than his skin tone, his tip rarely visibly flushes, but if teased enough it flushes in a pretty #18-1438 TCX

⇒ He has a dick piercing and no one can tell me over wise, probably a frenum or a forum, or both.

⇒ He has one prominent vein that you can feel when he’s inside you.

⇒ His tip and that one vein are the most sensitive parts of Beelzebub’s dick. He also cums a great amount of sperm, so his balls are really really sensitive too.

Bonus: He probably gave his dick a silly name.

𝗟𝗘𝗩𝗜𝗔𝗧𝗛𝗔𝗡

𝗦𝗶𝘇𝗲: 18.5 cm / 7.2 inches

⇒ He’s average in length for a demon, slightly above average in girth.

⇒Just like Satan, his dick is pale and it also has some veins that are not that visible.

⇒ Levi is the definition of a pretty dick, it has the slightest curve to the right, it gets flushed in a pretty # 4010 UP, and just everything about it is pretty.

⇒ I’ll leave this to another headcanon post, but his cum tastes really good, like, it doesn’t even taste like a bodily fluid, it actually has a nice taste.

⇒ When he’s about to cum, his tip gets a bit swollen and it gets super sensitive, and if you try to directly stimulate it he gets extra whiny.

⇒ The base of his dick is slightly thicker that his tip and when he bottoms out it it stings a bit.

Bonus: Omg praise his dick pls

𝗟𝗨𝗖𝗜𝗙𝗘𝗥

𝗦𝗶𝘇𝗲: 30 cm / 11.8 inches

⇒ He’s perfectly conscious of his size and girth, and he has some consideration for you in him, but that consideration vanishes when he sees you crying and trying to take his dick.

⇒ The definition of a monster cock, not only is long, but it has a great girth too, definitely not easy to take, but more to his favor.

⇒ Lucifer has a mushroom tip that makes a plop sound once it enters you.

⇒ His dick has a very prominent curve upwards that touches all the right places.

⇒ Every time you cry he gets rock hard to the point of having to holding on to not cum. And under this conditions his dick also gets very flushed, mostly his tip (#4011 UP)

⇒ He loves when you suck him off just because he loves seeing you struggling to take his tip in your mouth.

:::

So sorry taking so long to post :( I had a lot of Wi-Fi issues.

Hope y’all have an amazing day ♡

[paperdice]

Hi can I’m have a platonic request of the ancients cookies x child reader who posses the soul jam it called the light of innocence reader it a huge cheerful adorable ball of sunshine that see the all positive in earthbread reader cuteness it so much not even the monsters have courage to attack them istead they protect reader from the cookies of darkness and dark enchantress cookie too they smile bright anyone day anytime at all headcanons please

𝐀𝐧𝐜����𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐱 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐨𝐚𝐝 𝐜𝐡𝐢𝐥𝐝!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐨𝐮𝐥 𝐣𝐚𝐦 (𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬)

"The impact this child has on everyone needs to seriously be studied.."

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• There was only five soul jams, the five that did more than enough to protect earthbread and the cookies that lived within it. Yet, the secret of another lying around in an unknown cookies possession was exposed.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Pure vanilla was one of the few who was anxious at the thought of a cookie that they didn't know was holding a soul jam. The possibility of it being used for evil was the biggest worry, though the name "Light of Innocence" sounds heroic. If placed in the wrong hands, it could lead to terrifying dangers.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Though that was the past, now pure vanilla is babysitting the soul jams holder. The Light of Innocence landed on the brightest child there is, pure vanilla was the first to be smittened by the ball of sunshine. You radiated this positivity around yourself that affected everyone near by, or at least that's what it felt like.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• The fact that nothing is willing to hurt you is very shocking. He gets it of course but even animals and cookies of darkness such as dark enchantress cookie herself wouldn't dare to touch you with any negative attachments in mind. His reaction to seeing you, a small wee child, hugging and petting a huge beast like it was a house pet for the first time. He almost had a heart attack

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Pure vanilla would open his eyes often when around you due to knowing that you like his heterochromia eyes. He loves seeing you giggle at his pretty eyes, he doesn't understand why you laugh but as long as you're happy he doesn't mind. You're such a ray of hope in pure vanillas perspective, always looking in the good in times of fear and danger.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Loves to take you to his garden, he swears that every time you walk past the flowers, they begin to rise and glow at your presence. At times it looks like the flowers are trying to reach you with the way they lean towards the direction you're in. When you're in the garden the plants look their best, the most alive they've ever looked.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• As if pure vanilla didn't shine his own light, when the two of you are together its like a second sun on earth. It's even joked by other cookies that nobody can look directly at you both because it's too bright! Cookies know if the duo are making their way towards them because the infamous glow gradually gets larger. It's so cute!

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• He protects you with everything hes got, though pure vanilla is a healer and never fights, he still will use every bit of his dough to shield you from any risks. Which means check ups are fairly common, of course he knows you're okay every time since nothing ever wants to hurt you. But it's better to be safe than sorry!

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Walks with pure vanilla are common too, he likes to do a quick stroll in the kingdom with you to lighten the air. The flowers stand at your attendance, the grass's green pops, clouds that hid the sun backs off and the wind refreshes all in a hitch. Pure vanillas walks are always made the better when having you by his side. You can also save the trouble of everyone dealing with your morning hyper by having the walk cooling you off.

⋆｡˚♡•ᴗ• Pure vanilla cookie takes great care of you, he protects you, looks out for you plus spoils you in every way he can whilst teaching you important life lessons and morals. This grandpa's heart is big enough to fit you in it, but sometimes it feels as if you took up too much space with how worrisome he can be when he knows nothing happens. He's your main babysitter for a reason! He loves you!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Brace yourself for a hug cause it's coming in hot! Hollyberry cookie is very affectionate towards you, how could she not?? Just look at your cute lil face! The holder of the unseen soul jam was like family in holleyberrys eyes. Unlike pure vanilla cookie who was more in the role of your babysitter, she was like a mother figure to you. As she was to all cookies

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Mother hollyberry cookie here laughed her head off when she saw a small lamb being a soul jam holder! Oh how the worries of it being in the wrong hands was nothing but a joke now, a frail fresh cookie was protecting the gem with their newly baked life. Hollyberry cookie applauses your bravery,, you've been under her protection ever since.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She likes to tell you her stories with extra exaggeration to see your reactions, she'll even give you sweets and a warm drink to go along with these tales. Of course she's a busy cookie herself so she can't always spend every moment with you, but that's why she always has to treat it with specialty being with you.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She tells wildberry cookie to keep an eye on you whenever he gets the chance, he too is as much as your guard as he is hollyberry cookies. He's an observer for your soul jam, making sure it's always in your possession in case you get too distracted with fun. Hollyberry cookie can't help but smile at the sight of "big scary wildberry" towering over the happy go lucky child for safety measures.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She thinks your wonderful for anyone to be around! You can be a shield yourself you know, with how loving everyone automatically gets when it comes to you, nothing can get passed you. Oh how she loves to pick you up and show your glimmer self to her kingdom, making any stops you wish to make then meeting all kinds of faces.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Hollyberry cookie likes to hand you popular children's drinks from her kingdom, if you like a specific type expect her to toss mountains of it on you to drink no not literally ouch. The same goes for sweet delights, she'll suggest her personal favorites when she was your age!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° This queen can read you like a book! You think she's not paying attention when you're off picking some berries when she's conversating with another cookie, till one day she hands you a basket filled with berries. Remarking when she saw you trying to gather berries but due to your size you couldn't get many. Next time just ask her for some berries!

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° Being with hollyberry cookie is basically you doing whatever you want, she's so laid back and free spirited if anything she'd support your ideas and actions. However that doesn't stop how she can get protective of you. Yes she knows even the wildest of beast will roll over for your touch, but she will hold you back if you start feeling obliviously bold.

