The milky way swirls across the sky on its slow path like a sprawling mobile of stars and planets, lulling the creaking forests of Oregon to sleep. The crickets are chirping softly, the pine trees brushing against each other from the cool night breeze. The world is calm, but a faint, if unsettling, amber glow comes from a triangular window on the second floor of Gravity Fall’s number one tourist attraction. Though once a welcoming place, the grounds are now run-down, dust lining the aging porch. Even insects are wary of coming too close to the wooden structure, fearful of the nature of one of its current inhabitants.
In here, the sounds of uneven breathing, gasps, and stifled moans fill the air. Underneath the pleasured noises is a faint whispering, a convincing voice murmuring what must have been sweet nothings. Solely lit by soft candlelight, the room casts two prominent shadows onto the wall. The bulkier shadow was on his knees, hunched over, his arm moving up and down in a jittery motion, while the other was behind him, leaning over the first man’s back.
One of these men was Dipper Pines.
Dipper Pines found himself in a state he wouldn’t have ever imagined being in just a few months ago.
Vigorously, he moves his hand up and down the length of his painfully swollen cock, panting with each and every miniscule movement he made. Choking on his own moans, he slows down for a moment, rolling his hips into his hand, letting out what sounds more like a groan of pain as he pauses touching himself. Sweat rolls down his temple and he bites his lower lip. Dipper was trying to endure the stinging sensation that was currently throbbing in his back.
Dipper’s thoughts were clouded, as if he was thinking about so much at once that he couldn’t hone in on a single idea, couldn’t try to logically process the situation he found himself in. All he knew was that he didn’t regret anything; he enjoyed it despite knowing how demented he was for doing so.
The air grows silent again; even the crickets outside stopped chirping.
“I didn’t ask you to slow down,” murmurs the slimmer shadow.
The other man could hardly be considered a person, but nevertheless had a name and a body.
Bill Cipher was proud he could call his vessel his own. It took a long, painstaking process to acquire it, but he relished its existence, and he relished the state he was in. After all, it was all thanks to the man in front of him.
He hums delightedly as Dipper starts moving his hand again, a full-body shiver pulsing through the brunet’s core. It seemed counterintuitive to make the man move around so much, especially given that Bill didn’t have the steadiest hand, but that was only half of the fun.
“Oops, my hand slipped again. Guess I’ll have to retrace that one,” he cackles.
After wiping off the dripping blade on an ornate golden handkerchief, he presses the tip in for another incision, just millimeters away from a previous cut. Blood is dripping down from the wounds, pooling on the wooden floor. Bill grins as he imagines the room in the morning light, rusty stains amidst puddles of candle wax, subtle symbols of his presence. And the centerpiece - Dipper’s fatigued, used body, passed out in the middle of the floor, columns of binding runes running down his back. He enjoyed marking things as his own: people, objects, rooms - what was his was his, and he needed that to be known.
“I’m s-sorry,” Dipper gasps out, his voice shaking. Bill had always possessed a sick flavor of humor, if it could even be called such, but even that aspect of him had gotten progressively more twisted in the last few months, along with a number of his other unsavory traits.
When Dipper resumes stroking himself, he lurches forward again, curling in on his stomach the closer he got to coming. Dipper’s thoughts started to finally become coherent again, although that wasn’t exactly a good thing. No, he didn’t want to think about what he was doing, or why he was doing it.
After this, you’re going to belong to him, Dipper contemplates, a constricting feeling of panic tightening in his gut.
No, you’ve already belonged to him. For a long time, now. This just makes it official. Bill already exerted so much power over him that this wouldn’t be that big of a change.
A foreign, but not unfamiliar voice forces its way into Dipper’s mind. That’s right, Pine Tree.
Dipper thrusts into his hand with one final uneven jerk forward, a string of cum shooting from the tip of his cock. A bit of the fluid drips onto the floor in the aftermath of Dipper finishing. Lightheaded from both reaching orgasm and blood loss, Dipper waivers a bit, struggling to keep his body in an upright position.
Bill tenses, only midway through one of his cuts. He sets the blade down to the side, hand traveling up to grip Dipper's shoulder, making sure his nails are sinking into his flesh.
"Did I say you could come?" he spits through gritted teeth.
“N-no,” Dipper replies, his voice quivering. He stiffens beneath Bill’s vice-like grip, as he knew what would happen when he disobeyed Bill.
