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tswwwit · 2 years

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Have a very long post with many dumb jokes and also pornblography! I do not have a title for it yet because my brain is very bad and titles are hard. Again, NSFW! And it's just about 16k words so beware of Long Post.

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Dipper shoves himself out of the water, shaking mud out of his hair. He coughs, twice, then gasps, sucking in the air.

Did it work-?

He struggles to his knees, churning up the muddy silt from the lakebed, and looks over towards the treeline.

Smoke from the explosion drifts over the treetops. The forest is rife with birds flying away and scattering animals, the fire low in the distance - And judging by the state of the beach, uh.

There’s a jumble of stuff that looks like charred driftwood. Until you look at it closer.

Dipper sits back, water sloshing around his waist. He lets out a slow, shaking breath.

Yeah. It worked.

The other monstrous mess on the shore is standing among the wreckage. Intact, smug, handsome. Other adjectives that are less flattering.

And he’s doubled over laughing.

“You shoulda seen it!” It wasn’t that funny, damn it. Absolutely not knee-slappingly funny, but try telling that to this asshole. Bill does it again, cackling. “You took off so fast it was like-” He makes a gesture that might be a fish leaping, or a particularly inelegant human flailing in an arc. “And the landing!”

Dipper lifts a hand from the muck to flip him off. Not very seriously; he’s too relieved that it’s over with to get truly mad.

A stupid insane plan. An effective plan. Not entirely Bill’s idea, though he went along with it easily enough; he loves danger.

Though Dipper’s pretty sure Bill’s contribution to the explosive curse could have been at least halved. It’s something to keep in mind for later.

He gets up slowly, wiping off the mud and what water he can from himself. Trudging to the shore, wringing out his shirt. Now he really needs a shower.

Bill glances over him, hands on his hips. “You look like a drowned rat.”

Dipper gives his husband the same lookover, slowly, to make a point. “You look like a burned one.” Bill’s suit is almost entirely ruined. “With jaundice.”

Bill makes a mock gasp of offense, clasping a hand to the remnants of his shirt. It’s quickly followed by the resurge of the grin.

“It mighta messed up my style a bit, sure.” Bill says with a shrug. The remnants of the yellow suit jacket cling to his elbows, and his hair’s a mess. “Yet somehow, I’m still better dressed!”

“That’s a matter of taste.” Dipper shakes his feet, trying to get some of the clinging water out of the cuffs of his pants. He knocks his shoes against the ground to clear some mud off. “Yours is bad.”

“This coming from the guy rocking ‘slime monster from the deep’.” Bill shakes his head. “That went outta style in the fifteen hundreds, easily.”

Dipper narrows his eyes, stalking closer until they could almost touch. He leans in, very close - Bill matches it, beaming with pleasure.

And with a satisfying ‘smack’, Dipper plants a palmful of mud right on his smug, asshole face.

Bill splutters, and Dipper trails muck down his body in a straight line. One heading right from his stupid face, down over all the clean bits of his shirt.

“I dunno, Bill.” Dipper says, taking a step back as Bill’s expression turns from surprise to absolute indignance. Now he’s the one smiling. “I think it suits you.”

Bill blinks for a moment. Mud dripping off his chin, annoyance sliding off his face.

His grin switches back on, wide and white.

“Oh, you’re gonna get it for that insult,” He purrs. Dipper tries to dart back, but Bill already has a grip on his waist. “Come here.”

Dipper kicks his legs, he struggles and he swears - This impossible, terrible monster picks him up again, swinging him around.

And he’s laughing, despite all of that, when Bill dunks him right back into the lake.

When they walk back to the Shack together, it’s long into the evening. The sun’s gone down, and the last bit of red is fading from the horizon.

Bill swings their joined hands, humming a tune to himself. The other one lights up the way back, a bright blue flame over his palm.

“Gotta love a good date,” He says, sounding deeply self-satisfied. The pace he’s taken is fast enough to make Dipper speedwalk. “It’s been too long!”

“You’ve been busy,” Dipper reminds him, nudging his husband with an elbow. Some crusted mud flakes off at the contact.

Bill breathes in, looking like he’s about to retort. Then sighs. “Yeah, fine. Gotta give ya that one.” Bill’s mouth purses in irritation. “What can I say! I got a lot of plans that need attention right now.” His eye glimmers in the dark of the evening, gold and brightly lit. “A lot of plans.”

None of which he’s telling Dipper about.

“Have fun, I guess.” Dipper’s not going to ask. He knows better. “I hope you fail.”

Bill’s got his evil, demonic business - but to balance it out, Dipper’s got his own, human stuff. Sometimes, like their date, Bill even helps out with it. Despite being a demonic king of nightmares and torment, he’s easily coaxed into other stuff, if it’s entertaining.

Though sometimes, it only means spending time with Dipper.

Bill always claims he didn't have anything better to do. There’s no guessing how true that is.

“You’re a menace,” BIll says fondly, though his grin starts to fade. He slows in his tracks as the Shack comes into view in the distance. “And speaking of, I gotta get back.”

Dipper halts in place. Turning towards his demon with an incredulous look. “Again?”

A few days apart is okay, Dipper guesses. Pretty normal, they have their own stuff to do. They text or call everyday they can’t meet. That’s fine.

But it’s been way longer than a few days.

It’s been ages since they’ve even seen each other, much less hung out, and they’re married. They finally made time for a date, everything was going well, Dipper was… kind of expecting more to the evening -

And Bill’s just leaving? Now?

“I said I’m busy, sapling.” To his credit, Bill does sound like he regrets it. He winks, clicking his tongue. “I know, I know, you’ll miss me! Now c’mon, do the honors.”

The Mindscape, right. Sending him back to his realm of nightmares.

Dipper sighs. “Yeah, alright.” It’s part of their contract, anyway.

He sets a palm on Bill’s chest. It’s warm, with a rapid pulse under his palm. Some more mud flakes off from where it’s dried on the ruins of Bill’s shirt. He starts to concentrate -

“Ahem.” Bill clears his throat. One eyebrow raised. “Not the honors you should start with.” He leans in. This time, Dipper leans away.

He knows what Bill wants. And he’s not doing it. Not in this state, and especially not when he’s ditching Dipper for some godawful reason.

Bill remains undeterred. “It’s demon stuff, Pine Tree,” He says, sounding a bit pouty. Knowing Dipper’s annoyed - but clearly not getting the reason, if he’s still taking off. “You don’t wanna hear it! Or get involved with it.”

And yeah, Dipper doesn’t.

That doesn’t mean he can’t hate it from afar.

Bill moves in for a kiss again, and Dipper turns away. Again. They’re both filthy and he doesn’t want mud in his mouth. Spite, though, is definitely part of it.

“I’ll see you later, Bill.” He says, and shoves his idiot husband back into his stupid demon realm.

Bill vanishes, instantaneously. Sometimes Dipper’s not a fan of the transition, it’s literally quick as thought - but this time it means Bill doesn’t get to try whatever excuse he was coming up with..

Dipper shoves his hands in his pockets, head down. Stalking back home, and frowning.

‘Demon stuff’.

Under any metric, their relationship is. Weird.

Dipper stumbled into the demon side flirtation, and Bill knows how humans do things. They’ve been meeting somewhere in the middle ever since. Dipper’s learned a lot, and Bill knows humans. He’s even willing to dip his own toes into the typical human stuff, with surprising insight and the appropriate success.

Bill was even having fun earlier, with purely human things, that - had some violence, admittedly.

But the explosion wasn’t what made Bill smile, and the litter of body parts didn’t make him laugh.

…Unless it did.

Dipper drags a hand over his face. He can’t deny that he’s hip-deep in the demonic side of relationships. It’s how they got their start.

No normal human would think exploding a corpse-eater was a date. It was demonic to its core -

…And. Not a great one, apparently.

Bill’s whole MO Is demonic stuff. He’s made for it, spent eons on it. It’s entertaining. Running off to do some ‘big plan’, sure, that makes sense for him. It’s more interesting.

Why his husband doesn’t rank on Bill’s priority list is-

Dipper drops his arm back to his side, before he burns another handprint into the doorframe.

Whatever version of demonic ‘seduction’ Dipper’s managed to cobble together. It must not be very compelling. Bill’s interested, sure - but not enough to linger once things get boring. He thinks it’s totally fine to just take off at any moment.

Dipper rubs at his eyes. He stands in the doorway of the Mystery Shack, looking up into the wooden slats of the ceiling.

But then Human romance never worked out for Dipper. Then demon romance.... Kind of did? By accident. Under anyone’s critique, he’d rank far below expert.

Maybe…

He’s missing something?

Obviously Dipper’s never going to catch Bill’s eye with human stuff, when it’s never worked on other humans - and while he’s gotten a hang of demonic flirting, he’s never been a dating expert.

Dipper drums his fingers against the doorframe, eyes narrowing.

If it weren’t for everything else he has at hand. He might have been at a loss. But part of being married to a demon, and visiting his infinite terrible realm, means Dipper can get to things no other human could.

He nods once. Firm, and certain, clenching a fist.

It’s time to do research.

-------------------------------------------------------

Finding information about demonic courtship ends up far easier than he expected.

And less convenient than he hoped.

Dipper should have remembered before he came up with this idea. His phone only works for contacting Bill whenever he wants. It’s powered by an infinite, triangular battery, its network hitching off a ride on a life-bond.

It made it easy to forget a very pertinent, pivotal point for his research.

There’s no internet in the Mindscape.

No demon worth their salt would give out free information. Sometimes they write things down, in diaries, dangerous tomes of spells, etcetera - but they’re hoarded like the precious things they are.

Instead, they go in hard on gossip. Everything’s up for trade as a favor, or used as a bribe. Knowledge is power, and in demon society? There’s always a power play going on. It’s a constant game of keeping their friends close, and their enemies closer. As far as Dipper can tell, the two are often the same thing.

Deals were completely off the table, for marriage reasons. Bribes were okay, but hard to figure out. It could even have dragged Dipper into demon drama, which is something even Bill avoids. It could have been an ordeal that came a huge cost, one he couldn’t - or wouldn’t - pay.

For once in Dipper’s life, he actually got lucky.

Turns out being Bill Cipher’s spouse opens all kinds of doors.

A few comments, a couple of bribes - snack cakes are popular, he’s noting this all down later to share with Ford - and a few memorized threats? All while name dropping Bill?

It got him everything he could ask for.

….Considering the topic, there might also be gossip going on - but he’ll deal with that later.

Right now, Dipper kicks his feet up on the ottoman, and clicks his pen. Notebook ready, research material at hand.

No other human has ever had this much demon-made writing to go through. Not without having their eyes burned out of their skull, or their soul taken in a bargain. Dipper spends a moment feeling proud.

It might be dangerous, but Dipper’s smart. He’s cautious. He’s got demon magic built right into his soul. He’s also got plenty of time, no sleep to worry about, and piles of resources, carefully gathered.

He’s got this.

Dipper picks a bit of spiderweb off the top magazine on his pile, and flips through it. Skimming over articles, pen at the ready.

And pauses.

He flips a couple more pages, leaning back a little in his seat.

This. Isn’t what he expected. It’s also not not what he expected, but. It might be a fluke, so he tosses that issue aside, picking up another.

Then another.

Dipper flips through a few more, with increasing desperation.

In every issue - in every magazine - The article titles shout back at him with their bright exclamation marks:

How To Get Them To Fight You In 10 Easy Steps!

Obtuse or A-CUTEY - How To Get In Shape For Summoning!

Top Twelve Exoskeleton Buffs for YOUR Intended!

Simple Ways To Even Out Your Angles In Just One Century !

Do They REALLY Hate You? Find Out With This Quiz!

Dipper rubs at his eyes.

Not… his best call. Getting his hopes up. Even thinking he’d get some kind of academic article was downright dumb. He knows that isn’t up most demon’s alleys.

Bill would know where to find studies, and statistics. If they exist. He likely has entire tomes on the subject, if only to laugh at them -

And he’s the last person Dipper can ask.

He ditches that idea, as well as the issue of Cosmophage he was skimming through. He picks up a Playbaal instead.

More of the same in this magazine. Though a lot more racy. Dipper makes a face at the letters to the executioner section - they’re gory and unbelievable. No human is that dumb, and that’s coming from him. Nobody offers themself up on a literal silver platter.

Two hours later, Dipper’s still made zero headway. He’s also slumped in his seat, almost lying down in the chair.

At this point, it’s getting boring.

He is learning a lot about demonic fantasies, and something of their proclivities - but he’d already known the basics. It’s only extrapolating from stuff he was already aware of, to absurd, insane degrees. It might as well be the internet for how true any of this bullshit sounds.

Dipper keeps flipping through them, out of sheer repetitive motion. In this one, there’s a couple glossy pages in the center, easily opening to lie flat in his lap.

He blinks. He stares.

Dipper sits up with a sharp jolt. After a moment, he shakes his head, centering himself.

Right. It’s. The pinup photo. Magazines have those.

He quickly checks the cover - it’s from about two hundred years ago. He makes a face. Still pretty weird.

…..He didn’t know Bill ever did that kind of thing.

In the photo, Bill - true Bill - lounges on his side, top point in his palm. His hat is off - weird - and there’s an artful drape of silk over where his tie should be. Or is? It’s impossible to tell if it’s on or not under the cloth. Likely that’s the point.

Dipper snorts, tapping the picture of Bill’s eye, twice. Then remembers - shit - startles, and claps the magazine shut, looking up and around.

Thank hell, he’s still alone. Bill must not have been paying attention.

God, if Bill caught him with this, he’d instantly make a whole host of assumptions, and grin like a maniac. Even worse, his ego would balloon into impossible dimensions.

Dipper thinks for a moment. Tapping the magazine on his lap. Then he shrugs, and carefully tears out the glossy photo pages.

If he hides this in the right place, Bill might find it within the month.

Dipper crumples the rest of the magazine into a ball, glaring off into the distance, before dropping off the side of his chair.

At least one good thing came out of this quote-unquote research. He’s barely learned anything. Other than that demons can be as absurd as humans, and he already knew that.

But.

There has to be something here. These wouldn’t be the most popular works about demonic romance, among demons, if they didn’t have some grains of truth buried within. He just has to find them.

He’s already mastered parts of demonic seduction. Even started doing the regular kind, a little. He’s probably better at it than any other mortal around.

But that isn’t going to work with Bill this distracted.

Dipper clicks his pen, heaves a long-suffering sigh - and starts taking notes.

He might as well try some new ideas.

Three Easy-Fake Injuries To Tempt YOUR Lover!

With a swear, Dipper stumbles, and falls. He hits the ground a little harder than he’d like, sucking in a breath through his teeth. “Shit.”

Bill’s attention snaps towards him instantly.

“What’s up?” Now he’s frowning, dropping his prey. “You trip or something?”

The demon Bill was berating shudders, sliding down to the floor in possibly boneless relief. They scuttle away over the black bricks on all twelve limbs.

“Mh,” Dipper grunts, shutting his eyes and hugging his leg himself. Keeping composed, and his face scrunched up. Holy shit, this actually worked - “Ow.”

"You gotta be the most unlucky human I've ever met." Bill stalks over, giving Dipper a derisive look. "Where'd you break this time?"

“Shut it.” Dipper says, annoyed. He couldn’t totally fake a fall, he’s not an actor. Bill would have seen through him immediately. Then admits, “It’s my ankle.”

Bill sighs, rubbing at his eye. His phone rings in his pocket, and he grumbles something inaudible. “Of all the-” He crouches down. “Alright, what’s the damage?”

“It’s fine,” Dipper says, honestly. Then Bill yanks his leg out of his grip, and okay, maybe this wasn’t the best approach.

DIpper winces, lying back on the floor. Bill rolls his eye, tugging his leg out further.

Adding some verisimilitude was the goal - but it ended up being a little too thorough. Bill glares at Dipper's ankle like it's insulted him, and Dipper finds himself doing the same. It's less painful than he's acting - but more than he wanted it to be. Which was any.

Though as long as he has Bill here…

As Bill examines him, Dipper shifts his other leg away. And maybe tilts back a little. When he scoots a little closer on the floor, it helps to ‘accidentally’ pull his shirt up a bit.

Bill hums for a long moment, eye narrowed as he toys with Dipper’s ankle, turning it this way and that. His eye flicks over Dipper, lighting up for a split second as it takes him in.

Then he sighs, and stands.

“Uh. Hey.” Dipper says. He clears his throat. Then smacks the floor next to him. “Bill, I’m really vulnerable here.”

“Eh, you’re fine. It’s not even a sprain!” Bill shrugs, apparently dismissing him. He turns and glares down the corridor, hands on his hips. “Where the hell did that caterer go?”

Dipper leans back, elbows on the floor and legs spread. Glaring as he watches Bill walk away without even another glance.

Okay, technically that worked. Temporarily.

But Bill’s too clever to be tricked by minor setbacks, and Dipper’s not willing to inflict something serious.

He’ll have to move on to something else.

Exotic Mortal Treats - GUARANTEED To Spice Things Up!

“So, uh.” Dipper winces at the crunching sounds. It’s louder than two granola bars combined. “How is it?”

“Mh.” Bill sucks some unidentifiable goo off his finger, pulling it out of his mouth with a pop. “Nice, sapling!” He grins, and winks. “You should bring me snacks more often.”

Dipper offers an awkward smile.

Bill shoves another scorpion in his mouth, and starts to crunch. His mood’s definitely picked up, at least. He starts picking some carapace from his teeth, leaning forward in concentration.

Beyond that, he doesn’t seem to react.

Dipper pulls a chair over. He scoots a little closer, watching Bill work with… whatever he’s working with. He clears his throat. “How are you feeling?”

Bill’s manipulating some magical array with stars and planets slowly rotating on a field. He makes a face at it, muttering under his breath.

“I’m feeling like some of these idiots should help out with the setup,” He says irritably, smacking the wheel of not-space and making it spin. A long line of celestial bodies Dipper can’t identify line up in a long string, and a beam of light shines through them to another point. “Who’s doing all the heavy lifting here, anyway?

Dipper shrugs. He gazes moodily into the empty terrarium.

So much for that advice. He might as well have bought a bag of chips. It’d have been way cheaper, and he’d actually be able to eat some.

Bill’s busy with his project, and Dipper’s taking a backseat to some demonic ongoings. Which is. Y’know. Fine. It’s part of their deal; they both get to do their own things.

Dipper taps his foot on the floor. Waiting.

But, no. There’s no reaction. Hell, now that he thinks of it - If this was going to have an effect, Bill knew what he was eating. He would have gotten the implication, first thing.

Eventually, Dipper sighs. He leans on Bill’s chair. “What kind of party is this?”

Bill looks up, one eyebrow raised. Somewhat surprised.

Dipper doesn’t budge. Nudging Bill, and staying firm. Which only makes Bill look more surprised.

Not without reason, either. Normally Dipper wouldn't want to know what Bill’s getting up to. They have kind of a live-and-let-live agreement regarding morality, each of them doing their own thing. Usually he prefers to not be in the loop.

This party has been interfering for way too long.

“Eh, it’s one of those cosmic convergence shindigs,” Bill says, and shrugs. He leans back in his chair, rubbing at his eye. “Not mine, technically. But it’s a big deal!”

Dipper glances over the map of celestial bodies, spinning again in the lit-up illusion.

Okay. Not a common occurrence. He’ll give it that. “...How often does this happen?”

“About once a millenia.” Bill stretches his arms behind his head, starting to smile again. One of his first loves - over-explaining. “I’ve hosted it the last twenty, thirty times? Something like that.” He buffs his nails on his shirt, looking proud. “Nobody’s got a better event plaza.”

So that’s it, then.

Dipper slumps back in his chair. He lets his arms drop to his sides.

Bill must get a text or something, because he checks his phone and starts frowning instantly. Starting to sulk a little as he fiddles with his map, and something else on a lit-up diagram. He makes a face, muttering under his breath about idiots, incompetents, and other idiosyncrasies.

…Setting up this party must be a headache and a half.

If it’s an event that only happens every thousand years, it’s got to be important. No wonder it’s taking up so much time.

On the upside, once this awful event is over with, it’s not going to come up again soon. Bill can’t get distracted by it - Hell, Dipper won’t even be around for the next one.

A thousand years is longer than Dipper can imagine. Ten times longer than he could ever live. A human’s life is pretty small, compared to most supernatural beings.

On the timespan Bill’s working with, it’s barely a footnote.

Demon events have gotten between them before. Dipper’s own plans have caused scheduling conflicts, too. Interruptions happen, life throws curveballs at them, and they both get busy -

But not for this long.

Dipper starts to say something - then hesitates. He’s not sure what to say.

Bill sticks his tongue out, his focus torn between something with that array of spinning stars, and texting someone back. He’s muttering to himself, frowning. A foot tapping the ground in irritation.

…As far as Bill’s concerned, Dipper might as well have faded into the background.

Dipper rests his chin in his hands. Waiting might be pointless, but. He’ll stick around for a bit. In case it works.

He wants Bill to throw him into a lake, or tell him he’s stupid, pick him up and insult him. Or at least care that he’s around when he’s sitting right there -

He drums his fingers on his knee, other leg jogging in place.

Bill doesn’t seem to notice.

Dating The Vain Type? How To Get ALL Their Attention on YOU

“This tie?” Bill holds one up in front of himself, facing the mirror. “Ooor this one?” He holds up another.

Dipper doesn’t say anything as he stalks into the bedroom, hands shoved in his pockets.

“Or this one!” Another tie pops up out of nowhere. “What’s a good look?”

Dipper shrugs. It doesn’t matter. Who cares, anyway.

“Speak up already, I need a second opinion!” Bill’s reflection in the standing mirror shows a slightly confused expression. “What’s with you?”

Dipper glares at his husband’s back, shrugging again. Bill makes a miffed sound, but so what?

All Bill cares about is this event he’s throwing. He’s complained about it for weeks now, he’s had plenty of time to prepare. One small human’s opinion isn’t going to matter.

And if Dipper has to hear one more word about this godawful party…

“It’s happening tonight, kid!” Bill jogs both tie options in his hands, prompting. “It might not be my favorite occasion - but that’s no excuse for not looking sharp!” He turns towards Dipper with a wink. “C’mon, what’s good?”

Dipper stalks over towards Bill, ignoring his questions and the weird look he’s being given. He knows he’s tense, that he’s stomping on the carpet, and that this is pretty stupid -

But it was in the article.

And he’s kind of wanted to do this before, anyway.

He meets Bill’s eye, flips him off - and shoves the stupid standing mirror over.

The entire thing, brass stand and all, goes toppling to the floor. The metal hits the ground hard, sending the mirror shattering into a million pieces - and Dipper jumps in place, startled.

Bill merely watches. A blank expression on his face, staring as his narcissistic toy gets moderately obliterated.

The brass stand clangs on the floor for a while, then settles down. There’s a brief silence.

Dipper takes a step back, awkwardly clearing his throat.

Shit, he thought that would be more durable. Most things in Bill’s place are impossible to break. Now there’s a billion tiny shards on the floor, glimmering up at him.

Though. The articles were technically correct. It did get Bill’s attention.

Dipper’s not sure what to say now.

Even Bill doesn’t have anything to say. He looks between the shattered mirror and Dipper, obviously surprised even seconds later.

“...I take it that’s a no on both of ‘em.” He says, eventually. The smile doesn’t make a return. He glances over, blinking rapidly. “What, did you wanna join the party?”

He’s still thinking about - how could he be -

Dipper clenches his fists.

Time after time after time, Dipper’s heard about the drinks selection for a party, or the guest list. Even the games Bill has planned. He can’t help but ramble in his enthusiasm, until Dipper either has to leave the room, or cover his ears against it.

There’s been none of that for this event.

It’s taken longer than every other one. It’s commanded too much of his time. Dipper hasn’t felt Bill watching him through either his regular gaze or his supernatural one, for weeks, and they only had one date this month.

Instead, Bill’s been doing setup - which he grumbles about - and worse, he’s had to organize. That always puts him in a bad mood. He’s bitched and complained, he’s made disgusted faces at his phone. He hasn’t rambled, or bounced in place. He hasn’t once looked happy about it.

Hell. It’s not even his in the first place.

“I don’t know why you’re spending so much time on this crap.” Dipper meets his husband’s eye. He throws his arms out, incredulous. “Bill, you don’t even like it.“

Bill, for once, doesn’t have a response.

He opens his mouth to say something - shuts it again. He blinks rapidly, expression changing as he tries to work something out - it turns into a grimace -

“I’m gonna go to take a bath.” Dipper says, shoulders rising - and stalks off.

Behind him, Bill remains silent. Thoughtful, and still.

-------------------------------------------------

Spending time at Bill’s place isn’t Dipper’s first preference. Spending time with Bill is the main reason to do so, because Dipper likes his time linear, his spaces Euclidean, and his company not cannibalistic. For every upside, there’s a definite down.

But if nothing else, the Fearamid has luxury in spades.

Dipper blows bubbles under the water of the bath. It staunchly refuses to stop being warm and comforting.

The stupid soap even smells nice; Bill must have changed out the options. Dipper knows Bill’s paid attention to some parts of what he wants, including the little things like ‘no more titan arum scented stuff’. He knows Bill’s made it slightly more human-safe, because none of the water comes out literally boiling anymore.

Dipper knows Bill knows these things. He knows a lot of things. Hell, he’s supposed to be ‘all-seeing’, so there’s no good reason some things still get overlooked -

He also knows he’s sulking.

Bill can’t read his mind. That’s been a fact from the start.

Without that advantage, Bill has to rely on all his other knowledge, and extrapolate. Most of the time he predicts him well enough that Dipper never gets a chance to speak up -

So it strangely sucks when he doesn’t.

Sulking’s good, though. Dipper manages some impressive bubble piles, sloshing around in the water.

He already knows what he should do. It’s the sensible thing. The human thing. It might even get Dipper what he wants, it just.

…Also kind of sucks.

If he stays any longer in the bath, his fingers are going to get all wrinkly. Or Bill will leave for the party, probably. He’ll miss his chance, and then, how will he bring up -

Wait.

There’s music, somewhat muffled through the wall between the bathroom and bedroom.

Dipper sits upright, shaking some bubbles off of his face with a frown.

Bill’s playing piano. Which is weird. He only does that when he’s relaxed, and lately he’s been anything but.

And if ever there was a sign, then he supposes this would be it. He tilts his head back, breathing in slowly.

There’s the music.

Time to face it.

Dipper gets out of the bath, sitting on the floor near the edge. Kicking idly in the water as the music continues. Something bright and jaunty. A tune of self-satisfaction, and a perkier mood. He spends more time than he should toweling off. Pacing, back and forth between the hundred baths on the floor and on the walls.

Eventually, he brushes his teeth, staring into a mirror that’s bigger than he is tall.

Dipper makes a face at his own reflection. Walking into the bedroom with that expression is going to let Bill catch on, fast.

….They should really be better at this.

It’s been years.

Whenever Dipper has to say something, it always comes out awkward. He doesn’t know how to do it right.

With Bill, he hasn’t had to come out and talk directly very often, which is something of a relief.

He guesses it’s not a surprise, really. They’re the worst combination for true sincerity - a socially awkward nerd, and emotionally stunted jackass. The fact that they get along at all is nothing short of miraculous.

They’ll just have to…Sort it out.

Dipper nods at his reflection. He takes a deep, calming breath, and lets it out.

The good news is he looks more certain than he feels, even as he heads towards the door.

Their bedroom is the same as always - once you allow for the fact that it changes on a whim, parts clicking in and out of place on sheer demonic will - and the carpet is soft on Dipper’s bare feet.

He drops the towel to the floor, and tries to finger comb his hair. It buys him time, while he thinks about how to start. He doesn’t want to turn towards Bill, feeling weird about their earlier interaction - but he glances over, just once.

Where Bill’s leaning from his perch on the piano bench, tilted at a dangerous angle.