⋆˚ ౨ৎ ˙˖° She shields you from many things, always making sure you don't have your mind cluttered up with any negativity. Her words of encouragement are always smoothing, you don't understand it now due to age but soon you'll realize why she always wanted you to just be yourself.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ His face never showed how truly worried he was to knowing there was a secret soul jam, as well as how shocked he was to know who you were. You were in the very last of his expectations, dark cacao sighed away whatever thoughts he had before meeting you and introduced himself along with his friends.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Seeing such an optimistic holder that felt nothing but positivity and was so free of doubt, to be fair yes you are a child but even children are aware of the evil creeping up on earthbread. He's not complaining, not anymore no.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Before all the ancient cookies decided to protect you, dark cacao had a heartwarming moment with you. Or that's what his heart felt like, he was watching you pick at the buttercup flowers since nobody was around to do it instead. Making sure your safe from any soul jam robbers.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ You called over to him and asked a question that made him show no reaction but he had little interest, "you know if you put a buttercup under your chin it'll glow? But,, it only works on some cookies!" No he didn't know, so when he saw you call him down to your level he followed. He knelt down and you hovered the flower under his chin, it didn't work, the small cookie laughed then showed him how it works on them not in a teasing way

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ While you were speaking he noticed how his soul jam started glowing, the purple illuminating in a way he's only seen once before. You noticed it too, so you went closer with curiosity til you noticed how bright it got when you did. Dark cacao cookie looked vaguely surprised, however when he saw you getting all giggly he finally noticed that you had this radiation of positivity, a glow. No wonder the soul jam beamed at your presence, he couldn't help but smile.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ Pure vanilla the babysitter, hollyberry the mother figure and now dark cacao the personal guard. He clearly has a soft spot for you, when the ancient cookies were thinking of protecting you instead, the others could tell you were already working on dark cacao. He was all agree than disagree which was not the way he was before.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ You seem to have grown an interest in what dark cacao thinks of things before you act upon it. You know how kids get when they look up to you and wanna see if you like something they like as a form of confirmation? Same with the new holder and dark cacao cookie, of course he knows this. He could be peacefully walking behind you then you point out how pretty the sky is later turning to him and ask what he thinks.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ He'll either agree with you or just quietly say whatever he thinks, he knows you care about what he thinks, even so, dark cacao is a humble man. He feels a bit idolized that you look up to him and in a way he sometimes cares about what you think too. He doesn't wanna scare you off or seem crude, he lays off his stoic face a bit and tries to be careful with his words to not sound harsh.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ If you take interest in his hair, wishing to play with it, he probably won't know what to do. Will he allow it? Just for a bit, if it gets too much he'll softly end hair play. If you take interest in his kingdoms snacks/foods he'll give you a warning to its bitterness or lack of taste before you choose to take a bite.

˚₊·—̳͟͞͞♡⟢ He truly does care about you, you just need to be a bit patient with the old man, he's not good with showing emotions. He's a kind man at heart, we all know it, towards you he'll especially try his best to be more forward as well as safeguard you. Whether beasts protect you or not he's on standby for anything that comes your way.

ִ ࣪𖤐 What could one of the things be missing.. Hmm.. Oh duh, the rich aunt! When she saw you she laughed alongside hollyberry cookie, the kinda laugh, if done to a child, couldn't tell if they were being made fun of or they really were just joking around. Rest assured you found out very quickly that's just how her radiance is.

ִ ࣪𖤐 When your tiny eyes followed up and down her appearance, you paid extra attention to her wings. Your eyes are in awe at its beauty that you hadn't realized you just grabbed it with no announcement! She turned a bit offended but mostly shocked with how brash you were. But when she saw you smiling in admiration, she knew, she was going to love you.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Have all the cheese your little heart desires, she'll give you finest she has in store. The face you made when you took your first bite fills golden cheese cookie with pride and joy, well of course she knows it good I mean cmon now, what really sold her was your eagerness for wanting more. You were so stuffy by the end, pure vanilla had to remind her that sometimes too much care can be, well,, too much..

ִ ࣪𖤐 Fancy her gold? If you stare too long wanting a closer look at the gleaming golds and treasures she holds, she'll let you take a closer look. Like the shining necklace in that shop? Well lets go in she'll let you observe and take in all the bling! Though she will keep an eye out if she spots any fakes around, your eyes deserve the finest, realest jewels there is! Greed is a good thing in her kingdom after all.

ִ ࣪𖤐 A secret that the both of you share, is one nobody can find out, not like she cares, she just doesn't wanna deal with defending herself in future disagreements. The secret being golden cheese cookie flights! It started off small for awhile, tosses in the air slowly getting higher and higher. Slowly beginning to fly off land a bit further, till of course cookies told her not to for safety reasons, that broke your little heart.

ִ ࣪𖤐 But why would it be a secret if you guys stopped? Because you didn't, sure you were sad for like a second till you found good within it like always and yet she remembered how much you laughed. It's not like shes not careful no, your treasure to her, that's why she trusts both herself and you to keep flying, just keep it under wraps yeah?

ִ ࣪𖤐 She knows whenever it gets too hot out cookies feel discomfort, melting under the sun ain't exactly the most pleasant experience. That's why when she knows it's feeling a bit much out, she'll shade you using her wings, no way is some heat going to disrupt your enjoyment.

ִ ࣪𖤐 The cheesebirds love you too! Sometimes you find yourself carried away accompanying them rather than golden cheese cookie, they're just too cute not to talk to. Birds your size that can talk, bonus being that they love talking to you, sometimes golden cheese cookie has to remind you that you're hanging with your aunt today.

ִ ࣪𖤐 I have a sneaky feeling shes not as chill as the other ancients (aside from pv) when it comes to beasts getting close to you. Pure vanilla tries to avoid beast interactions, hollyberry cookie laughs knowing nothing will happen and dark cacao is always on standby. Golden cheese cookie,, she either does one or two things, tries to get your own beast army as a joke or tells you to stay away.

ִ ࣪𖤐 Golden cheese cookie loves your innocence, you have no idea how much power you hold in your mini hands, but she will teach you how to rule the cookies. How to be a monarch yourself in the future, till then, she has a lot of playtime with you before you reach that age.

⋆˚✿˖° Her shock to you wasn't really much of a shock, it was more like a long pause. The repeated question flooded her head like a broken record, "how did you find the soul jam?". She also questioned if you ever knew how to use it, these thoughts were never her doubting you, okay but who wouldn't.. from what it seemed to look like, you knew what it could do.

⋆˚✿˖° The soul jam fitted you perfectly in her mind, the light of innocence held by the personification of light with a mind of innocence. It seemed like fate in her eyes, so if it was, she has nothing to worry about. Her body mellowed while she softy and ever so quietly laughs along with hollyberry cookie and golden cheese cookie.

⋆˚✿˖° You were just the cutest surprise, after the decision was made to look over you, white lily cookie was like an older sister. Shes always quiet and determined to find any peace left in earthbread. Because of this, in your childs mind, she's a little scary. Not in the intimidating way no, you looked up to her.

⋆˚✿˖° She was like your older sister in a way because of this if you ignore the sibling fights n all that stuff, you were the little sibling that wanted to have your big sis's attention and her love. Though she didn't push you away, she always caught you staring at her at times in a shy way. She really wanted to talk to you, the way the other ancients did.

⋆˚✿˖° Yes you're the cookie that sees good in everything, not a single negative trait was in your heart or dough. So why was it you felt shy towards her? Cause you loved her! The whole time while she was thinking of reasons for your actions, you were secretly planning the perfect first impression! No where near shy as she thought you were no, you were just hoping to make less appearances to make "the first meeting" perfect!

⋆˚✿˖° You surprised her by having other cookies your age pretend to attack her, of course she didn't feel threatened, they were using toys as weapons and their acting was goofy. It didn't take long to find out why the cookies were messing around with her, you jumped in with dramatic flare, showing off your soul jam to the "evil cookies" and warning them to back off.

⋆˚✿˖° Ever since you "saved" white lily cookie the two of you have been the cutest duo! You love to try and braid her hair the way she does it, she taught you how to braid hair when you caught her doing her own hair. It was a bit tricky for your youthful brain, although, once you got a hang of it, you never let go. Always asking white lily to let you braid her hair when it's already been braided. It warms her heart.