It equally scared and excited him.
“Then why did you?” Bill’s grasp tightened enough for blood to ooze out of nearby wounds.
Dipper tugs away from Bill’s hand (another fatal mistake). Shifting around on the wooden floors, he turns to face Bill, his eyebrows furrowing apologetically. Gulping down a heavy lump in his throat, he tries to speak confidently despite his voice feeling like it could only manifest in the tiniest of whispers.
“I j-just got lost in the moment is all,” he explains regretfully.
“Oh?” Bill breathes, raising his eyebrows in a bemused manner. He rises, pacing around Dipper in a circle as though Dipper was frightened prey. “Lost in the moment, huh?”
Once he was behind Dipper, Bill drops down on one knee, running both hands down the still-bleeding wounds as he inspected his handiwork. “Stay still,” he orders, grabbing the blade again.
Dipper holds his breath, not daring to exhale when Bill instructs him not to move. Despite remaining motionless, there’s a shiver that runs throughout Dipper’s body, a shakiness he couldn’t cease no matter the amount of willpower he possessed. It was part of who he was, just like the heavy bags under his eyes and the scars on his back.
Furrowing his brows in concentration, Bill proceeds to cut the final few runes into Dipper’s skin. After the last one, he leans back to finally admire his handiwork, licking his fingers where the blood got on them. Letting out a sigh he didn’t know he was holding, Bill presses against Dipper’s raw back as he wraps his arms around Dipper’s shoulders. The demon could feel his crisp, cotton button-down dampen, staining irreversibly crimson. Well, it was one way to get a red shirt without buying one.
Bill’s lips are but a breath away from Dipper’s ear. “I knew you enjoyed spending time with me, but I didn’t realize you were that into it. It’s endearing.”
Dipper manages a shaky smile, letting out a sigh of relief. Maybe Bill wasn’t as upset as he thought he would be. Leaning into the embrace, he nudges against Bill’s arm, as if silently asking for more affection. Bill didn’t do affection and most times Dipper didn’t want his affection, but considering his current state he would do anything to feel a sliver of comfort.
“Still,” Bill’s voice gains a slight edge at Dipper’s response. “You disobeyed me. You’re very familiar with the repercussions by now, are you not?”
“No exceptions!” Bill snarls; he held no patience for cockiness, not when they were abiding by his rules - and they were always abiding by his rules. He rises quickly, stepping in front of Dipper to tower over him imposingly. Raising his hand, Bill summons a glowing cane, then prods the other with it, urging him to turn around, a tinge of pride sparking in his chest when the man complied soundlessly, not needing explicit instruction. He licks his chapped lips subconsciously as he eyes the still-healing marks of Dipper’s previous disobedience. The need for this was getting rarer, but what had to be done had to be done.
“Are you aware of what you’ve done wrong?”
Pressing his face against the floor, Dipper’s chest heaves up and down in preparation for the pain he was about to endure. The mere thought of what was coming, however, elicited a response of arousal from him as well.
“I’m aware,” he replies, nearly sounding excited in a twisted way.
“And how many lashes do you think you deserve?”
With a lopsided smirk, Dipper answers, his voice low and raspy.
“Whatever it takes to make the message sink in, I suppose,” Dipper says with a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Seeing Bill’s reactions to his defiance always pumped him full of adrenaline. Fear and arousal were starting to become emotions Dipper felt in unison, and he shamefully relished in them.
“Finding out on the go, huh? I like your style, kid,” Bill compliments as he raises the glowing cane. With a sharp smack, the cane hits its target. Dipper winces when the wood hits his skin, a stinging sensation pulsing heavily underneath the irritated flesh. Yet, arousal bubbles in his lower stomach and a feeling of excitement kindles in his chest.
How had he become so fucked up?
“Count aloud, toots,” Bill instructs.
“One,” Dipper says strongly, his voice clear and concise. That would soon change.
Another smack echoes through the room.
“T-two,” Dipper’s voice shakes, but for some reason he couldn’t wipe the sick smirk off his face. It hurt so bad, but it felt good. Since when had pain been a thing he craved, something he lusted after so willingly? Anticipating the next strike, he lifts his backside into the air, offering it to Bill.
