#i have created eyesores | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

tswwwit · 1 year

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28.7% of you voted for this filth

NSFW! Here's some smut.

This won the poll, and here's what I ended up giving you in return. My condolences for this entire thing. 😔

Highlight below for kink/content warnings

Dom/sub, mild bondage, dirty talk, prostate massage, creampie/cum kink, mirror sex

Now here's the actual fic!

Dipper forces himself to turn away from his phone.

He takes a deep breath. Tapping his pen on the paper, where he has notes to make. Really important ones. In theory.

Right now, he could be making progress on any of the dozen mysteries on his plate, or unraveling another half-dozen demonic plots.

Hell, there’s even peace and quiet.

Being in Bill’s bedroom - their bedroom - means he has something like. Well. A secret lab, though a weird one. Definitely a private sanctum. Their room in the Fearamid is a profoundly private space to work in - as long as Bill's not around - because nobody else would ever dare intrude.

Time, and space, and power. Knowledge, even. Everything Dipper could ever ask for. For finding focus. For doing good.

Dipper catches himself looking at his phone again. This time, he gives it the glare it truly deserves.

It really is gaudy as hell, isn’t it. An eyesore if there ever was one. What a shame that magical function doesn’t always fit an aesthetic; golden’s what he’s stuck with, as long as he wants this thing to work.

The flipside is that nobody can deny that his phone’s very functional.

No other device has interdimensional reception. Making calls even between other realms of existence, texting between worlds. Best phone connection in this segment of the multiverse, courtesy of one accidental life bond.

Dipper can’t exactly sell the patent, though. Since it’s partially created from semi-illegal bits scavenged from Ford’s lab, partly from a concoction of spells of his own creation -

And partly from Bill’s own exoskeleton. Hence the gaudiness.

Plus the internet gets finicky, which is kind of a hiccup. And while a life-bond makes it work, the average magic-user doesn’t have a good conversationalist at the other end. Sometimes the connection gets garbled, or the thing itself corrupts other magic around it. Apparently it radiates an aura, too. One that Dipper can’t feel, but is ‘vaguely creepy’.

But even Bill admitted the design was impressive, and that’s an accomplishment in any entity’s book. Sincere compliments from Bill freakin’ Cipher are very, very hard-won. He’s seen basically everything, knows so much, and what Dipper came up with was, quote, ‘pretty cool!’.

Inevitably, Dipper finds himself staring at his stupid phone again.

It’s the way it catches the light, he swears. He’d spraypaint it if he could without compromising the spellwork. Like the major part of its physical makeup, it’s ridiculous, showy, and overly complicated.

And oddly tempting.

Dipper keeps tapping his pen, point down, on the paper. He doesn’t have anything to write down at the moment, though he feels like he should. Even though he has the time to work out a thousand other things, a million investigations, his thoughts keep drifting towards. Other stuff.

Which is so dumb. Dipper could be doing any number of things, with all the power and knowledge he has on hand. Unfortunately, his stupid brain and dick are full of ideas too, and they’re ganging up on him. It’s very distracting.

If only things were more difficult, this wouldn’t be an issue.

Because if Dipper really wants a distraction, it's a phone call away. Basically no effort at all. He could have it within minutes - theoretically - because Bill tends to like this sort of thing. He’d be game for it, any time.

Dipper plants his elbows on his desk, and rubs his eyes with the heels of his hands.

But there’s so many reasons not to do it.

Bill’s not here, for one. Dipper would be interrupting his entire ‘business’ day, and throwing a wrench into his ‘work’. He doesn’t know precisely what Bill’s up to this time, but there’s thousands of plans Bill could be enacting. Millions of beings to torment, or terrify. Bugging him for something this petty, pointless, and kind of perverted, is -

…Another reason Bill would like it.

And, technically preventing evil from happening. Distraction goes both ways; Bill can’t do two things at once.

Dipper glares down at the paper in front of him. No words there, just an exercise in abstract pointillism.

Great. Now he’s talking himself into this.

It wouldn’t even be difficult. No fire, no fighting, no clever mind games. Hell, Dipper could just literally just call, or even like, text, or something, and it’s not like he’d get a no.

Or rather, he might get a no. But it’d be with some very distracting responses that’d derail his own day, with a promise to make up for Bill’s absence. A sincere one, for once.

Nobody else could get that. Not from Bill. Sincerity. Earnestness. Even if it’s about his desire, it’s something so rare that it’s almost -

Dipper sets the pen down with a decisive click.

Screw it.

He’s young, he has…. Feelings about stuff. Ones that he can actually do something about, unlike his awkward teenage years. With someone who thinks he’s hot.

Really, he’d be betraying himself by not taking advantage. There were times he would have done way more embarrassing things, for far less attention.

Dipper nods to himself, and picks up the phone.

Worst case scenario, Bill’s too caught up in stuff to duck out, and he has to wait a few hours. Best case Bill’s going to be distracted himself, Dipper gets something he wants - and less evil happens. A win three times over.

…And maybe he shouldn’t have put his phone on silent, because he has over forty missed messages.

Dipper turns that off, and starts scrolling. Up, then down again.

There sure is. A lot.

Bill’s sent ninety percent of the texts in the last half hour, every one of them in his typical all-caps. Without any bragging, hardly any bullshit, and basically zero smug asides. Not even a bunch of cryptic comments about what a clever demon Bill is.

Dipper starts smiling.

Guess things aren’t quite what Bill was expecting when he took up this latest ‘business’ trip.

In fact, if Dipper’s any expert - and he is - Bill’s been having a shitty day.

So. It’s not selfish, really, to want him to get up to something else. It’s actually a fantastic idea.

Dipper taps the phone against his chin. End goal in mind, plan… not created yet. That requires some thought.

Does he just... Ask? It seems simple enough, but how is he supposed to phrase it. One way seems too forward. Another one might sound like some weirdo stole his phone. Can’t get too subtle, either, Bill’s missed it when he veiled it too much before….

Dipper manages to come up with two or three lines that aren’t totally cringy, before the buzz against his face interrupts his train of thought.

Bill, again. More messages in his ranting missive.

“SUMMONS, FOR CHAO’S SAKE. DOES THIS GUY EVEN KNOW WHAT THAT MEANS OR DID HE JUST PICK UP THE RIGHT INTERDIMENSIONAL PHONE BOOK”

“I’M CONSIDERING DELETING MOST OF THIS GALAXY NEXT CHANCE I GET. JUST TO GET RID OF THE CONTACT INFORMATION”

“A SUMMON IS NOT A *SERVANT* FOR CRYING OUT LOUD, THERE”S A DEAL AND EVERYTHING”

“DO THE WORDS ‘CONTRACTOR AGREEMENT’ MEAN ANYTHING OR DOES IT GO IN ONE EAR AND OUT THE OTHER TWO”

“WHY DO YOU CONTACT AN EXPERT AND NOT TAKE THE ADVICE??? IT WAS ALMOST FREE!”

Dipper rolls his eyes.

Yet another reason he should go ahead with his idea. If he doesn’t nip the complaining in the bud soon, Bill’s going to ramble on forever.

Serves him right, anyway. Bill may not be able to be summoned to Earth, but he’s sure as hell still taking calls from other realms. Dipper can’t even tell Bill he’s sorry one’s gone wrong; it’d be too obvious a lie. He’ll settle for not commenting.

Dipper taps the back of the phone for a second, thinking. Then responds.

“I take it you’re not having much fun”

“OH NO, I'M HAVING A HELL OF A TIME”

“COULDN’T FIND A BETTER PARTY AT THE INTERGALACTIC DMV”

Not a great sign. Bill knows that Dipper doesn’t want to know the details of his work - but the metaphor’s a clue. That it’s complicated, and annoying.

Dipper frowns. There’ll likely be a wait.

“So… pretty busy.”

“YEAH THIS COULD DRAG ON”

“SERIOUSLY SCREW THIS GUY THOUGH. CAN’T TAKE A HINT, CAN’T MAKE HIS OWN PLOTS? I’M UP TO HERE WITH THIS LOSER.”

“THE SECOND I CAN PULL A DECENT DOUBLE-CROSS I’M GOING FOR IT”

Huh. Usually Bill’s better at finding chances. Dipper doubts the summoning was that ironclad; loopholes are too common. More likely than not, Bill simply hasn’t found something entertaining enough yet.

“I’m surprised you haven’t found one already.”

“HEY! DOUBLECROSSING IS AN ART, KID.”

“GOTTA COME UP WITH JUST THE RIGHT THING TO REALLY RUB SOME SULFURIC ACID IN THE WOUND”

“Yeah, fine”

Yep. Just like he thought. Dipper sticks his tongue out at the screen.

Typical Bill. Can’t get his ass off the metaphorical couch unless it’s interesting. Without the promise of a prize at the end, Bill’s more likely to laze around with a martini than put effort into complicated plans. Or chores. Even if he could literally wave his hand and take care of things, if it’s not entertaining-

Actually.

There’s an idea.

Dipper hops up from his seat and heads over to his dresser. Tugging the middle drawer open, and rifling through it until he finds the prize. The slick black wood is easy to find, he hasn’t moved it in a while.

He drops down on the bed this time, and sets the box on his chest. Heart beating a bit faster, a little tense with nerves. A little excited. He sends the next message in a rush.

“Maybe I could help out?”

“WOW!! THAT'S A FIRST! PINE TREE, I’M BOTH INSULTED YOU THINK I NEED IT AND FLATTERED YOU OFFERED!”

“ALRIGHT WHAT’S GOING ON”

Dipper unlatches the box, and picks up the collar.

The black leather is soft between his fingers. He lets it dangle for a moment, tag jingling slightly as he holds it above his face. It’s not heavy with anything but implied meaning.

This particular item doesn’t see a ton of use. It’s not always the right time, because Dipper’s not always in the right mood. Once it is, though. When Dipper puts it on….

That’s. Offering power to an infinite being of pure energy, who shouldn’t even need the token to take it. And once he has it, he’ll be very, very thorough about using it. Something that sounds pretty intimidating, because it is pretty intimidating.

Right now, if Dipper’s being honest with himself - it kinda sounds great. It’s always worked out really well for him.

And there’s no way Bill won’t find this interesting.

“Thought I could uh. Give you some motivation?”

“???”

Welp. Here goes.

Without hesitating (much), Dipper wraps the collar around his neck and clasps it shut.. Feeling a light chill from the golden triangle tag on his neck, just above his collarbone. The leather not-quite tight against his throat.

He shuffles into the blankets, getting comfortable. Time to go for it.

Clearing his throat, and breathing in, then out, Dipper holds his phone up with both hands. He takes the picture.

…it doesn’t look as cool as he thought it would.

The first three don’t look great. Another he’s not - well, a glare can be sexy, in Bill’s mind, but this one just shows how annoyed he is with trying to take a stupid picture.

Dipper spends longer than he wanted just futzing with the camera and the view he’s about to provide. Bill’s a stickler for angles especially, Dipper wants to get it right.

Another buzz from his phone. Damn it, he should just send something, he’s leaving Bill hanging. For once, Dipper has like, some kind of ‘seduction’ momentum going, he can’t lose it now.

He holds his phone up again, and makes himself relax. Just a pic, doesn’t need to be fancy.

Dipper smiles, tilting his head back, neck arched with its strip of black leather fully on display. He snaps the photo and hits send before he can hesitate. Take that, second-guessing, Dipper got ahead of it this time.

Maybe it’s not the best photo, but it doesn’t have to be great. Just as long as it shows the important parts. Dipper’s not trying to do a model shoot for crying out loud. He’s just. Sending an invite.

One he hopes Bill will accept.

He lasts about three seconds before he nervously adds a text. Just in case Bill got the wrong idea. Not that Dipper’s sure what that would be, but still.

“Bedroom in half an hour?”

He’s left on read for a full, anxious two seconds.

“!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

“YOU KIDDING? BE THERE IN THE”

"*TREE"

“THRE MAYBE FIVE"

"OKAY TEN MINUTES TOPS”

“DON’T GO ANYWHERE”

Dipper drops back on the bed, letting out a soft laugh.

Wow. That was easy.

Somewhere, through their bond, Dipper can feel Bill bustling around at a far distance. The trip back’s going to be a bit, he guesses.

Dipper sets his phone on the bedside table - then pauses. Heart beating a little faster, a tent in his pants - then tugs the drawer below it open. They’re going to need the lube soon anyway. Might as well snag it.