Dipper looks away again, face feeling hot. He walks in a little further, and Bill tracks him, following his every move -

…How Bill keeps playing when nearly horizontal is a mystery.

On the plus side, Bill’s fine. Cheerful, for the first time in a while. And the mirror’s gone too, which is a relief. The tightness in Dipper’s chest loosens a bit.

Then he frowns, setting his hands on his hips.

Where the hell is the dresser with his clothes. Bill better not have vanished it again.

There’s a low whistle behind him.

“Shut up,” Despite himself, Dipper smiles. “You’ve seen me naked before.”

“And I’ll see it five thousand times more!” Bill changes the song he’s playing. It’s lighter, and brighter. “At minimum.”

Likely he’s right about that. Dipper wishes he had something to toss at him, but he already dropped the towel. He rubs at one of his arms.

Being eyed up is. Not weird, but oddly comforting. Bill always ogles him like a creep. Always wanting a peek, or a look, or suggesting revealing clothing with a smile and wink, like the jerk he is. Partly because he is kind of a creep, but mostly because -

Because Bill thinks he’s hot.

Even if Dipper knows he’s watching, Bill’s not going to stop watching, even if it’s awkward. Part of him must like the awkward, he’s never failed to find Dipper compelling, even when most human people would say he’s a huge dork.

Bill literally has his eye on him, all the time. Always wanting to know what’s on his mind.

Dipper rubs a thumb over his left palm, and hears Bill make an annoyed sound. In his mind, he’s shouting at himself.

Why did he bother with ‘research’? He was overthinking, again. He always does this. Which, if he’s right, and Bill likes it - must be extremely compelling.

Behind him, Bill makes a curious noise. The bench makes a creak as he scoots over.

And Dipper shifts from foot to foot.

If he’s going to do this, then. Second-guessing himself is going to get them nowhere.

And all that demonic advice was terrible.

Obvious Come-on? More Like Obvious Turn-off - 10 Mistakes To Avoid!

For the second time tonight, Dipper does something he’s wanted to do before.

Damn it, he doesn’t know what a seductive slink should look like. They’ve done it a lot, Bill’s never complained - but Dipper’s never intentionally looked sexy.

In the end, he doesn’t bother. A walk is fine, if it gets him where he needs to be.

Bill doesn’t move from his seat on the bench. He straightens up as Dipper approaches, looking pleased. He tracks Dipper until it’s impossible - he can’t turn his head 180 degrees.

Once Dipper’s behind his target, he shuts his eyes. He’s got this. This will work - reassuring himself, while Bill keeps playing. Though his head is slightly tilted, listening. Expectant.

Bill isn’t expecting Dipper to drape himself over his shoulders. His shoulders rise as Dipper wraps his arms around them. There’s a sharp intake of breath.

“Sorry about the mirror.” Dipper squeezes his idiot husband, tight. Likely Bill doesn’t care, but someone has to have morals in this relationship.

“I don’t care,” Bill says, very dry. Dipper can almost feel him roll his eye. Bill’s chest puffs out a bit as his posture changes, and there's a smirk in his voice. “Nice you’re still here, sapling.”

Dipper breathes in, and lets it out.

Slowly, he runs a hand over Bill’s chest. The shirt is thin enough that he can feel the warmth underneath, easily - and Bill’s not wearing his tie. By his standards, he’s already a quarter naked.

So. This isn’t that weird. Half of the work is done for him.

When Dipper starts unbuttoning Bill’s shirt, he misses several notes.

“Hello,” Bill says, a bit distant sounding - before realizing that response was semi-brainless; he shakes his head. Looking down at his slowly opening shirt. “What’s this about?”

“I’m getting your attention.” Dipper smacks him on the side. Now that the shirt is half opened, he slides a hand underneath the fabric. “Jerk.”

“Done,” Bill sits up straight, raising his hands like he’s held at gunpoint. Dipper slides a hand over the warm skin of his chest, feeling the heart pick up its pace. “Actually, you can have all of it!”

And when Dipper strokes a thumb over a nipple, Bill gives a full-body shudder, and a soft sound from the back of his throat.

Holy shit, it did work. It’s working perfectly - Dipper feels a surge of triumph.

Not only did this do the trick, it was easy. It was simple. It’s even fun to slide his palm over Bill’s chest, to toy with a nipple, listening to him grunt a little and start clasping Dipper’s arm.

Bill thinks he’s hot, after all. Bill wants him.

Why did he think he needed to make it complicated?

Dipper presses a few kisses onto Bill’s neck, feeling his chest still in a held breath - then moves onto the shell of Bill’s ear. He draws the earlobe into his mouth, biting gently.

“And come to think of it…” Bill’s tense, muscles drawn tight. Like he wants to surge up, while also not moving away. He raises one imperious finger, his voice is slightly rough. “I have been meaning to lavish my attentions on someone, recently.”

“Good plan.” Dipper hugs Bill tighter, then adds, “Since I wasn’t giving you a choice,” As he drags Bill backwards off the bench.

Bill nearly falls on his ass. Grabbing onto Dipper’s arms as he struggles to find balance, squirming in the grip, even the piano bench gets kicked over -

And all the while, he laughs like a maniac.

He’s too quick, though. After only one severe stumble, Bill’s back on his feet before Dipper can react.

Bill seizes Dipper in an instant, gripping his upper arms tight. His grin maniac, and his eye glowing bright. “Oh, sapling.” His voice is a low hum, teeth white and bared. “I'm gonna make you pay for that.”

“You can try.” Dipper says. He gets a grip on Bill’s lapels, hauling him in until they’re face to face.

God, finally. This is what he wanted, and it came so easily. Not only that, it’s way more fun than -

Bill’s phone starts ringing again.

Both of them glance down. Bill grimaces. He stops petting Dipper’s side to pull the offending item out of his pocket and glare at it. “Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

And Dipper… lets his arms drop.

Another interruption, for an important event. Bill’s powerful, but even he can’t change time, not in any meaningful way.

Priorities mean that. Something else gets put on the sidelines.

“Screw ‘em.” Bill declares suddenly, and hurls his phone across the room.

Dipper looks up just in time to catch the motion, as the offending object cracks against the wall over the headboard, bouncing onto the bed.

“Total waste of my time.” Bill brushes his hands off, dismissive. “If they can’t pull the convergence off without me, they didn’t deserve it in the first place.”

“Oh thank god.” Dipper didn’t mean to say that out loud - but now Bill’s looking at him weird, so he adds. “You’re not going.”

“Decided not to half an hour ago,” Bill says, with a shrug. That’s why his mood has picked up - Dipper stands a little straighter. “They shoulda gotten the picture when things got started without me.”

It’s already started. Bill should be there, and he’s spent a lot of time on this thing - Dipper hesitates. “Are you sure?”

“Definitely! You see- Hm.” BIll starts, then hems and haws. He’s also, very unsubtly, backing Dipper towards the bed. He takes a few moments, face scrunched up, before admitting, “You had a decent point.”

Dipper blinks for a moment. Wow. Now that’s rare.

But he’s not too surprised to let it slide.

As Bill pushes, Dipper lets his feet dig into the carpet, and adds a palm on Bill’s chest. It draws them to a slow halt. “You’re serious.”

“As a broken femur.” Bill declares. He squeezes Dipper’s waist, while a smile creeps back onto his face. “I’ve hosted this shindig nearly two dozen times, and every millenia they make it more of a drag.” He sticks his tongue out - then chucks Dipper gently under the chin. “Quick life tip, kid - if it sucks, stop doing it!”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Dipper grabs onto Bill’s lapels again. There’s a smile threatening to emerge. Though, admittedly, he could be trying harder to hold it back.

“Good choice! It’ll keep ya from getting stuck in a routine.” Bill shudders dramatically, and starts backing Dipper up again. After a second he pauses - and presses a quick, wet kiss on Dipper’s forehead. “Your little reminder came in handy.”

Dipper reaches up from Bill’s lapel, and cups his cheek. Feeling his demonic grin widen under his palm - and feeling oddly touched.

Though he knows Bill can be fooled, it doesn’t make the rare moments when he is less surprising. Knowing that Dipper was right feels triumphant, and good. Knowing that Bill could have gotten stuck without a reminder.

It's also a reminder for Dipper. He is smart, and Bill likes that -

Dipper’s legs hit the edge of the bed, and he jabs his husband in the chest. Very lightly, not more than a prod. "Not going to miss the party?"

“Hardly! That crap’s about as amusing as paperwork.” Now Bill’s grin is truly, monstrously wide. He tilts Dipper over the bed, gripping tight to his waist - and winks. “I’d have way more fun playing with a drowned rat.”

“Asshole,” Dipper says, and kisses him.

Bill returns it with enthusiasm. More than a bit of groping. A slow lean over, that Dipper lets happen until he’s nearly horizontal, only his grip on Bill’s shirt keeping him upright.

Part of him feels warm, and good. Another wants to push Bill on the bed, but mostly he’s amused, because Bill messed up.

He went and admitted something.

“You can’t take it back now, Bill.” Dipper sits down on the bed, escaping Bill’s grasp. Albeit temporarily. As Bill pouts over his temporary loss of prey, Dipper smiles, and jerks a thumb at himself, “You think I’m fun.”

“Eh, I’ve met worse.” Bill takes a hold of Dipper’s shoulders, slowly eyeing him up and down. “If I knew how fun you were gonna turn out in bed, I woulda kept you all to myself.” He kisses Dipper once, then moves onto his cheek, and his neck, leaning him further onto the bed. “Shoulda taken you back home and never let you leave.”

“So. Kidnapping, basically.” Dipper braces his elbows on the bed, letting Bill work over his neck, then his shoulder - then grimaces. “That… would have been a disaster.”

If Bill pulled that, Dipper would have been too alarmed to respond the way Bill wanted. Taken away from his home to a strange place. By a total stranger, with unknown motives. Not to mention how Bill back then was… not the worst about bedroom things, but he was still a major asshole. Between Bill’s brash confidence and Dipper’s paranoid anxiety, that entire thing would have been -

“See, this is why playing doctor didn't work out, Mr. ‘I need to see your medical license’.” Bill smacks Dipper’s hip twice. It pulls him back into the moment. Bill raises an eyebrow. “It’s a game, sapling. Don’t take it so seriously.”

Damn it, he has a point. Roleplay always falls apart once Dipper starts picking at it; it doesn’t kill the mood, exactly. But it rarely works as intended.

Dipper wants this to continue. He wants to have fun, he wants to have sex, and Bill’s ideas are usually good in that regard -

Screw it, it is just a game. No reason to make it too complicated.

In essence, it’s pretty standard ‘ravishing by a demon’, and they’ve done that before. This time it’s with a distinct twist, one he hasn’t considered - Dipper glances down at himself - and his traitorous dick is responding.

He wonders if he should have brought the collar. But technically speaking, if he was just kidnapped he wouldn’t have that yet. That’d be something Bill would give him later on, after -

Also, he might be overthinking again.

Maybe he should stop doing that.

“Alright, I’m into it.” Dipper admits. He spreads his arms wide with a shrug. “Have at me.”

“Great!” Bill beams, clapping his hands together. “Then let’s get our party started.”

And without warning, Bill hauls him up, lifts him bodily and chucks him onto the mattress. Dipper bounces in place, getting his bearings as Bill eases his way onto the bed. And over him.

“Glad to have you here, Pine Tree.” Bill leans in, bearing an ominous smile and too many levels of smug to unravel. He has more presence than he deserves. “You didn’t make that easy.”

“Why would I?” Dipper says, keeping his voice level. Slipping into the role is easy; and glaring is practically a habit. “You kidnapped me.”

“Chin up, sapling.” Bill says with a smile. Taking Dipper’s chin in hand, he tilts him up to meet his eye. “You’re really gonna like what’s in store.”

“Cipher,” Dipper hisses, gripping the sheets tight. He scrambles back on the bed, slow enough to let Bill follow at a crawl. “Whatever you’re planning, you won’t get away with it.”

“Is that so?” Bill raises an eyebrow. Eying Dipper, up and down with a slowly growing smirk. “You’re a little underdressed for thwarting, kid.”

Dipper jerks back, indignant. “You stole my clothes.”

The accusation in his voice isn’t entirely feigned. The dresser was gone when he came back from his bath, damn it. He should have noticed. He tries to haul the sheets up around himself, but their mutual weight stops him.

“Surprise!” Bill says delightedly. He wiggles his fingers at Dipper, sitting up on his knees. “I’ve had my eye on you for a while.”

Dipper manages to turn his laugh into a grunt, close-lipped.

“What do you want from me?” He presses his back against the headboard. Retreating was useless - Bill only needs to lean in and he’s caged in by his arms.

“Hm. Decent brains, interesting body - way more into demons than you’d admit,” Bill says, nonchalant. One hand presses Dipper’s hip down firmly, holding him still. A thumb traces over his skin, a short distance away from his rising cock. “And packed chock full of lust.”

“That’s not an answer.” Dipper’s face is red now. He braces his arms against the wood behind him. “I’m not -” But that’s visibly a lie - “I mean. What does lust have to do with-”

“Oh, you and I are gonna do some things!” Bill’s thumb slides over the soft skin on the inside of his thigh. The other hand rises, and snaps its fingers. “Lots of things.”

Sudden, rapid thumping makes Dipper nearly jump off the bed, as a shower of ropes, sex toys, and other lewd accoutrement plummet out of nowhere.

A dildo poings off his thigh, and something rubbery bounces off the mattress and rolls off the side. There’s a scatter of ropes at the foot of the mattress, while leather manacles manifest on the headboard.

Dipper gives all of it a cursory look. Then another, more cynical one at his idiot husband.

“Pretty much all of these things.” Bill says, with no shame whatsoever. He grins down at Dipper like he’s about to unwrap a present. “Along with everything else I can think of!”

“Now I get it.” Now Dipper’s glaring in earnest. A few things would make sense, fine. This is just overkill. “You’re a pervert.”

“Takes one to know one!” Bill grabs Dipper’s shoulders and pulls, startlingly fast. Dipper’s head thumps softly against the pillow. His legs are spread around Bill now, and there’s a palm planted on the center of his collarbone. “Glad you could join me.”

Dipper grabs onto Bill’s wrist with both hands, squirming under the weight. He tugs, but not hard. “Why would I sleep with you?”

“To have the most fun of your life, duh.” Bill says magnanimously. He looms over him, pressure building on Dipper’s chest from his weight. Bill grins down at him, teeth bared in a vicious smile. “We’re gonna have a great time together.”

Dipper shuts his eyes.

With Bill over him like this, dangerous, half-feral, and smug - that sends a tremor through him, going right to his dick.

“See? I knew you’d like this, sapling.” Bill beams, and takes Dipper’s cock in his hand. Not firmly, just… touching. Hot enough to be tempting, loose enough to make Dipper want more of it.. “I’ve seen your dreams.”

“You-” Dipper can’t think of much to say. He lets go of Bill’s wrist, holds onto his arm instead. There’s a retort, somewhere. Except Bill knows how to touch him, and he’s stroking in earnest now, moving faster, holding tighter- “Damn it.”

“You’re real interested in demons. A downright obsession, some might say.” Bill’s voice is low in Dipper’s ear. He nips at it once, thumb spreading wetness over the head of Dipper’s dick. He rolls it around, listens to the groan - and chuckles. “Imagination doesn’t compare to the real thing, does it?”

God, Bill’s warm, and he’s talking, the bastard. That’s never good for Dipper’s stamina. Even worse, Bill slows down, staying firm enough to make him - Dipper pushes his hips up into Bill’s circling fingers- “Ah.”

“Feels good, I know!” Bill starts chuckling. He squeezes again, smacking Dipper’s thigh, just near his butt. “And there’s more where that came from.”

Dipper clamps his mouth shut. Adding a palm over it, for extra coverage. Another sound escapes, softer this time. He grits his teeth and turns his head, he can’t watch if he wants to last longer. “You’re - too much.”

“Oh, please. We’ve barely gotten started! You don’t know what you’re really in for.” Bill says with pleased fondness. He lets go suddenly - Dipper tries to chase his hand for a second, then balls his fists in the sheets. Bill’s sudden grin is feral, and smug. “Lemme give you another taste.”

Dipper props himself up on his elbows. watching Bill duck down. Starting to plant kisses down his stomach, tongue trailing over his skin. He’s-

Dipper swallows, he tenses his thighs. Bracing for the inevitable.“Oh god.”

If Bill’s hand is unfair, his mouth is worse. He doesn’t give Dipper a break, just sucks him in. Too hot, extremely wet, with tongue sliding up the underside of his dick that takes Dipper’s breath away.

“That’s-” The groan Dipper lets out is wholly his own. “Fuck you, that’s not.” He needs to take time to breathe, going tense. He slides fingers into Bill’s hair, feeling them shake on his scalp. “That’s not fair.”

Bill hums a laugh - the vibration makes Dipper’s mind go blissfully blank - then reaches up. Dipper already has a loose hold on his hair, but Bill tugs his hand closer.

“God.” The prompt is obvious. That's what Bill wants - and Dipper sits up. Bill’s tough, he can handle anything, including Dipper. He wants him to fuck his mouth, to pull his hair - a little pain, Bill loves that - and when he does, Bill lets out a moan that would be obscene in any context.

Dipper curls around Bill, gripping tight in his hair, pulling him down sharply and eyes rolling back as Bill just. Takes it. It’s heat and wet and good, it’s been too long, Bill’s firm tongue working clever designs on his dick as he rises back up -

And pulls away, the asshole. He watches Dipper whine, dick hard and red and needy - and merely laughs.

“How many times have you jerked off thinking about that?” Bill asks, grinning. Dipper feels heat rush to his face - “Been a while, huh?” Bill takes his cock in hand again, starting to stroke, slow and lazy and absolutely not helping the heat Dipper feels, in his chest and in his groin - “Don’t worry, kid! It’s gonna be way better with me helping out.”

Which is right, but only because Bill already knows which buttons to press. Where to touch. He never shuts up and he knows what ideas will make Dipper think too much.

Dipper shudders. He hasn’t been touched in a while, and this is helping in ways he didn’t realize. Bill shouldn’t leave him like this, and he really wouldn’t if given the chance, doing all kinds of things to him. Like this tight grip, this surge inside him, building to -

“Wait.” He fumbles, gripping tighter on Bill’s shirt, breathing faster now. Feeling himself twitch, the heat rising in his groin, quicker than he wanted. “Wait. I’m-”

“You don’t even have words for the ways I’m gonna make you come,” Bill’s voice is a low purr in his ear, tight pressure on his dick, Bill never stops talking, it does horrible things to Dipper’s imagination - “Not stopping ‘till you’re a completely fucked out wreck.”

He would, he will - he’d make Dipper take his fingers and his cock, he’d touch him everywhere, until he -

Swears. Dipper arches up, gasping, coming in Bill’s hand, grabbing at his shirt, at his shoulders. Bill grins wide, palm cupped over his cock, catching his release.

He’s still chuckling to himself as Dipper drops back against the mattress. Blinking, slowly, at the ceiling.

Okay.

Not… the longest Dipper’s lasted. But it has been a while.

Bill hums a low, pleased tune, kissing Dipper on the temple, then the cheek. He leans back a bit - then cocks his head to the side as he looks at his palm.

“Seriously, though - you were really pent up.” Bill raises an eyebrow, breaking character for a moment. He examines the results with amusement, then takes a quick lick before wiping his hand on the sheets. “You shoulda said something.”

Dipper sighs. This jackass. “I was trying to.”

A light clicks on in Bill’s head. He sits up, suddenly alert. Eye darting around, thoughts racing - and he looks back down at Dipper.

Dipper doesn’t meet that golden gaze. He clears his throat, covering his eyes with his arm. Suddenly he’s embarrassed.

Bill’s not stupid. He noticed Dipper’s attempts; he could hardly miss the obvious. None of them were normal to begin with. They probably weren’t that common for demons, come to think of it - and zero of them are things Dipper would come up with on his own.

“Pretty strange approach you took there,” says Bill, patting Dipper’s thigh. He tilts his head to the side curiously, and his eye narrows. “What put those ideas in your head?” There’s a very tiny, miniscule amount of tension in the question. Dipper thunks his head against the pillow, rolling his eyes.

Bill’s probing at something most people wouldn’t consider. But spend enough time in a demon realm, and well - Bill’s not entirely wrong to worry that Dipper might have been messed with. It’s just…

Dipper sighs. He knows what the reaction will be. But. He should say it now, too, before Bill gets the wrong idea.

“Um,” He says. Tapping two fingers together, and offering an awkward smile. “Demon Cosmopolitan.”

Bill blinks for a moment.

"Shut it." Dipper says. Already pre-annoyed.

“Mh.” Bill’s lips are pressed tightly together. “Mhm.” Amusement scrunching up his face, clearly holding back. He lets out a loud ‘pfffft’, shoulders rising.

“Demon dating advice sucks,” Dipper insists.

Bill’s amusement is irrepressible. Even though he nearly chokes holding it back, it breaks through - and he starts laughing outright.

Dipper swats at him, not very hard. He has to admit it wasn’t his greatest move.

“I can see it already!” Bill rolls off him, raising his arms in the air. “You doing your ‘research’!” He sterns his expression, a mimicry of Dipper’s - though his thinking face isn’t that dumb looking - and clicks an invisible pen. Nodding to himself, very seriously. “Gotta take notes on this copy of Playbaal.”

“It’s not that funny,” Dipper mutters. Not that it stops Bill. He straddles this jerk instead, and thumps him on the chest.

Another note to make - burn the notebook before Bill finds it.

Bill’s always too pleased with himself, including his own jokes. His dumb, shitty quote-unquote 'impression' has amused him to the point where he’s lying back, arms over his chest. Cackling at his own cleverness.

Accurate or not - which it wasn’t - it’s still really goddamn stupid.

Dipper rolls his eyes, feeling Bill’s stomach bounce with laughter under the palm of his hand. No point in protesting. Let him have his fun.

Still annoying though.

Bill himself looks pretty stupid, anyway. Splayed out on the mattress like that. His shirt half-undone, his hair slightly mussed. An obvious tent in his pants.

…Clearly distracted.

Dipper looks around at the toys strewn on the mattress. At the headboard, and Bill’s arms.

Now a thought’s brewing, in his own head. A tempting one.

Not that long ago, Bill started proposing new ideas. Dipper hasn’t had too many himself, he’s less experienced in this area. And while Bill makes bedroom stuff easy, as much as he can, Dipper’s still… awkward in general.

Even so - Inexperienced or not - He'd be an idiot to miss this opportunity.

Dipper crawls over his idiot husband, sitting down on his stomach with aplomb. Bill perks up, even as a bit of breath huffs out from the impact. He also raises his arms to get them out of Dipper’s way, which is perfect.

Dipper lets his fingers trail up one of them, lifting it by the wrist -

Where some experience comes in handy.

If he hadn’t been on the other side of this before, he wouldn’t know how to do it so quickly.

“Hello there,” Bill says, grinning wider now. He glances down at Dipper’s hips, so close to his face now. “Nice to see ya.”

“Uh huh.” Dipper’s trying for subtlety, he doesn’t have a witty retort. He’s busy sliding fingers up Bill’s other bicep.

Said subtlety instantly fails, as Bill tries to grab his butt, only to be held up with a jolt. His eye goes wide, he snarls and yanks again, torso jerking upwards with his sudden surge. He nearly rises off the mattress, even with Dipper sitting on top of him.

Dipper tightens his legs, keeping himself steady. Blinking in surprise.

Bill nearly bucked him completely off, which is. Not… really the reaction he expected. The second arm is free, and it’s gripping Dipper’s thigh, tight -

While Bill’s dominant hand is neatly tucked into the leather manacle.

After a second, Bill tilts his head back. Tugs his arm a few times, almost testingly - then looks up at Dipper with surprise.

“What?” Dipper asks. They’ve done… stuff before. He didn’t expect that much of a reaction.

“Huh.” Bill says, calmer now. Then, frowning slightly. “Huh.”

“What?”

“Huh.” Bill says again, with the usual amount of helpfulness. Looking less annoyed, and more contemplative. He purses his lips, tapping the manacle thoughtfully. “Gotta say that’s a first.”

Oh.

All of the awkwardness Dipper was repressing surges back to the forefront.

Okay, that’s. He didn’t - well maybe he did think - was he thinking at all, holy shit -

“Um.” Dipper hesitates. What does he do now, besides lean over to touch Bill’s forearm. “Is this-”

Somewhere in the sheets, Bill’s phone starts ringing again.

Bill lets out a disgusted groan, thunking his head against the pillow. Dipper starts scowling.

Bill twists one way, then another, looking for the source, while Dipper feels around for the damn thing without giving up his seat, fumbling in the silk. He finds it half-under Bill’s back, just next to his knee.

Dipper fishes the phone up, and glares at it. Ringing, incessantly, with the same stupid ringtone. Likely it’s important. Something going wrong, or going right. Another demonic thing that’s demanding Bill’s attention.

They don’t know they have competition.

Dipper picks up the call, tucking the phone against his ear. He feels Bill take in a sharp breath under him.

“Fuck off.” Dipper says in clipped tones, before the being on the other end can say anything. He glares down at Bill, squeezing his chest between his legs. Almost daring him to interject. “He’s busy.”

There’s a sound on the other end of the call - but Dipper’s already hung up, and thrown the stupid phone right to the floor.

Underneath him, Bill’s eye goes wide, blinking fast. It also starts glowing bright gold.

Dipper runs a hand through his hair, and tries not to feel awkward about that.

He isn’t really… Being forceful isn’t how he usually goes about things. But they’ve had enough interruptions from that godawful party already, and this one felt all too personal.

Bill shifts suddenly in place. Enough that Dipper has to steady himself, jolting back to the present.

Shit. Right, he’s got to get back to Bill. Who’s -

No longer thinking, apparently. He’s come to a decision with his usual speed. Bill’s propped his other wrist against the empty manacle. Hell, he’s halfway slid it into the thing, waiting for the clasp to be shut.

He’s also wiggling his eyebrows suggestively.

Dipper snorts in amusement, and says, “Okay.”

He leans forward again. There’s an odd flutter inside as he sets Bill’s other wrist in the manacle. As he sets the clasp, and tightens it. Fiddling with the leather is a decent excuse not to see the results, just yet.

Bill gives it an experimental tug, face changing as he thinks - then shrugs, and relaxes back on the bed. Humming a little tune to himself.

Dipper sits back. He swallows, though his mouth feels dry.

Right.

There’s Bill, underneath him. That body, warm muscle shifting against his thighs as Bill gets comfortable. A heartbeat, if Dipper presses a palm against his chest. His arms flex in the restraints, muscles tensing and shifting around before they relax again.

He’s… Not, exactly, at Dipper’s mercy, because Bill’s too strong, he could break out - hell, he made those restraints, they don’t have to exist, he could escape at any time - But.

Dipper licks his lips. Normally he’s good with ideas. It’s not working right now.

Bill. Held back for once. Powerful, impossible, insane - and lying there on the bed, grinning at Dipper. Waiting for him. That hat half-opened shirt exposing his chest, like an invitation to explore.

When Bill Cipher is.. is trapped like this, Dipper’s free to touch him wherever he wants. Or - or not touch him, if he wants, or only at the right moments, teasing until he’s the one shaking with sensation for once. Dipper could do pretty much anything, and Bill’s looking up at him, head slightly tilted to the side, like he expects him to-

“Um.” Dipper sits in place, blinking, at a loss. It’s like his brain has short-circuited, repeating the same thoughts in a circle.

After a second, Bill shrugs. “Well, well, well. Guess my new pet has a couple of tricks up his sleeve.” He lies back on the bed, nonchalant. He tilts his head back to examine his nails, since his hands are raised over his head. “What do you think this little stunt is going to accomplish?”

Dipper narrows his eyes.