The demon recalls the first time he punished Dipper in such a manner; after a few hits (which were not even at full strength, if he may add!), Dipper had been reduced to a crumpled mess on the floor, begging for forgiveness. But now he showed no signs of wanting to stop, and only at the ninth strike did tears prick at his eyes. His little pet had come a long way.
Dipper was already fully aroused again, each hit only making him harder. Panting against the floor, Dipper pauses when it seemed like Bill had been satisfied. Rolling over onto his back, he looks up at the demon looming over him, his cock twitching slightly at the sight of the man. Spreading his legs ever so slightly, he submits himself to Bill wordlessly.
“P-permission to speak?” Dipper tested, knowing he was getting risky again. He was too far gone to care.
“Granted,” Bill responds.
“Will you touch me?” Dipper asks, his eyes half-lidded and lusty. It hurt to lay on his back, Bill’s carvings still fresh, bleeding wounds. Impatiently, he trails his hand down his abdomen, palming at his arousal absent-mindedly.
“Take care of it yourself, kid. You did a pretty good job earlier,” Bill scoffs, eyeing the splatters of cum on the floor. He leans forward on his cane, not taking his scrutinous eyes off of Dipper. What a demanding soul, asking for a treat just after his punishment. He really had to keep an eye on this one.
“Go on. It’s either this or nothing at all.”
While Bill had instructed Dipper on most of what was needed for the ritual, he had retained a piece of the process he was hoping Dipper would fulfill without being told. Eagerness and emotional intensity were crucial for it to work out right, and Bill was pleased to find both very present in Dipper’s thoughts as he skimmed his mind. Satisfaction flowed through Bill, but he maintained a cool demeanor, wanting Dipper’s response to come from within his own twisted needs.
With a pout, Dipper starts stroking himself again, going at it vigorously just to get it over with already. Dipper wanted Bill to touch him because it would feel better; he didn’t want to make himself come again. Defiant thoughts pricked into Dipper’s mind, thoughts of giving Bill what he deserved, thoughts that made his arousal grow, thoughts that made him tip closer to finishing than he would have expected himself to.
Thoughts he shouldn’t have been thinking.
Bill, now looking almost bored, cocks his head to the side as he takes in Dipper’s concentrated expression, the man’s chest convulsing with quick breaths. While there was quite a sight in front of him, Dipper’s rebellious thoughts caused a quiet wrath to flare up in Bill’s chest.
Watch yourself, Bill warns, projecting directly into Dipper’s mind to chase out any stray ideas.
I can’t stop myself from what I’m thinking, Dipper interjected silently, his eyebrows furrowing as he jacked off, averting his eyes while he did so.
Even his thoughts weren’t safe, he knew this. Yet Dipper couldn’t rewire himself into being the perfect servant Bill wanted him to be, his willpower was far too strong for something like that. Bill had already broken him enough; he couldn’t imagine what much more would do to him. Closing his eyes tightly, he strokes himself to the thought of Bill writhing underneath him, begging for mercy.
He was so close, so close to coming again. Dipper started moaning lowly, whispering what faintly sounded like Bill’s name.
The heels of his shoes clicking loudly, Bill strides over with easy steps before squatting next to the man. With a delicate finger (he found he had to use less and less force as time went on), he lifts Dipper’s chin up, making sure he held eye contact.
“What was that?” he murmurs. “Repeat that a little louder, if you will.”
“What was what?” Dipper breathed, trying to pretend he didn’t know what Bill was talking about. Staring into Bill’s pale golden eyes he could swear there was a slight glow to them. Bill looked absolutely sinister, yet that was arousing to Dipper; he got more and more turned on the more in danger he felt, the faster his heart beat. With a smirk, Dipper continues to pleasure himself, ignoring the demon looming over him.
“Don’t pretend you don’t know what you were mumbling. Say it clearer,” Bill hisses.
“Say please,” Dipper retorted, knowing he was playing with fire.
Instantly enraged, Bill swings his arm, slapping Dipper across the cheek. He was wrong about not having to use force; Dipper was still the cocky bastard he had been from the start. With a low growl, Bill shoves him backwards, pinning the man’s wrists to his sides.
Biting his tongue in pain, Dipper flinches under Bill, bucking his hips up as he withstands the piercing stinging in his back. His cheek now tingled with a familiar pain, one that wiped the confident expression right off his face.
You think you’re hot stuff, huh? Bill seethes, thoughts echoing loudly within Dipper’s mind. He was very aware of how close Dipper was to finishing, but he wasn’t about to give him that just yet.