Still, the bed’s comfy and Dipper wasn’t doing anything anyway. He settles down to mess with the internet on his phone - spotty, again, it never works right in Bill’s place.

About nine minutes later, he realizes he’s obsessively checking the door now.

Totally normal, though. Bill’s usually later than he says he’ll be. Dipper knew he was in for a wait, though for once he’s oddly impatient. As soon as Bill gets here, he’s going to -

…Not be able to do much, since Dipper basically has nothing set up but the lube. Might as well get on that now before it makes another delay.

Dipper sighs, shrugging his shirt off, and kicking off his shoes. Shuffling out of his pants, and casting them aside. The underwear has to go, too. Last time Dipper tried a ‘seduction’ with his boxers still on, Bill teased him about it.

Lube, check. Collar, on. Being naked in their bedroom isn’t uncomfortable even on top of the blankets, with that eternal fireplace burning. Dipper kicks the last leg of his boxers off just as the thumping of footsteps sounds from outside the door.

Eleven minutes of waiting. Something to tease Bill about in a minute.

Then a thud. The locked knob jiggles for a moment. A muffled swear - then the brief zap of the magical locks unclicking.

Bill’s not only eager, it’s like he’s worried that he’ll miss out on the chance. Like Dipper would pull this and take off, leaving Bill to arrive back at an empty bedroom.

Which, okay. Dipper could. But he’s not going to. Bill may be a multiversal asshole, but he’s done nothing to Dipper to deserve it.

Years ago, he wouldn’t have had any reason to send racy messages to someone. Knowing any picture he did send would get an ‘ew’ or a ‘why’.

Clearly, he hadn’t met the right person yet.

It’s really hard not to smile, so Dipper doesn’t even bother trying.

The door to their bedroom slams open, and Bill Cipher emerges. Still holding the door handle, arms spread wide with a wild, brilliant grin on his face.

Dipper sits up, gives him a little wave, and a slow onceover -

Then raises an eyebrow.

Bill’s grinning. Bill’s delighted. He’s full of all his impeccable confidence, radiating ‘infuriatingly smug’ in a way that Dipper could spot through a blindfold -

But his hair is rather messy, and his suit is in ruins.

Bill stalks forward, and the door slams shut behind him as he starts undoing his tie. “Well, well, well, well, well!” His tongue runs briefly over his teeth, eye roving. “What have we here!”

Dipper shrugs. Normally he’d have a response, but. Eying Bill again doesn’t change the disaster of his clothing.

There’s certainly a lot of something on Bill’s jacket. Greenish stains, brown on his cuffs. Odd purple flecks gobbed on him like clumps of glue. Typically when Bill’s had a summon, he ends up in less dire sartorial straits. There isn’t much blood - Dipper doesn’t think any of it is Bill’s, it’s too drippy - but the stains are unmistakable.

The shirt’s also very. Holey. It’s surprising Bill hasn’t made a pun before stripping it off.

“What happened to you?” Dipper folds his legs under himself. Bill’s still his focus, but now the interest is less specific. “Bad spell? Weird summoner?” Another lookover; it makes him grimace. “A toxic waste dump?”

“There was a lotta stuff around for the summoning. No biggie.” Bill shrugs, nonchalant. He flicks an unidentifiable blob goo off his sleeve, offering Dipper an impeccable smile. “And when things go south in a deal, sometimes you gotta get a little hands on!”

Dipper folds his arms, and says nothing.

“Now look at you!” Bill practically purrs, striding in to flick the tag on the collar. His eye roves over Dipper, gleaming bright. “What a style! Coming from a fashion-comatose guy like you, of all places.” He tucks two fingers under the collar, and leans in with a leer. “I could get used to this.”

“Don’t count on it.” Dipper dodges the finger to his chin. In his peripheral vision, he catches Bill looking disappointed. “You’re not getting anything at the moment.”

Dipper knew what he was implying with his. Invitation. The terms were set a while ago, and the sign of their ‘deal’ is wrapped around his neck. He knows that Bill’s supposed to be in charge -

But, like. There are some limitations.

“Aha! So that’s the game today, huh?” Bill rubs his hands together, eye lighting up. “I can-”

“Nope.” Dipper smacks a palm on Bill’s chest. Bill blinks, but stops gloating enough to look surprised. “Hold on a minute.”

“What?”

“You’re a wreck, Bill.” Like it wasn’t obvious. Bill glances down at himself. A flicker of a grimace crosses his face, and Dipper gives him a couple quick pats on the chest. “Go clean up first.”

“Oh, is that the problem?” Bill’s grin returns, leaning in anyway. Dipper dodges the kiss, only to have it land next to his ear. Squirming doesn’t help, because Bill plants a few more, nipping briefly at his earlobe - and chuckles. “I thought you liked things messy.”

Dipper feels heat rise into his face. Now he gives his idiot husband a shove. “Not like this.”

“Aw, c’mon!” Bill puckers up to an absurd degree, hands clasped near his chest. “Give your husband a smooch. It’s the least you could do!”

“Nope.” Dipper isn’t going to smile. It’d only encourage him. His next push doesn’t move this obnoxious dick, so he gets up to add more force behind the shoving. “Go on, get moving.”

Bill starts cackling. Dipper ends up having to dig his feet in the carpet, bearing down as Bill keeps trying to kiss his face, nudging him in the vague direction of the bathroom. Adding an elbow, for emphasis. At this point, he’d settle for getting Bill to the dresser to change.

“What, not into the acid-splattered gooey look?” Bill backs up slowly as Dipper presses him along, with a teasing grab or two at his butt - though eventually, he raises his hands. “Alright, alright. Hang tight here. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Bill clicks his tongue as he finally backs into the bathroom with double finger guns and a wink. Dipper flips him off, just because. Sticking his tongue out in Bill’s direction for good measure - then at the mark on his left palm.

Off in the bathroom, he hears a distant chuckle.

Not the most elegant start to the evening. But then, he doesn’t think they’ve ever had one.

Dipper sits back down on the mattress. Bouncing in place a few times. At least the bed is comfy. Waiting here is more than tolerable. It’s not even chilly, with the eternal fire burning in that fireplace.

A little more waiting won’t matter, anyway. Bill will be out within moments, as quick as he can; Dipper can hear the rush of water, and his husband humming a cheery tune to himself.

Once Bill’s done changing. Once he’s wiped off the residue and changed his clothes. He’ll be ready, and wanting things from one young human, who’s - not technically helpless, but for the moment pretending to be. He could make all kinds of demands.

Dipper runs a finger under the collar.

Bill’s enthusiasm, in fact, carries over into all the things he does. Especially when he wants to entertain, or if he’s on a mission to conquer.

Technically this situation qualifies for both.

Dipper rubs his slightly damp palms on his thighs, and breathes out slowly.

He can already imagine Bill bursting into the room, with a show of power. Throwing the door open, alight with fire, full of all the energy and violence that a nightmare demon can display. His strong arms braced against the doorframe, and a wicked grin on his face. Ready to shamelessly ogle the present he’s arrived to collect.

The lube’s close by. Dipper fumbles for the bottle and clicks it open.

It’s cool against his palm and cooler against his dick as he takes himself in hand.

He already knows what Bill looks like when he’s naked, and it’s easy to picture the lean lines of him, all the bare skin and the shape of his muscles. Bill’s unfortunately attractive. Oddly compelling. Dipper has to hand it to himself; he did an amazing job on the human shape, even unintentionally.

The form enhances what should be absurd. Someone. Demanding. Conniving and evil and selfish, taking what he wants, and he wants Dipper, badly. Undeniably so; Dipper's felt it before, in his palm or in his mouth or inside him.

Letting a slow sigh, Dipper rests back on the bed. He slows in his strokes, running his thumb over the head of his dick.

Soon, Bill will loom over Dipper and take him by the collar, tugging him up with undeniable force and an evil grin. Maybe with his pants unzipped, his thick cock hard and -

“Already getting started, are ya?”

With instincts long-honed from many lonely nights, Dipper yanks the blanket over himself.

“Aw, someone’s shy!” Bill walks closer, wearing both a smug look and a fresh set of clothes. He throws in a wink in response to Dipper’s glare, and starts rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. “Ease up already. Nothing I haven’t seen before.”

Right. Just Bill. Dipper feels his shoulders drop; he still flips Bill off again, out of sheer contrariness. Bill may have seen everything before, but he also didn’t have to make a startling entrance. Probably part of the fun for him. Because he’s a jerk.

Dipper sighs, and tosses the blanket away. “You could have told me you were ready.”

“Oh, I’m more than ready.” Bill responds easily. He waves off Dipper’s comment as he walks to the side of the bed. As he draws his arms apart, a thin line of black connects them. Pulled straight into existence, with all the power he has. And winks. “I’m prepared.”

Dipper swallows, touching the collar again. His eyes follow the long, long line of the leash, held in Bill’s solid grip.

He knew what he was in for. What he signed up for, technically. Having it be so certain makes him want to tremble - and also makes his traitorous dick very, very hard.

Bill stalks in, nudging Dipper’s chin upward with a grin - and clicks the lead onto the collar.

He nods to himself, once. Wraps the very end of the leash around his palm. Then simply stands there, hands on his hips. “Go on.”

That’s. Kind of a vague prompt. Dipper hesitates, he’s not sure what to do-

“I mean, don’t stop the show, sapling.” Bill settles back, tucking his thumbs into his pockets with a wicked smile. “Touch yourself.”

“Oh.” Dipper feels his heart start to race.

Bill’s watching intently, with a pleased smirk on his face, expecting his ‘show’ - And, while he’s ogled Dipper going at this before, it wasn’t in this context.

Typically, Dipper doesn’t let Bill push him around. Definitely never listens to his weirder requests. But this time, Dipper asked for it. He knew what he was getting into. When he called Bill over. When he made himself available, when he invited Bill to take advantage of it - and that means following Bill’s lead.

Dipper lies back on the mattress. Shutting his eyes, and taking his dick in hand again.

If he doesn’t look, he can pretend that Bill’s not watching. Not that it helps much. Jerking off feels different, it’s hard to keep it slow. Bill’s keeping quiet, but Dipper can feel his gaze on his skin like heat.

“That’s it.” Bill’s voice drops a little, lower and more intent. “Very nice.”

Dipper keeps his eyes shut. Now he presses his lips together to cover a moan. Knowing Bill’s watching him always makes him self-conscious no matter what he’s doing. Especially with this. Keeping note of how he holds himself, to how much Bill can see - whether he should arch up or angle himself differently, it’s embarrassing and exciting, like the picture he sent but with Bill right there watching. Dipper burns with awareness, and heat rises into his face.

There’s a soft shuffle of steps. Like Bill’s getting closer - no, he is, Dipper can tell by the pleased sound he makes. “Spread your legs.”

Demanding as always; why does he have to, isn’t this enough? Dipper’s already so exposed and - There isn’t much space, sitting like this - but he lies back and props his feet on the bed. Knees lifted and legs open.

There’s a soft click, and a softer groan. Dipper blinks an eye open.

Bill’s undone his belt; his fly open and his pants pushed slightly down. He’s hard and standing out against his shirt, at least as turned on as Dipper is - and taking himself in hand with slow strokes that Dipper watches with a sharp spark of arousal.

Maybe it’s more like outright staring. Who cares; Bill’s doing it right back to him, fair’s fair.

Dipper tightens his grip. Dick throbbing at the knowledge that Bill likes what he sees. Knowing he’s admiring him, that for some reason Bill loves watching this, he’s said as much before.

None of which helps Dipper keep the pace slow, he’s wanted to come for a while and now he could, if it wouldn’t ruin the upcoming events.

“Now that’s what I like to see.” Bill sets a palm below one of Dipper’s raised knees, sliding it downward. “Every bit of my eager little mortal, ready for me.” His eye trails over Dipper’s own frantic grip on his dick, stroking himself at a far more measured pace. Watching Dipper like he’s fascinating, like this embarrassing display is a delight. “All mine.”

“Shut up. It’s not -” Dipper wants to clamp his legs together, but Bill shoves them back apart. Thumbs tracing the skin of Dipper’s thighs, leaning in to plant a kiss on the skin. Dipper takes another breath. “I just wanted…” He stumbles over what he was going to say, as Bill settles in between his legs, leaning over him - and Dipper lets his head drop back with a groan. “Fuck.”