If that’s the game, then…

“Who’s captured who now, Cipher?” He jabs a thumb at himself, starting to smile again. He shifts back, settling down on Bill’s thighs. “Guess I was smarter than you thought.”

“If you were real smart you’d be running.” His sneer belies the tent in his pants, hips shifting up as Dipper moves closer. “You know what happens to mortals who try to bind demons?”

Dangerous, always. Deadly, usually. If there’s even one fault in the binding. Even the slightest mistake - and the demon bursts free, able to wreak whatever havoc they like - usually on the hapless mortal who tried to keep them bound.

In this case, Dipper’s feeling very reckless.

“I’m not running away from all the secrets of the universe,” Dipper says. He feels oddly light inside, excitement building as he starts to undo the rest of Bill’s shirt. Fumbling, slightly, his fingers are uncoordinated. “You’re gonna tell me everything.”

“Ha! You’ve got no leverage, kid. Nothing to offer, no way to convince - and you don’t seem like the torturing type to me.” Bill eyes his progress, mouth quirked up with amusement. “Watch the fabric, that’s expensive.”

“Oh, I can make you talk..” Dipper rips the rest of his shirt open. The last couple buttons bounce off into the room, and Dipper slides his hands up that chest, down again to Bill’s stomach. It’s all smooth skin, hot to the touch - “The hard part is getting you to shut up.”

Bill lets out a sharp laugh. Being an asshole doesn’t mean he’s not self-aware. Dipper forces a smile off his own face.

When Dipper undoes Bill’s belt, he chuckles. When Dipper tugs the pants down, underwear and all, he lifts his hips to let them slide off. Bill even kicks the fabric off his legs, too, which is helpful; Dipper didn’t want to fiddle with that part.

It leaves Bill naked, except for the still-opened shirt. Fully hard, cock resting on his stomach; still grinning, and still impenetrably smug.

Dipper narrows his eyes, trying to keep his face stern. Squeezing Bill’s thigh, and feeling the muscle jump under his palm.

“I get it.” He says, shifting lower. His hands stroke the inside of Bill’s thighs, up his hips. “The great Bill Cipher thinks he can resist anything.”

“Sure can!” Bill grins, head rising to track Dipper’s descent. He shifts his legs apart, making it easy to kneel between them. “I can’t imagine you’ve got anything in stor-”

Dipper ignores him. He keeps his eyes on Bill, tongue flickering out. A quick, wet thing, licking against his length..

“Nh.” Bill grunts. Eye fluttering shut, he swallows visibly. "Taking a new tactic, huh.” The smirk returns, sharper now. “That's hardly fair!"

“All's fair in lust and war.” Dipper recites the old demonic phrase. He pulls Bill’s cock upright, watching him suck in a breath - and smiles. “You're going to do what I want."

“You can try,” Bill purrs. His teeth are bared in his wide, pleased smile. “Do your worst.”

Taking Bill in his mouth is a guilty pleasure. Not that he should feel guilty, as Bill’s often repeated, with great enthusiasm - but Dipper groans as he takes Bill in, hand gripping the base of his cock.

It’s hot and hard, twitching again as Dipper idly rolls his tongue around. He opens up, mouth drawing in the thick length of him, cheeks hollowing out. Bill lasts a whole ten seconds before his hips rock up into it; a couple quick jerks. Soon he’s trying to fuck into his mouth, bracing a foot on the mattress, knee raised.

Dipper pulls back and plants a kiss on the head. Underneath him, Bill swears and his hips hit the mattress with a thump. He’s slightly pink in the face, arms tense and eye shut.

Teasing. Taunting. Downright tormenting - now he sees what Bill sees in this.

The appeal.

He licks his lips as he draws back, to see Bill’s cock jump in place, a muscle in his thigh twitch rapidly - then taking it back in, groaning around Bill’s cock as his hips make short, desperate motions..

Bill wants to fuck his mouth, he needs to feel more - he can take it, he’s immortal, but Dipper can too, he’s good at this - undulating his tongue on the underside as Bill hits the back of his throat, and hearing a loud, breathless swear.

Bill might be all-knowing, all-powerful, and all-too-put together in most situations.

He’s not now.

Instead, he’s swearing, low. Repeating and the same word, over and over again. His face is flushed and his chest heaves, rising and falling with heavy breaths. He’s starting to sweat a little, turning his head to the side, trying so hard not to admit he loves this.

There’s pleasure in seeing Bill come so undone by this. Pleasure in knowing that he’s doing this, and fuck, it is good to suck his cock, Dipper’s already getting hard again himself.

“You-” There’s a clang on the headboard as Bill tries to reach out, and gets held up. He swears again, under his breath. “Gnh.”

Dipper draws away. But he takes it slow, drawing it out far longer than Bill did. Bobbing back down briefly, and feeling Bill try to stay in until Dipper finally lets his cock fall from between his lips, dropping wet and throbbing onto Bill’s stomach.

“Is it good?” He asks. He strokes Bill’s length a couple times, watching Bill shudder. Bill lets his head drop back on the pillow, grunting something incoherent. One of his legs is shaking in place, not quite kicking out.

“You can come in my mouth, if you want.” Dipper says, hearing Bill make a soft groan, nearly needy - but wait, right, the roleplay - “Just tell me what I want to hear.”

Bill bares his teeth. Breathing slower now, like he’s controlling it. His eye darts around under the closed lid, jaw tense.

Dipper licks up the underside of his dick, kissing just under the head. Bill’s cock twitches again, and he keeps up his assault with no small amount of pride.

There’s no way Bill can resist much longer. He’s already so close.

Bill breathes in, and lets it out, shuddering and slow. He pauses for a long moment. Then, slowly, he looks up from his pillow.

“You…” Bill starts. His tongue flicks out over his lips, and he flashes his most charming smile. “Are so goddamn good at this.”

Dipper feels a burst of embarrassed pleasure. He ducks his head a little, trying not to smile. “Um.”

There... There’s usually a retort Dipper can offer. But that wasn’t an insult. So. “Um.” He repeats, like an idiot.

Underneath him, Bill’s smile slowly, smugly widens into a full-blown grin.

“So, yeah,” Bill makes a dismissive gesture with his bound hands. “Go ahead, take your time! I could watch you sucking me off all day.” He settles down on the sheets. Acting perfectly relaxed - though his cock tells a different story. “You’re giving me enough jerk off material for eons.”

“Bastard.” Dipper’s really trying not to smile, and he knows his face is red. Even his ears feel hot by now. “You’re-”

He stops. The protest dies before it fully forms.

Because Dipper knows Bill. All his tells. When Bill’s bending the truth, or when saying something he doesn’t believe. When he’s straight-up lying it’s obvious, and Dipper could pinpoint a misleading phrase from a mile.

This time, Bill’s not lying. It’s true.

All of it.

“Oh.” Dipper doesn’t have a followup. The burn of embarrassment flares in him; he must be blushing down to his chest at this point. Bill really -

He looks down - Bill’s dick, almost straining in his hand - but looking at his face isn’t better, Dipper tucks his cheek against one rising shoulder, face feeling hot on his own skin.

“I’ve been watching you, sapling. All the time.” Bill’s smug grin remains; he’s almost too pleased with himself, even though he’s still telling the truth - . “You have no idea how good you look. How hard you make me.” His eye trails over Dipper, and his cock twitches against his stomach. “Every time I come, I think about how much better it would be if I had you in my bed.”

God, and he does, too. Bill’s not playing a role - or at least, not making this up. They’ve done so much together and Bill’s loved it, every moment, enough to make a mental video of them - and there’s proof of Bill’s lust, wet from Dipper’s mouth and hard in his hand.

Dipper doesn’t know what to say. He has Bill in one hand, himself in the other, moving a little faster now, and it’s hard to focus. He shuts his eyes, trying not to pant.

”You’ve got a great mouth on you, kid. But it looks absolutely perfect around my cock.” Bill pulls on the restraints, lifting himself up to meet Dipper’s eyes - he lowers his head, avoiding it - “You’ve got a talent.” Bill strains to follow his gaze, headboard creaking at the pressure. His cock jumps in Dipper’s grip, grinning sharply. “Put it to use? And I’ll give you everything you want.”

Dipper had already ducked back down. It’s right there - and hell, sucking Bill’s dick is less embarrassing than listening to what he was saying. Dipper tastes him, opens for him. Feeling good, with the thick weight in his mouth, on his tongue. He holds the rest of his length with his other hand, face burning.

“That’s it.” Bill’s breathing hard, voice low. He tilts his head up, watching with his eye half-lidded = and a growing smirk. “Good boy.”

Dipper makes a noise that’s nearly a choke, a soft, gagged whimper. Good at this, he’s good - he moans. Bill tastes of skin and salt, a heavy warm weight that feels good to suck. He pulls back to the head, cheeks hollowing and tongue flickering, before swallowing him down again.

“You- Nh.” Bill curses, tossing his head to one side. One of his legs starts jogging in place, his teeth clenched. “Gonna-”

Dipper doesn’t stop, he strokes and groans in encouragement. Feeling Bill twitch as he comes, swallowing slowly. Bill chants something low under his breath before it all melds into a low moan. Even when he’s finished, Dipper keeps going, just to watch Bill shudder under him like he’s being pleasantly electrocuted, eye rolling back in his skull.

When Dipper finally sits up, Bill’s downright dazed. Splayed out, blinking unfocused. Dipper wipes his mouth, and pats his thigh. A warm glow of pride overcomes the warmth in his cheeks.

So what if he’s got an infinite, powerful demon. Or if he’s a nerd. When it comes to this, even Bill Cipher isn’t his match.

“Ten outta ten.” Bill says, after a moment. He spent a good ten seconds blinking at the ceiling, eye unfocused. One of his hands gives a lazy thumbs up, then droops in its manacle. “A million stars. Would come back again, for eternity.” A quick smirk. “Give the server a massive tip.”

Dipper slaps his hip, just to make a point about puns. Then pauses. He’s uncomfortably hard himself, and now that he’s not distracted - Bill’s dick is flagging, but there's more than a few toys scattered over the mattress, there’s lube. Everything he could use to help himself out. He leans over -

“No toys,” Bill snaps, and Dipper jerks to attention. He hesitates. Already his hand hovers over the lube, just next to something that’s smaller than Bill, but -

“Aw, you’re lonely, aren’tcha?” Bill interrupts again. Starting to shake his head in mock pity. “I know what you need - and I’m better than any of those.” He glances down at own groin, a cocky grin on his face. “I could make you come without you ever touching yourself.”

God, Bill’s being oddly truthful today, and again, he’s right. He has managed that before, Dipper can feel his dick jump at the very idea of it. It’s... Intense, and rough. Feeling that demanding demon over him, around him, deep inside of him - and actually, coming on Bill’s cock sounds extremely fantastic right now.

Dipper fumbles the lube for a second, he reaches to stroke Bill into hardness again, get him ready-

“Ah ah ah,” chides Bill. He rolls his hips to the side, dodging Dipper’s touch. “Where’s the romance?” He flutters his eyelashes, his face in a mocking pout. “You can’t even gimme a kiss first?”

Dipper nearly snorts. They’re in the middle of - Bill’s an all powerful demon. He knows so much. He controls an entire nightmare realm, and so many beings think he’s ‘cool’. Unassailable. Unflappable.

Bill Cipher is all of those things - and he says he married a nerd. Which is, okay. A fair statement.

But It takes one to know one.

“Fine.” Dipper moves up closer, cupping Bill’s cheek. He’s trying not to smile, and failing. “Just one, though.”

Less than two seconds later, he proves himself a liar. Kissing Bill never stops with just a peck. They spend longer than they should, tangled together. Dipper lying halfway on him, Bill rising against his restraints to meet him, and his tongue flickering into Dipper’s mouth

Dipper finally gets a hand on him, where Bill’s already halfway to attention. Spreading lube over him in slow firm strokes, feeling him harden quickly, hot under his palm. Bill’s thick length slides easily under his touch, he can feel a vague pulse through it.

Dipper ducks his head next to Bill’s reaching behind himself. He just - needs to prepare a little, and then- he bites his lip, slipping fingers inside.

Reaching behind himself never gives him the right angle, but. Dipper tucks his chin against his chest as he works himself slowly, twisting his fingers. He hasn’t done this in a while. It’s hard to relax. He breathes slowly, controlled - maybe he needs to spread his legs more -

Which is when Bill surges up underneath him, body arching up like a bow. “You- Don’t be a tease, kid.” The words come out in a low growl, too eager to be anything but honest. “At least turn around and let me watch.”

Dipper stops out of sheer surprise. He pauses, looking up into a wolfish grin.

“C’mere. Sapling. You want some help? Let me give you a hand.” Bill licks his lips. He’s trying to nudge him with a hip, his cock hard again, and his eye alight. “I wanna touch you.”

Right, that would be better. Ten times better than Dipper doing it himself. Bill’s long fingers, pushing inside him - he swears under his breath, scooting upward, and it’s only as the tips of his fingers touch the manacle that he thinks enough to pause.

Dipper looks down at Bill. Bill blinks up at him, eye full of desire -

After a moment, Dipper glares.

The corner of Bill’s mouth quirks up, a bit wryly. “Go on, do it.” He wiggles his fingers in the restraints. Almost teasingly. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

Dipper gives him a long, long look, before rolling his eyes.

“Fine.” He repeats, smiling this time. “You jerk.” He undoes one of the restraints.

The clasp opens, the leather parts. Bill stretches his arm out, raising it up front of himself with a pleased grin. Dipper moves onto the next manacle, bracing himself on Bill’s chest for balance -

Bill yanks his other arm, hard. The chain on the headboard snaps with a sharp, metallic clink, and there’s not even time to flinch as Bill lunges up from the bed.

Dipper gasps, half a second after the fact. Much too late, at that. Already there’s a strong arm around his waist, a firm grip in his hair. Dipper didn’t think about how fast Bill can be before he was already caught.

“You really thought you could bind me, of all demons.” Bill shakes his head with slow amusement. He pulls Dipper’s head back and to one side, exposing his neck. “And they call me arrogant”

“Don’t get me wrong, though,” Bill continues, beaming. Starting to nose against that exposed skin, pressing his lips against Dipper’s rapid pulse. Dipper grits his teeth, letting out a soft grunt. He scrambles for purchase on Bill’s shoulders. “It’s adorable.”

“I-” Dipper cuts himself off. Bill’s just licked his neck. Then his ear, teeth grazing against the lobe - now he’s kissing just behind it. “That’s-!” Then. Teeth, on his neck, a mouth on his skin - DIpper swears, and clasps a hand on Bill’s neck in return - “Not fair.”

Bill laughs against Dipper’s shoulder. “All’s fair in lust and war!” He starts trailing kisses up the shoulder, to his neck. “Get used to it.” His mouth sucks in the soft skin tongue flicking over it and absolutely leaving a hickey. Marking him up.

There’s a strong, searching hand between Dipper’s legs, sliding up the back of his thigh. But even when he does struggle, he can’t pull away. Bill’s all over him, surrounding him. Making him his. He’s been captured, there’s no escaping his attention -

Dipper shuts his eyes. He shuffles his knees further apart.

“You could have run, but no! That’s not what you wanted.” Bill slides slick fingers inside him, deeper than Dipper could reach - right there. They spread him open, then press together, then flex - pleasure bursts inside him, god it’s been too long - “You wanted this.”

Dipper shakes his head, but that’s pointless. And obviously a lie; Bill grins as he continues. “You wanted to get fucked. But you’re a skeptic, I get it.” The way he splays his fingers makes Dipper ache, in a good way, he digs his nails into Bill’s back - “You just needed a trial run, first!”

Part of Dipper wants to say that it’s a logical move. That if you’re going to be someone’s… If it’s going to be a sex thing, you should find out if -

Then overthinking takes a backseat, Dipper’s mouth shutting with a click as Bill keeps pressing. Because Bill, the bastard, has clever hands, and a cleverer mind for angles, and his fingers are pushing in so deep. He barely hears Bill asking, “How’dya like it so far?”

“‘S good. Yeah.” The words fall senseless from Dipper’s lips. Very good. He was right, perfectly so, he made absolutely the right choice. When Bill curls his fingers there’s a bright spark, and Dipper pushes into that point of pleasure, grabbing at the back of Bill’s neck, at his shoulders, fumbling in sudden desperation. “More. Please.”

“In a minute.” Bill’s hand never stops, fingers sliding in and out. Avoiding the hitting quite right, now, the bastard - Dipper can feel his breathing pick up, hot on his shoulder. The leather of the manacle is still around Bill’s wrist, cool on Dipper’s skin. “You’re so tight.”

Dipper tugs at him, trying to draw him in. It doesn’t work, even if he really pulls - until Bill finally caves, sliding his fingers out. “And demanding.” He eases Dipper back then, pushing him down on the bed. “I picked exactly the right mortal.”

Dipper tries to get comfortable on the sheets - but Bill hauls him in by his hips. He’s kneeling, which leaves Dipper’s legs splayed over his own. Bill’s cock bobs obscenely over Dipper’s, a rude comparison. “You sure you want this?”

Dipper flips him off. This jerk. Like he can’t see how much he wants it, it’s right there. He’s been hard for a while, extremely so, even now his dick taps on his stomach with urgency, jerking at the very thought of Bill inside him. Bill’s just being a tease.

He nods, anyway, just to move things along.

“Alright, kid. You got this.” Bill shifts up slightly, a smile in his voice. He holds onto Dipper’s hip, starting to guide the thick tip of his cock inside. “You can-” The blunt head of it slips inside, Dipper can see Bill pushing in and feel it, hot pressure entering. “Take all of it.”

Which Dipper’s done before. He’s ready for it. It’s thick and hot as always, but with this angle it’s - Dipper feels his toes curl, he tosses his head back with a whine - Just right. “Yeah.”

“That’s a good boy,” Bill purrs, thrusting shallow, a quick in-and-out, easing himself deeper, a long stroke following - “All mine. My perfect little pet. ” Each word emphasized with another thrust, another push deeper, more firm pressure inside that leaves Dipper breathless. The last bit of chain from the manacle is chill against his hip. “My personal plaything.”

Dipper shoves a hand over his face, whining a protest. He’s - he’s not a - that. But he is, a little. He wants Bill to ‘play’ with him, a lot. He’s wanted it for a while, and now he has it, Bill’s totally inside him, hot and thick. Taking his time, not really fucking him like he could, and Dipper wants more so much he could almost - “Ah.”

“Now that. Is a fantastic look for you.” Bill’s voice is nearly a growl, his grin truly feral. He tugs Dipper closer, shifting up on his knees as he sets a quicker pace. “I could look at that face all day. Or night, as it were.” He draws back slightly, running his thumb around where they’re joined, eye glowing bright. “Or just at you stretched out around me.”

Dipper nods again, helplessly. He can feel it, like it’s bigger than usual, but whether it’s the angle or the time he’s spent alone, he can’t tell. There’s a hot burst of pleasure each time Bill fucks into him; he’s sweating and the sheets getting damp under his back, and in his hands. Holding on tight, and trying to hook his legs around Bill.

“Gonna have you over and over again.” Bill mutters. He's urgently pulling Dipper closer, leaning forward as he rises up slightly. “And you’ll love it.” In this position his cock sends stars swimming into Dipper’s vision, it's so much. His legs are tense, and they’re starting to shake. “Every time I fuck you. Every time I come inside you.”

Damn it, Bill keeps talking; he never stops when he should - All things Dipper can picture in his mind, clear as if it were a dream. He wouldn't have to get Bill’s attention, Bill would be all over him, Dipper would be naked and ashamed and attended to. Whenever he wanted, Bill would be touching him. Kissing his neck, and his chest, shoving him down and fucking him like this, leaving Dipper shaking and waiting until he did it again, getting fucked and touched and adored -

“Use you whenever I want.” Bill rises up to his knees, holding Dipper fully by his hips with unnaturally strong hands, fucking into him rough and urgent. “Let you wait for me, naked in my bed, with all that cum inside you. Touching yourself. “ Bill leans in, teeth bared, breathing hard. He squeezes tight enough to bruise - “Until I bend you over and fill you up again.”

The steady pound of Bill’s cock is building up pleasure too quickly; Dipper can feel it deep in him, ready to make good on his words; every time Bill fucks into him a bead of clear precome drips from his cock, Dipper’s so close he aches - “‘M gonna come.” Dipper blurts, holding onto the sheets, tight. Back arches, nearly whimpering- “Gonna come, please.”

“Sexy little mind. Cute goddamned body. Too eager.” Bill hisses the words out, keeping a steady, near-violent pace, his skin shining with sweat. “Too cute.” He yanks Dipper in tight, arms shaking slightly, and Dipper can feel his cock twitch inside, the added pressure makes him groan - “Everything I wanted.” Bill pants, teeth bared as his eye flutters shut, pressing their hips together. “Fuck, I love you.”

Dipper comes with a sharp, sweet shock, gripping at the sheets, mouthing at the air. Bill holds him close, hips jerking in place, balls deep, pulsing inside him.

Bill squeezes him a little tighter, dropping back onto his seated position. Dipper collapses, boneless from his orgasm - and relieved at the lack of strain on his back. He can feel Bill pulsing inside, hips still jerking faintly in the last few motions.

Dipper lets his head drop back. Trying to catch his breath. Bill stills in place, breathing slower. Eye shut. Until he eventually sighs. He pulls back and away, only to drop on top of Dipper, cheek resting on his chest.

After a moment, Dipper reaches up to card his fingers through Bill’s hair.

Sleeping with Bill is always… interesting. In one way or another Over time he’s been introduced to things he thought were only on the internet, not something people actually did. Hearing Bill say something vaguely normal is strange.

And nice.

They lie there for a bit. Spending time in a calm post-sex daze, comfortable and dozy. Bill raises his arm, and Dipper obligingly unlatches the broken manacle, letting it drop.

With a sigh, Bill turns his head. Finally, totally relaxed, humming in contentment against Dipper’s chest. Dipper keeps petting him idly. Still thinking. Maybe too much, but he’s never going to not.

Even if it was said during sex… there should be a response. Right? If anything, it’s one of the few times he doesn’t have to feel awkward saying it out loud.

“Love you too.” Dipper leans up, planting a quick kiss on Bill’s head, before dropping back. He hugs his idiot demon a little tighter.

Bill makes a low, pleased sound, getting comfortable - then suddenly jerks in place. His head doesn’t rise, but Dipper feels him go tense.

“Ahem. Cute, kid. But you musta misheard me.” Bill clears his throat without looking up. And raises a finger, wagging it. “I said I love fucking you.”

“Uh huh.” Lies, again. Weird one for him to pull, though. Bill doesn't say that sort of thing often, but he’s never outright denied it before. “Sure.”

Dipper keeps running his hand through Bill’s hair, ruffling it slightly. Bill lets out an annoyed grunt, but doesn’t move, face planted on Dipper’s chest. For some reason the tips of his ears are pink.

But. Wait.

Demons do things backwards.

Hell, Dipper’s just read more articles than he’d admit about this exact topic. He should have figured. Though he was… distracted. When it happened.

“Well. If you had said something that kinky,” Dipper continues, feeling Bill mouth a swear against his skin. He thunks his forehead against his human pillow, and Dipper starts to smile. “I would’ve been really into it.”

Bill looks up. Eye narrowing.

Watching his expression turn from annoyed to conflicted is the third best thing that’s happened today.

“Kind of a shame,” Dipper adds, dropping his hands to his sides. He shrugs, then tucks his arms behind his head. “I should have guessed you wouldn’t be that sexy.”

“Hey!”

A brief tussle ensues. Not a fight, and not quite a wrestle. Mostly, it’s Bill jostling Dipper around and Dipper fending him off, neither with much force. He gets two sharp nips on his ear, then gentle teeth on his shoulder. Bill worries the flesh for a moment - a token gesture - before rolling off Dipper with a satisfied grunt.

Dipper follows, throwing an arm over his demon. And when he cuddles up against Bill’s side, he feels Bill adjust to meet him.

Bill lets out a pleased sigh Relaxed, for once. Settling into that lazy, post-sex lassitude that Dipper only sees on rare occasions. Radiating smugness, too; he’s obviously congratulating himself. Dipper could see that in his face from a mile away.

Dipper narrows his eyes. It’s nice when Bill’s calm - but he’s also telling himself he's the greatest, cleverest, most superlative demon ever. That gets annoying.

He’s proven correct moments later, when Bill starts to chuckle.

“I can’t believe you thought you needed advice to seduce me.” Bill says. He shakes his head, almost incredulous. There’s a fond grin on his face. “I married a moron.”

The buried complement is in one of its shallowest graves yet. Dipper narrows his eyes. He would hit him with a pillow, but he’s using Bill for that right now. So he won’t.

“Fine.” He pats Bill’s chest instead. Feeling warm, and pretty relaxed himself. “Next time I won’t let you leave.”

“Go ahead.”

“I’ll interrupt everything,” Dipper insists. He props himself up on one elbow, glaring without any heat at Bill’s stupid handsome face. “You’ll never get any plans done.”

A smirk, and a lazy shrug. Bill even rolls his eye, grinning wider. “Hey, you can try.”

“You asked for it, Bill Cipher” Dipper’s smiling now. He rolls on top of his idiot demon, cupping his face, shaking it in his grasp just to watch Bill get grumpy. “Prepare to be bored senseless, hanging out with some human all the time.”

“Pfft, hardly!” Bill waves that off like it’s not even an issue. He also grabs Dipper’s butt. “You’ll never manage it.”

Hearing Bill practically perform necromancy on the usually buried compliments is - The only retort there is kissing him stupid. As always it disarms him; a demon, easily subdued. An idiot, who thinks just because his tongue is in Dipper’s mouth that he’s won.

All demons are stupid in the ways of romance. Research alone has proven that. And… real life has kind of proven that Dipper’s… not the greatest either.

Too bad for, Bill, though. Infinite knowledge, insane power. And stupid, and overlooking things. A gossip and a nerd. He admitted it already - too easily seduced, if you’re the right person.

It’s too late for Bill to win this one. He’s already met his match.

“Leave the gossip rags outta the bedroom, sapling.They’re made by idiots, for idiots. Terrible advice, all round.” Bill adds, once they’ve parted again again. He walks his fingers up Dipper’s back, running a hand over the back of his neck - then makes a face, as a thought strikes him. “I’m just glad you didn’t try the starfruit thing.”

Dipper…. Probably shouldn’t ask. If Bill thinks it’s bad, who knows what it looks like to a mortal. But hell, he’s always curious. Dipper sits up. “Sorry, the what thing?”

“Oh man, I gotta show you!” Bill perks up. He shuffles into a seated position, leaning against the headboard. One snap of the fingers, and magazine blinks into existence on his lap. “It’s horrible.”

Dipper scoots up and over, resting his head on Bill’s shoulder. Watching, as he flips to the advice column.

Turns out Bill has collected more than a few issues himself. Not for advice, but out of sheer amusement.

If Dipper thought humans gave each other bad advice, holy shit. He’s amazed he got anything useful from his own research. For every drop of decent advice, the rest are insane by any standard. Demons have to be actively fucking each other over, they can’t truly believe any of this crap.

Most of the time, Dipper bickers with his husband, while Bill finds points to argue right back. It’s more fun than Dipper will ever say out loud, and Bill enjoys it immensely.

This time, they’re sitting together. Bill nudging him to read another article, and Dipper pointing out how bad demonic advice is about humans. There’s more than a few magazines, and they comb over every single awful inch of them.

Reading how dumb and wrong other beings are. How they’re ridiculous and stupid and terrible - it’s another contest, kind of. Bill’s creative with his wordplay, mocking every single aspect. Dipper, though, has more pointed insights, and one of them makes Bill laugh so hard he nearly chokes on his own spit.

It’s different. It’s new.

And it’s fun.

Spending time with Bill is both unusual, and insane. It defies all natural laws, every legal one, and common sense is completely tossed out the window. Demons would think half their dates are boring. Humans would think the rest are insane.