⋆˚✿˖° If white lily cookie noticed you liked her staff, you can get the privilege of holding it for a bit. She admires your innocence, how was it not even once did you ponder knowing more? It was like you were living life on easy mode, no thought behind those eyes unless it's joyful thinking.

⋆˚✿˖° One day, a cookie taught you how to make flower crowns, so you asked white lily cookie to let you into her garden. You told her your plan of making her a white lily flower crown, it did hurt a little seeing the flowers getting picked but she was happy with the end result. She wore it for a bit after that.

⋆˚✿˖° White lily cookie can't do much but she tries to keep an eye out on you, her heart would break into millions of pieces if she were to ever find out something bad happened to you. She'll give you loads of words of wisdom so nothing like that can come of sort.

I hope you enjoyed these, I think I passed out like two times while writing but I'm glad it turned out just fine. If you're thinking of rolling again you're welcomed back anytime!

[nyankochan]

Twisted wonderland’s Playful Land is by far my favorite and one of the funniest events 😭😂

My highlights from chapter 2 include:

Lilia wrangling Grim on the Whale Escape roller coaster cause this little monster decides to reach over to grab for the fish, almost getting blown away due to coaster’s speed

Was there not a height requirement for Grim to ride??

Lilia then telling m/c that dealing with Grim full time must be difficult and to let him know if you need help (the shade)

Trey squinting on the roller coaster cause he took of his glasses (same tho. I’m not trying to look mean. I just can’t see 😪)

Cater and Ace timing the photo perfectly so they’re the only ones who didn’t look goofy (can we please see this photo?? 👀)

Also the fact these dorks didn’t give anyone a heads up lmao

The group of Vil, Jade, Floyd, and Ortho ending up more chaotic than I thought

Them all failing miserably at slingshot after talking such shit

Floyd giving up and opting to use a brick instead

How tf did he just casually find a brick laying around??

Ortho dominating pool (isn’t it cheating if he can calculate the trajectory of the ball with practically 0 margin of error??)

Grim throwing a fit about not getting to show off in pool

Floyd saying their team got stomped. Wtf 😂

Jade force feeding Floyd popcorn against his will

Ernesto appearing out of nowhere and scaring the hell out of the group

Ortho forcing the group to take a photo in the cutout standees (again, twst, drop this photo)

Jade’s shit eating grin

Kalim, Jack, and Leona, another chaotic trio

Leona’s sarcasm. Kalim not understanding said sarcasm

Kalim casually suggesting all the beastmen tie the rock to their tails like in the fairy tale 🥹 an innocent suggestion that was shut down so viciously

Also Kalim casually calling everyone broke indirectly because he’s never had to wait in lines since his family always rented amusement parks for the day 😒

Leona lowkey enjoying the sea floor attraction though he won’t admit it

Everyone having to pin down and carry Grim out of said attraction for trying to eat the tuna

Leona “I’m not riding the carousel” Kingscholar and Jack “I’m not riding it either” Howl

Ends up riding it anyway

Jack being the biggest guy on the smallest cricket (I wanna see this photo too)

Jack lowkey teasing and imitating Leona to prove that his upperclassman is in fact having fun at the park (and Kalim agreeing)

Kalim being a ball of sunshine and making sure everyone is ok and having fun.

[wakeup01]

Two Twinks, One Wish

“So Charlie, what did you wish for Christmas?”

“Really? Can we just watch the movie?” I say, annoyed.

Daniel had been my boyfriend for about a month now and had recently moved into my flat, just in time for Christmas. Since then things had been a struggle, he would continually whine about my inadequacies - how I didn’t tidy enough, didn’t appreciate him and most of all how I was a terrible top.

See, the problem was, we were both twinks. We had the same skinny body type, with barely any muscle definition. The only real difference being he had the better ass. Admittedly, I had a severe lack of confidence in the bedroom, frequently failing to get in the mood. Daniel on the other hand was very particular about what he liked and what he expected.

“Come on! You must be able to think of something. God knows there’s enough things you can be better at…” Daniel chastised.

Even now he had turned a harmless movie night into another chance to take petty digs. We were on the couch watching some cheesy xmas film, where the protagonist makes wishes that magically come true. Now he was insisting for me to make some stupid wish.

“Why don’t you go first? You seem to have a lot of ideas in mind.” I shoot back, not taking my eyes off the screen.

“Hmm, I got the perfect one! Charlie, I wish… you were a better top!” He laughs and nudges into my shoulder.

I roll my eyes, of course, I should of guessed this is where things were heading. Ugh. Out of nowhere I feel a chill wash over my whole body and a tightness take hold in my chest. After a moment the feeling subsides.

“Very funny. Have you been thinking that one up all night.” My voice dripping in sarcasm.

I shift in my seat slightly, a dull warmth emanating from my crotch. I must be feeling unwell, I’m definitely not being turned on by his degrading remarks. But the heat doesn’t fade, in fact it only grows in intensity. I get the impulse to grope at my growing bulge, the tightness straining against my jeans. Daniel would never live it down If I did, but it was becoming rather uncomfortable.

“You look a little flustered there… ah. I see. Are you really getting horny from this? Christ, you’re pathetic.” Daniel scolds, reaching his hand down.

Before I can object he unzips my trousers and pulls down the waistband of my briefs. My cock bursts forth and slaps against my chest, pre already leaking from it’s tip. Except it’s not my cock, this monster is almost twice my normal size. And my balls are inflating in front of my very eyes.

“What the hell?” I shout.

“Woah, oh shit, it’s working. It’s a Christmas miracle!” He exclaims in barely contained glee.

“Daniel, what did you do!” My voice cracks.

My dick continues to snake up my torso, going from 5 inches, to 7 then to 8. As it grows, so does my hornyness, overpowering my head as I fall into a drunken stupor. This is the most intense erection I’ve ever felt. My hand rubs up and down the entire length and I attempt to wrap my fingers around it, before discovering its girth is now thicker than my hand.

“Nice cock ‘bro’. Good tops are well equipped downstairs. And now, you are too. Hahaha” I look over and see him smirk at me.

He’s enjoying this far too much for my liking, but I’m in no position to fight back. Why did he make that stupid wish, I better not be stuck with this forever. At this point I don’t think my cock would even fit into any underwear I own. How exactly can I walk around with this thing swinging between my legs.

“You know who makes good tops? Jocks. That cocky attitude and carefree nature, coasting through life without thinking.” Daniel suggests, wistfully.

Jocks are also narcissistic morons. And I’m certainly not going to be one just to be a better ‘top’. I’m suddenly distracted by a chafing from my rear, a pair of straps seem to be cupping the cheeks of my tight butt. Below my balls now sits a stained pouch, the smell of musk rising from it hits my nose and I recoil.

“I think it’s jockstraps only from now on Charlie. And woof, sweaty ones at that.”

All of my senses are being overpowered, it’s like my head is in a vice that keeps on tightening. The film in front of me becomes a blur, my focus shattered by the intense pleasure from my new cock.

“Cock.” I blurt out.

I hear Daniel laughing from out of view.

My head is starved of oxygen as all the blood rushes to my groin, I’ve never been this horny before. I feel the strangest sensation as my brain thickens, filling up with throbbing meat. All the space padded out until I’m holding up a heavy dumbbell on the end of my neck. My thoughts were still there, somewhere, but it took so long to find them. It was quicker and easier to just embrace jockdom, stop worrying so much and just go along with the flow. If I was unsure of what to say then bro, I’d just say ‘bro’! A bro can fill in sentences with ‘bro’ and everyone will know what a bro they are. And bro? Being labeled as a dumb bro means no one expects anything meaningful from me. Brawn over brains is the mantra of my life dude.

“Jock’s also like to wear their bro-hood on their sleeves, and in your case, quite literally.”

As soon as the words leave his mouth I feel a sharp pain, as if a hundred needles are stabbing down my arm. I brace myself before glancing down. And there it was, 🍖 the meat emoji tattooed on my left hand. Huhhuh, awesome bro. Branded a meathead for life.

“Bro?” I ask slowly, my voice now considerably deeper.

“Yeah ‘Chad?’” Daniel emphasises.