“Oh sure, in a minute. Though honestly, I could watch this all day!” Bill keeps petting his legs, and yeah, definitely looming - while looking terrifically smug about it. “But I think you called me in ‘cause you wanted a hand.”

“Yeah.” Of course Dipper wants a hand, or. More than that. He could jerk off anytime, that’s simple, he didn’t need to get Bill involved for that. It's just that what Bill does to him is so much better. ”Please.”

Bill hums for a moment, considering his prize. Tapping Dipper’s sides briefly, before leaning in to lick at his nipple, sucking it into his mouth before nipping, teeth light on the flesh.

Dipper holds back a gasp. That sent a spark of heat right down to his dick. Bill’s tongue lathes over it again, warm and wet, while he takes the other between two fingers, rolls it around, and pinches, both sharp and good.

“God.” Dipper keeps a deathgrip on his dick, slowing down. The other grips Bill’s hair. He’s not sure if he wants to push him in or pull him away - and Bill’s hum against his chest sounds like he’s covering a laugh. “You bastard.”

Bill mutters something that might be ‘you like it’, shoulders shaking with amusement. Moving on, and kissing further down Dipper’s stomach. Much less intense. Warm, and pleasant. Dipper lets out a held breath.

Only to pull another in, quick, because now Bill’s switched. Taking the already teased one in hand to roll and pinch when it’s already oversensitive from his tongue. It’s a bright shock of pleasure, of pain, and Dipper arches up with a gasp, before clasping his free hand over his mouth.

“Hey!” Bill stops his descent suddenly, pausing just above Dipper’s navel. He’s frowning, mouth inches away from Dipper’s dick. “What did I say about noises?”

Wait, why is Bill - Dipper sits up, blinking down at him.

He heard what Bill just said, but retorts are. Difficult right now. Made worse because he’s watching Bill’s lips, and the way his tongue moves, so close to where he wants them.

But wait, right, he remembers this. It was…. Dipper stares at him, unable to think. “Uh.”

“It was ‘make lots of ‘em’, if you need the reminder. Say whatever comes to mind!” Bill slides his hands down Dipper’s chest, rudely squeezing his thighs again. His smile widens, bright with enthusiasm. “Tell me what you’re thinking.”

Dipper swallows. What Bill’s asking for is-

No, he can’t. He has so many thoughts, all the time, and during sex they’re all dumb and horny. Downright ridiculous.

Right now, his mind’s drawing a blank. Even for the stupid stuff.

For Bill, it’s easy. He always says what he’s thinking, especially in bed. Hell, he can go on a full on monologue; has, at times, and it’s always something filthy and insane and arousing. Half of the things Bill says sound absurd in the light of day - but in the moment they’re actually pretty great.

And Bill’s seen thousands of minds and dreams, he’s encountered every situation, seen infinite fantasies. Dipper doesn’t think he has enough imagination to get weird enough to match.

Dipper turns his head away instead, keeping his mouth shut. Hearing - and feeling - Bill’s impatient sigh.

There’s also no way Bill’s going to move forward without being told something. But. Dipper can’t think of anything good.

After a moment, Bill smacks him lightly on the side. “Speak up already.” He plants another wet kiss on Dipper’s stomach, so close to his dick. Offering up a wide, teasing smile. “What do you want?”

A lot of things. Some other stuff. A myriad of ideas, none of which Bill knows about, because -

Dipper sits up. The idea snaps back into place.

Because Bill can’t get into Dipper’s head.

He’s been million brains, encountered a million fantasies - but none of them are what Dipper thinks about when he jerks off.

Dipper takes a slow calming breath. Bill’s been waiting, mouthing against his hip, hot breath ghosting over his groin. Distracting, but not enough to truly help.

In theory, this is simple. Just like his invitation, it doesn’t have to be perfect, so long as the intent is there.

Really, Bill might love whatever comes out of his mouth, because in this one, specific circumstance he’s not a mind-reader. It must drive him insane, that he can’t reach in and drag out every fantasy Dipper’s ever had, and use all of them against him.

And Dipper’s supposed to do what Bill wants.

Bill’s drags his teeth against the soft skin of his thigh, leaving red lines; his thumbs digging into the juncture of his hip fingers on his stomach - it’s a lot and not enough at the same time, it -

Dipper shuts his eyes. Takes a shuddering breath, and says, “Feels good.”

“Is that so?” Bill’s voice drops to a purr. Dipper hears the bottle of lube click again. “How good?”

Just. Good? Dipper doesn’t know what to tell him, so he ends up saying, “A lot.” Then, “Can you use your mouth?” But that’s not quite it, and now that the words have started tumbling from him Dipper finds he can’t stop - “And I really want you in me again.”

So awkward, without any of Bill’s eloquence. Dipper can’t match him, he just stumbles trying to get it out.

But the way Bill’s eye literally lights up makes Dipper feel a bit better. And the way he groans against Dipper’s skin, and sucks his cock into the hot wet of his mouth, dragging his tongue on the underside, makes it feel fantastically, absolutely better.

Dipper bucks his hips up, tangling fingers in Bill’s hair. Urging him on. Bill moves with it easily, and Dipper feels a low vibration of a held back laugh that makes him groan.

Okay. Not exactly the hottest thing in the world, but, fuck, it didn’t have to be. If it works, it works; Dipper will take the embarrasment, and say way, way dumber stuff, all the time, if it gets Bill to do this.

Bill pulls away, all too suddenly, leaving Dipper bereft and annoyed. Glaring up at Bill’s smug grin, and handsome face.

There isn’t any reason to startle when Bill’s finger pushes in, but. Well, the lube’s cold, and it was sudden. And also...

“Just one?” Dipper frowns up at Bill as his finger works slowly inside him, dipping in and out. Thin and firm, not nearly enough - and Bill’s smirking, too, the jerk. “You can do more than that.”

“I dunno. Should I?” Bill purses his lips, like he’s contemplating it. “I haven’t heard how it feels yet.”

This asshole. Dipper wants to swear, but. That’s useless, so he squeezes his legs around Bill instead.

This jerk just wants to drag things out, doesn’t he. Won’t let up until he’s satisfied. Bill might have control, sure. But he thinks Dipper’s hot, and that means there’s some leverage.

Since Dipper's not getting what he wants. Then he’ll just have to tempt him.

Bill wants to hear him? Fine, no more repressing. Even the soft panting has clearly raised his interest, and Dipper can totally do less to hold himself back.

“It feels great, okay?” Dipper glares up at him. Bill licks his lips, finger curling - and the involuntary moan Dipper lets out makes Bill’s cock visibly twitch. Dipper arches up and strokes himself again, while Bill’s occupied. “I can take more. I want it.”

Bill opens his mouth. Like he’s about to interrupt, or tease - Before he can say anything, Dipper reaches down and hauls Bill’s hand closer, urging it in.

He knows Bill can do worse. That he wants to be inside, so he’ll help him imagine what else he could be doing -

“Ah ah ah! Fantastic performance, sapling.” Bill catches his wrists, forcing them up and away. “Until you got too cocky.” And winks at his own awful pun.

Damn it, Dipper wants to swat him. He was almost - he tries to yank away, but Bill’s too strong and his grip too tight. Leaning over him, and drawing his arms over his head. over him now, kneeling between his legs.

Bill slides the collar to the side, wraps Dipper’s hands together with the long leather of the leash. Not tightly, but firm. He leans over Dipper, chest above his face - and damn it, Dipper’s halfway tempted to just bite some of the buttons of Bill’s shirt open.

Then he sinks back, and grins. Dipper moves to swat him, and can’t. He yanks at the leash again, strains against it, but there’s barely any give -

And when he glances up at the headboard, Bill’s looped the end onto a hook. The leather drawn tight, keeping Dipper's arms raised.

Glaring at Bill gets a temporary reprieve as Dipper glares at his restraint instead. Then back at Bill, who’s unbearably smug about his stunt. Dipper sinks back on the mattress with a huff.

“Can’t have you coming too soon, y’know.” Bill releases his arms, tracing down Dipper’s neck, fingers trailing around the collar. And throwing in a wink for good measure. “Not when we got all night to play around.”

Oh god. That doesn’t bode well. Or rather, it does, but. In a very specific way.

Dipper tugs at his restraints, arching up and finding no escape. Okay. Better brace himself. Bill’s always loved to torment; he’ll take his time with things. Touch and tease and taunt without truly being satisfying; he’ll make Dipper wait until it almost hurts; it’s going to be terrible and great, just like the demon himself.

“Now!” Bill claps his hands together, rubbing them with anticipation. “Where were we?” Not waiting for a response before slipping a finger - no, two - back inside, rougher than before..

If Dipper does whimper, he’ll deny it later. It makes Bill raise an eyebrow, smile growing a fraction; Dipper pushes into his fingers only to find Bill retreating with a grin. He’s not going to let Dipper urge him on. Definitely won’t let him come by himself, or get there before he’s allowed. Everything’s under Bill’s control, something both incredibly frustrating and. Interesting.

And Bill’s too experienced. Bill’s too clever. The way he presses inside is unfortunately great. They’ve been together long enough that Bill knows exactly where he needs to touch, and does it with aplomb -

And just enough to tease.

Dipper clicks his teeth shut against another sound. Breathing slowly, and shutting his eyes.

The stretch is good. The pressure, so much better; warm and invasive. Arousing. Bill rolls inside him, presses and strokes, his hand pushing against Dipper hard - then retreating - only to fuck into him again like Bill could make Dipper a mess just with his hand.

Which he is, the asshole. Because it is good. Really good. A firm pressure and a repeating touch, sending a throb of pleasure each time, and making precome drip from Dipper’s dick. Withdrawing, then returning with a hard push, in and out, a burst of pleasure only to deny it again. Slow, then fast. A quick slide and a long press that makes Dipper see stars in his vision, only to pull back out. It’s Bill, curling his fingers in the way that makes Dipper arch up and moan - then suddenly leaving him empty and nearly gasping.

Dipper can’t - His teeth are gritted, he doesn't want to sound so needy - but he whines, and doesn’t choke it back.

“Look at you. So responsive! You must have really missed me, huh?” Bill sounds delighted. Adding a third finger - and this time Dipper couldn’t cover the whimper he makes even if he wanted to. “It’s adorable.”

God, everything he’s doing is teasing. Deliberately not-quite-enough, on purpose. Keeping up that low, intense pressure without letting Dipper come, just driving him close to the edge and backing off like a bastard.

“It’d be easy to make you come like this.” Bill kisses down Dipper’s dick, then. Licking up the length with a wet sound that makes it jump under his tongue. He kisses the head with a smirk - “Could be fun to make you lose it.”

He could, he really could. His tongue on Dipper’s dick and his fingers inside - Dipper strains against the leash, swearing under his breath. It would be good, sure - but he wants to reach down. Make Bill do more. To stop the teasing and taunting, treat him rougher, and he ends up blurting, “Don’t.”

“Oh?” Bill curls his fingers; a firm shock of pressure, and the heel of his hand nudging his balls. Spreading wide inside him for an aching stretch.“Then why’d you call me here?”

“Because I wanted it.” Dipper says, out loud. Speaking is the only way to get Bill to move on, and it’s easier to ignore the embarrassment, when the burn of needing to come is so much more. Bill licks his lips, anticipatory - and Dipper admits, “I wanted you to fuck me.”

All he gets is Bill’s fingers withdrawing and that sucks. Dipper whines, teeth bared. Now he feels empty and urgent and Bill’s not touching him, the jerk.

“Well, why didn’t you say so!” Bill shuffles his pants down, stroking another palmful of lube over himself, a little faster than usual. “Not a problem. In fact,” He pushes Dipper’s legs further up, and winks. “It’d be my pleasure.”

Dipper slumps. He goes with Bill’s positioning, rude and insistent, letting himself be pliable this time. Though he feels empty, he knows that won’t last, and he’ll have what he wants.

Finally.

Bill rubs the head of his cock against Dipper, smugly enough to make Dipper swear - then laughing. Holding himself steady, and pushing in, just enough for Dipper to feel the slight jolt as the head enters - then withdraws again, tapping against him. A motion that doesn’t have any intent of really going for it -

Frustrated, Dipper tries hauling Bill in with his legs - for a moment, thinks he’s succeeded - but Bill’s cock slips away to rest against him, brushing against Dipper’s own. It leaves Bill cackling with amusement; Dipper wants to swat him, or maybe kiss him. Since he can’t do either, he tugs at the leash again. “Bill.”