For once, Bill had the right sentiment when it came to other people..

‘Screw ‘em’, is pretty good advice.

“Y’know, I had a centerfold in onna these things a couple centuries ago.” Bill admits, on the fifth issue. He taps his chin thoughtfully. “Can’t recall which one, though.”

“I bet it was awful,” Dipper lies. He hopes the corner of glossy paper hanging out from under his mattress won't be too obvious. “You’re the worst.”

“I am,” Bill says, with the usual amount of pride. His chest puffs out a little, he raises his chin.

Dipper takes Bill’s hand in his own, squeezing tight. “You are.”

Fuck it. They don’t have to make sense to anyone else. Bill’s incomprehensible to nearly everyone as it is, and Dipper barely understands himself half the time -

But the more time they spend together, the more they get each other.

And it’s never, ever boring.

Bill beams at him, pulling Dipper in for a kiss. Before he has a chance to take charge, Dipper puts his tongue in Bill’s mouth first. Another contest, that Bill easily takes him up on, surging in for another kiss - He only breaks off halfway through to start laughing.

Demonic, human, or otherwise - No matter how normal or weird it gets -

Dipper smiles, and holds Bill tighter. Feeling his chest shake with amusement, a warm body lying on him.

He knows they’ll have plenty of time together.

#Not Safe for the working #familiar!au #This really needed another editing pass but maybe I'll do that if I ever put this up on AO3 #I just reached the point where I couldn't look at it anymore and had to get it out of my brain for a bit #My apologies that this is all I have to offer you #At least it may bring you some amusement #Uhhh usually I have fun tag facts let's see #Oh yeah the event Bill was hosting was absolutely a demonic invasion of some sort #It's just that demons *see* it as a party #And wouldn't you know it it helps if you've got a major heavyweight for your scheduled shenanigans #Because you know that when it's on a timetable your party favors/victims are going to mount a defense #Imagine some demon hanging up after Dipper throws the phone #Another asking 'so is Bill gonna show up'#A slow shake of the head - if they have a head - 'he's getting laid instead :('#Sorry Dipper you made it pretty obvious what was going on #And then the 'party' was an absolute disaster #Bill says it serves them right; Dipper is mostly unaware of all of this #Does this mean that Bill will let himself be in this situation again??? Yes. Yes it does #Bless you Dipper you pulled out several stops but you didn't know what to do once you had said stops pulled #Anyway hope it wasn't too awful guys!! I'm working on other stuff too #I'm gonna go lie down now

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windfighter · 8 months

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Tumblr, what is this? Why can I only turn off my own curated thing but not the algorithm?

Like yeah I'll look at the for me-stuff sometimes when I go to the explore-page on the app (on desktop explore just takes me to "today on tumblr" and I hate it, I want to explore not be fed shit by staff), but why is that not toggleble?

Tumblr - the place where you can decide what you want to see as long as you only don't want to see the things you are actually interested in!

#windy wrambles #tumblr #I am getting increasingly angry at this site #so like... it's almost not even fun to check it out any longer #I pretty much only go here to torture the Frontier-tag or zura's DMs :P #I am once again asking for recommendations of blogsites that functions like tumblr before it started aiming for being a social media-site #or like... just blogsites that aren't all about 'this is how you can get the most money out of your blog!'#I've tried searching for blogsites but every recommendation is just that #or 'it's free but first: you need an expensive hosting service as long as you want to have the blog!'#I checked out pillowfort a bit #maybe that one?#I dunno

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reasonsforhope · 6 months

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Legit though, we should start turning ecosystem restoration and work to make our world more tolerant to the effects of climate change into annual holidays and festivals

Like how just about every culture used to have festivals to celebrate the beginning of the harvest or its end, or the beginning of planting, or how whole communities used to host barn raisings and quilting bees - everyone coming together at once to turn the work of months or years into the work of a few days

Humble suggestions for festival types:

Goat festival

Besides controlled burns (which you can't do if there's too much dead brush), the fastest, most effective, and most cost-efficient way to clear brush before fire season - esp really heavy dead brush - is to just. Put a bunch of goats on your land for a few days!

Remember that Shark Tank competitor who wanted to start a goat rental company, and everyone was like wtf? There was even a whole John Oliver bit making fun of the idea? Well THAT JUST PROVES THEY'RE FROM NICE WET PLACES, because goat rental companies are totally a thing, and they're great.

So like. Why don't we have a weekend where everyone with goats just takes those goats to the nearest land that needs a ton of clearing? Public officials could put up maps of where on public lands grazing is needed, and where it definitely shouldn't happen. Farmers and people/groups with a lot of acres that need clearing can post Goat Requests.

Little kids can make goat-themed crafts and give the goats lots of pets or treats at the end of the day for doing such a good job. Volunteers can help wrangle things so goats don't get where they're not supposed to (and everyone fences off land nowadays anyway, mostly). And the goats, of course, would be in fucking banquet paradise.

Planting Festival and Harvest Festival

Why mess with success??? Bring these back where they've disappeared!!! Time to swarm the community gardens and help everyone near you with a farm make sure that all of their seeds are sown and none of the food goes to waste in the fields, decaying and unpicked.

And then set up distribution parts of the festival so all the extra food gets where it needs to be! Boxes of free lemons in front of your house because you have 80 goddamned lemons are great, but you know what else would be great? An organized effort to take that shit to food pantries (which SUPER rarely get fresh produce, because they can't hold anything perishable for long at all) and community/farmer's markets

Rain Capture Festival

The "water year" - how we track annual rainfall and precipitation - is offset from the regular calendar year because, like, that's just when water cycles through the ecosystems (e.g. meltwater). At least in the US, the water year is October 1st through September 30th of the next year, because October 1st is around when all the snowmelt from last year is gone, and a new cycle is starting as rain begins to fall again in earnest.

So why don't we all have a big barn raising equivalent every September to build rain capture infrastructure?

Team up with some neighbors to turn one of those little grass strips on the sidewalk into a rain-garden with fall-planting plants. Go down to your local church and help them install some gutters and rain barrels. Help deculvert rivers so they run through the dirt again, and make sure all the storm drains in your neighborhood are nice and clear.

Even better, all of this - ESPECIALLY the rain gardens - will also help a ton with flood control!

I'm so serious about how cool this could be, yall.

And people who can't or don't want to do physical stuff for any of these festivals could volunteer to watch children or cook food for the festival or whatever else might need to be done!

Parties afterward to celebrate all the good work done! Community building and direct local improvements to help protect ourselves from climate change!

The possibilities are literally endless, so not to sound like an influencer or some shit, but please DO comment or reply or put it in the notes if you have thoughts, esp on other things we could hold festivals like this for.

Canning festivals. "Dig your elderly neighbors out of the snow" festivals. Endangered species nesting count festival. Plant fruit trees on public land and parks festival. All of the things that I don't know anywhere near enough to think of. Especially in more niche or extreme ecosystems, there are so many possibilities that could do a lot of good

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bluerosefox · 19 days

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Invites

"OMA, kill meeeee" Ellie, aka Wrath complained as she allowed her head to 'thunk' on the cafeteria table in the Watchtower she phased into in order to sit in next to a boy dressed in red, yellow, and green.

"Aren't you already halfway there?" Came Robin's response as he took a drink of his water, eyeing his teammate with a raised eyebrow, though it was difficult to tell with his mask in place.

"OMA?" Asked Superboy on the other side of the boy.

"Shush you." She said towards Robin before answering Superboy "Oh my Ancients, it's like OMG but like for us ghosties."

"Tt" "Oh!" Came both their responses.

"So..." began Superboy after a few minutes of silence between them as he looked at Ellie like a confused puppy "Why?"

Ellie groaned and just stayed slumped on the table as she said "Da's dumb Observants council is hosting another dumb ball to try to get him or me hitched again, and like always I'm forced to attend because I'm Da's heir. We both hate it with a passion, most are just stuck up, power hungry, social climbers trying to get into our pants for the royal titles... Espcially if they become our Forevermores."

"Tt, why not just get rid of them? Or simply have your Father dismiss the ball." Robin said, his eye twitching in annoyance just at the thought of it. A ball sounded even more annoying than the gala parties he is made to go to.

"Sounds stressful... Also Forevermores?" Superboy asked, he was always curious of Ellie and her ghost culture but never knew what could be asked or not, he had been warned to never ask how a ghost died after all and that question is normally asked in every ghost hunter video on the internet.

"Forevermores is our term for the ONE. The one and only we will ever be with. Till our final end takes us we are always to be with them only. We are core creatures and bonding on that level is like sacred, we don't rush into bonding like that though. But everyone in the Realms hopes to be either become mine or Da's. And the ball is their best chance at meeting us on neutral grounds." Ellie explained as best as she could for Jon, it was hard trying to explain the type of level a Forevermore was "And to answer you Robin, Da can't. The Observants, despite how annoying they can get with their dumb demands, are part of the system council for the Realms, they're sadly needed to keep things in check hence their name. Da and his friends are still trying to find a loophole to get rid of them though. They were only created when they put Tyrant King to sleep and they still sadly have some backings from other powerful ghosts in the Realms, even an Ancient or two and in order to fully dismiss them we need all Ancients on board. And the ball keeps a lot of ghosts, especially the more powerful ones, errr I guess happy? Most just use it to gossip on neutral grounds, others just like to dance, network, or other junk like that. Basically, when it's not about them trying to get mine or Da's hand in ghost marriage, it's fun so Da can't dismiss it, it'll ruffle to many feathers."

"Wow..." "Tt." Were the response from her teammates.

"Yeah. Da really isn't happy because someone suggested inviting powerful people from a few Mortal Realms this time. Somehow it got approved. So... here." She said as she reached into her own chest, phasing her hand in, and pulled out two green envelopes and placed them on the table in front of them. Both boys stared in surprise to see their names written in dark purple ink and the stylized DP on it.

"CW let me invite you guys personally. Everyone else should be getting theirs in about a few minutes complete with a blaze of green fire and spooky vibes." Ellie said with a strained smile, both happy to invite them but also dreading the questions she'll no doubt have to answer once the invites were sent.

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skzdarlings · 1 year

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01. sharing a bed series ; skz ; chan

masterlist.

sharing a bed series part 1/8. because it's the cheesiest most classic trope and it's FUN. -

pairing: bang chan/reader content info: sexual content. friends2lovers, sharing a bed trope. chan's baby girl agenda. accidental boners, horny embarrassed reader. chan is a tease n a dork. :)

You let yourself into Chan’s room, expecting to find him awake and working despite the hour. Whenever you sleep over, your friend is more than happy to let you sleep in his bed when you can’t get comfy on the couch. Many nights have passed that way, nestled under his blankets and falling asleep to his typing and clicking and absent-minded humming. He likes to work through his nights so you sleep until morning then leave when he turns in.

He must have been tired tonight. His laptop is shut, the room dark save for the flickering lights of his computer station. Chan is in bed already, laying with his back to you and the blankets tucked around him. He is so sound asleep that he didn’t hear your gentle knocks.

You feel bad for disturbing him now. Commandeering his bed is a little different when he is already in it.

You turn to leave when the blankets rustle behind you. Chan’s groggy voice breaks through the silence, a raspy, “Baby girl? That you?”

Maybe it’s the cold floor under your bare feet, maybe it’s the late hour, or maybe it’s the roughness in his voice, but despite how many times Chan has playfully and affectionately called you baby girl, this time a little shiver brushes up your spine.

You turn back around, wrapping your arms around yourself. Thanks to the faint light from his work area, you can see Chan clearly even in the dark. He has rolled onto his back and is rubbing a hand over his face.

“Sorry, Channie,” you whisper. “You sleep. It’s fine.”

His blanket slips down his bare chest and he drops his arm, looking at you with crinkled, sleepy eyes. His curly hair is an endearing mess, though your eyes go a little lower when the blanket falls to his waistline. You quickly look away from his abdomen to his sleepy eyes. He squints at you as he adjusts to the darkness.

“Everything all right?” he asks, still groggy.

“Yeah, don’t worry,” you say, as if that has ever stopped Chan from worrying anyway.

He is a little more awake now, his brow pinching as he looks at you. All at once his face goes slack with realization. A smile pushes at his dimples.

“Right,” he says. “The couch sucks, yeah? Sorry, wasn’t thinking—”

“Don’t apologize,” you say with a little laugh. “It’s your bed.”

“Auuggh,” he says with faux-agony, “I’m such a bad host.”

You cannot hide your amusement, smiling when he slaps a melodramatic hand over his heart. As usual, the goofball makes himself giggle with his dumb little theatrics, the sound twinkling in its delight. Your heart skips a beat.

“All right,” he says. “No worries. Big bed. You wanna share?”

It isn’t really a question because he doesn’t wait for an answer, flipping open the covers for you to slide in.

When you step towards the bed, he throws up a cautionary hand and laughs again.

“Sorry, uh, just wait one second,” he says. “I’m not, uh, technically decent.”

Your eyes drop again. The blankets only just reach his hips and when he shifts to get out of bed, it becomes abundantly clear that Chan is completely naked under the covers. You very nearly choke on your own spit, swallowing hard as your frantic eyes dart around his body.

He is seemingly oblivious to your startled state, turning his back to you as he steps out of the bed. The sheet slips smoothly off his body.

You spin around to give him some privacy. This plan fails spectacularly as his closet door is a big mirror and you end up looking at him through it.

He is nonchalant, walking up to his dresser. You know you shouldn’t stare but you do, eyes on the breadth of his shoulders, the definition of his arms, going down his sturdy back to his ass where you linger a beat longer, then diving down his strong thighs until the view is blocked by his bed. You watch him step into a pair of boxers, doing a little jump before snapping the band around his hips. He turns around and you quickly close your eyes, grateful he cannot hear your heart going a mile a minute.

“All right,” he says pleasantly. “All good now. Come on.”

He gets in the bed first and holds it open for you. He is smiling so sweetly and you feel like the world’s nastiest, horniest monster, gawping at him as you stumble to the bed. You try not to think about how he was naked between these sheets just moments ago.

Somehow, you slide into the bed without making a huge fool of yourself. You even manage to settle down, albeit stiffly. So stiffly that Chan notices and laughs again, that same bubbly giggle as he reaches out to tweak your nose.

“Y’okay?” he asks, his bare face so open and sweet that you melt with both affection and embarrassment.

“Mhm,” you lie. Your heart skips another beat when your leg brushes his under the covers.

“C’mere, silly,” he says, wrapping his arm around you and tugging you across the bed. You go with a squeak of surprise, planting your face in his bare chest. “Better?” he asks.

“Mmmhf.”

It requires some manoeuvring, but you do get semi-comfortable. It is difficult to feel completely at ease when you are also lit up like a firework, very aware of all the places your body is touching his. Your faces are close, your hand on his chest, his hand on your hip. And something else is uncomfortably lodged between your lower halves—

Your mouth rushes ahead of your brain and you say, “Wait, what’s that?”

As if you think he dropped something in the bed between you.

As if that could be anything but his dick.

His startled expression speaks volumes. His nervous, flustered laugh says even more. You have to physically restrain yourself from digging a hole through the bed to die inside.

In your marginal defense, why would you expect Chan to be sporting a semi for no apparent reason? Your shorts are pretty short and you have nothing on under your little tank top, but what sort of crazy wishful thinking is that? That Chan reciprocates all your horny pining?

You suppose there is some hard evidence. So to speak.

“Sorry,” he says, his hand lifting away from your waist. “I didn’t, uh, sorry, wanna make you feel—”

“Oh, no, no, it’s fine, it’s fine,” you say quickly. You feel so, so hot, and you aren’t sure if it’s embarrassment or desire. At any rate, it makes you even stupider. “It’s all good,” you say. “I like it!”

I like it???

He is clearly computing that, looking more confused than embarrassed now.

“You… like it,” he says slowly.

“What I mean by that,” you say, “is that I… like… it.” Nice recovery.

“I see.” He looks amused now, his dimples deepening. “That clarifies things. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Any time.”

“You look a little embarrassed,” he says, touching your chin to tilt your face up to his. It forces you to look directly at him as he studies your expression. His intensity makes thinking of a response impossible. He smiles all-too knowingly at you. “C’mon,” he says, his voice a little lower. “It’s just me, baby girl. You don’t have to be shy.”

Uh oh, you think, looking at his alarmingly competent smoulder, Chan might be secretly evil.

Maybe not secretly. And maybe too affectionate to be pure evil. But he holds your chin and guides your face, turning it away so he can kiss your cheek. Your eyes close and you fight a moan, because moaning at a cheek peck would just be ridiculous.

Then he kisses a spot a little lower on your jaw, then below your ear. His tongue flicks at the shell of your ear at the same time his hand slides under the covers to cup your hip again. You let yourself moan this time, a sweet little hum that he returns when you press yourself closer to him. You feel his dick twitch in his boxers, practically demanding your attention. You let your hand drift downward.

“Can’t believe you’re secretly evil,” you murmur, making him laugh. “Don’t laugh. You are. I hate you.”

“Really?” he says, with all the cockiness of a man who already knows the answer. He doesn’t wait for it, his hand swiftly moving to cup you between your legs. His knuckle rubs softly against your pussy, so hot and wet that he can undoubtedly feel it through the fabric. “Sorry, baby,” he says, very unserious, “but I don’t think all of you hates me.”

“Mean, mean, mean—”

He can’t help but giggle at you, somewhat juxtaposed to the way he is rubbing you through your clothes.

“Damn,” he says, a breathy sound. You are panting against his open mouth already. “Need it bad, don’t you, baby? Who did this to you?”

“Some mean tease,” you say. “Been into him all this time and he never did a thing.”

“What a fucking idiot.”

“Mhm.”

“His loss.”

You both have a stupid little giggle before you finally touch him in return. His breath catches.

Your mouths are close, so close that it makes your clit throb under his knuckle, so close that he is straining the material of his boxers. His hand jumps up, leaving you torturously bereft, but then he slides that hand into your shorts to touch you directly. He kisses you at the same time, swallowing down all your sweet sounds as he licks into your mouth.

“I got you,” he says, a lovely sentiment that is followed by a very hot, filthy lick into your mouth. He moans into it, then kisses you nicely. “I always got you.”

Your hand stutters to a stop because he has you close, so close, so quickly. Your orgasm washes over you with unexpected swiftness, your whole body arching against his as you come.

“That’s it,” he says, his hand steady as he brings you over. “That’s my girl. Got you.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him in for another kiss. You think about all those cozy nights you spent snuggled up in this spot, the way Chan worries about you no matter what you say, his thoughtfulness and attentiveness and protectiveness.

I got you.

Knowing it’s true, you smile and kiss his smile in return.

#skz smut #stray kids smut #bang chan smut #bang chan x reader #chan x reader #skz x reader

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foxy-eva · 5 months

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Prom Night

Summary: After everyone shared their sad (or non-existent) prom stories, Penelope decided to host a BAU Prom Night, giving Spencer the perfect excuse to finally ask out Reader

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader

Category: Fluff, Smut

Content Warnings: (18+, minors DNI) a bit of miscommunication, jealous Spencer, heavy kissing, fingering, handjob, protected penetrative sex

Author’s Note: This is my entry for @imagining-in-the-margins Office Party Challenge!

Word count: 2.8k

Masterlist

“And that’s how I ended up with a broken heart on prom night,” JJ concluded her story after a couple of other BAU members had shared their prom experiences in their lunch break.

“Aww, that’s so sad!” Penelope cooed.

“I didn’t even go to prom,” Spencer chimed in. “I mean, I was twelve, but still…”

Derek looked at you and asked, “What about you, pretty girl? Did anything exciting happen on your prom night?”

You took a moment to think about it and shook your head, “Don’t even get me started.”

“You know what!” Penelope suddenly exclaimed. “We should throw our very own prom night! This way we can make up for all those miserable experiences.”

“That sounds fun,” JJ agreed. “I would love to take Will to prom.”

“Yes, that’s perfect. Everyone has to bring a date!” Penelope locked eyes with Spencer and made herself very clear, “No exceptions. Not even for you, doctor.”

Spencer cleared his voice as a slight rosy shade spread over his cheeks. It made you smile to see him like this and you wondered if he already had someone to ask to go to prom with him. His eyes met yours for a moment and your heart immediately skipped a beat.

To everyone’s surprise Hotch agreed to have a BAU Prom Night and made sure that you could use one of the function rooms at Quantico. Over the next few days you helped Penelope figure out the details until the date of your big night was set.

Everything was going as planned except for one detail - you still didn’t have a date. You were sure that you were the only one at this point, even Spencer seemed to have found someone. At least that was what you assumed after you kept catching him and Derek mumbling about something (or someone) and stopping once you got close enough to eavesdrop.

Three days before the festivities began, you and Penelope were waiting for fresh coffee in the kitchen while talking about the perfect color arrangement for decorations. Spencer approached and noticed that the coffee wasn’t ready yet, so he joined into the conversation by sharing some facts about color theory.

“Hey, Y/N,” you turned your head to spot Anderson approaching. “I heard you don’t have a date for prom night yet.”

“You don’t?” Spencer exclaimed. “I thought you had a boyfriend.”

You flashed him a confused look and muttered, “What? No.”

“But you mentioned this guy a few weeks ago. I overheard you talking about a date with him,” Spencer stammered.

“I never heard from him again,” you clarified and turned to Anderson. “And no, I don’t have a prom date yet.”

The man you had never paid any attention to before smiled at you and said, “Well, now you do!”

Spencer looked shocked at Anderson’s words and stormed out of the room without saying anything. You had never seen him acting this way and watched as he disappeared in the empty conference room. You flashed Anderson an apologetic look before following Spencer to talk to him.

You found him sitting at the table, pretending to look through a file when you sat down beside him. “Spencer, what’s going on?”

“I thought you already had a date,” he mumbled without looking at you. “And now you’re going with Anderson.”

Slowly you got a hunch what all of this was about. It made your heart flutter to realize that he wanted to ask you out.

“I haven’t agreed to go with him, yet,” you told him.

He finally locked eyes with you and asked, “Do you want to go with him?”

“I don’t want to go alone. But the guy I actually want to go with hasn’t asked me yet.”

Spencer didn’t respond, instead his eyes found the file on the desk again. You couldn’t believe how oblivious he was and realized that you had to spell it out for him. “Spencer, I’m talking about you.”

“Wh..What?” It took a few seconds until he realized the meaning of your words. “Oh.”

“Are you gonna ask me out now or what?” You giggled.

“Yes! Yes. Uhm,” he cleared his voice and took a deep breath. “Do you want to go to prom with me?”

You smiled at him and nodded. “I would love to.”

A wide grin appeared on his face and you noticed a sparkle in his eyes you had never seen before. Spencer seemed genuinely happy.

“Should I uhm… pick you up at your place?” Spencer wondered.

“No, I’ll get ready here because I have to help with decorations. But you could pick me up right here and we’ll walk down to the function room together?”

“That sounds lovely.”

After you turned down Anderson’s invitation, you and the rest of the team had to get back to your job for the next few days. It was hard to focus on work as your mind kept drifting off to the fact that Spencer had finally asked you out. Anytime that thought crossed your mind, you felt your cheeks heating up and your heart began beating erratically inside your chest.

For the first time since you started working at the BAU, Spencer didn't look right away whenever your eyes met his. His glances lingered on you and it made you feel like you were the only person in the room with him.

When the big night finally arrived, you spent most of the day preparing the function room for the evening. About thirty minutes before everyone else would arrive, you hastily disappeared in the restroom to change into your dress, fix your hair and put on some make-up.

Spencer arrived at the conference room just a few minutes after you. He wore suits most days but you had never seen him wearing anything that fancy. He looked incredibly handsome in his black suit, white dress shirt and bow tie.

Before you had a chance to tell him how gorgeous he looked, he stammered, “Wow… you look stunning.”

Your fingertips brushed over the soft fabric of your dress as if to straighten out wrinkles that weren’t there. A wide smile spread over your face at the compliment. It was no coincidence that you picked a purple dress, aware that it was Spencer’s favorite color.

“Thank you. You look very handsome, too.”

A rosy shade spread over Spencer’s cheeks while his lips curled into a coy smile. The two of you stood there in silence for a few moments until he seemed to remember the item he held in his hands.

“Here, I got you something,” he said as he let you take a look.

It was a small corsage with white and lavender-colored blossoms. It matched your dress perfectly. You reached out your hand, implicitly telling him to put it over your wrist.

His fingertips gently brushed over the back of your hand as he placed the corsage on your arm. His touch was innocent but ignited sparks inside your chest nonetheless. He must have felt it too because when his eyes found yours you noticed that warm glimmer in them again.

As the two of you entered the function room the party had already started. The dance floor was filled with your coworkers, moving in ways you had never seen before. The colors of the balloons matched the rest of the decor and you were more than happy that everything had worked out so wonderfully.

“So, what do you think about your very first prom, boy wonder?” Penelope giggled as she approached the both of you.

“It’s perfect,” was all he had to say.

Penelope grabbed you both at your arms to pull you onto the dance floor. Spencer protested at first but gave in once you took his hand in yours. You joined the others in their silly little dances and to your surprise, Spencer did too. That was until a slow song came on.

As if it was the most natural thing in the world, he turned to you and placed his hands on your waist. You let yours rest on his shoulders and began swaying from side to side.

“Sorry, I have no idea what I’m doing,” he chuckled as he looked down at his feet.

“You’re doing great, Spencer,” you sincerely responded as you moved a little closer towards him until there barely was any distance left between your bodies.

“Is this better than your actual prom night?” He wanted to know. “You never actually told us about it.”

You couldn't stop your hands from moving to the nape of his neck, gently playing with a few loose curls as you purred, “It’s so much better.”

Just when you thought that he was about to lean down to kiss you, you noticed the high-pitched laughter of your female coworkers.

“Aah, look! They are exactly like those teenagers in every high school romcom!” JJ chirped as she pulled out her phone to snap a picture of the two of you.

You turned your head to find her face in the crowd, prompting Penelope to chime in, “No, don’t stop, my two lovebirds! Go on, kiss!”

You felt your cheeks heating up at the realization that you had an audience in this intimate moment.

“Do you wanna try out the photo booth?” Spencer suggested to get away from the curious glances of your work family.

“That sounds fun!”

And it was fun. You spent a while posing like those typical prom couples before taking a bunch of silly pictures with the props Penelope had bought.

“Okay, I think we’re done,” you laughed once your cheeks started hurting from smiling so much.

Spencer shook his head and pressed the button once more. “One last set!”

Just when the countdown of the camera reached the number zero, you felt Spencer’s lips on your cheek. Your head was spinning after everything that had happened tonight. It seemed like finally being close to the man you had pined after for months gave you the courage to show some initiative.

You turned your head to find his mouth, capturing it in a soft kiss with no intention to stop even after the last photo was taken. Kissing him then was chaste and sweet and so, so perfect.

“Busted!” You heard Derek’s voice as he approached the photo booth with his date. “You two should get a room.”

Almost in unison the both of you responded, “Shut up, Morgan.”

The next few hours flew by quicker than either of you would have liked. Spencer must have noticed how exhausted you were, so he offered, “It’s getting pretty late. I can drive you home if you want?”

Even though you didn't want this night to end, you knew that it was probably for the best. “Yeah, I would like that.”

Spencer nodded and took your hand as he led you out of the room. The way to his car seemed endless and the need to be close to each other was all-consuming. There was no way you could make it without giving into your desperation.

The elevator seemed like the perfect place for your second kiss. Spencer pushed you against one of the walls, his hands cupping your face as he leaned down to find your lips. This time it was far from innocent, the way he instantly deepened the kiss let you know that he must have fantasized about this moment for just as long as you had.

“You’re so beautiful,” he breathed against your lips. “I’ll never get enough of you.”

What followed felt like a haze, between longing glances, sweet kisses and bright laughter you somehow made it to your doorstep. Spencer leaned down to find your lips once more before he said, “I would really like to take you out to dinner sometime.”