The name immediately sticks to me like glue. Chad. I am such a Chad. I have some distant recollection of being someone else, but I can’t be bothered to search my brain for it. There’s a more pressing concern.

“Bruh, I need to empty my balls.” I grunt. The pressure from my engorged member becoming unbearable.

“Then you know what to do. Good muscle tops have their cocks milked every day.”

I grip my cock and begin pumping in earnest, my jaw hanging open. As I masturbate, my hands and arms bulk up with muscle. I see my veins very noticeably pop out. I feel a desperate urge to flex, letting one hand go from my dick. I ball it into a fist and raise it to the side of my head, squeezing my biceps. My arm pulses with meat, sending a vain satisfaction to my pleasure center.

“Good dumb tops spend all their time in the gym or on the field. Sculpting their body into the perfect chiselled shape.” His nasally voice instructs.

Muscle continues to form all over my lithe frame; my shoulders broaden and my chest ripples into a tight 6 pack. My clothes are loudly ripped to shreds. Memories enter my head of spending hours working out, of hanging with the other jocks and forming a vacant facade of a personality. Sweat drips from my hairy armpits, staining the couch under me. The room quickly starts smelling like a gym, my rank feet tearing free from my socks. My face cracks as it squares out into a more defined outline, brow growing heavy above my distant eyes. My body is now taking up most of the couch as Daniel budges over to the side. I quicken my pace, pumping now with both hands. My balls tighten.

“Fuck yeah brah.” I roar, reaching climax.

My cock spurts rope after rope of musky cum directly at my face, I’m left covered in my own seed. Daniel leans over to me and begins to eagerly lick at my face. He savours my taste on his tongue before swallowing. The sign of an expert bottom, huhuhu.

“Mmm. Great Tops know how to take control. And you’re a great top Chad.” Daniel moans in lust.

He’s right.

“Dude, this film is fucking dull. I’m changing to the sports channel bro. There’s a sick game playing today.” My hands take the remote and switch to a noisy football game.

I grab Daniels’s tiny little body and force him onto my lap. I flex again and push his face into my armpit. His tongue drags along my wiry dank hair. He moves his hand between my legs and starts passionately fingering his hungry ass hole, using my cum as lube. I hear him panting heavily like a dog. Man, my boyfriend is such a whiny brat…

“Bro, it’s my turn.” My cocky voice booms.

“What?” I hear his muffled voice cry out.

“Uhh… I wish… I wish you were a Bro like me, Bro.” I smirk.

“Wait, noooo!” He screams.

His body shudders and contorts as I hold his face to my pits with my newfound strength. He packs on pounds of muscle in a matter of seconds. Dan’s moaning turns to grunts. He’s going to make for such a Good. Arrogant. Dumb. Bro.

I watch his dong stretch down his leg, his balls sagging between his thickening thighs. The head of Dan’s veiny cock leaking like a faucet. A pair of juicy pecs push out from his chest and his adam apple swells. I pull away the remains of his clothes, letting them fall to the ground.

Dan’s dainty feet beef up to a size 12, sweat gathering between his toes - smelling like a real man should. I feel his previously fat bubble butt tense with lean muscle on my lap. With a squeak, his thoroughly abused fuck hole tightens shut, never to be stretched open again. He only tops after all, like me.

I release my grip on him and he pulls away, my sweat covering his square jawed face. He stuffs his junk into a jockstrap, looking barely concealed as it throbs with need. His messy hair has receded into a clean as fuck buzzcut. We now look almost identical, except that his meat emoji 🍖 tattoo is engraved on his right hand.

“Bro!” Dan’s voice deepens.

“Let’s go find some sluts to breed, bro.” We both smirk at each other and flex.

[deadmeat666]

ATHLETE BOYFRIENDS. sakusa kiyoomi x top male reader

This is kinda self-indulgent. Reader is a takraw player. Search it up if you don't know what takraw is.

minors, fujoshis and blank blogs DNI. i will find your home.

It's a habit of yours to climb though his window, even before dating him. You don't care what time it is, the weather, the situation. As long as you get to see him.

Though he insisted you to go through the front door instead—which is obviously more convenient and unconventional, but you refused. For whatever reason that is still unknown to him till this day. But he digressed. It wasn't much of a big deal, though the first time you climbed through his window, the neighbor almost called the cops.

Most of the times, your reason for climbing through his window was...Nothing! It was simply because you wanted to see him. You only live a few blocks away from him but that's considered hundreds of mile for you. He'd always pretend to be annoyed and pouty from your attention, but deep down, he knows some of your visits can mean something else. Something that'd leave his puffy pink hole stuffed full of your cum.

Sakusa was tall, you were only a few inches taller than him, but so much bigger and thicker in terms of muscles and your other asset too. Kiyoomi can't help but feel so so tiny under you, writhing, struggling, letting out choked out moans as you continue to knock him up.

Sakusa knew you were a huge. You're a sport player, not a volleyball player, but you played a sport similar to it, just with your legs.

He loves seeing you hoisting up your thick leg into a position to kick back the rattan ball back to the opposing team's court. He loves seeing how your shorts would ride up a bit, showing more of those meaty thighs. And he loves seeing how you're always riled up, predatory when on court, also in bed. Or anywhere when you're feeling horny for that matter and would completely forgetting or simply ignoring his whole mysophobia facade he'd keep up when you fuck in a stadium's toilet stall.

But his favorite huge thing about you is the monster of a cock that'd rest in-between your legs. He'd always wonder how you even managed to fit it in your underwear..barely. When you're on the court, you'd always be the center of almost everyone's attention. One because you're extremely good. Two, they'd be focusing on that huge dick of yours, and maybe even your whole body. And you swore you felt everyone's eyes on you one time.

When you win a game, you'd be rewarded with a good, balls deep blowjob by him in a locker room. And when your team lose, you'd still be rewarded with a good, reverse cowgirl riding by him, giving you a nice view of his plush ass bouncing against your pelvis.

One thing for sure, he can't get enough of you.

This was rushed, but I wanted to write something :)

[lutinsdolls]

Some redesigns I did for G3’s monster ball… I really disliked their original designs so I tried to make my own

Lagoona : I feel like her original color palette clashes so much with her design. I wanted to give her more of a mermaid-y dress while also maintaining some of the hot pinks and coral designs. I feel like G3 Lagoona fits more with pastel colours because of her hair. Also she’s always been my favorite, give her some justice please ｡°(°.◜ᯅ◝°)°｡

Draculaura - Probably an unpopular opinion, but I really dislike her dress. It’s giving 80s in the worst way possible. I still wanted to keep its key elements- the ruffles and her big hair. I decided to give her more of an Elvira inspired hairstyle. I got rid of the bows because they felt too overwhelming for me. Instead I gave her lil bat wings.

Cleo De Nile - I don’t completely despise her original design, I think it’s the most decent out of them all, but I wanted to enhance her slick features with another kind of dress. Her dress is adorned by coins- a callback to coin jewellery that originated in ancient Egypt. I wanted her to have more mature, almost godly features, since she’s the ruler of Monster High.

And lastly, Clawdeen - Clawdeen has always worn a suit and I think that’s neat. However, what I DON’T like is the type of suit g3 wears. It feels like it belongs in the 80s, with the velvet like texture and the shoulder pads, it’s a big no for me. I also didn’t like that shade of purple on Clawdeen so I made it a cooler shade. I wanted to give her a more business casual style, fashionable and chic. I also gave her curls, because she’d look so pretty!!

[eupheme]

mean wade or just him playfully making fun of you as he makes you cum consecutive times until you squirt? I'm so down bad for this man it's worrying 😭

Ohh I am 👀💖 anon! I went with a smug/teasing Wade for this (and also a sort-of follow-up to this fwb!wade drabble), I hope that is ok!! Thanks so much for sending this to me!

flood it | wade wilson x f!reader

800 words | multiple orgasms, fwb!wade, piv, squirting

It’s white against pink, as his lips stretch wide. Parting teeth as he pants, a stripe of red across his nose where his mask has been tugged up.

His scarred chin glossy. Smeared by the back of a hand, not more than ten minutes after he slipped through your bedroom window.