“Gotta take my time, kid!” No remorse; the torturous bastard leans over him, and guides himself in, with a low, lingering stretch, one Dipper knows so well, heavy and hard inside.. Bill surges forward, fully seated and Dipper has to gasp, back arching - “You’re always.” He shuts his eye, a brief flicker as his hips rock in. “So tight for me.”

“Hn.” With nothing to protest, Dipper nods instead, rapid and eager. Bill’s cock hits just the right places, Dipper can’t help but move into it. Arching up, pushing his. his hips into that filling weight, feeling Bill fucking into him, deeper and so much that Dipper has to yank at his restraints - “You’re just. Too big.”

“So that’s what you were thinking about,” Bill hisses. There’s a throb inside, a surge forward that makes Dipper gasp, open his eyes. Seeing Bill’s own eye alight, glowing gold. The weight of his presence and his quickening pace makes Dipper want to grab at him, anything to get him closer. “That’s what gets you off.”

“Yeah.” Mostly what Dipper was imagining, but not quite - and shit, he should just say it. He could come like this, it’s good, it’s great, but Bill’s not quite putting his back into it the way Dipper would really like. If he’d do a little more, he could almost - “Like. I wanted it and. I didn’t have to say it, you just.” He shuts his eyes, thinking about half-remembered sessions alone - “Come over and have me, because you want me.” He takes a shaking breath, Bill’s hands are suddenly tight on his hips - “‘Cause I feel too good.”

Bill swears, loud and urgent - and the next snap of his hips makes Dipper strain against his bonds. That’s it. Strong and demanding, and rough, he missed it.

“You got that part right.” Bill breathy, his tongue flickering over his lips. He adds another startling pinch to a nipple that thrums down Dipper’s body, electric pleasure. “I’ll take everything I want from you.” A violent thrust, Bill’s breath hitching as Dipper moans - loud enough to make him want to cringe - but must Bill like it, because his voice lowers into a growl. “Have my way with you. Make you come on my cock.”

If he keeps this up. If Bill puts his back into it, Dipper would, definitely, it’s already a lot and nearly enough -

“Yes. Please.” Now that he’s started he can’t seem to shut his mouth. Thinking about Bill, shoving him down, or up against a wall, giving Dipper what he wants and then - “And you’ll come in me. So much.” Dipper blurts, and hears Bill suck in a sudden breath. “You always - I really like it.”

Bill slows; he nearly stills in place. Dipper can see his chest heaving, his eye bright - Then he captures Dipper’s face with both hands, pulling him in for a kiss.

Dipper opens up for it, groaning into it. Wanting to draw his arms down around the back of Bill’s neck. Since that’s impossible, he kisses back. Trying to tell Bill how much he needs this, with just his mouth.

Until this bastard, this asshole. This absolute monster, pulls away and out.

Dipper nearly kicks him. He definitely swears. He needs to come and Bill’s being twice the bastard than usual; he tries to get a hold of his dick, but he’s trapped, left to writhe, helpless, with Bill staring down at him.

Bill shuffles out of his pants, unbuttoning his shirt. Looming over Dipper again, with his bare chest almost distracting from that horrible wide smile. So close, but so far away, unable to be touched -

“Glad to hear it, kid,” Bill purrs, low and pleased. Jerking himself off again, quicker than before, his grip tight. “‘Cause I’ve been thinking about that all day.”

Dipper’s eyes widen - oh, he’s really going to -

And Bill slides inside again, the pressure heavy inside. Dipper groans at the return. Only one thrust, though. A brief second, Bill’s hips tight against his own - then, fuck, Bill’s coming. Unmistakable, making Dipper whine between his teeth, muscles tensing. Watching the flutter of Bill’s eyelashes, feeling his thick cock pulsing and the heat inside. And Dipper wants to match that pleasure, touch himself as well, get off, but Bill won’t let him. This is unfair.

“How’s that feel, kid?” Bill asks, squeezing Dipper’s thighs for a moment, before he grasps Dipper’s dick and jerks it, with quick, effective motions. “Having demon come inside you.”

Making words is a struggle, so Dipper simply nods again. Face burning, arms pressed together. He can feel it hot and deep inside and fuck, he does like it, he can’t hold Bill in place forever with his legs but he wants to keep as much as he can. Knowing how it means Bill wants him. How much he can make Bill feel good, and having the proof, right there.

Bill pulls out again, after a few slow thrusts, gazing down with a smug, satisfied look that Dipper wishes he was wearing. He wants Bill to come back. For him to fuck him, he’s left Dipper bereft and empty, with an aching throb between his legs. With urgency fading, and the pleasure dropping from the peak, it’s going to be a while before he gets to feel the same way. Building things back up is going to take so long.

Then Dipper’s arms are freed, and he’s hauled up to sit by the tight grip on the leash. The relief of that tension, at least, is something. Dipper rubs his wrists, blinking back at Bill. What -?

The next tug forces Dipper up to his knees, and Bill draws him in for a kiss, free hand buried in Dipper’s hair. Dipper responds as best he can. Would love to grab Bill back, in the same way - but his arms are shaking. He settles for touching Bill’s chest instead, in slow petting motions.

Bill makes a pleased sound, drawing back with a smile. “You like it better when I fuck you?” He prompts, shifting behind Dipper to grab his chin, tilting his head back. A firm thumb runs over Dipper’s bottom lip. “Or when I take your pretty little mouth?”

Which is - Dipper doesn’t know. He wishes he could think straight, but most of his thoughts are drawn to the unfulfilled throb in his groin. He likes taking Bill in his mouth, likes what Bill does to him in bed, all of it, he couldn’t choose - “I… don’t know.”

“Eh, that’s fair! I couldn’t pick a favorite either.” Bill pats Dipper’s hip, drawing him in until his back is pressed against his chest. “It’s all fun.”

Then Dipper’s wheeled around, quick enough to be startling. Behind him, Bill settles down comfortably, drawing Dipper fully into his lap.

It’s a comfortable enough position. Dipper even hears a soft ‘thump’ as Bill drops back against something soft. Likely he’s conjured another pillow pile, or something other surface to relax against. All cozy enough that Dipper would normally lean back with him, tuck Bill’s arms around him, and wriggle in an interesting way that might get him to help.

Instead, he stares ahead for a long few seconds - then scrambles at the sheets in surprise.

So much for the headboard. Bill’s taken a new tactic, thrown in a new addition. In this case, a very reflective one.

Dipper guesses the ‘show’ isn’t over.

He blinks - his reflection blinks back at him - and Dipper’s suddenly nervous. He can’t back up, it only puts him further into Bill’s grasp. “What-”

“What a sight.” Bill sighs, sounding very, very pleased with himself. He grabs Dipper’s thighs, parting and squeezing them. “One of my favorites, honestly.”

The ‘sight’ is. Something.

Dipper stares at himself in the mirror. God, he looks like a total mess. Face red, marks from Bill’s mouth, hair disheveled - ‘fucked’ would be a good description, in multiple senses - And there’s Bill, sitting behind him with a smug, pleased grin. Dipper meets his gaze in the reflection momentarily - then jerks his head away. He can’t look at this, it’s not -

“And why wouldn’t it be?” Bill continues. His breath is hot against Dipper’s neck, hands slipping around and under Dipper’s thighs - “When I get to see this.”

When Bill pulls his legs up, Dipper squirms - hard not to, he’s flexible but still, rude - and tenses at the sight. Bill’s a pervert, of course he likes staring at this, but Dipper can’t just. Look at what Bill’s done to him. Not without feeling a burn of shame and arousal curling in his stomach. Bill’s come has slightly spilled, wet on his thigh, dick still standing up, so obvious that he’s been taken and fucked, that he’s let himself be used, and behind him Bill’s practically gloating at how thoroughly he’s left his mark.

“I see you’re a fan as well!” Bill sounds all too chipper. He shifts slightly, nuzzling against Dipper’s shoulder. “You got good taste, kid.”

This jerk. Dipper’s brief attempt at glaring at him means he catches sight of himself in the mirror. With his traitorous dick leaking a bead of precome, and his face so red, he looks like he’s sunburnt.

“Y’know, I’d say how much I love fucking you, but eh. You won’t take my word for it. You’re a guy who loves having proof.” Bill’s voice lowers, as he leans further back - “Good thing I left you plenty.”

Dipper glances at their reflection again, grimacing - then does a double-take. Because Bill’s cock has risen with interest again, nearly covering Dipper’s own embarrassing sight. And well. He’s only human. He might look a little bit longer at that.

“You want another round?” Bill asks, almost nonchalantly, all-too innocent. Fuck, yes, of course Dipper does, he doesn’t know why Bill asked - “You wanna come on my cock?” Dipper nods again; he swallows. Yes, he really does, he’s aching and empty and been left hanging - And Bill laughs. “Then go ahead, sapling.” Voice lowered, deeply amused. “Put it in.”

Bill’s really going to make him - Dipper slumps a little, realizing that of course he is. Bill’s not in position to do it himself, and it’d be stupid to let him just poke around and hope it found its mark. If Dipper wants - then he’ll have to -

Dipper hesitates, then reaches down to get Bill into position. Hard and throbbing in his grip. Strokes it once, just to feel it, and hear Bill moan. Teamwork is rare, but as Bill lowers him slowly, Dipper adjusts his hips and holds him steady.

The blunt head of Bill’s cock pops in easily; Dipper draws his hands back up. Glancing, inevitably, at his reflection.. He already knew Bill was impressive, he’s handled it hundreds of times. Watching is different.

The very sight of Bill’s cock entering looks so much more impossible than it is. Like it shouldn’t feel as good as it does. Dipper’s own cock twitches and he takes a quick breath, watching as Bill slides him down his length, inch by inch.

“That’s it. So ready for me.” Bill moves his hips in slow motions, small, teasing thrusts. A slow push-pull that makes Dipper want to slap his hands away and sit down, take the rest in already. With Bill holding him, all he can do is watch. As Bill guides it in, then draws back, nearly popping out before making him take more, and Dipper can see the length of his cock streaked with white from his previous release. “Good boy.”

Dipper nearly shoves a hand into his mouth - no, he’s not supposed to cover the sound - then grips tight at the sheets instead. Shit, those words shouldn’t affect him this much, but they sound really good. Or maybe it’s the way Bill finally sets Dipper in his lap, fully seated, and lets go of his legs. One of the two leaves Dipper shaking, and pushing against that heavy length inside.

“Feel that?” Bill pushes his hips up, and Dipper whimpers. Being so full, so completely taken, he can feel it inside and it’s so much, enough to almost make him lose it- “You got all of it in, kid.”

Bill adds a particularly vicious thrust behind the words. No hesitation, no gentleness, and Dipper braces himself, getting his legs under him. Because he can take it, he wants to - and joke is on Bill; he has no idea what he makes Dipper feel. Why he asked for him. Why he thinks of him when he jerks off, and why he wants this, exactly this; Bill inside him, treating him roughly, it’s going to make him -

Dipper’s aware he’s talking, this time. Making sounds, and words, both too loud and too embarrassing- but Bill got him started on it and now he can’t stop. A meaningless ramble, total nonsense about how it’s good, how he likes it, urging Bill to fuck him, no harder, all in a stream of thought that he can’t stop, even though his face burns.

Which Bill really likes.. Even his rhythm occasionally stutters. Like he can’t help but move when Dipper says something he truly likes, and that seems like every other word, with his touch constantly roving. Straying from Dipper’s hips, just to grope at his chest or his stomach or legs.

“You want it so bad. Like you were made for me.” Bill growls, finally setting his grip on Dipper’s waist, leaning back more to jerk up into him - “Have you any time I want. My own personal slut.” Bill’s not only fucking up into him, he’s now holding Dipper tight, strong arms lifting and shoving him down, ; it takes everything to try and match his pace - “A perfect little toy.”

And Dipper would let Bill have him, like it if Bill took him, whenever. He could be trying to make notes at his desk and Bill would walk up and shove him down, taking him just because he wanted to, or was bored; make him kneel and suck his cock, heavy in his mouth - or sit in his lap, feeling Bill staying hard inside, impossible and inhuman, waiting for Dipper to be ready to get fucked again, fill him up with every load of come Bill has, over and over - Bill’s touching his dick, but he barely needs to stroke twice before Dipper’s coming in and over his hand.

Behind him, Bill swears again, long and loud. Then he’s coming again, his chest heaving and his cock pulsing inside. Dipper pushes into it with a few nudges of his hips.