You kissed him again and mumbled against his lips, “I would like that, too.”

His smile was soft when he purred, “Goodnight. I had a great time tonight.”

Right when you wanted to respond, you remembered something. Your facial expression must have given it away, because Spencer furrowed his eyebrows and asked, “What’s wrong?”

Without really thinking about it, you told him, “I can’t get out of this dress alone.”

His saccharine smile morphed into a playful smirk. “Is that so?”

“I know that sounds like the lamest excuse to… you know,” you giggled. “But it's true. Penelope had to help me put it on earlier. There’s no way I’ll be able to get it off on my own.”

Instead of teasing you some more, Spencer simply followed you inside your apartment. You lost the ability to form any coherent thought once you turned around and Spencer touched your back to undo the zipper. He opened it all the way down to the small of your back. The way his knuckles brushed over your exposed skin was intoxicating.

Once the dress dropped to the floor, you turned around again. Spencer let his sight wander over body for a split second before he found your eyes. You noticed how his fingers twitched and he licked over his lips.

“If you don’t tell me to leave right now I won’t be able to hold back anymore.”

You stepped closer to him and whispered, “Stay.”

That was all he needed to hear. His hands were on you in an instant, exploring the curves and dips of your body while your bodies melted into one another in a passionate kiss. With joined forces you helped each other shed each piece of clothing as you stumbled into your bedroom. Spencer pushed you onto the mattress and you welcomed him on top of you.

He began trailing kisses down your neck before biting down on your pulse point. Your whole body felt like it was floating on a cloud as you felt his lips wandering over your skin.

“Would you have let him take your dress off, too?” He mumbled against your neck.

It took you a moment to realize that he was talking about Anderson. “No,” you sighed. “I’m yours, Spencer.”

He moaned in response to your words and found your lips once more. One of his hands wandered down your body, greedily grabbing at your skin until it found its destination between your legs. The moment he noticed that you were already dripping with desire for him, he groaned, “You’re mine.”

Your whole body felt like it was on fire when he began dragging his fingertips through your slick folds. When he focussed on your little bud, you couldn't help but start to grind your core against his hand. Your own hands became curious and wandered from his shoulders down his body until your fingers could wrap around his hardness.

The sounds of his pleasure spurred you further on as you moved your hand up and down, letting your thumb glide over his weeping tip. He felt hot and heavy inside your palm and you got impatient to find out how good he’d feel inside of you.

Spencer's eyes followed your hand when it let go of him to grab a condom from the nightstand instead. He was quick to put it on before kneeling between your legs. The way he took a moment to let his eyes graze over your body almost felt more intimate than anything you had done until then.

When he leaned over you he reached between your bodies to guide his cock to your opening. Your body welcomed him without any resistance and you relished the sensation of him filling you out perfectly.

“Fuck!” He groaned as you clenched around him. “I have wanted to do this for so long.”

With your arms and legs wrapped around his body you brought him impossibly close.

“Take me,” you demanded before kissing him again.

He began pushing into you, slowly at first but with an accelerated pace once he seemed sure that you could take it. The room filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure and your bodies colliding over and over again.

When he felt you getting tighter around him, he propped himself up on one arm and reached down between your bodies with his other hand. When he found your most sensitive spot, he instantly began drawing tight circles around it.

“Are you gonna come for me?” He sighed as if it hadn’t been obvious.

You were already too far gone to answer him, your climax taking the both of you by surprise. When he felt your walls pulsing around his hardness he praised you, “Good girl.”

Just a few moments later he fell over the edge himself, throbbing inside you before collapsing into your arms. He began mumbling sweet nothings into your ear while your fingertips danced over his back.

After cleaning up, you found your home in each other's arms.

“I’m really glad I got to experience my first prom with you,” Spencer cooed before placing a soft kiss on your forehead. “I can’t believe you almost went with Anderson though.”

“I can't believe you almost didn’t ask me out,” You snickered in response.

“Fair point.”

Please like, reblog and leave a comment! I need your lovely words to stay motivated to write more stories.

Taglist: @nomajdetective @reidsbookclub @gspenc @samuel-de-champagne-problems @matthew-gray-gubler-lover @malindacath @luredwithpretzels @reidselle @alexxavicry @frickin-bats @spencersprettyslut @sebs-oxygen @happymangospot @cynbx @melifluorei-d @hotchandspencearedilfs @kobaltdragon @castiels-majestic-wings @emiliaserpe @thenerdthatwrites @saturnstringz @missabsey @spencerslove @guacam011y @whoopdy-doo @hugyourlungs @reiderwriter @enamoradax @hales-17 @loaksulluyswife @ecneremili @xserenax-13 @grumpyy-bearr @purpledsky @super-nerd22 @velvetthunder93

#spencer reid #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid smut #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x you #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds smut

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tonixe · 1 year

Text

"I wanna make you my final girl."

n.o.t.e.s - Skeet Ulrich is fine as hell.

w.a.r.n - p in the v, penetration, creampies, unprotected sex, dub-con to non con, wall sex, fingering.

p.a.i.r.i.n.g - Billy Loomis x fem!reader

w.c. - 1.3k

Music was blasting through the house, holding your red solo cup filled with some mysterious alcoholic drink.

It was another senior party, and it was of course a party hosted by Stu in his parent's huge house. You got forced to go to the party by Tatum and Stu. You were surprised when Sidney was at the party.

You saw as she walked into the kitchen you were curious about what she was doing; you were barely doing anything at the party than just sipping on your drink and looking around. Walking into the kitchen, to see Sidney emptying a bag of chips into a bowl. You placed your drink onto the counter.

"I didn't know your gonna come to the party, Sid" you put your hands into your skirt pockets, she was taken by surprised by your presence into the kitchen.

"I just didn't want to miss out on the fun, you know?" she responded quietly, as she started eating some of the chips, "Mind if I join in, I don't have anything else to do" you gave her a smile.

"Sure" she passed the bowl of chips, as you grab a handful of chips.

"So, where's Tatum"

"Probably with Stu, doing something important" she shrugged, You giggled when she said the last part, "You mean there probably somewhere fucking" you laughed.

You saw her growing a little grin on her lips, "I guess so" she gave you a little smile, but she was still down.

"What got ya down Sid?" you asked her.

She didn't responded with anything, "Is it with Billy?"

She didn't with your question once again, as she just looked away fro you, "You know it okay Sid, he in the wrong after all, beside he should know it, it wasn't your fault" you said, as you hugged her from behind, "Besides it's party have fun" you gave her a reassuring smile and pat on her back.

"I-i guess so" she said, wiping a tear away from her eyelash, she a laugh a bit.

"I gonna see where's Randy at" she said.

You gave her a head shake, as you watched as she left the kitchen, left with the bowl of chips. 'Oh well', as you dug into the chips. You were now alone, as you sighed out.

You were interrupted in your train of thought, from a group of teenager coming into the kitchen, not trying to bother yourself you just left the chips and walked dusted your hands off.

You walked through the hallways of the house, trying to find the entertain of fun in the party, before getting bumped into by a very drunk Billy.

"B-billy" you stuttered out, you were disgusted by the strong smell of alcohol coming from him. "How much were you drinking tonight?"

"Enough to make me think about you~" he cooed, teasing point at your face, you saw the evident empty flask in his hands.

"God, you need to go home..now," you whispered, holding his shoulders.

"I-i just wanna go home with you, darling." he stuttered out as he caressed your cheek, "You're drunk"

"I'm pretty sober"

"Your going home come on" you tugged at his hand, before getting slammed on a wall, immediately smelling the alcohol and his cologne radaring from him.

"You know, Y/N.." he huffed, looking straight at your face, "You're so pretty, I mean pretty than Sidney in a way" He caressed your face, and you felt his hand sneaking up your skirt.

You grabbed his hand, "Stop, you have a fucking girlfriend, Billy," you hissed at him angrily; he slammed you into the wall forcefully, grabbing your chin, "You know you want it to, Y/N, come on." He forcefully peeled off your panties.

You felt his thick fingers inside of your cunt, your legs wobbling from the impact, as he thrust his finger inside you. "Your wet," he whispered into your ear, and a smuggled smile appeared on his face. You turned your head away from him. His finger fucked you, as you covered your mouth hiding your moans.

"I wanna hear you scream," he whispered into your ear as he took your hand away from your mouth, forcing his tongue into your mouth to kiss. Withdrawing from your lips, being connected by a string of saliva. You whimpered out as his fingers were still trusted inside you before getting withdrawn.

His fingers coated with your slick, as he sucked the liquid from his fingers in front of you before shoving into a hot makeout; it was wrong to enjoy this abuse, especially with your friend's boyfriend.

Your heavy breathing was loud as you tried to calm yourself down before you felt yourself getting lifted off the ground onto Billy's shoulder.

"What the hell, put me down, Billy" you yelled before you were silenced by a slap on the ass as you jolted from the slap.

You buried your face onto the pillow, grabbing it, You could of ask him to stop, but you allowed the thought of him being under the influence; you were a fucking fake, fucking your friend's own boyfriend when there going through something, you felt horrible, but you didn't want it to stop.

You were interrupted in your train of thought before getting split out by his cock, hissing from the pain. His hips collided with your ass as he thrust into you, his hips jackhammering into you.

Your moans ranged out as his cock abused your cunt, as he grabbed the back of your hair, pulling you into his chest, thrusting into you deeper, "Fuck" he groaned out into your ear, "God, your tight," he squeezes her clothed chest, before he took off your shirt, ripped your bra off.

Before he started playing with your nipples, your languid moans made Billy harder by the second. As Billy pulled you into a messy, hot kiss while he plunged himself deeper inside you, You felt yourself feeling your orgasm. His cock massaging your inner walls, "Goddamn, your fucking tight," he groaned into your ear as you clamped down on him.

He removed his arms from your body, and you fell onto the bed, your breath labored, as sweat covered your body.

Before he flipped you, hovering over your body, before he plunged inside you again, your moans were loud, his thrust jolting, as your boobs bounced from the rhythm of his hips.

His body pressed onto your own as you held him, your legs placed on his hips, his thrust getting sloppy, both of your bodies covered with sweat, your nail scratching his back, as your nails stain red. The sounds of the thrust being heard around the room, "B-billy, Im close," you moaned out, "I'm gonna fucking cum inside you" You felt a sense of pleasure washing down on you, moaning his name before clamping down onto his cock, he thrust you a few times into you before spilling himself into you, you felt him softening inside of you, as he groaned into your ear.

You and Billy of your panting were loud before he pulled out of you, as his cum dripped out of you. Billy putting back his clothing back on, zipping up his jeans.

"Where you going." you whimpered out, reaching for him, "Finishing some business," he said before kissing you on the lips, "I'll be back soon, precious." before he caressed his cheek.

"So you really did that, huh," Stu asked as Stu lit his blunt, puffing out the smoke, before turning his head to Billy.

"It was easy to get her to be submissive." Before he took a blow from his blunt.

"You make her sound more like a dream; maybe if get to enjoy her too," he said before he took a drag from his blunt; he felt a hard glare from Billy after he said that.

"After your done fucking with her."

"If you touch her, I'll fucking kill you."

"Billy, you never share~" Stu playful whined

"Anyways, your ready for the Woodsboro massacre?" Stu asked gleefully.

"Ready to finish up the daughter of the whore" Billy muttered before taking a long drag from his blunt.

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joelhoney · 6 months

Text

#1 girl

pairing: dbf joel miller x afab/sorority sister reader

kenny here... tumblr Blipped me u guys. but i loved this too much to let it waste into nothingness. so here we go again take two using an ancient blog i never even used (from 2016 mind u...) enjoy!

You're too wrapped up in sorority duties to remember somebody's supposed to pick you up and drive you home tonight. One pissed-off Joel, curious conversation, and cowboy hat later, your evening takes an unexpected turn.

warnings: no outbreak au, dbf!joel, self gratuitous age gap (21/51), shy reader w/ some bursts of confidence, blowjob (m receiving), handjob (f receiving), dirty talk, praise, degradation too..., overuse of pet names... must b all

Of all the ways you imagined spending your fifth day of spring break, the last was in your dad’s best friend’s pickup truck with lame rock playing dryly through the console radio. In fact, last is generous—the idea itself had never even been conjured in your head.

The reason why is because you and your dad’s best friend—Mr. Miller—don’t typically interact beyond the confines of dinners, mandatory laughter, and the occasional one-on-one about something like boys in college, or classes in college, or the drive to college. Nothing much had changed when you moved the brief drive away to UT Austin, and between you everything’s remained the same, even now in your senior year.

For instance, a break—summer, spring, winter—would begin with your parents picking you up and shuttling off to the house, and end with an affair of the similar sort. Quickly into your first year, though, you learned to always insist you either leave school late or leave home early for spring break to take advantage of campus parties, especially because your senior year had cemented your shiny new position as President of Alpha Phi.

Any officer position in a sorority already came with a good deal of responsibility, let alone the presidency; and in addition to having recently turned twenty-one, the role required you to exhaust every drop of social battery, every ounce of skill you had at party hosting and alcohol obtaining without the use of a flimsy fake.

The eliminated nerves of using fakes made you much less nervous during parties, which often led to you letting more loose than usual. This party you’re in was thrown by some frat on campus, but this house is your last place of four; first two pregames, then a bar, then here. At some point at the bar your sisters had surprised you with a fun gift for the night, so you’re also wearing a pink sash, onto which rhinestones spelling out #1 Girl have been glued with precision.

Already you’re dizzy, wiping clammy fingers on the stiff cotton of your tight tank top, the curve of your tits spilling over the Alpha Phi logo. It’s small on you, the hem high above your navel and higher above the loose, low hem of your denim shorts. If they fell low enough on your hips, the high arch of your pink thong would’ve shown itself—maybe it did at some point, you’re too loopy to care.

“Oh, no,” you’re saying, but you can barely hear yourself over the rap song playing and everyone singing along, “no, I hate Jäger.” You’re shaking your head at your best friend and Vice President, Lia, who raises two handfuls of the opaque liquid. She shakes her head, sets them down on the table you’re leaning against.

“Lighten up, duuude. We’re taking them to celebrate your first and last spring break as President.”

“Aw, fine,” you muse loudly, giving in. “Only this once.” Out of obligation and genuine gratitude, you allow yourself to stomach your least favorite drink—then another, and another, a bit of each shot dribbling down the column of your throat and stickily onto your chest.

Lia snaps at the red bra strap that peeks out of your tank strap, laughing. “Settle down, Prez.” A partygoer, rowdy as they come, roughly deposits a sweaty cowboy hat onto your head and you yelp in surprise, steadying it. Whoever gave this, I’m keeping it! you holler, laughing as you feed yourself a shot of something your tongue enjoys more.

Absolut crowds the inside of your mouth when you take it back, interrupted only when a hand comes to shake at your shoulder. In your rush to turn, you nearly hit them with your hat.

It’s Cole, a good friend and member of the frat whose house you’re currently getting tipsy in. His eyes are rimmed and the whole air of him smells like weed. He offers one greeting: “Yo.” His eyes slide down to your chest, where your tugged-down tank has exposed a few inches of your red bra’s lacy cups.

“Hey,” you say, the syllable sounding sticky. “Up here, you ass. Jägerbomb?” You offer a smile.

“‘M a’ight. Listen, some…” He shakes his head, like he’s trying to place what he’s here to tell you. Then he nods, having remembered—“Right. Some old guy’s out front asking for you.”

“Asking for me? Old… guy?” Your eyebrows scrunch together, mind foggy. “My dad?” Shit. You’d completely forgotten they’d be picking you up today or tomorrow. Maybe they’d been waiting for hours—it’s one-thirty, the clock on the living room mantel reads.

“Nah, man, not your dad, this guy’s… he’s got a red pickup truck, um, he’s, like, he’s old looking.” He raises a hand above his own head. “Tall.” His voice is drawly with the weed high, but as soon as he said red pickup, you knew exactly who he was talking about. One look at your phone confirms it—five missed calls and a message, 11PM, sent by your dad: Joel’s in the area for work. He’s going out with buddies but can swing by the house to pick you up. I’m giving him your #.

“Fuck.” You blink. “Fuck! I gotta go.”

You never usually have to pack shit to go home, considering the drive isn’t too far. Briefly you consider making a detour to collect things from your sorority house, but you decide to sacrifice the laptop and the few important chargers. So, armed with only your phone, you wrench your way out of the crowd, a few goodbyes thrown in your direction and back.

The front door is open so the partygoers spill onto the front yard, intermittent conversation littering the area. Along the pavement, frat guys’ Civics and and Priuses are parked beside an old looking red pickup truck; leaned against it is—

“Mr. Miller,” you blurt out when you’re closer to him, voice steady (your mind is just as well, shocked back to lucidity from his presence). “I’m sorry. I had no idea you’d be picking me up today—tonight—” You heave a sigh, apologetic, refusing to meet his eyes. “Sorry.”

His arms are crossed over his chest, the sleeves of his button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even from a few feet away you can make out the shape, the lines of muscle on his forearms. He looks tired, moody—more than usual—and your heart pangs with guilt at the idea that you could be the reason behind it. But despite your best—really, your best—efforts, your stomach still swoops the same way it did when you were seventeen and naive, enough to find next-door-neighbor Mr. Miller extremely handsome. Hell, extremely hot.

It didn’t make sense. You’d suspected your little crush would be that—an adolescent, childish thing, evaporating more and more into thin air with every drive made to campus. But he never stopped being handsome, never stopped his corny jokes and the pet names that got you warm every time you visited over break. You had plenty of eye candy on campus, athletes and gamers alike, and yes you’d been picky, but had managed to sleep with a select few—despite all of it, only the remnants of your fantasies of Mr. Miller satiated you when your hand creeps into the apex of your thighs late at night, lust wrangling shame into silence for a few minutes.

You blink and the train of thought is over—the real thing is here, eyebrows set low, mouth frowning.

“Kiddo,” he starts, his voice thin with exhaustion, “look, I’ve done my share of… drinkin’, and that. I get it. But you gotta…” He clicks his tongue, eyes looking your outfit up and down. “You gotta let me know, let your parents know, where you are, and if you’re okay. ‘Cause I really did not want to spend tonight drivin’ from house to bar, to bar to house, feelin’ like I was lookin’ all over Austin for you.”

“I know,” you supply quickly, nodding. Your hands, fidgety, find purchase on the fibres of the silk sash strung along your figure. “I’m so sorry, Mr. Miller. I didn’t check my phone the entire evening, and—”

“It’s okay.” He says, nonchalant, lifting himself off the side of the car to walk to the drivers’ side. Gruffly, he adds, “Car.”

You’re quick to tug the door open, settling yourself on the passenger seat and breathing nervously. Your legs are littered with body glitter, your chest with the tack of Jäger. You spot him outside, his walk slow. He’s annoyed—rightfully so—stopping just shy of the door to pinch at the bridge of his nose, his lips miming a slow exhale. When he finally wrangles himself to sit, it’s quiet for a minute, then another.

“Y’have fun?” He starts the car, thrumming it to life. You nod, then offer a verbal answer—yeah. He nods, wiping a palm over his face. “What were you up to?”

“I, um… I organized a pregame for my sorority.” You toy with the rogue strands of denim of your shorts. “We went to a bar, after… then another… then, well.” You gulp. “Here.” The last question escapes you in a shaky, breathy squeak. “And you?”

“Hah, sure, kid. Had some contractor thing, half an hour from here. Then drinks with a coupl’a buddies from work. Could’ve been home by eleven-thirty,” he says roughly, driving through the still-vibrant streets of campus, “but it’s nearin’ two and I’m on a college campus.” The urge to apologize bubbles at your lips, high in your stomach, but you remain quiet. After a few stretches of dry silence, he asks again. “That party must’ve been real fun for you to leave your old man—and me—on radio silence, wun’nit?”

“Sure,” you manage, stammering. “We were celebrating my sorority presidency.” The dark scenery of Austin blurs past.

“Oh, sorority presidency,” he repeats, both teasing and genuinely curious. “I did hear your dad mention you were in Alpha Phi, s’that right?” You nod. “What’s that, then? Do presidents get cowboy hats?”

Your face grows hot, hands reaching up to clutch at the rim of the hat atop your head. “No, this—somebody put it—it was a joke, Mr. Miller.” A huffy laugh escapes you. “Sorry.”

“Sweetheart,” he says, and you wrench the reminder he’s 51 he’s 51 he’s 51 through your head while he pauses, “‘m drivin’ you around Austin late at night, and I’ve known you for your whole life. How ‘bout we drop the Mr. Miller act, alright?”

“Oh. Okay,” you say. His hands grip the steering wheel firmly, and your eyes wander to his arms, to how he’s basically stuffed into the shirt he’s wearing, big and broad and bulky. His eyes remain focused ahead, so you let yourself indulge a tad bit more—lower, to the material of his jeans. It’s dark in the truck, so you can’t see much, just the flex of his thighs. “Joel.”

“Attagirl.” You chew at the inside of your cheek, already feeling arousal simmering in you, low and dirty. You’re going to soak through this godforsaken thong. “Mind if I make a pit stop?” You shake your head profusely, watch as he pulls into a gas station parking lot. “Want anythin’, girl?”

“N—” your lips form, but you scrap your original answer. “Gum, if they have it.”

“Be damned if they don’t.” He slams the door shut and you watch him enter the store, watch him through the glass panels. He’s so broad. You’d nearly completely forgotten how stupidly you liked him, and now it’s coming, throttling back full-force, especially with the thrilling aspect of it possibly coming to fruition. You are, after all, an adult. And so is he, paying for his shit with a tight-lipped expression, arms crossed again, arms big and—Jesus.

You squeeze your thighs together, willing yourself to get your shit in place when he pulls the door open again, his eyes scanning your seated figure. He tosses you the packet of gum, and you respond with a sweet thank you, Mr. M—Joel, and you fiddle with the packaging as he starts the car again, driving until scenery grows more and more familiar, closer to home.

“By the way,” he says, voice husky with the unuse of not talking for a while. “Think it’s best you spend the night at my house tonight, kid. It’s late. Later than late.” 2:44, the console digital clock reads in blinky red text. “Your parents don't want the door rattlin’ open at this hour, so I’ll let you in the guest room.”

“Oh,” you say. “Sure.”

“D’you have a change of clothes?” He asks, even if he knows you climbed into the seat with nothing but your phone and a cowboy hat. You shake your head and he tsks. “You’re barely covered, sweetheart. Best be careful walkin’ around when the night’s this chilly.”

Barely covered. You think of every possible response, but what leaves your glossed lips is the riskiest: “What do you mean, barely covered?”

You figure if he starts saying shit like what are you insinuatin’, kiddo? You better sleep at yours tonight instead, it’s an easy out—you’re turning the corner onto your street now, and your stomach is boiling with nerves, sticky and anticipatory. “I jus’ mean… it shows a lotta skin.”

“It’s sorority merch, Joel,” you reply, half-amused and half-defensive.

“No, I”—he sighs, like he wants to backtrack what he’s just said—“I know, but… always worth somethin’ to be careful. Might catch a cold with all that leg… all that—you—showin’.” He parks in front of his house, this sizey, homey thing, and your heart flips knowing how familiar this place has been to you your entire life.

“I’m not going to wear winter gear to a spring break frat party.” You’re bolder, suddenly, but even if the statement is, your voice is level, meek, even. Joel nods, as if admitting defeat, and gets out of the car first; you follow, sneakers crunching against the asphalt as you follow him into the house.

“I hope,” he starts when you’re stationed beside him at the door, “I didn’t… offend you. I was jus’ concerned, is all.” Then he’s stoic again, slipping inside, straight to the kitchen to pour you a glass of water. He flicks a yellow light on and you squint when you get there, rubbing at your eyes to prevent them from aching.

You’re still rubbing at them when his gaze drops from your fussed-up hair and askew hat down to the shiny surface of your chest. Your goddamn top leaves him nothing to the imagination, your tits spilling out of it scandalously. The low cut even lets your bra peek through, red and bright and hey, you show up from college wearing these large university shirts and sweatpants—not this, never this. And your shorts, the way they’re really just a fucking belt, starting low on your hips and cut off high above your thighs.

Alpha Phi, the pink text on your white top reads on the left chest area. Right where your tits curve into the top, the slogan is printed: Union hand in hand. God, sororities and their fucking… quotable bullshit. And don’t get him started on the sash, this cutesy, frilly thing he wants to loop around your wrists so he can fuck you over the counter. He knows he can’t—it’s so wrong, so wrong. He’s known your dad for ages.

But you… you're so tempting, a little minx, chirping Mr. Miller all sweet and apologetic, chest out on full display. He blinks when he hears your voice filter through the fog in his head. “—off?”

“What was that, sweetheart?” His eyes meet yours again and he feels a twinge of embarrassment at the way your bashfulness has somewhat melted to give way to the clear amusement on your face. You must’ve spotted the way he ogled you; he wasn’t exactly trying his hardest to be subtle, unfortunately.

“D’you have something I can use to wipe myself off?” You gesture to your sticky collarbone area. “I got Jäger all over myself. Can’t handle the stuff.” You grimace at the memory, and he goes to grab a wet wipe; while waiting, you hoist yourself up onto the counter, bare legs swinging.

Joel turns to toss you the packet of wipes, but his throat dries before he can even call your name out. Your back is to him, and clearly you’re waiting for his return—you’ve busied yourself by sitting on his counter and letting the hot pink lace of your thong rise above the waistline of your shorts. Lord have mercy, he thinks to himself, adjusting his jeans as he walks back over to you.

“Wipes,” he says roughly, not anything else.

You accept the packet and smile shyly. “Can you…” you pause, the implication hovering over both of you, heavy. “Wait for me?” He nods, inviting. Warm. And he watches, inviting but not very warm anymore, the way you wipe over the expanse of your chest, over the curve of your tits, every other part of you dusted in glitter.

“So,” you say again. “Since we’re on first name basis now, Joel, I, um—I hope it’s okay to ask questions.”

“Sounds reasonable. Go for it,” he accepts.

“When’s the last time you went to a party?” Your smile is mischievous.

He chuckles, a huff of air. “...Long, long ago, kid. Back in my day, partyin’ meant beer, maybe a little weed… not that I'm complaining there, you understand.” He nods resolutely. “These days, a quiet home-cooked meal with just the people I really care about… is a party.”

“Wow, what an old guy answer,” you giggle. “Back in youuuur day.” Your raspy, honeyed voice wraps around the your with a teasing lilt.

“Oh, I’m old now, am I?” His stoic demeanor chips away when he laughs. “That makes you what, sweetheart? You’re barely a pup.”

At his words—at the utterance of pup—you roll your eyes and try to shift your seating so your thong doesn’t stick to your folds. “Okay, fine, next.” You’re not even wiping anymore, the material wrung into your fingers, which lay in a fist by your side. “When’s the last time you got shitfaced?”

He gives a grimace of a smile. “Aw… boy, it's been a while.” He comes closer, going from leaning on the opposite drawers to right beside you on the counter. You’re sitting and he’s leaning but still he’s taller, just a bit level. “But there was that one time back in my more adventurous days, when I was younger. A bachelor party wh… well, the details don't really bear talkin’ ‘bout in polite conversation.” He raises his eyebrows. “Why ya askin’ all this? What’s will all the last times?”

“I’m curious, is all.” You smile, leaning back; if his eyes drop just a bit, he’ll see right through your top, maybe even underneath the cup of your bra. “Okay, fine one last… last time.” You giggle, breathy. “When’s the last time you… had sex?”

The air shifts, and Joel clears his throat before chuckling. “S’none of your business, young lady. A gentleman is not raised to kiss and tell.”

“Oh, but he gets shitfaced n’ tells?” You test, pouting and leaning closer toward him so you can quiet your voice. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone I even asked.”

He sighs, contemplating. “Well… it’s been a while.” He gets his fair share of lays, when he goes out to bars with friends or the rare date, but nothing too drastic. It has been a few months. “But you didn’t hear that from me, understood? Now, let’s drop it.”