All too eager to answer your text. Still in his suit, grime worked into the creases as he laid you out on the floor of your room, unable to make it to your bed.

Your sleeping shorts had still been on, then - panties tugged to the side so his tongue could slip against your slit in greeting.

Record time, before your thighs were clamping around his ears, hips lifting into the air - hand stifling your cry.

The scarred tip of his cock rutting against your core, as your other hand clung to his wrist.

“Turned you a horny little monster, didn’t I?” He coos, “You still need it that bad?”

The sound of annoyance you make turns high, as he notches himself at your entrance - fitting every inch inside.

“S’okay.” It’s murmured out - just as he draws back, before hilting himself again, “I like that you can’t get enough.”

Another cry pulled from you, with the pump of his hips, the swirl of his fingers. Pleased - his lips meeting yours, halting the filth that pours from them.

He tastes like you, as you open for him, and that does more to you than it should. You can never resist him, that ache of want that lingers beneath your skin. Him and his mouth, and every inch of those six foot two inches, as he curves over you.

A hand splayed across the ankle that’s hooked against his shoulder. Near bending you in half, intent on finding the exact spot that has your nails sinking into the woven rug.

“There we fucking go. Bet you can give me another.” His hum low, when he finds it, “Bet I can make you gush all over my cock.”

You’re still not used to his enthusiasm. A late-night message sent in desperation that he was too eager to answer. Still intent on making up for all your supposed ‘lost time’.

Intent on making sure that your experiences with him eclipse all others.

“Can’t, Wade.” It’s sighed out - but even as his hips move, that dull twinge of overstimulation bleeds into pleasure, “Haven’t-“

But he only groans - the words husked out as eyes dip down to where you’re joined.

“You will for me.”

A greedy moment - his tone low. Possessive, for a flicker of a second, before he’s grinning.

“It was the request, after all,” He winks, his tongue peeking out, tasting you against his lips, “And I’m always happy to prove you wrong. Again, I might add.”

And maybe you want him too. Maybe it’s in the look you give him - heavy-lidded eyes, your hips lifting into the sharp snap of his.

A moan, at the slick way you grip him. Capturing your hand that slips down to help - pinning your wrists above your head.

“Uh uh.” Wade’s head shakes, “This is gonna be all me.”

The steady pound of his cock sending you higher, that deep pressure inside you building swiftly towards another peak.

“When your toes are cold because you ruined this rug by gushing all over it, you’re gonna be thinking about this.”

It makes you moan. This thing between you had gotten messy - deeper feelings caught somewhere between that first kiss to now. Don’t know how to tell him that he’s all you think about.

Not sure how to name the flip inside your belly - a tight, twisting ball of pleasure - so close to coming from just his cock. Your eyes wide as it begins to swell - his name whimpered out as you squirm on the floor beneath him.

“Fuck. Yes.” He pants, “Want you to fucking flood it, come on.”

Your gaze on his, when you do. Seeing how the white eyes of his mask widen - curving with his smile when your head tilts back.

Crying out, as he makes you come hard. As he fucks you through it, the sound filthy with the clap of his hips against yours. Leaking with each flutter of your cunt around his cock, dropping down to dampen the coarse hairs at the base of his cock.

Wade’s rhythm going sloppy as his ego soars - your foot slipping from his shoulder, wrapping around his waist just as his mouth presses to yours again.

Slick still leaking down his cock, the red leather at his groin glistening when he throbs inside you. Spilling with a rough groan, fingers pinching at your hips as he holds you flush.

Only then, does his other hand leave your wrists. Fingers entwining with yours instead, still keeping you pinned. A smirk, as he catches his breath.

“So.”

It’s huffed out, as the rock of his hips pushes another messy drip out of your cunt. His release and yours mixing together, just as it should.

“What else do you think you can’t do?”

[tswwwit]

Cipher's Personal Portable Portal

'How they meet' won the poll!

So just to make things fully contextualized, as far as they're gonna be - here's the full first chunk of this stupidly long fic I'm writing.

I hope you enjoy!

Standing in the wreckage of the burnt-out building, Dipper wishes he didn’t know who did it.

Anyone else would have left some trace sign. A scrape of blood, a hint of burnt hair. A friggin’ decent eyewitness report, even.

But here, like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that - there's absolutely zero traces. No video footage, nobody around at the time of the crime. Not even footprints.

Dipper kicks one of the remaining supports, sending a puff of charcoal up from the impact. 

If he knew the bastard’s name, he’d curse it all to hell.

With a sigh of exhaustion, Dipper sits on a chunk of scorched foundation. He pulls his shoe off to tip the ashes out of it; there’s enough that the resulting cloud leaves him coughing. 

Around him, the scoured west wing of the museum is silent, still, and empty. A grey-black skeleton of its former self, filled with dust and charcoal.

This arson is yet another one in a very, very long line of crimes. They’re not just ‘unrelated incidents’, or ‘bizarre coincidences’. Dipper’s not ‘being paranoid’ or ‘coming up with some pretty weird conspiracy theories’. 

There’s only one person who could manage this. The same guy who turned a bank upside down - literally -  and the same one who impaled a mob boss on an oversized silly straw and gave tails to half of a household last week.

It’s all connected.

Each crime is marked with the same style, mostly by how remarkably weird they are. Along with a thread of magic, distinct in its composition. One so distinctive that it's almost a flavor. Though admittedly, without certain magical analysis, it’s pretty hard to detect. 

And if other freelance magicians would take the time and look at Dipper’s notes, maybe one of them would help find this asshole.

Dipper stalks through the burned building, fists balled in his pockets. He stumbles over a fallen support column, and nearly trips before he makes a hopping retreat back. 

Though the culprit has been at his game - whatever ‘game’ that is - for a good half a year now, this is the most destructive ‘incident’ so far. Nobody was hurt, since it happened in the middle of the night. The one relief from a terrible crime, that only objects were obliterated in the process - 

But the ashes speak for themselves.

Here, there’s nothing left.

He breathes in slowly. Then regrets the attempt at calming himself as he coughs again.

Whatever the culprit’s initial motive was, it hasn’t lasted. He’s grown not only in ambition, but also in his abilities. Things are escalating at a rate Dipper doesn’t like to think about.

Someone has to get to the bottom of this. Before it’s too late. Dipper’s got his number, metaphorically speaking, so. Well, might as well be him. 

And when he proves that all of this chaos was created by the same person - 

Well. A little boost to his meager reputation couldn’t hurt. Maybe a few medals and accolades. There isn’t a trophy for best monster hunter, but he can imagine standing on a podium and -

Dipper waves that thought off, swearing under his breath. Stupid. He has better things to focus on.

He’s the only freelancer on the case. Definitely the only one taking this seriously, the only one who thinks it’s the same person to begin with -  and even he’s starting to have some doubts about ever finding the bastard. 

Six months of tracking this guy down, and what does he have to show for it? A ramshackle compilation of incidents, a vague feeling of magic, and a description that could fit any bottle-blond actor with bad fashion sense. Scraps. He might as well pin them up and connect them with red string for all the good it does him.

Another kick sends Dipper hopping back, clutching his foot with a swear. He winces at the hole in the tip, he nearly punctured his foot on a nail.

Just his luck. Wrong place, wrong time, always just barely avoiding disaster. Dipper shows up whenever there’s an event, he’s got the means to follow the guy - but he’s always just a little too late.

Even worse, lately the guy’s been picking places… not at random, exactly. More like he causes trouble wherever it’d be the most annoying to follow.

The culprit must know someone is on his trail. But he’s not making it impossible to keep up, or even majorly difficult for a determined pursuer. Just really, really irritating, like making moves at three in the morning, or pausing just long enough for someone to catch up, then heading right back where he came from. At one point Dipper had to trudge through a literal swamp, only to find that bastard had sauntered in by baking himself a neat little trail right through the damn thing. There wasn’t even footprints to follow.

It’s a repeated point in Dipper’s notes. Whoever this is, they’re a total, absolute dick.