They sit there for a moment. Both catching their breath Dipper lets his head loll back. god he needed that.

Getting up should probably. Be one at some point. But Bill’s still petting his sides, and his legs feel like jelly.

Lesson learned: Calling Bill over for this. For, essentially, a booty call, was a fantastic idea. No need to doubt it, it’s quick and effective and great. Absolutely the right choice.

Cuddling like this is nice, but with the pleasure faded it’s. Vaguely sticky. Dipper shifts a bit, trying to get up the urge to move - but Bill takes the initiative, and Dipper lets out a little ‘mh’ as he’s lifted up and plopped on his side onto the mattress. The gesture’s oddly disappointing -

“Ugh,” Bill groans, and follows a moment later. He tucks an arm under Dipper’s head, another pats his hip. “Y’know, I used to hear all the time about how getting hitched really killed the bedroom stuff.” His fingers idly trace nonsense patterns on Dipper’s side, over his stomach. “No idea what they were on about.”

Dipper huffs out a little laugh. Figures that Bill would pick up on that cliche, over all the time he’s been around. One even Dipper’s heard of, for that matter.

All he can do is shrug. “They must be doing it wrong.” Dipper suggests. Behind him, Bill hums in agreement.

Not that Dipper really knows much about how other people go about their relationships; he’s only had the one himself. Plus, well, demon involvement, that always complicates things. Especially a marriage so strange and unnerving. Complicated, and weird, unexpected in some ways, a billion things. Something neither of the people actually in the damn thing have completely figured out.

Though Dipper can’t deny that it’s very functional.

He wouldn’t trade it for anything else.

When Bill nuzzles into his hair, Dipper takes his hand in his own. Holding it up against his chest, where Bill can feel the beating of his own heart. And because Bill is a jerk, he takes that chance to sneakily pinch a nipple again. Which leads to the predictable bickering, though it’s a little calmer than usual.

Eventually, it kind of just. Trails off. Dipper guesses they’re both too pleased to put real effort in, even for appearances. With a sigh, he rolls onto his back and stretches. Feeling a lingering ache, but mostly relaxed - and Bill’s warmth, so close, is adding to the latter. Plus, everything that Bill’s done to him. Even now, he feels a bit tingly from all the touch.

After a moment, he reaches up to the collar, lazily searching for the clasp.

“Hmmm.” Bill props himself up on one elbow, narrows his eye, and catches Dipper’s hand with his own. He draws it away from the collar, interlacing their fingers with a grin. “Not just yet.”

Oh. Surprising, but not unpleasantly so. Dipper glances down, then back up again. He gives Bill’s hand a squeeze, raising an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Ahem.” Bill rises up, smacking a palm on his chest with pride. “You summoned me, sapling. Trust the contractor you contacted! I’m a real expert in this stuff, ya dig?” He leans over Dipper, planting a kiss on his chest, then his shoulder. “And I don’t think you’re gonna be satisfied with just one.”

Dipper swallows. Right now he’s doing just fine. Relaxed, a little achy, and satisfied. But.

Okay, Bill does have a point; he was in a particular mood earlier. One that’s not completely gone. Even the suggestion has sort of exacerbated the problem.

Though he’d be an idiot not to make it a little tough for him. Just for kicks.

“I summoned you for one thing,” Dipper retorts. He swats his husband on the top of the head, then squirms a little, like he’s about to wriggle out of his grasp. Predictably, Bill reacts by grabbing onto tighter. “You can’t change the deal now.”

“Ha! Didn’t prepare for a double-cross, didja?” Bill draws him back down, looming once more. Pressing Dipper’s shoulders into the bed and grinning, white and wild. He clicks his tongue. “Classic rookie error.”

“You monster.” Dipper presses the back of one hand to his forehead, turning his head to the side - and watches Bill’s shoulders shake with repressed laughter. “I’ll need a minute, though.” Some people have a refractory period, for crying out loud.

“Sure, no problem! The night is young, so are you, and best of all,” Bill says, cheerful enough. He smacks another kiss on Dipper’s forehead, stroking his sides in a not-at-all subtly possessive gesture. He throws in a wink. “I’ve got you right where I want you.”

Arrogant ass. Taking charge of things is par for the course, but now Bill’s acting like this was his idea.

Fine, let him have it. It’s nothing but a pretense, anyway. Dipper rolls his eyes.

They both know who really had the clever idea this time.

Though he does surge up, arms around Bill’s neck, to drag him in for a kiss. “Right back at you.”

#Not Safe For Working #Oh look it's pornblography #Sorry about all this #I don't have any fun tag things I think?#Other than man I am glad to have this done with #Some of these things were finicky as hell

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painting-warhammer · 16 days

Text

Solitaire in the style of Vriska Serket (Homestuck)

Just in time for 4/13! Commentary under cut.

The Lessons Learned

#1: Learn As Much As You Can Before Letting Your Mini Anywhere Near A Brush

As first figures go, this was honestly not as bad as it could have been, but I am an outlier. (and the second figure would be much worse.) Since the proverbial canvas was so expensive, it was a lot of "measure twice, cut once."

youtube

This was the main thing I used, and save for the face looking like chewed-up bubblegum, it came out relatively okay for a first try. Overall, this guy's a legend and this would be far from the only video of his I would reference.

#2: It's Okay To Be Inspired

What really hooked me on Warhammer in general is that you can paint things in your style. This is appealing at first, but if you're not an artist, you're going to be exposed quickly in the worst way possible, and that's by the color wheel theory. If you don't understand contrast and coomplements, all the technique in the world won't save your figure from looking like an eyesore.

This is where "established" characters that you are mimicking end up being your saving grace. If canon material is your bag, that works: You certainly won't lack as far as exact guides then! But in my opinion, you learn a bit more by improvising and trying to make something similar to an established character. Chances are they're popular because they have an appealing color scheme. As it happens, Vriska's various blue motifs really complement her orange, which is something I never realized way back when.

Also, reinterpretation was inevitable. I had initially considered freehanding the sun symbol on her lapel, but when everything was smaller than my pinkie, I just settled for making her jewels yellow. The real masterstroke was taking the Harlequin's Kiss weapon and recoloring it as the Warhammer (oh hey) of Vrillyhoo.

I just took the general colors and used Spiritstone Red on the rounded bits, and made something analogous to it. It's still the neatest part, imo.

#3: The Best Way To Start

For every color, I had a swatch. I had one base color, which I then doused in a shade, and then added one layer paint as the main color and one shade lighter for highlights.

#4: How To Make A Shiny Figure

There's a special paint called Ardcoat that puts a glossy texture on, but something that's a little more muted that gives a shine is... shade paint! I didn't shake the paint pot enough and created a fun glossy texture that you can see on her knee. (I learned how I accidentally did this by asking at my local Warhammer shop, lol)

#5: Don't Be Afraid To Make Mistakes

I'm sure there's more than just this wrong with this figure, but the Solitaire is supposed to be leaping off that little rock there. There were glyphs where I was able to put in a glowing line of Baharroth Blue that was watery enough that it filled in the little gaps on its own. It looked fantastic once...

Unfortunately, I overfilled my brush and it sloughed over into the other creases and ruined the whole effect. I also slopped Mordant Earth onto the stones and made it too ugly.

But that's just it. As much prep work as I was going in with, there was always going to be a mistake, and on a personal psychic level it feels bad when you make it. It ruins a whole day of painting lol. And you can't really stop those emotions, but you should at least try.

#6: You're Not Married To Your Army

It's inevitable that getting your first figure leads you to think about a whole army of them, but I had this distaste in my mouth when I thought about making more than one Vriska. For one, I didn't like any of the other Harlequins or Aeldari, or more importantly, I couldn't think of fun color schemes for them. The thought came to mind to make the ships similar to the Batterwitch/Condesce, but they were too similar color-wise (and even in the symbology!) where it just felt redundant. I get a special kick out of making something different from the boxart, because that's the point in my opinion.

I coped for a while: Green stuff or 3D print horns for the other figures to make them trolls? Suck it up and just use Vriska's color scheme for the others? In the end, I just gave up and called this a practice run. This is still my favorite figure. I'm just happy the first one turned out so nicely, relatively speaking, so I don't really have a lump of paint surrounding what was once a figure like a lot of first-time painters.

But no worries. Because I'd definitely fuck up the next one. 😅 That's for a new post.

#Homestuck #Vriska Serket #painting warhammer #Games Workshop #Warhammer #Warhammer 40K #WarhammerCommunity #Warhammer 40000 #wh 40k #WH40K #Warhammer40K #WarhammerPainting #Miniature Painting #Painting miniatures #Mini Painting #Aeldari #craftworld eldar #harlequins

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greyghoulclub · 25 days

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WIP WEDNESDAY

A snippet from an obikin fic im writing, based on Baby Driver

For all intents and purposes, Anakin didn’t mean for this to happen. It was just one small job to pay off his family’s debts, and he was a free man. All he had to do was wait in the car outside the bank, nice and simple. But trouble seemed to keep an eye out for one Anakin Skywalker, and trouble came in the form of a redheaded man with a gun, yelling at him to start driving. Who was Anakin to refuse?

He weaved through the twisting streets of Corsucant City, pushing the speed limit as far as he could. The man in the back muttered about 10,000 dollars in cash into what looked like a burner phone. Anakin knew to keep his nose out of it. He’d been burned before.

Sirens blared from behind them, giving them chase. The man in the back told Anakin to step on it, his tone warning as to what would happen if Anakin didn’t. White-knuckling the wheel, he pressed on the gas pedal as much as he could, the car engine roaring with pressure. Anakin could feel the other man keeping a close eye on where Anakin was turning to throw off the police’s trail. If Anakin did manage to create a diversion, he looked pleased, as if he was appraising Anakin’s skills. They were racing towards an interchange in the middle of Corsucant, one of the busiest roads in the city, and it was easy to lose someone. Anakin saw two cars on the road that looked very similar to the nondescript black car he was driving, the corner of his mouth pulled into a small smile as he pulled the manoeuvre to get the police car to follow one of the other cars as he took the way towards the western edge of the city. His eyes flicked to the rearview mirror to see if no one was following them. In the all clear. But curiously, the man in the back seemed to be proud of how Anakin managed to pull off that trick, and he vocalised that too. It made Anakin feel a small flutter in his stomach but he didn’t want to look into that now.

“You’ve done this kind of driving before, haven’t you?” his passenger asked. He was looking directly into Anakin’s eyes via the rearview mirror. The other man had this way of speaking, it was charming, amicable even, but his eyes were analysing every move or expression Anakin made.

“I used to,” Anakin answered curtly, keeping his face neutral to the best of his ability. But the man in the back seemed to be able to tell that Anakin wasn’t telling the entire truth. And maybe Anakin was being too naive but felt he could trust this man. And even so, he did owe Anakin big time for getting away from the cops.

“I don’t think you’re telling me everything but either way, you’re good. Could use someone like you on my team, if you’re interested in a job,” something was slipped into Anakin’s pocket, but his gut told him not to look at it. Watto would know and his mother would be disappointed that Anakin was still involved with not-so-legal activities.

“Look where can I drop you off? Can’t risk having you in here for too long,” Anakin sighed, knowing he was in deep shit either way.

“Urscu district. You know the Outlander Club yes?” Anakin nodded, he’d been a patron of that club a few times, when money allowed. Anakin took a sharp left at a junction between the COMPNOR building and the Corsucant public library, heading into the entertainment district. It wasn’t long before he found the Outlander. The outside of the club was dark, the neon lights dimmed in the daylight. It would be an eyesore of colour once nightfall hit.

“Thank you for your help,” a wad of 100 dollar bills was slapped onto Anakin’s lap, “If you reconsider, call the number on the card, and ask for Kenobi.” The door to the car closed and the man disappeared into the club, leaving Anakin staring at the wad of cash he was left with and wondering how the hell he would explain this to his mother.

#I’m gonna try and do these more regularly #keep my motivation going #obikin #star wars #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #obikin fic #obikin fanfic #obikin fanfiction #greyghoul fics

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glimmervoi · 3 months

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A SEALED FATE: EMERALDS AND BLOOD - IV Keys and a Strange Feeling

masterlist

e&b masterlist

Notes: I was really struggling with this chapter and I dont know why lol. I'm not satisfied, and it's much shorter than I wanted it to be. But I couldnt stare at the draft anymore, so i went ahead and decided to post.