But you don’t drop it, you brat. “You’re like the born again 40-year-old virgin,” you tease smoothly.

“Try 51, honey,” he grunts out, depositing your dry wipes at the disposal across you. He turns back around, restrained.

“And what, you don’t wanna change that?” No, he thinks—what he wants is to take you over the counter ’til you’re sobbing and sore.

“Hey now, don’t think I don’t think about it sometimes. But I jus’—I don't wanna get involved with no one, even though... Hell, if I met the right person, I might just change my mind. Ain’t that the way it goes?”

“That’s such an antiquated view of sex,” you quip boldly, pressing your arms to your sides. “What happened to just having one good fuck?”

His eyes flicker down then up. “Well, hey. Slow down with the cursin’, sweetheart. And what in the hell makes you think I don’t do that?” He crosses his arms, offering a raised eyebrow and an insufferably smug smile.

“You didn’t necessarily object when I called you a twice-over virgin.”

He chuckles. “There’s more than one way to let it all out, my girl. You don’t have to just go all in to hit the spot.” The thought of him using his own—or some girl’s, actually, hand, throat… to get off, gets you all hot. You want to be that girl. His girl.

“Like how?” You ask, tilting your head to the side.

“Old man like myself probably can’t offer tricks you’ll find… useful.” He grunts, prepares to go upstairs. He reaches over you for the packet of wipes and your proximity urges him to stop, savor the closeness before the rational part of him reminds him you’re his best mate’s daughter.

“Okay, fine,” you say sweetly, voice much quieter—reserved just for the space between you two. “One last, then.”

Mmm, he huffs affirmatively, greenlighting your request. Impatient.

“Since when did old men do that?” You ask, inquisitive, placing emphasis on his self-proclaimed old man title.

“What? Entertain l’il minxes like yourself?” He responds, intending to break your newly-built façade of smugness.

“No,” you respond coolly. “Pack nine inches.” Then you’re clambering off the counter and walking to the stairs. He inhales sharply at the sudden vulgarity of your words, watches every move, every little bounce of your pert ass under the tiny shorts, the wave of your hair, every flex of the ridden-up lace thong against your back.

You turn briefly. “Coming or what?” And then you slip upstairs.

He hears the pad of your footsteps grow quiet and shuts his eyes, letting his composure waver in your absence.

Had he known Harold’s little girl would turn out to be the world’s biggest fucking tease—Jesus Christ. “Lord,” he rasps under his breath, repeating a mantra, holding back the urge to palm himself through his jeans. “Lord, have mercy.” Then he follows you, already spotting something different—the open door at the end of the hall.

His open door. It’s the one that directly mirrors your parents’, a revelation they all had a good laugh at. Sometimes if a matter was so pressing, a well-aimed pebble to the glass window would get Joel’s attention well enough. The lights are flicked on, cool-warm, in his bedroom. You’re in his bedroom.

Or you’re not. He walks in to find no trace of you, save for the scuffed white sneakers by the doorframe. He toes off his own boots and spots the walk-in closet light’s also been flicked on.

“Christ, you’re quick. You’re s’posed to be in the guest room.” He gestures vaguely to the one on the left side of the hall, even if you can’t see him.

“I had to pee. And I needed something to sleep in,” you say politely from inside. He grunts softly to himself at the thought of you undressing in there, the thought of you pulling on something of his.

“Get out of there,” he orders. “I’ll get you somethin’.” Under his breath he mutters, “S’my goddamn closet.”

You chirp okay but he adds anyway: “Hurry, out.”

So you do follow him, even follow the order to hurry, because you’re hasty in your exit, clutching the cowboy hat to your chest. “Sit.” He points to the bed, watches you set the hat next to yourself gingerly. And one last time he asks the Lord for mercy, quietly and in his head, before shutting off every other rational thought that had stopped him tonight.

You follow suit, hat still clutched to your torso, and he slowly comes to stand just in front of you, your face level with the buckle of his leather belt. When you shift he catches sight of the side of your bra, the lace of it. Eyes cast to your bare thighs, you pipe up.

“By the way, Mr. Miller—Joel, I didn’t mean to say any of—I mean, I thought we could talk comfortably about it… that… stuff, but I took it too f—”

“You’re damn fuckin’ right you took it too far.”

He spits it out roughly, harshly. Like he’s scolding you. A zip of shock goes through you—you hadn’t heard him swear so loud before. Maybe he is. “I give you a free ride home at half past one, give you water, give you a place to sleep for the night knowin’ damn well your momma n’ dad would both have killed ya if you stepped foot in that house wearin’ next to nothing. What do I get in return?” He looks down at you, two rough fingers jerking your chin to look up at him.

“I—” you squeak, your voice and confidence betraying you. You’ve soaked through your panties at his sudden switch in behavior. Like you’d broken a dam.

“I get a brat… whorin’ herself out to me like I’m not over twice her age.” He tuts, like he really is disappointed, and your heart almost drops. “I get all these damn questions about sex, like you think I’ll break and fuck you on my kitchen counter.” He was considering it. “All the teasin’, all the skirtin’ around in a thong and a fuckin’…” He shakes your chin. “S’there even anythin’ in that head of yours, honey?”

Your mouth’d been open. You shut it and lick over your lips. “Yeah,” you defend weakly. His hand lowers to stroke at the column of your throat, then to hook under the tight strap of your bra, peeking out under the white of your top. He sidles it back and forth.

“S’this why you asked me all those dumb questions downstairs, huh, sweetheart? ‘Cause you wanted me to pull your top open and fawn over this”—he yanks the hat away, revealing your torso underneath—“little show o’yours?” Your cleavage is sinful, downright—perfect, perky, inviting him to mouth at your tits. Your sash sits prettily above them and he can’t help but pull at it, too, jolting you toward him.

“N—” you inhale sharply, letting him pull and push you around as he pleases. He observes the blinding glittery writing on the pink material and lets out a humorless, self-satisfied huff of laughter.

“Number… one… girl.” His rough thumb grazes over the divots of the rhinestones. “That’s jus’ about right, ain’t it?”

“Yes,” you reply, voice small.

“I’m not sure I agree, baby girl,” he drawls. His touch is precise—he knows exactly where to go, what he’s doing—but rough, dirty, almost, and the huge size of his hands don’t help to support otherwise. He tugs down your tank top so it’s tucked underneath your bra, and you yelp, making a move to cover yourself. He laughs again—“Sure, go all shy on me like you haven’t been showin’ yourself off to me all night. Knees.”

You get off quick, so quick you’re dizzy when you steady yourself on two knees. Two lithe hands make their way to his belt but he steps backward, revels in your evident confusion, clumsiness, the flush high on your cheekbones. “Buckle down, sweetheart.”

“But—”

“No goddamn buts. Listen to me.” He ends up being the one to make work of his belt, and while he talks you have to bite your lip to keep from going slack-jawed at the sight of him. You’d been kidding about the nine inches thing, but Christ he’s huge, strained against the tight denim. He’s thick even under the layers of clothing, and all you want to do is choke on him. “You’re gonna let me use that mouth t’get off, first thing,” he grunts, like this is all some chore to him, “because I am not goin’ to put my cock in my best mate’s daughter.”

“How about,” you croak lightly, “your fingers, then?”

“Jesu—we’ll see.” He tugs his cock out then, and he’s fucking huge, he really is, his tip angry and flushed and being rubbed along your lips, sticking them up with his precum. He sighs contentedly, humming low, the vibration sent straight to your half-open mouth. You suck on the tip of him, watch a slow smile form on his face. “That sash oughta say somethin’ else.”

Your silence grants elaboration. “Number one slut, maybe.” You shift on your thighs, trying to hide how aroused you are at his mean behavior. But he can tell, he can watch the way your blinking slows, the way your eyes glazed over, glassy and teary from trying to take more of him. He doesn’t tell you to slow down, or go faster; he just watches, eyebrows knitted, focused. “Budge up.”

A hand, big and calloused, threads through your hair and gives a tug, goading your mouth open so more of his cock slips past. Your jaw aches from the attempt alone, so you pull off before you start choking too much, tonguing at the parts of him you can’t reach—lower, until you’re laving at his balls. He grunts, pleasured, simmered down. Attagirl. Then you’re back, bobbing up and down, trying despite yourself to take all of him, until your eyes are watery and you’re spluttering, choked.

“Now this is…” He says, and it comes out in a contented little sigh, “a number one throat. Keep those pretty lips open, honey, ‘m gonna fuck them.”

You do, your achy jaw slacked as he begins bucking into your mouth, the sounds of your choking only spurring him on. He’s dominant, taking and taking, and you’re humiliated to find how wet you are, soaked through the lace of your thong and darkening the denim of your shorts. The tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat only gets him to thrust even faster, watching tears fall from your eyes, streaky with mascara. His best friend’s daughter, taking dick like a fucking champ.

He thrusts harder, each sound emitting a nasty, incoherent noise out of you, choked little gasps that have him harder each time. Gonna fuck this throat raw, he mutters. Since that’s what you wan’ed, ain’t it? You reach up, light fingers massaging his balls, and then his hips stutter, and with barely any warning, you feel his hot seed shoot into your throat, little satisfied groans leaving the man above you.

You swallow what you can, limited by his dick still in your mouth. When he pulls out you lap at the cum left behind, circle your tongue around your lips, make a whole show of it. You speak again, your voice raspy and spent: “Please, my turn?”

He lifts you up and smirks at the way you yelp in surprise, tossing you onto the bed and pulling you back onto your knees, your back to his chest. He wrangles your shorts off, gives your ass a smack as he pulls them down, enough to expose what’s underneath. The stiff material gathers just above your bent knees, restraining you from moving much.

“D’you know what,” he says, still sounding angry—like he’s lecturing you, stern, “I could’ve been in bed, wakin’ up at six to work… instead I gotta teach this little brat a fuckin’ lesson. Your old man not teach y’enough manners?” He tugs your bra down, thumbs roughly at your pebbled nipples, wrenching a moan out of you. He’s hard again, dick poking into your ass, and fuck you want him in you.

“He didn’t,” you sniffle, pitiful. “Y’gotta teach me, Daddy.”

“Oh, she likes that, don’t she?” He grumbles, like the title is annoying, juvenile. The way his cock twitches tells you otherwise. “Shut up, baby honey. I got this.” He reaches up your thighs and the ticklish, pleasurable sensation gets you hot.

Joel, you whimper, seizing in on yourself. He grabs your other arm, pulls it back toward him so you remain open and pliant. Please, wait.

“No time for waitin’, not when you spend hours prancin’ around like a little whore, sweetheart.” Without preamble, he’s running his fingers up your thighs again, not stopping this time until his fingers are pressing into your clit, rubbing over the thin, soaked fabric of your panties. “And you’re so fucking wet for me. My number one girl, ain’t you?”

“Yea,” you babble dumbly. “Your number one girl.”

“Thaaat’s right. My girl needs her needy cunt filled up, don’t she? By Daddy’s fat fingers.” You nod along, drawn in by the vulgarity of his words, the way he spits them out. You’ve spent several nights fantasizing how his big, rough hands would feel on you—and you’ve been outproven. He’s so fast, so skilled with his fingers; they feel delicious in you. And you can’t stop thinking about all of those girls he implied he’s slept with, the way they probably got to this first. Lucky bitches.

He’s gotten you so wet the entire night, even moreso now, that your pussy is making obscene squelching noises with each pump of his fingers, these nastily loud noises that humiliate you, that turn you on even more, that make you drip all onto Joel’s linen sheets. Fuck, you whimper. He swats at your ass. No swearing, he’s saying.

“Look up for me, honey. Up at the window.” Outside, the sun’s beginning to crawl over Austin, just the faint blues and yellows of early morning. You realize you know this because his curtain’s been pulled open—by him, earlier, before any of this even started, you assume. And the only other thing you can see other than the sky and the sliver of the neighborhood is your parents’ window.

“No,” you plead, looking down. He doesn’t let you, tugs you back up to look by your hair. He knows your parents won’t be up ’til seven-thirty latest. But you don’t know that, and for now, you don’t have to.

“What then, huh, sweetheart? When they go to check on the weather n’ they see their best friend poundin’ their young daughter? What’d they think?” You jerk away, overcome with pleasure and embarrassment at the imaginary situation. You feel his fingers pump in and out of you, filling you up. They’re probably thick and hot, glistening each time they come out. You’re tightening up; you’ll cum soon, make a mess on his hand, which already drips with slick. “So you better hurry. Better make a mess on me soon.”

“I am, I’m—I’m gonna,” you moan. You’re wrapped up in the way his fingers play you just the right way. You’re so close to the surface, and you’ve been wanting this for way too long, so you nod, let yourself get carried away by his words, let yourself give in, spreading your legs as wide as they can go as he fingerfucks you, working out the tension that’s been building up for forever.

“That’s my number one girl,” he grins into your neck, and you’re convulsing release onto his hand, wetting it even further. He wraps a hand around your waist, keeps you close to his figure, his erection at the small of your back. “That’s it, honey. Did so well for me.”

“I want it,” you say meekly. “Even if they see.”

He groans. “Sweetheart, you must think real low of me to believe I’d put my cock anywhere near Harold’s daughter’s pussy.”

You tug your panties fully down, just enough so they fall off on their own the rest of the way, and guide his slick hand behind yourself, pressing his finger first into your folds again, sensitive, and then up toward your tighter hole.

You feel his breath tighten behind you when you say: “How ‘bout there?”

#dbf!joel #joel miller #joel miller imagine #joel miller smut #joel miller x reader #pedro pascal smut #joel miller x you #joel miller x y/n #joel miller tlou #the last of us #tlou x reader #joel tlou #joel the last of us #joel x reader #pedro pascal x reader #tlou smut

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just-jordie-things · 3 months

Text

let the light in - ryomen sukuna

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧ 10k follower event special! ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

word count: 15.5k warnings: mentions of fighting and injuries, reader has a cursed technique but i don't describe it bc i'm lazy, she's actually pretty weak in this ngl i needed her to be a bit of a damsel in distress. sukuna is pretty out of character but he has to be. also sukuna can take control of yuji's body when he's asleep bc i decided so ok it's my first time writing for him so bare with me. summary: reincarnation!au with a twist. in every life sukuna finds you in, he has to remind you of who you once were- and who you once were to each other. it's a burden, but it's one he's carried for centuries and he wouldn't have it any other way. more info: slowburn enemies to ?? to lovers, sukuna is hopelessly in love with reader its very fun ✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ ooh let the light in // at your back door yelling cause i wanna come in // ooh turn your light on // look at us, you and i back at it again ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Finding her in this life was the first thing on his mind as soon as his consciousness was manifested. Just like every era before this one, she’s always his first thought.

The second thought was- what the fuck?

In all of his centuries walking this earth, he’d never been quite out of body like this. As in, in a completely different body from his own. And much to his displeasure, he’d manifested inside of some brat jujutsu sorcerer that was a bit too strong for his own good. No worries, though, after they tracked down a few more of his cursed fingers he’d be able to take proper control and Itadori Yuji would cease to exist as soon as Sukuna regained his full strength.

So for some time, he played nice. Or, as nice as he could, that was. He sat back in his domain and waited. He’d never been one with a strong sense of patience- he may have been a man once but he was a curse now- but if it meant strengthening his chances in being reunited with her sooner, then he would play the long game. Besides, he could have some fun torturing the brat and his friends for a little while, right? No harm in some chaos and carnage along the way. He would need good stories to tell her when they were together again, anyways.

There were times where the brat began to wonder what it was Sukuna was doing there, quietly tucked into his domain. On the rare occasion that he didn’t rear his head into conversation with a nasty comment coming from a mouth materialized on his cheek or the back of his hand. Times passed where Yuji would cringe awaiting Sukuna’s inevitable filth, but instead he was gifted with silence from the curse inhabiting him. The young sorcerer could only assume that this meant he was doing something else- but what? What could he possibly occupy himself with while trapped in his own domain? Some days Yuji worried he was plotting something, but others he wondered if the King of Curses was just lost in thought. Did he daydream?

Sukuna wouldn’t call it that, but if anyone were able to catch him in the act, they’d know it was exactly that. All he could do with his time is imagine how he’d reunite with her in this life. It was one of his favorite parts of each new century or so, and after hundreds of lifetimes, there were plenty of memories to keep himself occupied with.

This time he knew he’d have to outdo himself, seeing as he was in an unfamiliar body, and he could only hope that she liked this one as much as the last. Perhaps the next time he took control of it he’d make sure everything was up to standard- he couldn’t have her rejecting him just because he was in some brat’s body this time. On the other hand, he knew her to be more playful and experimental than he was, so maybe she’d find a change in host exciting.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

To his delight, Sukuna is reunited with the great love of his life sooner than expected. To his great displeasure, it’s at exactly the wrong time.

He’d been irritated enough having his brat vessel tap out just because he couldn’t take on a measly little Special Grade. Of course, he wasn’t about to appease some righteous jujutsu sorcerer’s agenda by exorcizing the curse himself. But in the end, the curse disappointed him too, thinking that it could pick a fight with the King of Curses and come out of it alive.

Pride outweighed vengeance, and he found himself entertained with playing with the Special Grade. Playing, because of course it’s abilities were weak compared to real jujutsu, unlike the childish display the brat had put up first.

He’s so drawn in by his play fight with the curse that he’d completely missed her- that is until he’s using his Domain Expansion, and from the corner of one of his eyes he finally notices.

While it’s a shock that he’s managed to let the great love of his life go unnoticed, she isn’t exactly… conscious.

The special grade is sliced diced and forgotten, barely even a blip in Sukuna’s memory now once he recognizes the slumped over body on a pile of rubble a few hundred feet away. He’s delighted, ecstatic even. The bloodthirsty grin on his face is replaced by a beam of pure thrill. He’d previously thought it might take years to find her in this life, so to stumble across her now, after getting control of this body over a mere pest, was a real treat.

He approaches her limp body so quickly he’s practically teleported to her, and his beam begins to falter as he takes in her current state.

It’s not a matter of worry that she’s fairly beat up and knocked unconscious so hard there’s soft snores between heavy breaths, her mortal body working overtime to keep her alive at all- it was nothing a quick use of his Reverse Cursed Technique couldn’t fix.

The wince of disgust that contorts his features is directed solely at her attire.

Crisp black button up torn open to reveal the same shade of undershirt snugly fitting her underneath, paired with pants of the same material. He didn’t need to see the crest at the collar of her shirt to give him further context as to what she was up to in this century.

“Of course,” He utters through his snarl as he crouches down towards her, hands glowing as he promptly heals her wounds. She doesn’t awaken, her body growing even more exhausted after being put through the technique, but her muscles do appear to relax as she slumps further into the dirty ground. “You would be a sorcerer in this lifetime. Idiot,”

The cruel name falls from his lips with nothing but melted affection. No other person on this earth would be allowed to hear him speak this way and live to tell the tale. It was reserved only for her- and she wasn’t even awake to hear it now.

With steady hands Sukuna gathers her in his arms, trying to bend her into a more comfortable position. She doesn’t wince or complain when bruised limbs drag across broken slabs of concrete. If he wasn’t able to hear the steady beat of her heart, she would have easily been mistaken for dead already.

“A shitty reunion this time around, I’m afraid,”

Sukuna sighs before he sits fully on the ground. He’s not sure how much longer he’d be in control of this body, but any thoughts of fleeing to bring as much destruction to Tokyo is far from his mind. He wants nothing more than to sit here with his lover and hope that she’d wake back up before he’s dragged back into his domain.

With one arm wrapped under her shoulders to keep her limp body closely tucked to him, his free hand brushes the messy strands of hair away from her resting face. She looks peaceful, even though when she wakes she’d still carry the aches of her healed injuries. The tips of his fingers linger over her soft cheek as he admires her.

“Just as beautiful in this life as you were in every one before it, my love,” He murmurs, so quiet that even if she were conscious enough to hear it, she probably wouldn’t have.

He only gets a few moments of peace with her before he can feel a stir from inside of him, and he can faintly make out Yuji gaining his consciousness back. He snarls in his aggravation, wishing he could knock the brat out so he could get just a little more time with his long lost love, even if she wasn’t her usual lively self.

“Come, we have things to do” He tells her, before he pulls her closer and lifts her up.

He makes his way out of the destroyed building with leisure, knowing that the other sorcerer, Fushiguro, would be waiting outside for a fight. It wasn’t in his plans to end the kid’s life just yet, but with the reunion of his one true love coming prematurely, things might have to change. Oh well, he was flexible.

She fusses in his arms upon the lift, but even with her pinching brows and twitching eyelids, she never quite wakes up. Which was alright, they would have plenty of time to properly catch up in a bit. Sukuna had other things to handle first.

It would be some time still before she properly met the King of Curses face to face- in this life anyways- as shortly after his departure of the ruined building, he would have to set her aside to take care of a few of the weaker level shikigamis that the Fushiguro kid sent his way. After ripping the brat’s heart out of their shared chest, it would be a few weeks before things seemingly transitioned back to normal.

When (y/n) would finally come to in the infirmary a few hours after it all went down, Megumi would relay how the King of Curses had carried her out in his arms. She’d give him a bitter laugh, thinking he was trying to lighten the mood after the news of the death of their friend. But Megumi wasn’t usually very good at telling jokes, and after seeing his grave expression stay put, her face would fall.

“You’re serious?”

Megumi nods, the thin line of his lips unwavering.

(y/n) blinks a few times as she processes it slowly. She’s still not sure that she believes him, but she doesn’t have a reason not to either. If Gojo had told her this she’d have rolled her eyes, and maybe called him insensitive and unserious, but why would Megumi make something like that up?

“I don’t understand,” She tells him with a furrowed brow, and the way Megumi shrugs one shoulder unenthusiastically tells her he didn’t understand it any better than she did. “You’re telling me he saved me?”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” Megumi replies dryly. He should’ve known she’d ask him questions he clearly didn’t have the answers for, so he tried to provide her with what he did know so that maybe she wouldn’t torment him with more of her own questions. “But he brought you out, and set you down somewhere with your head propped up, and he didn’t try to attack you at all. At least, it looked like he didn’t”

Her tongue darts over the dryness of her bottom lip as her jaw hangs open at him. She doesn’t bother him with more useless questions, but that doesn’t mean the whole ordeal wasn’t plaguing her mind.

Something was very strange about that behavior. But with Yuji gone, she figured it was no use trying to decipher it all anyways. Maybe after some time when her grief wears off into something she could live with, she could forget about it completely.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

With Yuji turning out to be alive and well, Sukuna’s plans shifted once more. He’d tortured him as best he could without the ability of taking control of the body, letting his friend be turned into a transfigured human, refusing to kill the spirit that called itself Mahito- as upsetting as it was to his brat vessel, Sukuna cared very little for such trivial events. In fact, if Yuji were to shut up about it, he probably could have forgotten completely. He only had one goal on his mind- to return to her again. Anything else was merely a stepping stone along the way.

Just as before, Sukuna spends most of his time in his domain without much noise. Except this time, Yuji starts to get an inkling of what he’s doing.

“It’s unbecoming and submissive of you to pretend to be dead,”

Sukuna taunts one day while Yuji’s working on his ‘training’ on Gojo’s couch while he invests himself with a romantic movie. His sudden appearance was a good test to his abilities, though, as the sleeping cursed puppet on Yuji’s lap doesn’t stir. It was safe to say that Yuji had gotten as used to sharing his body with the curse as he was going to get.

“What if your little sorcerer friends need you?” Sukuna chuckles. He quite enjoys the image of Fushiguro and the little red-headed girl struggling to keep up with mere Second Grade curses.

“They’re fine” Yuji replies casually, barely paying attention to the mouth on his face that wasn’t his. The movie was just getting good, after all.

“You think they can manage to hold their own?” Sukuna scoffs at the thought. “With half-assed cursed techniques like theirs?”

“Fushiguro and Kugisaki are the most cutthroat people I’ve ever known. Didn’t Fushiguro almost kick your ass?” Yuji mutters, more irritated than offended by Sukuna’s cruelty. “You’re just lucky you haven’t had to deal with (y/l/n)”

So is that what she was calling herself this time? Sukuna’s lips tilt into a smirk.

“She doesn’t seem like much to be afraid of,” The words themselves are harsh, but something in his tone changes. Enough that Yuji starts to lose focus on the television. “Last I saw her she was half dead. If it weren’t for me, she would have been dead-dead”

That finally catches Yuji’s full attention, and he misses the next few lines of the movie when he asks, “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sukuna’s silent, thoughtfully so, as he tries to find just the right way to play his cards. Does he use his history with the brat’s friend as a scare tactic? Or does he keep that little fact to himself for a while longer? Either way, the longer he’s silent, the more Yuji begins to go stir crazy.

“Hey, you old curse!” He hollers suddenly, causing the cursed puppet in his lap to wake up and start to get aggressive. Yuji heaves as the tiny thing rears a heavy punch into his gut, but it doesn’t stop him from interrogating the curse inside of him. “What did you mean by that!?” He huffs out.

Sukuna chuckles, and just as quickly as he’d appeared on Yuuji’s cheek, he disappeared again, hiding away in his domain and entertaining himself with the sight of Yuji getting beat up by a little cursed teddy bear.

Perhaps he’d let the brat overthink for a little while longer, anxiety was a form of suffering after all, wasn’t it? At least watching the brat worry himself sick about it would provide him some amusement for the coming days. Until the sanction of his fake death is lifted, and he could go back to his goal of being reunited with his love.

(y/l/n). Her new surname rings in his head as he settles in his domain and lets his mind begin to wander again. As pretty as it was, he’d have to return it to the proper name. His name.

Yuji is attacked by Yaga’s cursed puppet a few more times that evening, but not due to the film changing his range of emotions. In fact, it was due to his complete lack of focus on the movie. All he could think about was what business Sukuna could possibly have with (y/n).

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

When he makes his surprise reappearance for his friends, Yuji debates on pulling (y/n) aside and asking her about what Sukuna had mentioned. But for all he knew, he very well could have been toying with him, and ultimately he decided to enjoy what little time he had to catch up with his friends before they dove into the Exchange Event. It just didn’t seem worth bringing up at this time.

But for some reason, when she takes her seat as the Tokyo students begin their planning, Yuji’s compelled to sit beside her. It’s not an odd choice, it’s not out of character for him, she is his friend after all, but he’s quite aware of the way his feet move on their own accord to carry him to the empty seat beside her. Yuji knows his body, and he knows he wasn’t the one commanding it to do that.

It makes him gulp when he unceremoniously plops into the seat. (y/n) gives him a look, something crossed between confusion and amusement, but she brushes it off and doesn’t say a word as she shifts her focus back to Maki. Yuji tries to ignore it as well, a bit embarrassed about the whole display. Was that really Sukuna? He tried to clear his mind, too, it was quite important that he took in everything Maki was saying, but his mind is wrapped up in whatever game the King of Curses was playing right now.

And finally, when he thinks he’s heard enough of the game plan for the event, he feels it.

The slit under his right eye opens, the side facing (y/n). Yuji holds his breath, hoping that Sukuna doesn’t open his loud mouth and bark out something insulting, but he doesn’t. His mouth never materializes. He simply stares.

It’s almost worse.

A few minutes pass and no one seems to notice, as the attention of the room is still commanded by Maki. Except for Yuji himself, as he’d stopped listening to her altogether while he anxiously awaited whatever was to come next. What was he doing? He began to bounce his leg.

His throat closes up when he sees (y/n) turn her head out of the corner of his eye. He doesn’t meet her gaze, even though she’s clearly staring at him- or Sukuna, he supposes- but she doesn’t speak up. She’s just as silent as the curse he’s hosting. Still, her gaze remains on the dark eye peeking out at her. If they weren’t in a room with all of their peers, Yuji would’ve broken his ignorant demeanor by now, but something inside him tells him to keep his mouth shut.