With a sigh, Dipper runs his fingers through the ash on the museum’s floor. Not a single thing is left beyond the shattered glass of some display cases, and the charred remains of the building. Even the enchanted metal tools have been melted into slag. 

The day before yesterday, he could tell something was up. Building energy, something that felt like it was made by the culprit. Something with the twinge of a powerful curse, coiled and being wound up like a spring. 

Dipper spent that evening convincing - okay, maybe also bribing, thank you Stan for the idea - the museum to let him borrow materials. The day after that, he spent all night, morning, and most of the afternoon running around slapping up anti-curse emblems. The entire south of the city warded, in a fine careful net of spellcraft. The work was exhausting. Both in running around, and in the amount of magic he’d needed to use.

But it was worth it. That evening, in the quiet and very uncursed city, all the emblems activated. Dipper would have sworn he sensed someone in the distance, cursing his own name. That night he went to bed with a smug sense of satisfaction, floating on a cloud of triumph.

Which is probably why the bastard burned down the museum next.

With another sigh, Dipper tucks his notebook back into his knapsack. He’s gleaned all he’s going to for today; in the fading evening light, searching more is pointless.

So much for all the magical artifacts. Most of those had come in really useful in messing with the guy. 

…How the hell did the culprit know where they came from, though? He’d need a near encyclopedic knowledge of artifacts to know which ones Dipper used, then track them back to their origin. 

Or maybe he just searched on the internet. It’s hard to tell.

Dipper just wishes there were more clues. But just like every other incident, the guy up and freakin’ vanished.

No human can disappear like that without some very irresponsible use of power. That hope is one Dipper’s hanging his hat on. After six months? He has to be reaching his limits. He’ll burn himself out before he can manage too many more incidents. Maybe Dipper will find him by stumbling on his withered, dissolving corpse.

Whoever this is is pretty strong, but no power is infinite. He can’t hide forever.

It can’t be too much longer. Won’t be. Dipper has a plan, he’s gotten really close, and - He’s good at his job, damn it. He knows he is. 

Taking a deep, slow breath, Dipper lets it out. Patience is the name of the game here. He’s just gotta keep moving.

One day, he’s going to catch up with that bastard. He’ll see the guy in the flesh. Then he’ll grab that stupid dick before he can escape, again, and wipe that presumably smug look off his probably ugly face.

Turning around one last time, Dipper surveys the destruction, stuffs his hands in his pockets - and pauses. 

A speck of light glints in the pile of ash. The last bit of evening sun, shining off a metallic surface.

Alert with surprise, Dipper scrambles over to the pile. Kneeling down, he brushes the dust carefully aside, careful not to disturb anything fragile that might shatter if handled wrong. 

One thing did survive. Thank fuck, it’s not an absolute total loss. Just, uh… Ninety-nine percent of it.

He scuffles through the still-warm ashes, cupping his palms underneath the lump and lifting it from its bed. The motion sends white puff rising up as ash slips away from the artifact.

A small black, squarish thing rests on the pile, a bit larger than both his palms put together. The material is faintly warm from residual heat, insulated by the ash it laid in - and there’s not a mark on it. Not even a scratch. 

Dipper turns the artifact over in his hands with a frown. The shining black surface reveals no obvious buttons or secrets. Just a kind of phone-ish shape, though more square and squat. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say a guest dropped it on the rush to escape. 

The fact that it’s still intact though. Nearly glowing with magic, a tremulous feeling under his palms - this is not dropped by some clumsy tourist. Not even Ford could put this together.

 Wiping at the object with his sleeve, Dipper manages to clean off most of the smooth surface. On one of the sides, dust clings to the thinnest of engravings. The very faint outline of an equilateral triangle. No runes or other magical scribing, just… a shape.

Dipper thinks back but - no, he doesn’t remember seeing this in the collection. A quick check online reveals…

Basically nothing. There are - were - a bunch of stone and metal slabs in the archives, all described so poorly as to be useless. Some are even bunched up in groups. ‘Magical slab 1-24’ and ‘Metal artifact 1-78’, no description involved.

Not surprising. Probably dug up in some mass excavation site, transported here, then never really looked at again. The bulk nature of the shipment means it was overlooked, its magical properties never discovered.

After today, he’s just glad that even one item escaped this onslaught. 

The other artifacts must not have had much to them. But some magical property in this artifact’s making must have saved it from the blaze. Fireproofing, perhaps? Against weird fire? That’s unusual. Maybe even unique.

As the only survivor, it really needs investigating. 

Dipper glances over his shoulder, then around. With everyone evacuated, it’s quiet in the rubble. Nobody here would notice if, say… a clue wandered off.

The artifact slips easily into his pocket. The shape conveniently looks just like a phone, even if the shape’s a bit off. Not something that would attract any attention.

Whistling nonchalantly, ducking out of the way of local law enforcement and any onlookers - Dipper makes his escape. 

Another day of pursuit. Another scene of disaster, the culprit there and gone in the blink of an eye. 

He’ll be up to something new, next. Never the same thing twice, never in the same place. 

Dipper will follow in his evil tracks, of course. But for tonight - his fate is another crappy hotel room. 

He ditches his backpack by the door, slumping against the wall and its chipped paint. He could start going through his notes, and the pictures of the arson. Put in more work, find further connections - 

But it’s been a long day, and he’s tired. He might be magical, but he’s only got so much to work with. A reasonable night’s sleep, if he can manage, will make the task loom less horribly over his tired brain.

With a sigh, he drops back on the mattress. There’s some bounce to it, springs squeaking like they’re full of mice. Hell, maybe they are. The type of room he can afford isn’t exactly decadent.

That, though, should be temporary. Dipper’s career is only just starting; freelancers in the ‘solving magical problems’ scene don’t get great rates. Especially as a beginner. Definitely without a partner; it makes him look super young. Like he’s just starting out, fresh-faced and not having any inroads.

Because this field is really stupid, and doesn’t pay attention to results. Dipper’s been fine on his own for years, and he’s done really cool things without that ‘networking’ crap. 

All by himself. Totally cool with that, because Dipper’s a cool guy, sometimes. If Mabel hypes him up enough on one of their phone calls, he almost believes it too.

Though it would be nice to have some backup, it’s hard to find someone who really gets the job. Or does it in the way that Dipper goes about it. The number of people who are willing to take long treks in hyper-magical territory to search for an obscure clue, or set up really complicated traps for  dangerous monsters, or talk over high-level magical theory while sitting in the rain all night just to get one body-snatcher are…

Well, besides Ford, who recently retired, there aren’t any. Only Dipper himself.

One day, things are going to change for him. All his effort will pay off. If he keeps solving mysteries, and fighting monsters, he’ll forge a reputation as someone who always gets the job done. No matter how hard it is, he can handle it. The work is picking up, too. The last six months have shown the biggest series of magical incidents in decades. 

And he’s gonna be the one to get to the bottom of it.

Dipper Pines, the guy who proved it’s all connected. He’ll have it laid out in facts and math, all the evidence. They’re all gonna see that he was totally right.

Once he finally gets this guy, everything’s going to start looking up. 

The sheets rustle as Dipper settles back, holding the artifact up over himself. He stares into the black surface, and a slightly distorted reflection narrows its eyes back at him. 

A good mystery always intrigues him. This one should take his mind off the other, irritating one for a while.

The only remaining object from the fire is clean and smooth. A mysterious creation, of unknown purpose. Clearly riddled with magic, too; Dipper feels it running just under the surface like a rapid current. It gives the artifact a weight that has nothing to do with mass. 

Power.

Did the criminal see this artifact, still intact after all the other magical objects were gone? Did he try to destroy it too, and fail? Or simply not notice he’d missed one out of thousands?

Whatever it is, it’s got a lot more going on than meets the eye.

Dipper casts a quick identifier, which comes back with nothing. He’s not surprised. That’s the first thing anyone would try. If it was that simple, he’d already have the full description off the site. 

With a shrug, he traces another set of runes, his own version, adding a little more oomph behind it - 

And the magic leaps back instantly, with the bizarre sensation of a bouncy ball hitting concrete.

“Huh,” Dipper says, thoughtfully. He sits up, hunching over the slab in his hands. “Now that’s new.”