I hope that it's not as bad as i think it is lmao, please enjoy!

With only two days left before the winter ball, the castle was packed with caterers and early guests, filling the halls and every room with at least three people at a time, at all times.

It was quite overwhelming for you, especially when you were in a large group of servants who jostled and shoved you as they tried to move quickly beside you in each room.

Ever since you had encountered Prince Namjoon, who had asked you for a tea that you had never heard of, Rae had decided to keep you close to her to avoid any other interactions that could get you in trouble.

You were lucky that another maid had rushed to her as soon as Namjoon had entered the room with his brother. The redheaded maid had stopped you from choosing the wrong tea and a teapot that was only used for special occasions.

Unfortunately, being stuck to Rae’s side also meant being where it was most busy in the castle. Today, it was the ballroom. The large space was packed with caterers and servants, just like any other part of the castle.

The decor was coming along nicely, and every now and then you found yourself stopping to admire it. Many heavy, dark oak tables were brought in and pushed around the room, along with sturdy dining chairs with plush, dark blue cushions made of a smooth velvety fabric.

Deep blue curtains with a shining silver pattern were being lifted above the large arched windows, and beyond the windows were spacious balconies decorated with beautiful winter flowers that thrived in the freezing cold.

Silver lanterns were being hung everywhere, and pine garland dusted with white were draped across every surface. If you had been given the same set of decorations, you would have created an eyesore. A pile of blue and white and silver that made the viewer turn away in disappointment.

Yet, the head caterer in the center of the room who bossed everyone around loudly knew exactly where to place everything. She knew exactly how to avoid creating a cluttered space while also placing a large amount of items together.

The ballroom was nowhere close to being finished, with many other crates full of items that needed to be placed out. But the room still looked beautiful and grande as it was slowly put together.

The sound of a throat being cleared behind you jolted you from your admiration of the progress of the ballroom, and you turned quickly. Behind you stood Rae, whose hands were on her hips.

Her face didn’t show any true irritation, even though there was a frown on her lips. Your slacking could get her in trouble if the wrong person saw it and reported it. She was patient with you, so the least you could do was try to stay productive.

“The centerpieces still need to be set out.” Rae said, nodding her head towards a crate that was overflowing with small metal objects. Were those…keys? “If you could please take care of that, then afterwards you may take a short break for lunch with the others.”

You nodded and hurried over to the crate, peeking inside. The contents were, in fact, keys. Many of them, in different shapes and sizes, made from different kinds of metals. There seemed to be a few that matched each other, too.

Next to the crate of keys was a smaller crate full of glass jars that were painted white. You tilted your head as you examined them, wondering how you were supposed to arrange them. You stood straight and looked around for Rae again in order to ask.

“Looking for some help?” A smooth voice asked from the other side of the crate. You whipped your head around, startled by the sudden voice. In front of you stood a tall man with a beautiful face. For a moment, you couldn’t speak.

His golden skin glowed like he was the sun himself, and his brown eyes were full of warmth. His dark brown hair was a bit messy but was healthy and shiny. Underneath his plain, billowing cream colored shirt and tightly fitting leather pants, you could tell his lean body was also toned. He looked strong, yet graceful.

His clothes looked worn down though, and his old leather riding boots indicated he worked with horses. Was this one of the stableboys? And if so, why was he in the ballroom when there were still guests arriving who needed their horses looked after?

He flashed you a heart shaped smile, and you felt your cheeks grow red. You looked away and nervously laughed, embarrassed by how stupid you might have just looked to him. The energy that surrounded him was almost electrifying, but not in a bad way.

It almost made you giddy, like you could run around the entire ballroom a few times and still feel full of energy afterwards. You swallowed the feeling though.

It didn't matter how he made you feel or what his job here was. He was offering to help. You had no idea how to arrange the centerpieces and you didn’t want to risk getting Rae yelled at for your incompetence.

“I’m just a bit unsure of how to arrange these.” You said quietly to the stranger, fixing your gaze anywhere but his face. “It’s my first ball at the castle, so I’m still trying to understand how things are done.”

“I can help with that.” He said, bending to lift a handful of keys. “These get arranged the same every single year. Please grab a few jars for me.”

You obeyed and lifted two jars from the small crate, following him as he made his way to a table close by. He gestured for you to set the jar down. You placed it in the center of the table, watching as he slid six keys into it.

He pulled away, and you waited expectantly for him to add something else. A plain jar with some keys in it didn’t seem very…grande? Amazing? On par with everything else in the castle?

Sensing your expectancy, the man nodded to the caterers across the room who were busy with other tasks. “They will finish these off with flowers and candles. All you need to do is place the jars and keys.”

“What is the point of the mismatched keys?” You asked, tilting your head slightly. Everything was arranged to perfection in the room. It felt a bit odd to stray from that with such an insignificant thing such as keys.

“It’s for a game that the guests play each winter.” The man explained, holding a small brass key out to you in his large hand. It had three small rubies encrusted into it. A key like that could make everyone in Greenridge rich enough to thrive in the city if it was sold.

You shoved away the thought though. It would be foolish to even daydream about that. Stealing it to sell would be extremely foolish, and it would surely result in a very unenjoyable fate for yourself.

“Each guest pulls a key from the jar.” The man said, closing his fingers around the key. “And then they look for the person who has the same key. There are two of each key. Whoever you match with becomes your partner for the night.”

A matching game? It seemed fun, though more so for guests who were not engaged or married. You asked the man who’s name you still had not learned what married couples did with their keys.

“Even married guests play the game.” He said, moving to the next table. You followed, placing a jar in the center of the table again. “You don’t necessarily have to sleep with the person you match with.”

You blushed at his words, and for a brief moment the thought of you and…him, flashed through your mind. You tried to shove the thought away, your face only growing more red. The man gave you a grin as if he could tell exactly what you were thinking, and you rushed to move on from the conversation.

“How long have you been working for the castle?” You asked, watching as he slid another six keys into the jar. He seemed to be knowledgeable, and you wondered how long it would take for you yourself to remember these things too.

The man was quiet for a moment, before he gave you a strange smile. “A while.” He said, his friendly tone laced with something that you couldn’t quite identify. You wanted to push, to ask just how long “a while” was for him, but before you could he placed the rest of the keys in his hand back into the crate.

“It’s time for me to leave.” He said, dusting invisible dirt from his hands as he glanced at the massive clock hanging from the far wall of the room. “You know how to arrange these now, so I’m sure you will be able to finish this task quickly now.”

You nodded, wanting to say more. You wanted to ask his name, what part of the castle he worked in, if you would be running into him again. You were drawn to him, and he was quite handsome. Surely there was nothing wrong with wanting to get to know him better, right?

“I will see you soon.” He said, giving you a wink. You blinked and your cheeks grew red again, but he began the walk to the large double doors of the ballroom before you could muster a response.

Was he…flirting with you? A wink was flirting, right?

The thought made your heart beat fast. In Greenridge, a few men your age had teased you and expressed interest. Once, you had even flirted back. This time it felt different however.

You wanted to see him again, and as you watched his graceful frame disappear through the doors you felt a strange emptiness in your stomach. You turned back to the keys and jars, frowning.

You tried to push past the sudden cold in your bones as you bent down and picked up a handful of the mixed keys. You would finish this task and then try to speak to Rae during lunch.

Maybe talking about it with someone would ease the feeling.

#bts #yandere bts #yandere bts fic #bts fic #emeralds and blood #yandere hoseok #yandere jimin #yandere jin #yandere jungkook #yandere namjoon

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gripefroot · 6 months

Text

Crooked Ways [13/22]

“You love those boardroom meetings, cricket. You’ve been begging to go with me since you were ten.”

“That was before I realized how boring they were!”

“No, no - I remember last year when you got so mad at the accounting department that you climbed on the conference table and threw your shoes at the managers. You laughed all night long. Your mother fretted that you were going insane.”

Bulma was insane.

Fingers tap-tapping on the same conference table, she continued to replay the conversation with Dad to figure out how, exactly, she could have explicitly told him no and still ended up in the Capsule Corp high rise in downtown West City. It irritated her enough that it stopped her mind from going where it wanted to go.

Remembering what she shouldn’t think about only made her want to think of it more. The immediate response in her body had her sitting up straighter in her chair at the head of the table, uncrossing her legs and blinking in a flurry. At the opposite end, a marketer was giving a presentation that she didn’t care about. Since she read through the monthly reports, she already knew what he was saying. Couldn’t she have attended through video conference? That way no one would be able to see her flushed cheeks…

Vegeta. This was Vegeta’s fault.

Her teeth dug into her bottom lip, exactly where his teeth had done the same the night before. And the night before that. And the night before…

How many days had it been? Since they’d created the strangest nighttime routine, after their daily bickering and respective responsibilities they fell onto the couch in front of the television every night and kissed and kissed and kissed…

It was a much better distraction than any horror movie. Sometimes Bulma wondered what Vegeta was seeking a distraction from, but she’d never asked.

He’d even given his approval of the new gravity sensors in the training pod in the form of a kiss. She’d expected him to grab her rear, too, but his hand floating down her back had stopped at the base of her spine before drawing away. Disappointing, but Vegeta was full of odd boundaries and cold walls she hadn’t learned to navigate yet.

“Ma’am? Miss Bulma?”

Bulma put on a dazzling smile, focusing her eyes on the man across the room to give him a few polite, generic comments. He gave a sigh of relief, ending his presentation. She let out a long, slow breath while whispered conversation broke out. The next pale, sweating man stood to make his presentation. Would this never end?

At some point she picked up a pencil, sketching out the battle suit that was at the top of her priority list. And then another, with a few tweaked differences. Looped feet to better stay in his boots. Then another with attached feet entirely. What would he say to that? He’d mentioned that the Frieza Force suits were single pieces. And what about the straps on the armor; would he prefer buckles or elastic that could be slipped over his head and -

“Thank you,” Bulma said politely when the next man finished. And the next. And the next.

Vegeta would be training. Probably half-killing himself, but he liked it enough that Bulma held her tongue about it. Some of the time, at least. She’d probably never get used to seeing him sagging and sweating, reopening wounds and barely able to walk up stairs…

Somehow he always found energy for a makeout. She appreciated that about him.

Next she sketched a half-formed idea that she’d had a few nights earlier. Turning the interior gym into a proper training room for Vegeta so the eyesore of a training pod could be removed from the lawn. Of course, the gravity sensors and technology would have to all be moved, but that was the sort of project she liked…

The managers were packing up their briefcases, muttering amongst each other about dinner. Bulma stood at once, sweeping her drawings and pencil into her purse with a smile for everyone around her. They scrambled to their feet, posturing bow after bow. Annoyance that she was watched so closely, respected so automatically made her steps to the doors too quick. They admired her because she was her father’s daughter, but what about for being her?

High heels in hand, Bulma stepped out of the car at the home compound, the domes turned gold by the light of the setting sun. Instead of going inside to get out of her tight dress or to fill her aching belly with something substantial, she found herself wandering across the lawn to the training pod and the flashing lights visible through the windows. The grass was cool beneath her bare feet, the soil nearly cold. Summer was coming to an end. Only one more summer until…

She beeped her keycard access outside the pod, the whirr of generators and electricity quieting before the door slid open. A cough itched at her throat until she let it out, stepping inside the haze of heat and smoke.

“Why are you interrupting me? I was almost at my limit!”

Bulma waved a hand in front of her face to diffuse the smoke clouding her vision. Vegeta hovered several feet above the ground, shirtless and, indeed, sweating. Some of his hair was smoking. That would explain the burning-hair smell that tickled her nostrils.

“Don’t you want to come inside for dinner?” Bulma asked. A few of the robots, attacks paused by her keycard, beeped.

“I’ll come inside when I’m done!” The roar filled the pod. She pursed her lips, but said nothing else. His temper would burn itself out in a few hours. She could live with the disappointment in the delay of their nightly kissing.

“Fine,” she said. “Shower before you come eat, though.”

“Don’t tell me what to - ”

Bulma was out of the pod before Vegeta finished his sentence. Door sealed shut and explosions resumed, muted by the insulation she and Dad had carefully installed. She hummed a little to herself while she headed to the main dome to ignore the pinch of sadness eating at her heart.

She was getting too used to relying on Vegeta as a distraction.

“How were the meetings today, sweetie?”