When the group disbanded for a quick lunch before the event officially started, (y/n) remained seated while the others filtered out, and when Yuji began to stand, she stopped him. All she’s done is reach a hand out, she barely even touches his arm, but it’s enough for him to stop in his tracks, and he stays put in his seat.

They don’t say anything until the room is empty, and even then, (y/n) chooses to speak quietly, almost under her breath.

“What the hell is going on with…” She pauses, her eyes flickering between Yuji’s and the ones below, before she raises her hand in a small gesture. “Him?” She mumbles it so low, afraid that saying his name would be enough to summon him, even though he’s so clearly already there before her.

“I don’t-”

Yuji starts, but before he could say anything- or think of anything to say- Sukuna’s mouth is materializing on his cheek. It’s an unsettling feeling on its own, but Yuji always felt a certain chill on his spine whenever he’d feel that mouth forming a smile.

“Just missed lookin’ at you, sweetheart”

Yuji’s face is sickly pale in a matter of seconds, the fear that settles over him tenses up all of his muscles, to the point they ache, and as much as he wants to remove himself (and Sukuna) from this situation, he’s frozen in place. Too stunned to say anything, too stunned to move, he just stands there helplessly as (y/n’s) wide eyes dart between both pairs on his face.

(y/n’s) reaction comes first, the shocked expression wearing off into something else. Yuji can’t place what it is- anger, disgust- but she loses the desire to keep the conversation quiet as reality settles over her.

“What!?” It comes out in a screech, but it’s just as quickly followed by absolute rambling. “What the hell are you talking about? What the hell is he talking about?” She awkwardly shifts her gaze between both sets of eyes, unsure and unfamiliar with how to communicate with the both of them.

“I- I don’t-”

Again, Yuji’s interrupted before he can come up with anything.

“We still have all the time in the world, for now you just keep your pretty little head focused on this game of yours, hm?”

Just like that, the fanged mouth is disappearing and Yuji’s cheek is returned to it’s normal state again.

(y/n) blinks, going silent again while her face is flushing with color. Now her eyes seem to focus on the lower, darker pair of eyes. It’s hard to gauge what Sukuna is thinking, or feeling. With only a narrowed set of eyes to go off of, not to mention he’s a reckless curse, he’s not a man, she doesn’t know what to make of the interaction.

But with the memory of what Megumi had told her, a dread begins to weigh down her chest. Whatever this behavior was about, it couldn’t mean anything could. It was unwanted attention, that was for sure. No matter how warm her face felt, or how nervous she suddenly was just being around Yuji.

Soon enough the eyes shut too, but even though it appears it’s only her and Yuji in the room, she can still feel Sukuna’s presence. She swallows the lump in her throat like it’s lead.

“Let’s just…” Her eyes flit away from the closed lids, meeting Yuji’s warm but worried gaze again. She’s not sure if it’s a comfort or not that he seems just as anxious as she feels. “Let’s just get through the Exchange Event first” She suggests.

She’s sure that this is the right choice of action. There was simply no time to dwell on Sukuna’s out of character behavior- then again she didn’t know him, she didn’t know what was in character, he was a curse!- not with all of their peers relying on them to secure the win for the Tokyo Prefecture.

Although she couldn’t deny her head wasn’t exactly in the game during the event. When she finds herself getting sloppy, taking hits she normally should have been able to dodge, she begins to curse the King of Curses himself. Surely this whole thing was an act, that was what he was best at, wasn’t it? Torture? Mind games? He was probably laughing it up in his domain watching her struggle so miserably at an event she couldn’t have been more prepared for.

When shit really hit the fan and curses and curse users reared their ugly heads in the middle of a semi-light hearted game, it dawned on her just how out of it she’d really become. Suddenly it didn’t matter how Mai shouldn’t have been able to get that shot at her shoulder- or how she should’ve seen Miwa’s Domain Expansion coming. There was no way she was going to let a curse like him get in her head and keep her from protecting her friends and herself from a real threat.

And once this attack in the middle of their event was taken care of and the scores were settled, she’d find a way to give the King of Curses a piece of her mind.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

That time came sooner than expected, and it’s seemingly out of nowhere when he pays her a little visit.

Deep down she knows that she should be terrified when the King of Curses is at her door requesting her time for ‘a talk’ as he called it. A thousand questions should flood her mind, and after some time they’ll begin to register, slowly and one by one, far later than it’s appropriate to ask.

He’d gotten her alone, and this should terrify her further, she should feel like a lamb in the presence of a wolf- no- curse. But for some reason, when he enters the training room she’d been doing warm ups in, all she does is stare at him.

Sukuna knows that there’s no way she could have mistaken him for the brat, not with all of his markings, not with his vermillion eyes, not with the abundant amount of cursed energy he carried with him. Any other mortal would straighten up, freeze in place and stare at him in utter fear as they waited for whatever fate he bestowed upon them.

Not her.

Foolishly, he believes this is due to the lifetimes they’d spent together before this one. Even though he’s well aware of the rules of the courtship. He recalls many meetings before this one where he’d had to open her eyes to the Binding Vow that brought her back in every lifetime. Still, he naively held onto a hope that her lack of reaction to his presence now is because somewhere inside of her, she knows she doesn’t need to be afraid of him like the others.

(y/n’s) true feelings couldn’t have been farther from his assumptions. It may have been a moment of poor judgment, but the moment he’d materialized at that door, irritation overrode self preservation. It didn’t matter that the cursed energy he carried was so heavy it was palpable.

She took one look at the King of Curses and furrowed her brows like she was a child he’d wronged, and there wasn’t an ounce of fear for her life when she’s the first to speak.

“What the fuck are you doing out?”

Out, it’s a funny choice of word, isn’t it? Sukuna can’t help the chuckle of amusement. Did she mean out and about, casually roaming the sacred grounds, or could she have meant out due to his control over the brat’s body?

A frown settles on her lips when she sees he’s already enjoying himself. She should be wondering what he’s been up to before he came here, or when exactly it was he gained control over Yuji’s body.

“And what happened to-”

Before she could fully voice her worry for her friend, Sukuna’s waving a dismissive hand.

“The brat’s fine, not everything has to be about him, you know” He scolds her as if this was a conversation they’d had a hundred times before now. Her frown deepens.

“Forgive me for caring more about him than a curse like you” She scoffs back at him.

How was it that in every lifetime she had to have that same bad attitude? Of course eventually she’d always settle down and warm back up to him, century and century again. Some cases took days, others years, and Sukuna was starting to get a feeling that due to the circumstances they found themselves in this time around, this case could be the latter. He frowns at the thought.

He found her so quickly this time, why did she have to be so stubborn?

“Always such a brat, I can hardly tell the difference between you,” He replies.

The look of disgust on her face is washed away by mild surprise. Both from the soft and easy cadence of his usually rough and cruel voice, and from the realization that he probably should have killed her for talking back to him the way she did. Now she starts to wonder just how many buttons she can push before she sees the true side of the King of Curses.

Her brows pinch together as she watches him with calculations behind her eyes. Was this all a part of the act from before?

“How interesting could things have been if you’d swallowed the finger that day and not this brat, hm?” He muses, and he seems genuinely curious about it.

(y/n) can barely keep up with him, trying too hard to jump to conclusions before he’s revealed them. Then again, there might be nothing to understand at all- this was all a part of the mind games, wasn’t it? She makes a mental note to meet with Gojo about this. Sukuna must’ve had greater plans in mind that the strongest sorcerer should be looped in on. Even if so far… he hadn’t exactly done anything… just made her friendship with Yuji fairly awkward.

Sukuna hasn’t moved from the doorway. Her eyes sweep over him carefully as she wonders if this is purposeful. If his motive is to give her a false sense of safety.

“Humor me for a moment, (y/n)”

He sounds out her name like it’s an unfamiliar word, and for the first time since he’d appeared minutes prior, there’s a familiar hollow in her chest. At first she tags it as distress, but the way it lingers like a dull ache has her double guessing it’s cause.

“What?”

No should’ve been what came out of her mouth- if anything needed to be said at all. Would he let her leave if she tried? Would he punish her for it? However, despite every instinct begging to drag her in a different direction, she can’t help the intrigue she feels for him.

“What’re you doing here as a sorcerer?” He hums again with his question, eyes narrowing on her slightly as he takes account of her every reaction.

She’s holding her breath right now, it’s obvious in her tense jaw and unmoving chest. Not even a strand of hair waves in it’s place. Every part of her is so still, he could easily mistake it as her natural instinct to fear him as her natural predator. He knows this isn’t the case.

She opens her mouth to protest the question at first, but just as quickly, her jaw slacks, and she’s closing it softly as she sits on it a little more thoughtfully.

“Why do you ask?”

It irks him to have a question answered with another question. This was another quirk of hers that she always had in the earlier stages of their reunion. Even with the grain of irritation, Sukuna still finds himself amused in the way that she truly is the same person in every lifetime. She may have different names, and occasionally a feature or two isn’t quite how he remembered it- and trust him, he remembered- but her soul remained pure, unfiltered, unchanging. She was always his.

“The last we spoke, you had quite the unshakable opinion about a society that breeds and boasts of it’s powerful children to protect them, only to leave them in neglect…” He trails off, scanning her features in the search of any flash of recognition. If anything, she’s only more confused. Her brows are furrowed and her lips have formed a pout which he deemed as her sign of defeat in trying to understand him. “Something about creating the things you fear. But it was quite some time ago, and I see you’ve so clearly changed your mind” He raises a hand, palm up as he lazily gestures to her.

(y/n’s) posture straightens up, partially out of her defensive nature, but mostly due to the seriousness in his tone. Logic tells her she shouldn’t be taking anything he says as truth, it would be foolish, and in the end probably deadly too.

But that intrigue hits her, ignites a tiny spark in her chest that has her longing to learn more. The intensity tells her that if he weren’t this curse, that perhaps if he was just a man, she might humor him in the way he was looking for.

If she began the what if game now, she feared she’d find herself justifying her continuation of this conversation.

“You must have me confused, then”

Her words are clear and concise without being loud.

“I haven’t confused you in any century before this one and I would never confuse you in the ones to come after,”

She tries to hide the surprise in her expression, but she knows she fails. Especially when Sukuna’s amusement in her reaction seems more genuine than before. He takes a step into the room, just a single one.

“Your brat friend is fine. He fell asleep. We have a sort of… deal,”

There is some comfort in his words, even if (y/n) is unsure about her trust in him, the words still hit her chest and her shoulders slowly begin to untense. She doesn’t question him, doesn’t make any comment at all. She supposes he’ll fill the silence eventually, and her assumption is correct.

“You and I have known each other for quite some time,” He continues. “Long ago, you made a Binding Vow to me. A vow that allowed your mortal body to be reborn in every lifetime, so that I may find you”

Her brows furrow, hardly believing this to be the truth. She’s supposed to believe a Binding Vow could hold the power to reincarnate her? A quiet scoff blows past her lips.

“Incredible,” She murmurs, but it’s clear her astonishment isn’t enthusiastic. It’s cynical. “What sort of entertainment do you really gain from this?”

She asks, crossing her arms over her chest as she dares a few steps forward. She’s not all that close to him, but at the end of the day it didn’t matter her distance from Sukuna, the radius of his danger could stretch for miles.

“You never believe me right away” He muses, his hands folding behind his back as he regards her curiously. It makes her feel like a specimen, like a wild animal he’s just stumbled upon, but she doesn’t shrink under the intensity of his gaze.

“Would you?”

It’s not the response he’s expecting, but his eyes light up with a flicker of excitement.

“Of course not,” He answers, his lips beginning to curl into a smile. It should send a chill down her spine, but she takes another step forward and tilts her chin up higher. So foolish, he thinks with an air of loveliness wrapped around it, don’t you see that the mere fact I let you live for behaving like this must mean there’s some truth in my words? Instead, he tells her “Yet, you fall every time”

“I fall for the trick?” She snaps, but her intrigue remains.

“You fall for me” He clarifies, a finality in his tone that has her shutting up, albeit momentarily.

No, she must’ve been right, it was all some grand trick. Some ridiculous, theatrical ploy he’d come up with just to deceive her. She’s not sure of the why yet- if he wanted to kill her, couldn’t he have done it already? If he wanted to torture her, couldn’t he have chained her up by now? She’s skeptical, but she would hate to admit that some part of her, deep, deep down, considers that he may not be lying to her.

Of course he must be lying, so she tries to shove that idea down.

“And why would I do such a thing like that?” She asks, her tone bored, but the wideness in her eyes as she awaited his answer didn’t go unnoticed.

Sukuna unfolded his hands in order to push them into the pockets of Yuji’s pants. His grievance in wearing a sorcerer’s uniform was obvious in the unsavory curl in his lips as he briefly glanced down at himself, but his attention returned to her just as quickly.

“A Binding Vow is a double sided contract,” He reminds her. “You entered it willingly,” He tilts his head at her as he watches her process this information, before he tells her the full truth. “In fact, you were the one who brought the idea to me, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me that” She mutters out quickly, not thinking twice about the consequences of scolding the King of Curses.

“It’s true,” Sukuna shrugs his shoulders with a lazy drag. “I almost didn’t agree to it. But you’ve always been… convincing”

She’s not sure what he means, because the memories he’s recalling aren’t shared- if they’re real memories at all- and yet, she continues to lay her questions on thick.

“And why wouldn’t I choose to remember all of this then, hm? If I chose to be reborn, over and over, why wouldn’t I have wanted to remember?” She’s challenging him, and Sukuna’s enjoying it, even if it means that right now the distance she puts between them is further than before he’d found her due to her distrust in him.

History has repeated itself for thousands of years, but no event was as perfectly cyclical as she was to him. Time and time again he would find her, and in every lifetime, she’d been his.

“You wanted to,” He tells her. “The vow took a bit of a different turn than expected. See, your soul didn’t simply leap into a pre-existing person with each reincarnate. You were born again. Every part of your being, physical and… otherwise, was reborn. It actually makes it all the more difficult to find you, you know”

“Seems like a copout” She says, her expression unamused.

“Well go on then, what else do you want to ask me?”

“I have nothing,” She lies. “Because I’m not entertaining this any further”

“Fine, then,” To her surprise, Sukuna actually accepts her rejection- if you could call it that. “I’ll give the brat his body back. But you’ll know where to find me once you start to remember”

He leaves without a word, not even a mere wave, and it’s not until he’s gone that (y/n) wonders if she should be worried about him roaming the grounds of Jujutsu Tech, but nothing happens.

In fact it’s such a quiet night that the next morning everyone seems well rested and rejuvenated, all in good spirits and ready to take on the day. Everyone but her. And she can’t stop her eyes from shifting towards Yuji every thirty seconds, always double checking the slits under his eyes, as if one of these times she’d find them open and focused on her.

She can’t get the image of Sukuna lounging so casually in that training room. It’s hard when one of her closest friends shares his face, so even when she’s not anxious about seeing that second set of eyes, her heart still skips a beat when Yuji’s eyes catch hers and he smiles politely.

Naturally, that skip in her heart was due to her nerves, and had nothing to do with the contents of her discussion with the curse inside of him.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Sukuna gives (y/n) what he believes to be an abundant amount of time to let their past settle in. He wants her to process it all properly. He wants her to come to her senses and realize that there were no ulterior motives in his reveal.

He still makes the occasional crude comment from Yuji’s cheek, but while they’re ever directed at her, she finds her posture straightening and her eyes trained on the skin where he’s materialized, always waiting for him to direct something her way. He doesn’t. He hardly even looks at her- when she’s looking, that is. While inside of his domain and perfectly hidden by Itadori Yuji, Sukuna spends as much of his time staring at her while he can. Some days, there’s an intensity so strong that Yuji finds himself not-so-subtly staring at her too. Sukuna doesn’t like this- if he had things his way then no one would lay there eyes on what was his- but letting Yuji sneak glances here and there was a small price to pay in order to make sure the pair remain close enough that Sukuna’s still able to have some sense of nearness to her.

Due to this silent period on his part, (y/n) decides against bringing Gojo’s attention to the situation. While she knows it hasn’t just disappeared, because she just knows that it will be brought up again, she hopes that enough time passes that she can learn to brush it off as nonsense spewed from a bored curse.

It nags at her, despite her best efforts, she never allows herself to forget it completely. It crosses her mind every day, if not every minute she spends with Yuji. The way he stood, the way he spoke, it would play on a loop in her mind until she was sure it would drive her to the point of madness. It very well could have, already.

And one night, she decides to take the reins into her own hands, and she approaches it first.

After watching a partial movie in the common room, Megumi had long gone to bed and Nobara had crashed on a makeshift pile of blankets on the floor, (y/n) feels an anxiousness settle over her when she hears Yuji begin to snore and he, too, was just as knocked out as the rest of her friends.

She debates on it for a moment, her eyes sliding between the flickering television and the resting boy sitting beside her on the couch. Her index finger taps at an unkept pace against her knee, and she lets as many minutes pass as she could, just to be sure Yuji truly was asleep.

Then she turned her head fully, eyes focused on that mark under his face where Sukuna’s eyes were peacefully shut. Not sure of the inner workings on how the whole vessel thing worked, her only choice was to take a shot in the dark and hope it worked.

“I was going to tell Gojo about what you said, you know”

Her whisper is so soft, her voice cracks and gives on certain syllables. Even if he could hear her from in there, she wonders if he could have heard something so silently spoken.

Slowly, the eye opens, and it blinks a few times before it slides towards her. She wonders if he sleeps in there, or if every introduction light when he leaves his domain requires an adjustment.

And then, Yuij’s stirs, and (y/n) freezes up, watching as he twitches before his eyes begin to blink awake, as well. Fear spikes in her chest at the thought of getting caught talking to the curse inside of him while he slept.

But when his eyes fully open and an array of markings begin to paint across his features, she realizes it’s not Yuji. It’s just his body. There’s a certain guilt that follows her relief from this. In no situation should she feel pleased to see Sukuna over Yuji.

“Am I supposed to be threatened by this?” He asks slowly, in a low tone of voice that she can’t decide the cause of. Was he trying to be considerate of the sleeping sorcerer on the ground? Or was he just trying to be as menacing and mysterious as always?

He doesn’t lift his head from where Yuji had been dozed off against the couch cushion, neck craned at an angle that couldn’t be comfortable to sleep in for the entire night, but Sukuna’s not exactly looking out for the brat’s comfort. He could use a good crick in the neck or two.

“I don’t think there’s anything I could do to threaten you,” (y/n) replies honestly, the hush in her voice making her sound softer than she would’ve liked. She doesn’t need him thinking she’s warming up to being in his presence, after all. “But… would you kill me if I was?”

“What do you think?”

It comes out fast enough to be taken harshly, like he holds a disbelief in how idiotic she could be, but their conversation began with a whisper and it seems to be carried on that way. A lump forms in (y/n’s) throat as she holds eye contact with the darkened vermillion ones that stare back at hers.

The deep feeling she’d buried, the one that told her maybe she trusted him whether she liked it or not, sparked and caught light, burned just a little bit brighter, caused just enough smoke for her to give some of her attention to.

If he truly wanted to kill her, he had millions of chances to do so before now. So she concludes that his goal wasn’t to do so. Of course, this begs the question,

“What is it that you want, Sukuna?”

She’s much calmer than the last time they spoke, he notices. She’s nervous, but not tense, and not nearly as defensive. He’s not naive, he doesn’t mistake this for trust, but he is pleased in her change in attitude.

An idle smile curls on his lips as his fixed gaze softens with familiarity.

Just like every time before now, she always, eventually, came around to him. It was like her curiosity couldn’t keep her away, and her heart always won over her mind.

“I believe you already know the answer to that” He refrains from letting an old pet name fall from his tongue, a courtesy to her that he allows this once, just so she wouldn’t flee from her seat next to him.

She hums, letting the sort-of-answer sit on her mind for a moment. An unknown feeling gnaws at her- or at least, a feeling she doesn’t want to put a name to.

“Why?” The word ghosts off of her lips, and even with the worried knot between her brows her eyes stay set on his. “Why does it have to be me?”

“You’re looking at it all wrong,” Sukuna muses, his lower set of eyes rolling just slightly before he can help it. “It doesn’t have to be you- it just is. It’s always been you, and it always will be”

“Because of the Binding Vow?” She questions, and he blinks at her, processing what she meant, before his brows furrow just a little bit, and he shakes his head.

“The only clause to our vow is that you will always be reborn,” His tongue runs over his teeth as he tries to bite back the amusement he feels when realization dawns on her. “Everything after that comes from your own free will, sweetheart”

“Don’t call me that” She snaps at him, but it’s a mumble, hardly audible, hardly threatening. Sukuna purses his lips.

“Like I said, you were the one who came up with the contract,” He huffs. “I would’ve never agreed to such a thing if you weren’t so persistent”

She perks up at that little comment, and suddenly turns in her seat, tucking her legs underneath her as she faces him. Sukuna’s barely moved at all, still slouched into the cushion in the position Yuji had fallen asleep in. His eyes follow her movements as she sets her elbow on the top of the furniture so she could prop her head in her hand. Her brows are drawn together again as she studies him.

“Then why tell me about it?” She blurts the question out.

“Because I’m the one burdened with the centuries of memories” He replies without missing a beat, voice dry and expression unreadable. He’s keeping it as neutral as possible, knowing her calculating eyes would see right through any sudden change, no matter how small.

“And you are?” She asks, and then in a softer voice, finishes the thought, “Burdened?”

Sukuna blinks, slowly, before letting his gaze wander the soft and curious look on her face. He fights the urge to smile at the loveliness of it all- the twitch in her nose, the small pout in her lip- he’s the King of Curses and there should be no force on this earth that weakens him the way her gentle gaze focused on him does. Even after all this time, she is his achilles heel, she is his greatest burden, and she is the only thing he could ever truly, completely, want.

“Yes,” His answer is quiet, and (y/n) lifts her head as she stares at him with her confusion. “There exists no stronger shackles a being could trap me with the way you have,”

Her face falls, and she’s silent for a long moment. With a dry throat and a mind too busy and overcrowded with thoughts, she wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say. But that gnawing feeling was starting to make her chest ache, and the pounding of her heart in her ribcage was relentless.

“There’s no greater curse I could bear”

She hates the way he says these things so casually, without a strain in his expression or voice. She wonders if it’s because he’s done it so many times that it’s lost it’s value. Perhaps to him, this was just a part of the burden that was her existence, explaining these things to her was simply a chore that needed to be completed. She swallows a few times to ease the dryness of her throat.

“Does it get old?”

Sukuna smiles. It should trouble her- he knows that it unsettles Yuji- but if she feels unease it’s not shown.

“A thousand years of anything gets old,” He sighs, rolling his head over the cushion to stare up at the blank ceiling. “And I’d hate to admit the things that never get old”

It’s stupid. It’s ridiculous and foolish and naive, but she smiles.

“What doesn’t get old?” She asks, her curiosity blending with a sick sense of delight as she wonders just how many sides of Sukuna there really are.

He angles his head towards her again, narrowing his gaze as his lips twisted into a small smirk. It felt like his technique had the ability to see right through her- she wondered if he was really strong enough to do that.

“Last time we spoke, you said you wouldn’t entertain this,” He reminds her. “What’s changed?”

“Nothing,” She murmurs back without a moment of hesitation.

It’s the truth, and she has no reason to falsify an answer for him. Just as he had no reason to be so forward about their past. Even if she hadn’t gathered much, this conversation was much different from their last, and she felt as though she would walk away with this one overwhelmed by all of this new information. Her trust in him is precarious, and could easily be destroyed by one wrong move, but right now, she can’t see what reason she has not to take him at his word. It’s not as if he’s asking for anything in return, it’s not as if she won’t return to her dorm for the night and likely not see or speak to him again for some time. So, she supposed, what was the harm in entertaining the idea just a little?

“Nothing at all” She finishes the thought softly, before turning her attention back to the forgotten movie still playing across the room. It was nearing the end, and she’d missed enough of it to barely understand what was happening on screen now, but she didn’t have any more questions for the King of Curses tonight, and he kept quiet as she watched the movie.

To her surprise, Sukuna did sit and watch the movie. She’s not sure how much of it he actually listened or paid attention to, but it was clear that he had not given Yuji his body back, and was still very much alert and in control.

(y/n) doesn’t return to her dorm room until she finally sees Yuji asleep next to her, his face bare of any markings, and the extra eyelids under his eyes closed just as peaceful as his own.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

In the meantime, (y/n) didn’t feel so anxious around Yuji anymore, which they were both grateful for. Yuji wasn’t sure why the sudden chance came about, but he certainly wouldn’t complain. He was just glad to have his friend acting her usual self again.

He had no idea of the few chats she’d shared with the curse he hosted. While Sukuna wasn’t necessarily hiding his interest in her, he wasn’t forthright with the brat either. He didn’t need the kid interfering with what he was building on here. It was slow moving like a trail of molasses but Sukuna was more patient than most people gave him credit for. He could let a lot of things go.

Not this, however.

All of Gojo’s students had been sent on a seemingly standard assignment. Odd, unexplainable disappearances had been happening in a clearing in the middle of the woods, enough so to alert jujutsu society and send a few sorcerers to the scene to investigate.

Upon arrival, there was an undeniable heaviness in the air. The field that the group of four found themselves in didn’t stretch for miles, but it was no small clearing. It was a strange place for a curse to settle in and lure non-sorcerers towards. Curses often tucked themselves into hidden spots, within abandoned buildings or deep in the thick brush of the woods. Not a clearing of grass and wild daisies.

The entire situation was odd, it didn’t sit right in anyone’s mind as they went their separate ways to scour the area for any insight on what was happening here. It didn’t take long for something to turn up.

A curse that had to have been a First Grade, with a large, sharp toothed grin and gouged out eyes, materialized in the clearing’s center, and as soon as it clocked this evening’s prey as jujutsu sorcerers, it seemed to go into a mad state. (y/n’s) not sure if it possesses great speed or the ability to teleport when it’s suddenly before her. All she’s able to do in that amount of time is lift her weapon into an offensive position, she’s not even given the time to drive it forward in an attack before suddenly, she’s no longer on the ground.

She comes to mid air, just before she hits the ground and rolls a few times before her senses kick in and her hands brace themselves against the ground. She can faintly hear her friends calling for her in their shock, but it’s distant. Her head is spinning too fast for her to lift it to see just how far the curse had thrown her.

A few coughs erupt from her throat before she even tells her body to do so, brought on by the hit to her chest once she’s lifted herself up enough to relieve the pressure from the ground. Her arms are trembling from the adrenaline and a few drops of blood splatter from her mouth, but once she’s sat up enough, she drags the sleeve of her uniform over her mouth to dry the blood, and she finally gets a good look at where she is.

She’s been thrown clear out of the field, and she considers herself lucky that her body hadn’t been halted by a tree, and instead tumbled to the ground. Being thrown directly into one of the large oaks she’s surrounded by could’ve been fatal if she’d hit it just right, or at the very least she could’ve broken her ankle. With a rushed assessment she decides nothing feels broken, and therefore she can grab her weapon and-

Her weapon is nowhere near her. She scrambles to her feet, her breaths heavy and irregular as she searches around the grass, looking for the large blade she’d had in her hands less than a minute ago.

It had only been a minute, right? She hadn’t blacked out, had she?

Realizing there was no use wasting her time looking for a weapon now, she pushes herself to break into a sprint back towards the clearing. Her friends are blurry images moving about, trying to attack the larger blurry images that fends off their attacks with little struggle. She concludes this when she begins to hear the yelps and grunts of her fellow sorcerers, and yet the curse doesn’t seem to struggle at all.

Just when her vision begins to clear and she’s preparing herself to rejoin the fight with only her cursed technique and her fists, she sees the curse grab Megumi by the leg, and soon after he’s getting thrown into the air just as she did. His name is torn from her raw throat in an instant- but Megumi is more prepared to be airborne than she was, drawing his hands together to summon Nue to catch him.