A more subtle approach, then. Tracing the lines of energy with the barest brush of magic upon magic reveals something deeply complex. Thin layers twist together deep under the surface, building an entire circulatory system. Dipper has to put it down for a moment, suddenly worried that it is organic. 

When a cautious prod doesn’t get a response, he relaxes. Not fleshy, just complicated. Which also proves he was right earlier - the artifact’s just as powerful as he’d thought. The spellcraft is unlike anything he’s ever seen. 

Dipper rubs his hands together, starting to smile. 

Even if he doesn’t find the guy he’s after, figuring this out could be a heck of a win.

Several attempts later, he’s beginning to get why this bastard brick got tossed in with all the other junk. 

Nothing here is working. It simply deflects. Standard spells poing off of it like rubber, while giving his magical senses an odd, back-of-the brain afterimage of a circle with a slash through it; a firm ‘nah’. 

Dipper nearly chucks the thing across the room in frustration, before shutting his eyes and taking several, calming breaths. 

Okay, weird thing, weird enchantment. The ordinary stuff won’t work. The magical logic is… twisted in a way that leaves it incompatible with most everything. He’ll have to find a different approach. 

“What are you?” Dipper says, low and frustrated. He gives the artifact a shake, as if he can knock the secrets out like a rock from a shoe. “What secrets are you hiding in there?” 

No response, not that he expected one. With a wry smile, he taps the sleek surface with a finger, twice. “C’mon, man. Talk to me.” 

Huge yellow letters flash onto the black surface. 

HEY

Dipper throws the artifact, a bit awkwardly since he’s lying on his back. It sails in the air in a high thin arc, landing with a thump between his legs. He scoots rapidly backward, sheets pulling up behind him. 

The artifact lies where it landed, an unmoving brick.  There’s magic in the air now, but no sense of any spell building, ready to unleash power to blow his face off. The latent spellcraft of the artifact has just been activated.

More text displays on the surface, bare except for the glowing letters. 

To the jerk that’s swiped my private stuff: You got some nerve! I expect this back by interdimensional mail in a week, or trust me - there will be consequences.

Dipper waits a full minute before he lets go of the headboard. Tentatively, he kneels near the…

 Is this a phone? 

Clearly it’s a communication device of some sort, with the freaking text messages. A phone is the obvious equivalent, only - he thought it looked far older than that, something way before mobile phones. Possible ancient. Is that a coincidence, maybe, or is it secretly modern?

Dipper taps the ‘screen’, just below the glowing words. To his surprise, there’s actually a keyboard, what the hell. This thing keeps getting weirder.

Since it hasn’t already thrown a horrible curse at him, or burst into flames - it’s reasonably safe to assume that it’s simply ‘on’. Not ‘explosive’. 

With hands that are definitely not shaking, he picks it up, and types,

Who is this? 

His own text pops up in blue. A strange contrast to the yellow, but he’s guessing it’s for convenience - there’s no bubbles to tell who’s said what otherwise.

A few seconds of nervous waiting later, there’s a response. 

Oh hey, you answered! Well, human - You’re talking to the one and only Bill Cipher, Dream Demon, all-powerful master of the Mindscape! I’d say it’s nice to meet ya but you’re not supposed to have a direct line to me!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. 

Now that’s one hell of an introduction. It might even have been interesting, if it didn’t smell of complete bullshit. 

Complicated spellwork, sure. Incomprehensible architecture? Maybe. Dipper can admit it; he’s never seen anything with a web of spells on it this complex, in such small of a package.

But the idea that Dipper just stumbled onto a demonic artifact of all things. One that wasn’t instantly detected, recorded, then ritually destroyed is…

Someone’s fucking with him. 

Dipper rolls his eyes as he types back,

Really? Demon? You can’t expect me to believe that. 

What, you calling me a liar? ‘Cause I am, but not about this! I got better things to mislead mortals about. This is my property, not something for your grubby mortal mitts.

Dipper snorts. Guess this person’s sticking with the bit. Obviously whoever created this would want it back - but too bad. Whether they’re delusional, stupid, or just a flat-out liar, they’re really good at enchanting. It’d be a waste not to study their work. 

He lies back on the bed as he replies.

Sure, have fun roleplaying, or whatever, it doesn’t make a difference. Finders keepers, losers weepers.

ARE YOU CALLING ME A LOSER. MORTAL.

Hmm, I’m detecting a certain amount of ‘crying about it’, so. Yeah. Suck it, loser.

Smirking, Dipper settles back - then his half-smile drops, as he holds the ‘phone’ a little further away from himself. 

Though the blue fire building up in the screen looks like a bad sticker effect, the artifact’s also getting a alarmingly warm. It vibrates in his hands - then suddenly stops, cooling down. 

Ha! Alright, alright, I admit - you got some balls.

Maybe you’ll change your tune once you REALLY know what you’re dealing with! Might wanna check the connection, if you’re even capable of it! Mortal magic doesn’t reach across dimensions!

With a grimace, Dipper taps his fingers on the phone. It’s slightly cooler now, but still worryingly reactive to… whatever happened on the other end. 

Damn. Whoever this is, they’re not only really really good at enchanting, they’re also pretty confident that tracking them down won’t spoil their game. The confidence exuding from this ‘Bill’s’ words feels genuine.

Honestly, though, the suggestion is a good one. Dipper should have tried to trace the call the second he knew someone else was on the line. 

Maybe ‘Bill’ thinks he won’t manage to find him. Joke’s on him, though; Dipper’s amazing at finding stuff. He’s the best tracker of magical anything in years. Maybe decades. With a solid, stable connection right in front of him? Hell, he could do this one in his sleep. 

Time to call the bluff.

He casts the tracing spell, though it takes longer than usual. A few gestures and muttered ritual aren’t gonna cut it; he has to improvise around the strange construction of the enchantment. Even trailing along the magic seems harder than usual, like it resists mixing with his own, and it takes him a few attempts to match the signal. 

Once he finds the right way to tune it… the lead snaps along the already-existing connection, and zips away to find its source.

The line extends out from the shabby hotel room, a plucked string in Dipper’s senses. It twists around the phone, rising slowly. Invisibly passing through the walls and the - 

Ceiling? Dipper looks up on instinct, even though nothing is visible.

From there it swirls around in the air like a silly straw on steroids, and then - out, very far, in a way that isn’t up or down or left or right, just  

Away.

Dipper has to cut off the tracing spell before vertigo has him reeling. The swirling sense of standing on top of a skyscraper is followed by a flip in his stomach. That he’s using a device he barely understands that reaches out into something even more incomprehensible.

He drops the phone-artifact, trying to clear his head by shaking it rapidly. 

That’s not nearby. Not on this planet. Possibly, genuinely, not even in this dimension. 

Shit. Bill wasn’t bluffing.

Dipper wipes sweating palms on the sheets. To pick up the phone again takes an effort, willing himself to grasp it in unsteady hands.

A demon. 

All the monsters he’s fought, curses he’s broken, years of work tucked into his belt, and he’s never seen one of those. 

Demons are dangerous, evil, and very, very powerful. Consorting with them is by all accounts a terrible idea. He should never have picked this up. He should hang up, and throw the damn artifact out the window, hoping that nobody else makes as dumb a mistake as he just did. 

On the screen, there’s a long long scroll of yellow letters, filling the entire surface. ‘HA HA HA HA’ over and over and over again. 

Before he can think better of it, Dipper starts a response. He’s halfway through a sentence - what the fuck, that’s not funny- before he pauses.

Terrible evil monster. Stupid powerful. Probably Bill sensed the tracing of the connection, like he did with Dipper’s other testing. Bill wanted the result startle him. Because he thinks it’s funny.

Dipper grits his teeth, and glares at the screen. 

Actually, screw this guy. Dipper’s keeping the stupid phone. If for no other reason than spite. This ‘Bill’ guy seems pretty full of himself, like he’s totally above some human. He’s in for a bad time, then, because Dipper’s not going to let one little surprise scare him off.