“Fine.” She served herself in the kitchen, Panchy hovering at the stove while she heated water for tea. “Did Dad make any oh-so-important progress on his submarine issues?”

Panchy sighed. “Oh, if only I knew.”

Oh, if only it was worth wasting my day.

“By the way, Yamcha called for you earlier.”

Bulma nearly dropped the spoon into the rice. “What?”

“Yamcha. He wanted to know how you were coping.”

“Coping with…?” Being alone? Abandoned by my friends? Ignored? Overlooked? Each aggressive answer pushed away the tiny sliver of doubt Bulma had about whether she was betraying Yamcha with Vegeta. Of course she wasn’t - she and Yamcha hadn’t been a thing in months - but…

“He also wanted to know if we have any more of those tent capsules that were discontinued a few years ago since no one was buying them,” Panchy went on, the shrill whistle of the tea kettle raising Bulma’s shoulders to her ears with a cringe.

“That’s bold of him, isn’t it?” she said with a hint of a snarl, slapping curry on her plate next to the rice. “‘Hi, Bulma, long time no see! Give me free capsules!’”

“That wasn’t what he was saying at all,” her mother protested. “And anyway, I told him I’d look and send them if we have any.”

“You do that!”

“I will, that’s why I said - ”

“I’m going to my room!”

At some point in the last three minutes Bulma had stopped feeling like a weary, overworked CEO and suddenly like a teenage girl again. She suspected it was when Yamcha’s name had been said. Why, exactly, it triggered her so deeply, she couldn’t be sure. Only that she couldn’t stand another minute around Panchy or waiting for a prince that might never come…

She cried out all the tears she could, huddled on her bed, before pulling her tray of food closer with a sniff. Cold, now. Not that it mattered. Unwinding herself, Bulma stepped off of her bed to open the blinds of her bedroom window. Dark trees obscured the pale indigo of mid-twilight. Not a single sprinkle of star. Regretfully she sat back on her bed, eating without thinking about anything at all.

Bulma sighed when she gave up on supper, scooting back on her bed until she was engulfed in pillows with her toes tucked in the blankets. What a stupid day. And the conferences at Capsule Corp would last the rest of the week…

She wouldn’t make it.

A knock at her door didn’t turn her head away from the window. “Come in,” Bulma said, not bothering to raise her voice. A much deeper one responded, the visceral response across her skin to the man in the doorway pitiful compared to what it usually was.

“Are you coming to…watch television?”

A helpless sort of smile grew on her face. “Hi, Vegeta,” she said.

“Well?”

“I don’t know. I thought you’d be training much longer.”

“I…got hungry.”

Bulma sensed that was a lie. But she said nothing about it. “Look at me, I’m already in bed,” she sighed woefully, finally looking over at Vegeta with a smile. “You can go back to training.”

His scowl was darker than any night sky. Arms crossed, shirt stretched tightly across his chest. By that time his scent had made it across the room. She smelled soap. Her stomach twisted at the thought that he’d listened to her. With a sigh Bulma rubbed her forehead. Why hadn’t he gone away yet? She needed peace and quiet to finish her pity party.

“Is that food?”

“It was my dinner,” she said, pushing the tray further from her with her feet.

“You didn’t finish.”

“I wasn’t really hungry.”

Vegeta grunted. Then, without an invitation, he strode right inside and headed towards the bed where he grabbed the mostly-full bowl of rice to shovel into his mouth. A grain stuck to the corner of his mouth when he finished, setting down the empty dish to wolf down the curry, next. Bulma smiled, resting her head against the pillows. He’d kill her if she said it, but he really was adorable, in his own, special way.

“Not enough,” he grunted when all the dishes were empty and he neatly set the chopsticks next to them on the tray.

“Obviously,” she said. “There’s more in the kitchen. Why didn’t you eat before you showered?”

Vegeta shrugged. He wouldn’t meet her eyes, his gaze instead lingering on the bed next to where she was reclining. Bulma gave the covers a pat in invitation, wondering why her hands suddenly felt ice-cold. He sat, angled away from her and staring out the window, same as she did.

“Why don’t you move into a different bedroom?” he asked.

“Huh?”

“So that you can see that constellation you like.”

“Oh.” Bulma wound a finger around a curl of her hair, already tired at the thought of getting ready for bed and waking up early the next day for more meetings. “Um. Well, it’s only visible during the summer, anyway. Plus I like this room. It has a bigger balcony.”

“Do you use it at all besides trying to kill yourself when drunk?”

“Ha, ha. I do when my friends visit.”

“And how often is that?”

Bulma jabbed a kick at Vegeta’s sitting rear with her foot beneath the blankets. He just gave her a narrowed look. “Just so you know, I’ve been drawing up plans for a training room inside the main dome,” she told him. “So be nice or I won’t do it.”

His brows rose.

“And you have to promise you wouldn’t destroy this place,” she warned, pointing a finger at his nose. His eyes nearly crossed as he stared at the tip of it. “This is my family’s home. We live here.”

“Well,” Vegeta said. “You’d better insulate the room, then.”

“Obviously I would!”

“So, you don’t trust me?” A cunning smile tilted the corners of his mouth in a thrilling, almost frightening way. If Bulma didn’t know him better she might have been scared. But beyond the smirk was a delicious, dark smolder in his eyes that she recognized well enough to not be surprised when he scooted a few inches closer, leaning with a fist on her bed to keep himself upright.

Her heart lodged in her throat. Without thinking she reached for him, holding his face in her hands while he closed the distance with a puff of breath warming her cheeks in the split-second before their lips connected. The dizzying sensation was quick to wipe away her anxieties, replacing them with a sultry kind of haze that she would happily live in forever.

Vegeta cradled the back of her head in his hand, moving her as he pleased to better draw pleasure from the simple act of kissing. When he gave a choked moan, their noses nuzzling when he pulled back, Bulma moaned herself. Tonight his touch was the sharp bite of static electricity. More ashy than usual, like scorched earth instead of rainy moss. When his teeth bit gently into her lower lip she wriggled closer, wrapping her arms around his neck while his hands held her by the ribs.

“I suppose here is just as well.” His words were muttered before he resumed making love to her mouth, tongue swirling around her mouth before easing inside.

“Hmm?” Bulma couldn’t form words with his tongue in control of hers. Her questioning noise was more of a whimper, anyway, and she didn’t really care what he meant right then.

“For kissing.”

“Oh. Ah. Oh…” She tried to lean back, giving in to the arch of her spine wanting to be closer to him, wanting to crawl right out of the blankets and tackle him onto the bed (never mind that her dress would probably rip) but Vegeta seized her skull, tilting her head back down for more kissing. He wasn’t going to take the hint and kiss her neck then. Or lay her back and climb over her…

“I do wonder,” his voice reverberated in her ear a while later, when he’d grabbed her leg out of the covers to drape over his lap. A few more inches and they’d fall back together. “How you’re making so many more glorious plans when you can barely keep up with your current projects as is.”

“Huh?” Muddled, Bulma ran a hand behind his thick neck, fiddling with the hair there.

“I’m still waiting for my battle suit.”

“Oh, of course you are.”

Vegeta went rigid. It took all of four seconds for her to realize how very trapped she was by his shoulders and arms, pinning her against the headboard. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He pulled away, frowning deeply. The image was offset by his reddened lips.

“Everyone wants something from me,” Bulma said with a sniff. “Of course you do, too. That’s all.”

“You decided to make me a suit. I didn’t ask for it.”

“No, but you’re always asking for other stuff, aren’t you? The gravity sensors, stronger robots, this and that and food and kissing - ”

“Yes, and you complain the entire time. What’s your point?”

The point? She huffed out a breath, crossing her arms just like he did, but without the power of bulging muscles. His face was all shades of blue in the light from the window. Except his eyes. They glittered. From the bickering or the kissing. Or both. Bulma squeezed her legs together, but it didn’t help the build-up of desperate yearning.

“Yamcha called today asking me for free capsules,” she told him. “I’m just…annoyed. Especially after a day like today. All those stupid presentations.”

“You’re chewing me out because of what Yamcha did?” Vegeta’s brows drew together in ominous warning, which she ignored. He could have hurt her a million times over since he came to Earth, and he hadn’t yet. Her fear of him had gone stale long ago.

“No, I’m chewing you out because of you.” Bulma waved a hand, as if the difference was negligible. “You make demands, too. Like you own the place! Maybe I’m tired of doing everything for everyone! How come no one ever thinks of that?”

“If you’re tired of it,” he said, and he lifted her chin with a finger so that their eyes met in a dazzling bridge. She tried to swallow and failed, a tiny eep squeaking from between her lips. “Then stop doing nice things for everyone. You’re a generous woman, Bulma. People have learned that. And they come to expect that.”

“You want me to stop working on your battle suit?” The words trembled, but Vegeta didn’t comment on that, his eyes flashing.

“No!”

“So I should stop doing nice things for everyone but you?”

His mouth tilted downward in a frown. Very nearly a princely-pout. Bulma wanted to trace it with her thumb. “That’s not what I said,” Vegeta said through gritted teeth. “Cease putting words in my mouth.”

I could put other things in your mouth, she wasn’t brave enough to say. Yet.

“My grandfather,” he said suddenly, and then snapped his mouth shut. She waited, too intensely curious to ruin her chances of hearing this undoubtedly private tidbit of information by nagging. Vegeta exhaled, head lowering slightly, the bridge between their eyes breaking into a thousand stars. “My grandfather once gifted my grandmother a planet.”

“Well, I haven’t offered that to anyone yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if Krillian or Goku asked.”

He nodded. The fist he propped himself with loosened and turned into a flat hand, brushing over her bedspread. “My grandfather thought too small.”

Bulma started. She was sure she’d lost the conversation. Where was he going with this?

“I would give you a galaxy.”

Her mouth fell open. Immediately Vegeta bristled, rising to sit straight with his shoulders out proudly. “You doubt my ability to accomplish such a task,” he said, though Bulma had thought no such thing. “Might I remind you I was at the front lines of the Frieza Force. I could give you ten galaxies.”

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” she said, bemused. “No need to get so defensive. But why would you do that?”

Vegeta blinked. Something unfamiliar swam in his eyes, something deep and regretful and confused. Then he shook his head. “I only meant to make you feel better,” he muttered at last. “I have no interest in your weeping tonight.”

Bulma hadn’t been in danger of weeping (again) but she didn’t tell him so. Something warm and big was swelling in her chest that she couldn’t quite make sense of. Part of it had to be surprise that Vegeta offered her a galaxy. What would she do with an entire galaxy? She knew how the Frieza Force had worked - did Vegeta think to install her as a tyrannical overlord of conquered planets? She could laugh at the very thought: Bulma Briefs, Dictator, and her right hand man, the villainous and violent Prince Vegeta.

“Why are you laughing?” Vegeta asked sharply.

She smothered her smile. “I’m not laughing.”

“Yes, you are! I heard it.”

“If you gave me a galaxy, Goku would show up to depose me,” Bulma said, and she did laugh, but only a little.

“And I’d finally have my chance to beat him.” Vegeta’s words took on a dangerously low tone. She didn’t dare laugh, but she smiled.

“You’re full of it.”

“Full of what? I scarcely ate even part of a meal.”

“So go eat! I’ll return to my feminine weeping and hysterics after you leave.”

He stared at her, likely assessing the truth of her threat.

“I’m teasing,” she told him, smiling. “Really, go eat. I’m tired and I want to go to bed. I can’t stay up all night listening to your revenge fantasies or I’ll fall asleep during the conference tomorrow.”

Vegeta nodded. Unsettlingly compliant, for him. “I want my battle suit when those conferences are over,” he said, standing up. The loss of comforting weight on her bed settled an unhappiness on Bulma’s shoulders, which she disguised with an indignant gasp.

“You’ll get it when you get it!”

But he just waved her off, just like she waved him off sometimes.

“By the way,” Vegeta added, already halfway to the door. “You should wear that dress more often. But not around anyone but me.”

The flash of his smile, more feral than affectionate, was blocked by the door closing behind him. Self-consciously Bulma put a hand to her chest, pushing the neckline closer to her skin as if a pervert would be on the ceiling just to gawk down her front. But she committed his suggestion to memory, anyway.