“No, I don’t,” Dipper responds, cringing from the echoing voice inside his head. Bill pinning him down to the floor elicited a positive response when it came to Dipper’s arousal, his heart thumped like beating drums in his ears. Rolling his hips up against Bill’s, he exhales with a husky moan.
Bill grunts through gritted teeth as Dipper’s cock rubs against his own. His own needs could wait; he wasn’t through with Dipper just yet.
“Come on, I was just kidding, yunno?” Dipper tried to choke out, hoping it was somewhat of a believable save. “You like jokes, don’t you?”
“Jokes? Not in the mood for ‘em tonight,” Bill scowls. “Don’t see how you are, either, seeing how it’s costing you. You’re in too delicate of a position to be making them, Pines.”
Letting go of one wrist, Bill runs a single finger in a slow line up Dipper’s cock, delighted with the way it twitches eagerly under his touch. His thumb glides up towards his tip, rubbing it in quick circles before dipping down to knead his frenulum.
“Yeeeesss,” Dipper exhales, his stomach tightening from the teasing touch. A chorus of begging voices screamed in Dipper’s head, all of his thoughts finally focusing on one thing: Bill. All he wanted was Bill, all he needed was Bill, he would worship Bill if that meant he could come, he was going to come, he was so close.
But he couldn’t come, not yet, something, no, someone needed to push him over the edge.
“Bill,” Dipper gasped breathily, “Bill,” he repeated, like that was the only word he knew.
That’s what I like to hear, Bill grins, licking his lips; Dipper was finally submitting in the way he needed him to. One hand slides over to hold down Dipper’s hip, the other reaching up to tug his head to the side by his hair, exposing the pale flesh of his neck. Without hesitating, he attacks it, biting into with sharp teeth, lapping at the scarlet droplets that bead on his neck. The coppery taste was nothing short of dessert.
Louder, he instructs, working away at his collarbone.
“Bill,” Dipper moans again, the name merely rasped out through pleasured noises. “Bill, fuck, Bill!”
Oscillating his hips against Bill’s again he thinks of kissing him, wanting nothing more than the contact between them to be closed. His body shakes, begging to be ravished. Dipper doesn’t break eye contact with Bill and neither does Bill with him. His gaze was enough to give Dipper chilling goosebumps.
“Please,” he whines. Dipper didn’t know what he was asking for, but he wanted something.
“Your hand’s free, pal,” Bill chuckles, not wanting to cave into the man’s whining. Still, he found himself humored by the man's needy thoughts. His lips glide upwards to meet Dipper’s in a hungry kiss, tongue easily pushing into his mouth.
MINE. The word reverberates through every corner of Dipper’s mind.
Yours, Dipper thinks, I’m all yours.
Dipper’s tongue swivels against Bill’s, his teeth grazing against his bottom lip hungrily. Quickly moving his hand up and down the length of his erection, Dipper moans loudly against Bill’s lips, his name still on the tip of his tongue. How had he fallen so far? When did he get so desperate, so obedient? His memories were clouded over with lust, as if being in that moment with Bill had been the start of his existence all along.
“Bill, hah, B-Bill!” Dipper thrusts up into his own hand, already knowing he was on the slippery slope down to his release.
Sensing that his prey was giving up on resistance, Bill indulges him, hands running down his sides, pulling at his hair, touching him in his most sensitive spots.
Go on, finish, Bill urges, tugging away to bite Dipper’s earlobes. Scream my name. I want the whole town to hear what I do to you.
On command, Dipper moans Bill’s name as he achieves orgasm for the second time that night, unable to control himself from coming all over his hand and his lower abdomen. Laying there he looks up blankly at the ceiling, trying to gather his bearings. His temples were throbbing, he felt light from pleasure, and Dipper wanted nothing more than to pull Bill closer for one final kiss.
Dipper’s entire body was sore. He ached so hard it made him convulse; he was so fatigued that he wondered if he would be able to shower or even move to his bed. Maybe he would just sleep there on the floor. Maybe he really wouldn’t have a choice. As the last pangs of pain and pleasure faded, Dipper knew his soul was no longer his.
Hazily, he flickers his gaze up to look at the blond man hovering over him.
Yes, Pine Tree?
“I belong to you,” he sighs out dreamily, as if it was the highest privilege a person could have.
That's right. You belong to me.