Besides.  The average guy would get into horrible, even deadly trouble, whereas Dipper… sort of knows what he’s doing.  No, he is good at his job. Finding secrets, solving mysteries, thwarting evil jerks who think they’re oh-so-hilarious, the whole shebang. He does it all.

Taking another breath, hissing through clenched teeth - Dipper lets it out. Losing his temper isn’t going to help deal with an extradimensional being. He has to be careful.

He thinks for a long moment before he responds. 

Okay. Let’s say I believe you. Maybe. Then you should know I didn’t steal your… whatever this is. I found it lying around, and I just. Got kind of curious. 

HA HA HA! Of course you were! Careful with that impulse, kid, it kills more than just cats!

A jerk who definitely thinks he’s hilarious. Dipper rolls his eyes, then, rather pettily, decides to ignore that statement. 

More pressing questions take the lead. Like what the fuck he’s holding right now, and if there are any other nasty tricks in store. A little bit of him, bubbling under the surface, wonders what being a demon is like. What they get up to, common habits. Ways they could be tracked down and, y’know, defeated, maybe. 

Theoretically, he’s got a line to a bunch of innocent, totally not-thwarting-related information that could be super useful to someone trying to, maybe, be a super cool monster-fighter.

Dipper backspaces a bunch over some poorly thought out questions. First things first. Like what the hell he’s holding right now.

So. What is this?

Good question! The gadget you’re poking at with your sweaty meat-paws is paired to the one I have here at my place. A little one-on-one communication assistant, if you will. Once you started groping around with your magic, it wasn’t hard to tell someone had picked it up!

Dipper raises an eyebrow. Though he already has an idea… a little confirmation never hurts. 

Like, you got a notification? Or literally felt?

The latter! Kinda like smell, but by touching things with your eyeballs. And with all your prodding around you might as well have been stinking up the place! Your spells aren’t real subtle!

Hey, they’re subtle! Having weird extra senses is just cheating.

Sucks to be human, then! In that you suck at everything! What’s a LOSER like you gonna do about it?

Dipper nearly throws the stupid artifact again - but he holds back, gripping it tight. Instead he sits up, leaning down and hauling his backpack up from the side of the bed. 

Maybe Bill thinks he can’t do anything. That he’s some ignorant nobody, who doesn’t have any real skills or talent or doesn’t have any friends - but he’s got that wrong. Dipper’s not a loser. Bill’s not getting away with that bullshit.

One quick unzip and a bit of rifling around later, he finds what he was looking for. Carefully, Dipper bounces the heft of a flashlight battery in his hand. Shutting his eyes, he focuses on crafting a quick working.

Magic is all about energy, and its direction. Focusing power, conveying it from one place to another. Pushing anything across dimensions would take impossible amounts of energy, stuff Dipper doesn’t have. If it weren’t for a very convenient connection, already in his hand.

Dipper has nothing on hand to actually exorcise the guy - he’s not sure that’s even possible when Bill’s where he should be - but retribution is in order.

More text lines appear on the artifact. He ignores them. Changing this up to work with the demon device is a challenge, but after figuring out how to alter the tracking spell changing this one up isn’t hard. He adjusts the flow of magic this way, into the tangle of not-veins in the device that way, finishes the chant-

Then touches his tongue to the battery.

The jolt passes through him painlessly, following the spell. It zips along his nerves, down into his hand and from there - into the artifact itself. 

Where it should, theoretically end up right at that bastard.

Dipper tosses the battery back into his backpack. Picking up the ‘phone’, hunching over to stare at the screen. 

That worked. He felt the energy move… unless he got the math wrong. Or a detail of his spell. Or maybe demons are immune to electricity, and he just did something totally pointless. 

God. It might even prove Bill right, and wouldn’t that be the worst - 

The next line of text comes in. 

What the hell? A joy buzzer? That’s some real petty prank stuff! You seriously pulled that bullshit? And across dimensions?

A tense pause. Dipper taps the phone, checking for it heating up again - but another line pops up after a few seconds.

Y’know what, kid? I think I might actually like you! You’re FEISTY.

Dipper nearly does a double-take. 

But no, that - what? Aren’t demons supposed to be vengeful? He was half-sure he’d have to chuck the phone out the window before it exploded in his hands. 

In fact, you’re in luck! ‘Cause I’m pretty bored, and I can totally show you how to improve that jinx of yours! If you can keep up with a little theory, that is.

Because that’s not suspicious or anything. Conversation with a demon can only lead to ruin and disaster. He should absolutely, definitely stop this right in its tracks.

Still, Dipper shrugs, and types, 

Try me.

[rosenclaws]

I got the mental image of Leopold as a dad in my mind and now I can't stop thinking about it. He would be such a good dad!!! Like, supportive, doting, playful, protective. Imagine him with a toddler who's just baby babbling away and he's listening with full attention and eye contact. Gahhh! I want to have his baby, he needs to be a dad.

a/n: hello you have now infected my brain with the Leopold as a dad worm and it will never leave me thank you and as my payment u now get a drabble. Also I’ve made the executive decision for him to be a girl dad and his daughter is named after his mother. Okay thank you

wc: ~650

The best moment of Leopold’s life was the day he married you. Love deep in his heart as he said his vows. Promising to love you and no one else for the rest of his life. That you would be the one and only to capture his heart.

He meant every world and when he kissed you it was like everything fell into place. This is where he was meant to be.

The second best moment of his life was every single day with his daughter.

They’re all tied for second. Being a father was always something he wanted but to truly become a father. It was amazing.

“Dada!” He looks up from the morning paper to see his little girl waddling towards him.

“Oh my don’t you look gorgeous.” He smiles from ear to ear as he holds out his arms and picks her up.

Lifting her up in the air just to hear her giggles. She had a costume dress on and a little tiara. She was his princess so it was only fit she dressed like one.

“This princess refused to put on anything else.” You huff as walk down the hall. Leopold walks over to you and kisses your cheek. Then he kisses his daughter’s cheek.

“Is that true miss Adeline?” Leopold asks in mock surprise.

“I’m a princess!” She giggles and Leopold can’t help but agree.

“Are you going to be okay today?” You had gotten called into work for an emergency leaving your family plans for another day. You felt horrible but Leo assured you everything was alright.

“Of course my love, don’t fret I’ll handle everything.” You kiss him once more before heading out for the day.

“Now, what does the princess demand for breakfast?”

He can’t remember the last time he got this much quality time with Adeline. He swears up and down that just yesterday she was still a baby. The memories flash in his mind as she munches on her apple slices.

Holding her in his arms. Feeling his heart break at the sound of her cries. Wanting nothing more than to wrap her in his arms and protect her from everything he can.

Now she’s three years old and he savors every minute he can. Being sat on the couch as he listens intently to his daughters babbling. Smiling as she talks like she understands the whole world. He nods along and indulges whatever her imagination can create.

Soon she’s tired and the sounds of Cinderella play from the television. She stands on his feet as he dances around the living room. He hums the music as she laughs.

Leopold spins her around and picks her up. He remembers his first ball, learning to dance with his mother. Now he returns the favor. It may not be the 18th century but his daughter will be treated like royalty.

“M’tired daddy.” She yawns and rests her head against his chest.

So he takes her to her room. Letting her fall asleep in his arms, just like she used to. Sitting in the big chair by her bed, the same one he used to rock her in and read her bedtime stories. The one he’d sit in after she had woken up in the night and cried out for him.

He’d hold her tight and whisper that everything was okay. That he would never let anything hurt her. No monsters and nobody would hurt her.

“Well looks like you had a busy day.” He looks up to see you standing by the door.

A warm smile on your face as you take in the sight of your husband and baby girl. Leopold is everything you could have asked for as a husband and a father.

“Do you want to put her down and eat?” He shakes his head as Adeline stirs in his arms. Clutching his finger in her little hand.

“I think I wish to stay here a little longer.” You walk over sit on the arm of the chair.

Leaning your head onto Leopold’s head and slowly rake your fingers through Adelines hair. Leopold takes it all in.

So much time has passed in the blink of an eye that he wishes he could slow everything down and just live right here. He doesn’t know what the future may bring but he does know one thing.

He’s a lucky, lucky man.