#vegebul #bulma x vegeta #dbz fanfic #dragon ball

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keganexe · 1 year

Text

Setting Up a Zine Layout for Print (with Affinity Publisher)

Listen up shits spoons

Heyo back with another guide for folks new to art and layout! In this one I'm gonna talk about setting up your zine for print with a commercial printer (Like Mixam). If you wanna look at my other guides you can see them here (as of the time of this one I've done one other guide, but I enjoy doing these so I'll probably do more as time permits)

I'm specifically gonna be talking about using Affinity Publisher 2 because its what I do all my professional work in, but the ideas should hold solid for other programs like Adobe InDesign, Publisher 1, or others! I'm also gonna talk specifically with Mixam measurements since they're my printer of choice.

I'm going to get real into the basics of this one, so if you've done a good bit of layout already this is probably all old hat for you. I'm specifically skipping around the topic of Color Management, but I talk about it a LITTLE.

This is a lot of text, so if folks would like I can probably record the setup some time in the future if that would generally be helpful? Lemme know what we want haha

Okay lets dive in though

So lets start at the very beginning which is choosing a page size. I'm going to assume we are working with Letter sized paper because that's what most folks in the US do, which means we want to set the pages up to be half letter. This is gonna give us a zine that folds like this just for clarity.

So lets hit File->New... up top, and you'll get a screen that looks like this. We are going to change our measurements to be Page Width 5.5 and Page Height 8.5 which is our measurements all folded and whatnot. We want to set our DPI to 300 so the printer has plenty to work with and we don't end up with pixely shit on the pages.

Under the Pages tabs things should default correctly, but we want Facing Pages to make layout a little easier, and we want to start on the Right with a single page. This tab should look like this

Next we are gonna hop on over to the Color Tag the long of the short of this is we want to work in CMYK/8. I'm specifically working with the color space used by Mixam within CMYK/8, but your computers default should be fine here, so just set your Color Format to CMYK8, and let it choose the default for Color Profile.

I don't personally set Transparent Backgrounds because I think they're a fucking eyesore, but that's dealer's choice and if you prefer them what's wrong with you good for you.

Color Management is really a pretty complex topic I'm not really good at talking about because I don't have the knowledge I should on it (I've largely worked in Black and White!), but here is a really solid primer on why we want to work in CMYK over RGB, and why that's so important for printing.

Hopping over to the Margins and Bleed tags, we are gonna do some minor changes to the default. If you're laying out something over say 60 pages I'd look at editing the inner margins here a bit.

I'm gonna go off the Mixam Full Bleed Print guidelines, and give myself some extra space for safety, but if your printer has other thoughts you should follow those instead. I've found that generally these guidelines work for most projects so you're usually safe to follow this bit as is. If you don't know what Margins or bleed are, I'd just read through the full bleed print guidelines linked above because it's a great primer. If you don't care or already know, keep reading.

For Margins we are gonna include margins and set our inner margins to 1 inch, and our outer/top/bottom margins to .5 inches

For Bleed we are gonna set everything to .25 inches for safety, Mixam only needs .125 inches.

Finally, so we don't have to go through this every single time, we are going to save this setup by clicking the button up top (next to where it says Letter* on my screen). I'm calling mine Mixam Half Letter Zine so I can remember it next time.

FINALLY you can click Create at the bottom right of the popup, and if you've done it right you should be greeted with a screen that looks somewhat like this

Now we're gonna set up some Master pages, font and paragraph styles, baseline grids, and guides to get the best looking zine possible.

At the top of the screen we wanna go to View->Preview mode, and make sure its unselected. This is gonna make sure we can see all the setup we are doing now, you can unselect it at any time (by hitting the toggle or Ctrl+shift+w) to see what the zine looks like without our guidelines on once we get them setup. Also on the view menu we want to turn on basically everything except Grid in the top bit. Here's what your menu should look like, and what your page will look like if things are setup right!

Okay so lets start with Masters! Setting up a good flexible master page or two is a great way to make sure your Zine keeps a consistent look throughout, and it carries your setup across pages! Look to the top left of the working space, and lets go work on Master A by double clicking on it.

I'm going to setup a quick set of guides just so I can lay things out a bit easier! While on Master A hit View->Guides and under Column Guides we are gonna add in 2 Columns and 3 Rows with a Gutter of .125 inches. The margins should be correct, and we want the Spread to be at x:0 y:0 which it should by default. In a lot of circles you will hear this called The Grid, but my friend Clayton did a great guide on this already so I'm linking that here. I also like to set some Horizontal and Vertical guides just so I know where the exact center of the working area is, so I'm going to make 2 Vertical Guides at 2.5 and 8.5, and a Horizontal Guide at 4.25 inches. The long of the short here is this gives us a lot of room to snap things to in the future. I set my Column Guide to pink to make it stand out a little more, but when you export this it'll disappear so just set it to whatever color works best for you.

With the master set, click back over to Page 1, and you should see it now has a series of guidelines based on this master. Hell yeah.

Lets move on to text styles now! These are going to save you a lot of hassle in the future with making sure everything matches, and works how you like. Double check that you're off the Master, and then lets make a text box using the Frame Text Tool, and lets get ourselves a text box somewhere on this page. The placement doesn't SUPER matter here because we are just going to erase it at the end.

Toss a few lines of text into this box, I usually use Title, Header, Body Text, and then 3 lines of Bullet Text

Now we are gonna hop into the Text Styles menu. I keep mine pinned on screen, but if it isn't visible, you can find it under Windows->Text->Text Styles

Now highlight each of these lines of text, and double click the appropriate text style from this menu (ie we are gonna set Title to Header 1, Header to Header 2, etc). It'll look something like this when you're done

Now we're gonna change each of these lines of text to look how we want! For the example I'm making my titles and headers in Bellybeans FG, and setting the rest of the text to Open Dyslexic and resizing them so they look good.

My page looks like this now

Now's a great time to mention that there is a difference between Rich and True black, and it's confusing and it fucks a lot of folks up. The link up above (the primer on CMYK above RGB) talks some about your blacks, and links to a follow up article about them! You can skip reading any of that for now (but like you should), because the tldr here is going to be make SURE that if you are using Black you have the color set to c:0 y:0 m:0 k:100 if you don't wanna have issues later!

Now we want to update our font styles to match! To do this we are going to go back and individually highlight each line of text, and then right click the matching Text Style, and hit Update. The screens should look like this.

Next we are gonna set up a baseline grid! This makes it so that text on one side of a spread is gonna line up correctly with text on the opposite side of the page, and just helps with making pages look good and even! We want to set the grid Relative to the Top Margin, and then set the spacing to whatever you feel is correct in your heart of hearts. These are the settings I've used, but do whatever looks good here, there are probably some hard and fast rules for how to do this well, but I do not know them.

On my specific example you can see my Bullets are really spread out, and I don't like that, but the Body Text lays out much nicer. Lets deal with some spacing issues!

We are gonna hop on over to the Paragraph tab now, for me this is another tab on the Text Styles Window, but if you don't have it visible Windows->Text->Paragraph should bring it up.

So for me personally I want all my bullets to be on the following line, and not skip a whole line between them. I'm going to highlight all my text, and in this menu I'm going to go to Spacing > Space After Paragraph and set the amount to 0 pts.

You can also go further into this tab to change some more rules about what your bullets look like (things like how big your tabstops are, what the bullets look like, etc) but I'm not getting into that here!

After all this I'm gonna hop back into text styles, highlight each line of bullets, and Right Click->Update style on each of them (Just like we did previously!)

It's really tempting to skip this section of setting up your zine, but it enables a lot that can really help you out a ton in the long run. Having standardized Headers allows easy updating of headers and titles across the document, easy setup of Table of Contents for folks using them, and also on export is going to auto-bookmark the pdf for folks using PDF formats. It really pays to take time and set things like this up correctly the first time. After you're happy that this all looks good, you can go ahead and erase this text box.

Now we can break into zine layout proper, but if you just wanted basics you can stop here! Whatever you do from here is gonna print pretty decently.

If you'd like to stick around I'm going to set up some slightly nicer master pages, talk about why I use multiple masters, set up page numbers, and get us a table of contents!

So from hereon I'm just gonna work on laying out a basic Zine. So let's hop back into our Master Pages, and start setting up some flexible masters. I know I want at least two masters, one where I have text on both pages, and one where I only have text on the rightmost page. For right now we are going to just work on the spread with text on both pages, so I'm going to create a text box on both pages within the spread that fills the entirety of that guide we set up earlier. On the leftmost page, I'm going to right click the text box with the Frame Text Tool selected, and I'm going to choose to Insert Filler Text so I can see how everything looks.

Make sure this text is in your Body Text Style, and then click the little triangle on the text box

I'm now gonna select the textbox on the rightmost of the spread. If you did it properly, your page should look somewhat like this.

After I'm happy with this page, I'm going to erase the text in both boxes. I wanna add in some page numbers now. They aren't going to fit in the boxes here, but if you remember correctly I left myself a little bit of wiggle room when I set up the margins! Mixam needs .25 in clear, but my boxes are all .5 inches from the edges of the page. To make sure I don't egress the space too badly here, I'm going to set up a new horizontal guide from the View->Guides page we used previously, and I'm going to set this guide at 8.25 in which is the true bottom edge of our workable space.

I'm going to create new text boxes for our page numbers that line up with the outer edges of our guides, and the new true-bottom line I just set up.

It looks like this, but there's an eye icon which means no text in this box is going to be visible!

No worries this is because our baseline grid isn't playing nicely here, we are gonna break it in a moment, but for the mean time lets right click this text box, and select Insert Fields->Page Number

On the left page I'm also going to Bold and Left Align this box, but otherwise keep it in my Body Text Style. With the text all highlighted, I'm going to hop into the Paragraph window again, and scroll down to Baseline Grid->Align to Baseline Grid, and turn that option off.

My page now correctly shows a single # in the spot I'd want my page numbers to be. When this master is used, that number will automatically update to be correct! I'm going to duplicate this text box, and drag it onto the right page of the spread, and set the alignment to Right. I'm going to refill the textboxes with Filler Text for a moment, and turn Preview Mode on so I can make sure I like the page. For me this master now looks like this

I'm going to duplicate this master now, and on the left page of the spread I'm going to remove both text boxes. I like to name my masters so I know what they are at a quick glance. This is going to leave me a second master that looks like this.

You can get really involved on your master pages generally! I'm not doing anything fancy with this one, but previous projects have that heavily used masters might have pages that look more intense and include things like photo boxes, more complicated sets of text boxes, and even some text to use as a guide as I go.

Lets hop back to Page 1 of our doc, and leave the masters behind

Page 1 is going to be the title page for the book, but it likely now has a bunch of details now that you don't particularly need. If you have a master you don't want on a page, you can right click the page, and click Clear Masters.

I'm almost out of images on this post so I am gonna go mostly imageless from hereout. I'm gonna toss some text on pages, and then make a table of contents, and get my page numbers fixed up since most people don't actually want to count the Cover as Page 1 as far as page numbering goes.

With the project laid out, and the pages where I want them, the actual "Page 1" is going to start on Page 5 for me. Looking at the pages on the left side, I'm going to right click Page 5, and click Start New Section. On this new section I'm going to fill it out so the new section starts on page 5, and restarts the numbering at 1. Here's what it looks like for me.

On page 3 I want to include a Table of contents so if the ToC window isn't visible I'm gonna hit Window->References->Table of Contents, and then in this window I'm going to hit the insert button. You can really dial in a lot of settings here, but as long as you've been using those Text Styles I mentioned previously, it should be pretty easy! Since I've been using only Heading 2 to start chapters, I'm going to unselect Heading 1 since it is effectively only being used on the ToC page and the cover, and I don't think folks need help finding those. This ToC feature rocks and as long as your page numbers are correct, and you use your text styles it should auto-update! If it doesn't there's a refresh ToC button on this window as well. Regardless (and perfectly using my 30th image) this is what it looks like for me now.

You'll also note I updated the text styles here as well! Anyway this is a real overview of zine layout for print, there's probably more things I should cover, but I'm out of images and tired so I'm leaving it here. If this was helpful I'm gonna put this template up on my itch after I clean it up some down the line.

I'm gonna have to come back with a Part 2 that talks about exporting and whatnot, but this is all I can realistically fit in a post for now.

If you get any use out of this and wanna throw a few bucks my way you can do that here

and if you have any questions I'll answer what I can! Just shoot me an ask on here, or like annoy me on my discord (its in my pinned post)

okay thanks bye

#skillshare #this one is gonna need a followup and I will make it one day but I ran out of images #I keep threatening to stream this so if thats something folks want I actually will I s2g

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