triiiangles:

little possessive billdip things:

• “we’re going steady” bill brags whenever someone asks, but there’s a hint of challenge in his voice, his smile becomes sharp and his gaze evil; fingers dig into Dipper’s palm as he locks their hands together and bill lifts his chin: try to stop us.
• when dipper unbuttons the cuff of bill’s sleeve and rolls the fabric back to reveal his tender wrist, his soft inner arm—dipper will plant kisses there, drag his teeth down the sensitive skin, not hard enough to pierce, but plenty for bill to swallow hard.
• the dig of bill’s thumbs into the muscle of dipper’s shoulders, working out the knots of tension in his neck, the bite of pressure painful and relieving at the same time.
• the way dipper instinctively slides an arm around bill’s waist when they’re in front of a mirror together.
• very early mornings were dipper catches bill tracing triangles into dipper’s skin.
• arms reach out to grab at him greedily, weight sinks into his lap; “i’ll take care of you,” dipper says to soothe the whimpers, hands stroking to ease the trembling in bill’s spine.
• the way dipper can drive bill to stunned silence with just his hands.