Relief is short lived, and soon Megumi finds himself instructing Nue to catch Nobara and Yuji when shortly after, they’re being thrown as well. Nue’s a quick shikigami, but it’s only strong enough to carry one person at a time before it’s energy starts to deplete, and the curse keeps at it’s movements, chuckling the three of them into the air before they can land an attack on them on their decline. Yuji tries, using Black Flash on his descent in the hopes of striking it where it hurts, but the curse manages to catch him in a tight fist before chucking him again.

(y/n’s) still keeping an eye out for her weapon when she grows nearer to the fight, seeing as no one else’s techniques have caused any real damage yet, her cursed tool of a sword could be quite handy right about now.

She was hoping that with it’s attention focused on the other three, she could attack it from behind, and drive it more towards the clearing again. With how much movement and tossing it had done, it had driven them all deeper into the woods, which made it harder to land attacks, but had been good coverage for (y/n) to sneak up in her approach.

To her disadvantage, she hadn’t expected there to be a pair of large eyes on the back of it’s head. In the dark of the night she hadn’t noticed them until they’d opened and landed on her instantaneously. It must’ve sensed her sneaking around behind it.

She’s quicker in her movements this time, dodging it’s large hand before it could grab onto her, but it outsmarts her and snatches her up in the other. A yelp sounds from her when it squeezes harder than the last time, her air supply cut off just as she’d tried to take in a large breath, making her sputter and cough as it raised her in the air again. A sense of dread and failure washes over her when she realizes it’s going to throw her again. Whatever this curse’s deal was, it had a thing for throwing it’s victims around to torture them.

And torture it was- as this time when she’s launched into the air, it’s a clear throw over the trees. It’s harder than before, and faster. The cool air cuts over her face in sharp streams, bringing tears to her eyes before she could comprehend what would come of her fall. She could brace herself, but as she gets a watery glance at what’s below, she knows that shielding her face would provide no comfort to her fall.

Just past the cluster of oak trees is a steep overhang. Rock and the roots of old trees jutting out some thirty feet to the ground.

This is why her fall felt so long. A sharp gasp escapes her, and when her inhale gets caught in her throat, she wonders if this is the last breath she’ll ever take.

When she shuts her eyes to protect them from the harsh wind, a wetness spreads down her cheeks. In a last ditch effort at self preservation, her arms brace over her face, and she buries herself into them, not wanting to see the last thing that would break her fall. Hopefully she wouldn’t feel it, either.

Her jaw clenched tightly as her heart began to race faster, expecting the crash to come soon.

The sensation isn’t as expected. There is no slam against stone or cold ground that knocks the wind out of her. Instead something’s wrapped around her middle, and out of worry that the curse had grabbed her in order to throw her again, she withdraws her head from her arms in a jolt.

It’s not the curse that’s caught her mid-fall.

It’s Sukuna.

With one arm wrapped around her back and the other around her shoulders, his large hand braces the back of her head to keep her tucked close. They’re still falling, but the sensation feels different like this. It’s almost as if he’s carrying her to the ground, his posture as natural as it would be if he were standing there now.

Wide, watery eyes blink up at him in astonishment when she fully registers what was happening.

“You’re alright, I’ve got you, sweetheart”

If it weren’t for the rawness in her throat, she might’ve scolded him for the pet name, but her voice was taken away from her as soon as she’d been heaved into the sky a second time.

She doesn’t even process the way she’s gripping onto him until he lands on the ground, holding her up just a moment longer before carefully setting her on her feet. Her hands are holding onto the sleeves of Yuji’s uniform in fists so tight her knuckles are white, and her hands are trembling.

The others are nowhere in sight, or at least, she can’t see them right now. Her mind is so shaken up she doesn’t actually look. Her eyes don’t tear away from the stunning red of Sukuna’s once. She doesn’t even blink- hence the continued downpour of tears. From the wind and her acceptance of a brutal death, her emotions were slowly catching up to reality.

Her chest is heaving but there’s no relief in feeling like she’s caught her breath. Her heart is pounding so hard that it makes her ribs ache, but that very well could be the bruising from her previous fall setting in. Her mouth moves but it takes a few tries for any real words to come out, and when her voice does come back to her, she doesn’t say much.

“S- Sukuna-”

He silences her before she could even try to say something else. Prying her hands off of his arms and placing them at her sides, even though there’s still tremors in her muscles.

“I only have a minute,” He tells her, in a gravely serious tone that she’s never heard from him before. She blinks her wide eyes, leftover tears getting stuck on her lashes. “It’s been handled”

He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t get the chance to before his posture begins to weaken, followed by his eyelids twitching and the marks beginning to fade away.

Gasping, (y/n) surges forward, grabbing Yuji by the shoulders before he could stumble and fall. His eyes roll and blink a few times before he feels in control of his body again. Soon after his posture straightens, and then it’s Yuji who’s looking worriedly down at (y/n).

She’s close, very close. Her hands are gripping onto his shoulders for dear life. He can feel her panting against his chin as her worried eyes scan over his features.

Yuji’s disoriented, like maybe he’s just woken up from a dream, or maybe he’s just woken up inside of a dream, and he’s not exactly sure how to voice this concern. She makes it harder on him when one of her hands leaves his shoulder in order to reach for his cheek.

It’s so affectionate, the way she reaches for his face and presses her palm against it, that Yuji finds his skin heating up and a blush appearing over his cheeks before he could will himself not to. She’s never behaved this way with him before. He could only recall casual touches that occurred during training, or maybe a brush of her fingers when she handed him something, but nothing as intentional as this.

And she’s certainly never looked at him like that either. He can’t place his finger on it, but it makes his stomach churn to meet her eyes.

“Uh, (y/n)?” He mumbles out her name, and he finds himself doing a quick sweep of her, assessing her for a major injury. But she’s standing just fine, and he can’t see any blood. This had to be a head injury, right?

He asks himself that question once more then the pad of her thumb brushes under his eye. She faintly traces the incision of the closed eyelid just below his eyelashes. Yuji holds his breath, but he’s not sure who he’s doing it for. (y/n), whose eyes are glossing over as she’s gazing at the wrong eyes, which remained closed, or Sukuna, who Yuji was sure she was trying to reach to now.

And then she leans even closer, and the breath he’d been holding is forced out of him from the closing distance between them. Her hands remain where they are, on his shoulder with an iron grip and against his cheek with the gentleness of a butterfly landing there.

On instinct Yuji finds his eyes darting down to her lips, but he’s positive she’s not going to kiss him- right? She wouldn’t do such a thing on a whim, not like this, not now when they’ve barely completed their assignment. Not to mention their friends aren’t too far away- where are Nobara and Megumi anyways? Yuji’s thoughts are racing as fast as his heart as he struggles to figure out what to do as she grows nearer.

Before he has to come up with a decision, (y/n) stops, and Yuji swallows the lump in his throat out of relief that she wasn’t leaning in to kiss him. The ride home would have been so awkward.

“Thank you” She breathes out the words, her thumb stroking over the spot on his cheek one more time before she finally drops her hand, and she pulls away from Yuji completely.

He blinks at her in disbelief, waiting for his heartbeat to calm down, which it does the further she steps away.

“What happened?” He asks, louder than he means to, but when he finally collects his thoughts and processes what just happened, he can’t help but blurt out the question.

The pair begin to make their way back to the clearing, both realizing that the First Grade curse was gone, clearly exorcized with the amount of purple goo coating the surrounding plants and trees. They don’t discuss it right away, but they both have an inkling on how it was taken care of.

“Sukuna saved my life”

Yuji wants to ask more questions, but when he turns towards her to do so, he can tell that she’s not ready to talk about it. Her features had hardened, and she didn’t meet his eyes as they walked.

He knows he’s put off this conversation one too many times already… but once again he finds himself biting his tongue as they catch up with their other friends.

Something tells him that he’ll have to bring it up soon, though. Because the King of Curses wouldn’t save just anyone’s life twice- much less a sorcerer. And he has a gut feeling that (y/n) knows more than she’s letting on.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

This time, it’s only a few days since the last assignment when (y/n) crosses paths with Sukuna again. Well, this time around, he came to her.

She’s just slid her bookmark between the pages she’d decided to pause on tonight when there’s a knock at her door. With a quiet huff- she was just about to go to sleep after all- but before she can call for her visitor to come in, the door slides open and he’s inviting himself right on.

“Yu-! Sukuna?”

The initial scolding tone she takes drops as soon as she realizes he’s not who she thought. Her voice softens around his name in a way that it shouldn’t, but that she can’t help. She sits up a little further in her bed, brows furrowing as he slides the door shut behind him.

“You can’t just walk in here”

“I knocked”

“Okay well… well you have to wait for me to actually invite you in” She mumbles out, only to be met with a scoff and a humorless chuckle. But when her frown deepens, he sighs.

“Fine, I’ll knock for longer next time” He grunts, before he begins to wander around her room. He glances over the few things littered on her desk- a picture frame of her and her friends, an open and neglected textbook, a pair of bracelets she’d forgotten to put away- he almost forgets why he’d come in to begin with.

“Um… did you need something?” (y/n) asks after a minute of him wandering around and eyeing all of her things.

“You’re freaking out the brat,” Sukuna says casually, picking up a little porcelain cat on her shelf. His eyes narrow as he turns the small thing around in his hands, as if trying to decipher it’s purpose. “He won’t stop asking about you now”

“What?” (y/n) pushes the covers off her lap, moving to the end of the bed to sit a little closer to him. It doesn’t matter if she’s quiet, it’s only the two of them in the room, but she feels a sudden need to lower her voice anyways. “What do you mean he’s freaking out?”

He turns to her then, the figurine still in his hands. The tiniest of smiles purses on her lips at how silly a tiny cat looks in his large and tattooed hands. Despite how easily he could crush it to dust, his hold on it is gentle.

“I just thought that you should be aware, you know, that eventually you’ll have to decide if you want to explain yourself to your friends or not”

Her stomach twists and turns into dozens of little knots. The King of Curses was stopping by her room late into the night just for this? She shouldn’t be surprised, because she knew his motives, but still, she blinked at him with wide eyes.

“You haven’t…?” The question trails off as she shakes her head at him, unsure of how to word it just right.

“I don’t like the idea of the brat knowing all of my business,” Sukuna hums, finally setting the cat back down on her shelf. “You’ve always had a knack for collecting useless things” He comments, and the words are harsh but his tone is nothing but amused.

“So… you think I should talk to Yuji?” She asks, and Sukuna lets his shoulders rise and fall in disinterest.

“If that’s what you want” He says, but it doesn’t feel considerate. (y/n) frowns.

“Don’t you think he’ll be… upset?”

“With you?”

She nods.

“You’ve done nothing wrong. If anything, the brat would only worry about you. Seeing as he despises me, and all”

“You don’t exactly make it easy to feel otherwise” (y/n) mumbles, and her words hang in the air for a few long moments. She’s not sure if she means the insinuation behind them or if it’s just a coincidence, but she doesn’t try to backtrack to explain herself.

“Yes, well, he certainly cares more for you than he does for me. Too much so. Some boundaries might do you some good, you know”

“Boundaries?”

“Yes, boundaries. He almost kissed you”

Her eyes nearly bulge out of her head before her brows furrow and she scoffs in disbelief.

“What? What are you even talking about?”

Sukuna tucks his hands into his pockets, looking all the more out of place in her room at this hour.

“During your little gratitude session on your last assignment,” He says, his lips curling into a deep frown. “You got a bit too close and his brat-mind went a bit haywire. You don’t need to be so affectionate with him, you know. A plain thank you would have sufficed-”

“I wasn’t being affectionate with him,” She snaps back, and Sukuna raises a brow at the display. “I was thanking you, asshole. You pretty much saved my life?” She says it like she’s trying to jog his memory. “I wasn’t trying to make a move on Yuji, and I’m sure he knew that too. I don’t control his thoughts, he can think whatever he wants, doesn’t mean it’s happening”

Sukuna steps closer to where she sat before bending down to match her height. She’s still frowning, clearly annoyed with this interaction, but she had yet to ask him to leave, and he has a feeling she won’t.

“So if the brat had plucked up the nerve to make a move, you would’ve pushed him away?” He asks, and he’s smirking, almost as if he wants her to say otherwise. Her eyes narrow, not understanding what his mind games were getting at this time.

“Politely, yes,” She answers, shaking her head at him. “Why does this matter? Last I checked, in this lifetime, I’m not some cowering wife for you to boss around”

Sukuna laughs at that, genuinely laughs. He stands back up to his full height and throws his head back and cackles so loud that (y/n) can only pray Nobara doesn’t wake up from next door. She might not need to whisper to speak with him, but the walls weren’t exactly soundproof either.

“Sweetheart, you’ve never been a cowering wife,” He tells her once his laughter died down. “A wife, perhaps, but never some submissive weak minded mortal” He adds.

“So we have been married?”

She asks him with such peculiarity, and it makes him chuckle again. She sounds as though this has been the strangest thing he’s revealed thus far, and he can’t help but find humor in it.

“We have” He answers.

(y/n) shifts her position, pulling her legs towards her chest and staring up at him expectantly, waiting for a continuation that wouldn’t come. Sukuna merely stares at her with mild confusion.

“Well?” She asks, tilting her head forward. “Did we get married every time?”

He smirks.

“I’ve told you that you created a Binding Vow in order to be with me across centuries of eras. In the grand scheme of things, don’t you think marriage is a little… bleak?”

(y/n) shrugs a shoulder, resting her arms atop her knees as she gazes back at him curiously.

“It’s bleak in this lifetime,” She murmurs back. “Not to me, at least”

Sukuna hums, before shaking his head.

“You never change”

“Do I really?” She presses again. “For the last… thousand years… am I really the same?”

Sukuna ponders for a moment. This was a common question of hers, and each time, he struggled to answer it.

“You really want to know?”

She doesn’t say anything, but she pats her hand against the space on the bed next to her. Sukuna’s gaze shifts to it momentarily, before looking back at her. After a moment, he takes a seat.

“You are almost completely the same in every lifetime I’ve found you in,” He explains. “You’re always stubborn, you never make it easy. But you always… come around,” He turns to her. “Like now”

“You think I’m coming around?” She asks, a skeptical look in her eye that makes him smirk. He leans forward as though the next part he shares is a grave secret.

“You never want to admit it, but you always have a soft spot for me”

(y/n) raises a brow back at him in defiance.

“I think you’ve got that turned around,” She murmurs. “I think the King of Curses has a soft spot for me. And I think he’s making it everyone’s problem”

He chuckles quietly, his gaze sweeping over the gentle features of her face.

“I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory,” He tells her, raising a hand, and gently pressing the pad of his thumb against the center of her forehead. The sudden touch makes her freeze at first, but eventually she relaxes as the rest of his fingers lay in her hair. “I haven’t quite figured it out yet, I don’t know how it is that you’re never able to keep your memories,” He tilts his head as he ponders it for a moment, his eyes focused on where he’s touched her head. “But I think deep down, you know that you trust me”

(y/n) doesn’t have a witty comeback for that one. She’s still reeling from the warmth of his touch, and the weight of his words. But she feels obligated to say something when his gaze met hers again.

“I never said I believed you in all this, you know” She whispers weakly.

“You don’t believe me?” He murmurs back at her, his voice a low rumble as his hand starts to fall from her head. He doesn’t remove his touch, he lets the back of his finger trace along her temple, before slowly moving down her jaw. Sukuna doesn’t seem displeased in her words. If anything, he seems intrigued by them. “You know, you almost look the same in every life, too”

“I do?” She asks, just as his fingers fall still against her cheek.

Sukuna hums, and nods his head.

“The last I saw you, your hair was different,” He tells her. “It was longer, to about… here,” With his free hand, he gently touches her waist, and the way she tenses doesn’t go unnoticed. “You would wear it in all sorts of different styles. Pretty braids and… whatever our servants would desire to do that day,” Her eyes widen at his use of the word servants, but Sukuna glides over it. “But that was a few hundred years ago, of course. It would all be outdated now,” He drops his hand from her waist, but the other remains against her cheek, his touch ghosting over it. “Not that it wouldn’t still be exquisite”

Her eyes shift between his, trying to decipher the emotion they hold. She can’t tell if he’s amused or sorrowful. Was he disappointed that she couldn’t remember?

“This is why I’m the one who doesn’t believe you” He murmurs after a few beats pass.

(y/n’s) brows draw together just slightly, just enough to pinch the skin between them.

“What do you mean?” She asks, her voice betraying her as it shakes just a little.

“Because you look at me like that” He says, nodding at her slightly.

(y/n) blinks, doe eyes resembling the glass of the porcelain cat he’d just been mocking. Her lips are parted, formed in the smallest of pouts as she gazes up at him, that look unrelenting.

She tilts forward, her gaze flickering over his face leisurely, mapping out the black markings, and all the small details that make him so different from Yuji. The way he insists on pushing the bangs out of his face, the broader jaw, the sharper canine that she only notices when he laughs or smiles- which is quite rare. She’s admiring him so openly that Sukuna’s not sure what to do under such heavy surveillance, so he just sits there and allows her to stare.

But eventually, she sighs, and drops her legs from her chest before she crawls across her bed, moving to get under the covers again. Sukuna remains in his spot at the end, watching her without an expression as she settles into her pillow.

“Does it disturb Yuji’s rest when you take over like this?” She asks quietly as she presses her cheek into the soft comfort of her pillow.

No, the brat’s completely dozed off, that’s why he could take over like this. It’s what he wants to say, but he doesn’t.

“I’ll be sure it doesn’t” He says as he stands, and walks around the bed, facing the side she’s just moved to. He crouches down to meet her eye level again, and (y/n) moves a little closer to the edge towards him.

“Okay, good,” She whispers.

She blames her exhaustion when she reaches out to him, the tips of her fingers barely prodding at the dark ink that follows the sharp curve of his jaw. Her eyes follow it as she traces it down to his chin, almost painfully slow. It takes every ounce of restraint for him not to lean into the touch.

“I don’t know what you expect me to do, Sukuna,” She murmurs, her fingers lingering on his chin, her eyes slowly meeting his. “I… I can’t…”

She can’t even say the words. She hardly wants to be thinking about them. But Sukuna knows her better than anyone who’s ever walked this earth, and he nods back at her in understanding before she could try to finish the thought.

“I’ve never expected anything of you,” He murmurs, before reaching up to pull her hand from his face, gently closing his fingers around her own as he moves it away. “You have been the greatest love of my life whether you’re able to remember or not,” He tells her, and she listens to him with her full attention. “And whether you believe me or not, you still will be,”

There’s the smallest of squeezes to her hand with his words, and a lump begins to build up in her throat.

“You can ask more questions another time, alright? You should get some sleep, sweetheart”

She gives him a faint nod, her eyes already feeling too heavy to keep open when she feels her blanket being dragged over her shoulders. Distantly, her mind registers that the King of Curses is tucking her into bed, but she’s too tired now to comment on it.

There’s another squeeze to her fingers, followed by a hesitation, and then the soft, unmistakable pair to two lips pressing against her knuckles. It’s not a lingering kiss, and it’s featherlight, over as soon as it began, and again, (y/n) keeps her eyes shut and doesn’t say anything.

Sukuna lays her hand down against her blanket with the gentleness of maneuvering a newborn. She hears him walking away towards her door.

“Goodnight, Sukuna”

It’s the softest call, but it’s enough to make him pause at the door and glance back at her. She still can’t look at him- she’s afraid she’ll burst into tears if she does, although she can’t quite explain the heavy emotion that’s bringing the tears to her eyes to begin with.

“Goodnight, my love”

It’s murmured so quickly before he’s hastily exiting her room that she could’ve missed it altogether, but she doesn’t. Her hand curls into her sheets as she pulls it close to her chest as she lets tonight’s conversation sink into her mind.

The truth was, she did trust him. She did believe him. And she was pretty sure this was the case for the entire time she’s known him. She’s pretty sure this was unavoidable.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Everything’s blurry when she first comes to.

And everything hurts.

She tries to move, but it only results in a strangled whine being pulled from her throat as soon as she tries.

She’s on the ground. It’s covered in rubble. There’s glass pricking her arms- or maybe the gravel was just that sharp. There’s a warmth pooling under the side she’s laying on. Likely blood.

Another groan when she at least tries to get on her back in order to assess the bleeding wound on her left side, but just as she’s about to roll her body weight, she catches something in her vision.

Yuji?

He’s slumped over against a wall, and he looks no better than she feels. Covered in bruises and blood that may or may not be his own- whatever went down was ugly.

She blinks a few times to focus her vision a little better. She tries to call for him but her throat is raw and all that comes out is another whine. Either way, he’s clearly passed out and wouldn’t have responded. The fight must’ve taken everything out of him.

Oh, the fight, it slowly starts coming back to her in flashing images. That Blood Manipulation Guy. He was rough. She’s not sure how they got out of it alive- she’s not sure how they got to this point at all. Her mind’s still foggy and the only thing that’s easy to focus on is the shooting pains in her body.

That is, until there’s the sound of clicking heels and hushed, feminine voices. (y/n) hadn’t even realized her eyes had slipped shut again until those two appeared, and she peeks her eyes open to see two girls whispering between themselves as they crouch before Yuji’s body.

They look harmless enough, no older than her, and not to mention they look anxious. So nothing about her blurry assumptions about them triggered any warning flags.

That was, until they pulled out a bag of fingers. Unmistakable fingers.

She needs to get up now and she knows it. She pleads with her body to move, wishing the throbbing hot pain in her left leg would disappear just long enough for her to get to Yuji, to stop these girls from what they’re about to do.

It’s unclear how much time lapses before she notices a third figure at Yuji’s body. A curse. And he seems to have a few fingers of his own, too.

No, her voice cries, but it’s only in her head. You can’t do that.

She’s never felt so weak, her fingers barely twitching against the concrete when she’s trying to tell her body to get up. She’s sure that means none of the rest of her limbs are moving. She’s trapped there.

Her heart is pounding, her breaths are labored, dread consumes her so completely she’d throw up if there was anything left in her stomach.

It’s tough to count just how many fingers are shoved down Yuji’s throat before the curse is clamping his large hand over his mouth and forcing his head back in order to make the unconscious boy swallow every last one. With tears in her eyes she knows it’s more than what’s safe, and there’s a turmoil in her gut as she doesn’t know how to feel about what comes next.

With her heart pounding in her ears she can’t tell what exactly the fighting amongst the curse users and the curse himself was about, but suddenly only the cycloptic curse remains standing over Yuji’s body. He’s grunting and growling, still pushing the boy’s head back. (y/n) wonders if he’s swallowed all those fingers by now.

These three were idiots. But they were idiots stronger than her, and even if she’d had the strength to stop them, it would’ve been futile.

However, now, they hardly made her list of things to be afraid of in Shibuya.

The blood that’s pooled under Yuji’s body startles her- when did that get there? But after blinking a few times to clear her sight and focus just a fraction of a bit better, she realizes it’s not human blood at all, but that awful purple essence that leaves a stench behind.

“I’ll give you one second,” Comes the familiar voice that doesn’t belong to the body it erupts from. “Move”

In a flash, the small crowd around him is a good ten feet back. (y/n) could almost laugh if her throat wasn’t bloodied raw. They chose to wake him up with all those fingers, and now they’re visibly afraid of what they summoned themselves? They truly had no idea what they were in for now.

It only takes one glance towards her before Sukuna’s suddenly before her beaten form, crouching down to assess the damages.

“Now, which one of these insolent freaks did this to you?” He asks, tilting his head as his Reverse Cursed Technique took effect over her wounds with haste. “I’ll start there”

“N-none of them,” She stammers out, even though it’s the truth.

For the first time, she considers that she should be afraid of Sukuna. The other three are still trembling even from their distance, barely letting themselves breathe in his presence.

All she’s ever felt towards Sukuna is irritation, perhaps mild vexation, but mostly he just confused her. But now, she can feel the abundant amount of cursed energy wafting off of him, and despite his history in sparing her life and taking an interest in her, she briefly wonders if this is the moment he changes his mind.

The thought passes in a matter of seconds, when a pair of hands are gently aiding her in sitting upright. Even with his technique healing her wounds, there are still aches and pains that make her wince. Shards of glass falling from her skin as the healing tissue forces them out, bruises that still sting when she moves too quickly before their nasty colors disappear completely.

And Sukuna regards her with an expression she’s never seen before, but it makes her heart lurch in her chest. It’s concern. His brows are knotted, and his eyes are scanning over her repeatedly to make sure no injury was left on her body. This was followed by sizable hands mapping over her carefully just to double check.

She should be afraid, but she’s not.

In fact, as soon as those vermillion eyes return to hers, all she can feel is relief.

And she doesn’t think twice before she’s darting forward on achy knees, her arms wrapping around his neck and the rest of her body colliding into his so harsh it knocks the wind out of her for a moment, but she doesn’t mind panting to catch her breath again. She embraces Sukuna as tightly as she can, as though he’s the only savior she’s ever known, an angel painted in pure white rather than the corrupted being he truly was.

Sukuna has half a mind to grab her by the neck and remove her from him with a snarl about how her injuries were still healing, but instead he wraps an arm around her, his hand smoothing over the tattered back of her uniform.

She could only imagine what the three at the end of the corridor were thinking, watching the King of Curses embrace such a weak sorcerer.

“You understand now, don’t you sweetheart?” He asks her quietly, and she manages a small nod against his chest, before her hands tighten into fists at the red hood that lies between his shoulder blades. “It’s been a rough night, hasn’t it?” He muses, and when (y/n) doesn’t give him a response this time, he uses his free hand to pry her face away from his shirt, hooking her chin under his finger so that she’d meet his eyes.

Rough night didn’t even begin to cover what she’d been put through, what was she supposed to say?

“It’s alright now, my love, I’m here,”

Those words from him shouldn’t bring her the amount of comfort that they do. The tears in her eyes begin to drip down her cheeks. Sukuna’s smiling as he brushes them away, and despite her better judgment, she leans into the touch, seeking out even more comfort. He chuckles at the sight, but humors her as he cups the side of her face in his palm, cradling her head with the gentleness of holding a flower by it’s petals.

She won’t admit it, not now anyways, but she knows deep down that there is no force on this earth greater than the swell of love in her chest right now. It’s something she’s not sure should ever be voiced, but she has a feeling that Sukuna will find a way to draw it out of her anyways. Just as he’s made her trust him, just as he’s made her confide in him, he’s bound to find a way into drawing the confession out of her as well.

Perhaps it’s her own fault, too. Hiding the way a part of her believed everything he’s ever said to her, hiding the way it made her feel to know that she was so loved by a force so strong and unstoppable that he’d scour the earth after every lifetime in order to find her again.

I think the feelings you have for me in every beginning come from your soul’s memory, he’d said. But I think deep down, you know that you trust me.

She stares at him now knowing all of this to be true, and Sukuna can almost see every thought in her dilated eyes, swallowed nearly whole by dark pupils as she clings to him now.

With a brush of his lips to the crown of her head, he makes her a promise that she’ll live through this horrid night yet.

She still holds onto him when he stands, and he lifts her up with ease, cradling her to his chest like she was merely a small and frightened child. The only unease she felt now was knowing what fates were in store for the three at the end of the hall, who Sukuna had set his sights on first.

“Now, let’s take this one on together, sweetheart, shall we?”

Her own fate was still unknown to her, but sealed in place long ago.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

[ cause i love to love to love to love you // i hate to hate to hate to hate you ]

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

xoxo ~ jordie

a/n: thinkin about writing a snippet of their past live(s) or something. i wanted to add something like that to this fic but i wanted the reader to feel unsure if they really could trust him soooo it went a diff route. idk don't hold me to it. i'm just a girl.

#sukuna x reader #ryomen sukuna x reader #sukuna ryomen x reader #ryomen x reader #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #ryomen sukuna imagine #sukuna imagine #jjk imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagine

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