
Posted originally on the Archive_of_Our_Own at https://archiveofourown.org/
works/10072607.
  Rating:
      Explicit
  Archive Warning:
      Graphic_Depictions_Of_Violence, Underage
  Category:
      F/M, M/M, Other
  Fandom:
      Gravity_Falls
  Relationship:
      Billford, WillFord, pinecest, Gleefulcest
  Character:
      Will_Cipher, Stanford_Gleeful, Stanley_Gleeful, Dipper_Gleeful, Mabel
      Gleeful
  Additional Tags:
      Incest, Twincest, Abuse, bdsm_(occasionally), Slavery, Smut, hella
      smutty, Yas
  Series:
      Part 6 of Helium_Rises
  Stats:
      Published: 2017-03-04 Chapters: 2/? Words: 2682
****** Helium Rises one shots ******
by Alcor_the_Dreambender
Summary
     Just some stuff I thought of after finishing the story
Notes
     Smut
     Hell yeah
     No shame
***** Willford from chapter 11 of book 4 *****
Will knocked quietly on the door, and Stanford opened the door quickly, pulling
them inside.
"You know what happened, Will, right?"
"Y-Yes sir."
"Don't call me that, please, the twins aren't here."
"S-Stanford, then."
"Yes, I prefer that."
"Ok." Stanford took the demon's hand, sitting them down on the large bed and
kneeling before him.
"Now, tell me why you're trying to fix the world I made."
"I don't k-know what y-you're talking a-about."
"Liar."
"T-Takes one t-to know one!" Will stuttered, crossing their arms and looking at
the ceiling.
"William--"
"Oh, stop it."
"I will not hesitate--"
"You won't hesitate to do what? Kill me? You did this for me, am I correct,
Stanford?"
"I'll stop you!"
"Go ahead and try, Love." William frowned, pulling their eyepatch from their
eye, and as the minute changed again, becoming 7:07, their form shifted many
times, like one of those gambling games, landing on one with a burn mark
covering their left eye with shades of purple, yellow, blue, and a few
different reds. "I'm a big boy, aren't I? A scared, big boy that loves their
master with the six fingered hands, huh? Is that what I am?"
"Will--"
Will stood, gripping Stanford's suit jacket, switching again to a feminine form
with the same burn mark and a long yellow dress instead of the suit.
"Or maybe you see me as a girl that's too broken to do anything against you. Is
that it?"
"Don't make me--"
"Don't make you what?"
"Don't make me call them."
Yellow fire surrounded them, Will's uninjured eye glowing and flashing many
colors.
"Now they won't find you."
"William."
"Tell me how you see me."
"I used to see you as a partner that would only keep me from my final
destination. I also, once coming back, saw you as a wimp that was too far
broken to do anything for themself." Stanford stood, brushing his thumb under
the burn mark. "Now you are strong, strong and managing to stop my plans. Look
at this! You're wonderful!"
"STOP IT!"
"Stop what? Praising you?"
"Yes! I'm upset with you!"
"Why?"
The fire blew out, falling to nothing but black burns against the floor. "I
don't know, I-I..." Will's eyes glance at Stanford's lips, pale and dehydrated
even though he was surely drinking water and tea all the time, slightly chapped
but when weren't they? He had never liked using chapslick or whatever it was
called, never taking much care of his lips, or himself in general. Will had
taken to making sure he was okay before the portal incident, even when the two
were fighting, they wanted him to be okay, needed him to be. They look up
again, frowning.
"Then don't be."
Their lips crash together, Stanford holding gently to Will's arms. Will could
break away at any time. Instead of pushing away, however, Will only pulled
Stanford closer, tilting their head to deepen the kiss and closing their eyes.
Stanford moves his hands to hold tightly to Will's hips.
Clothes were torn and ripped from each other's bodies, minds fuzzy and
unthinking, teeth clacking together and hot breaths mixing; Will rushing to
live this final time, Stanford finally claiming what he should have many years
ago. Stanford's hands grip the nape Will's neck, bringing their head back to
kiss and nip his way down to Will's collarbones.
The bed creaks as the two push against it, lips reconnecting in a rush, barely
able to take breaths between kisses. Not that they cared. Stanford takes Will's
hands, pressing them into the bed and lacing their fingers together.
Will looks away for an instant, eyes glowing turquoise, cheeks bright.
"Do you want me to stop?"
"No, no, I want more." Will pushes their lips against Stanford's, lips burning
on impact with the other's, but that was ignored. Stanford smiles, teeth
glinting, as he let's go of the demon's hands, brushing his hands down Will's
sides, peppering kisses down their neck.
"Mine," Stanford whispered repeatedly each time he nips and bites into their
neck and shoulder, Will feeling each jolt of electricity and gasping as their
sensitive skin is fussed with. This, these small jolts of him barely biting
them with his teeth, was the kind of pain Will could have forever and still beg
for more.
"Yours," Will sighs, after each and every time Stanford growls that they is
his, all his, only his. Will bucks their hips, biting their lip against the
need to beg for more, because it was perfect, perfect and wonderful and never
going to be topped by anything else. The words leave his lips before he can
think. "More, more, I want more." Stanford's lips pushed against theirs again,
barely touching them anywhere else, and enticing a growl from the demon. "I
said more, not less."
"Okay." Stanford grabs Will's hips, tugging them up to their knees and taking
the demon's place, flipping them. "You take control, then."
Will pulls a bottle of lubricant (most likely from the Twins' room—they
experiment) from thin air, popping open the cap and grabbing hold of Stanford's
hand, kissing each finger before pouring some of the clear liquid onto the
man's fingers.
They pull Stanford to a sitting position, turning their back to him, before
easing a finger inside his hole, slow and cautious. Stanford, as Will leans
back against the man's chest, begins thrusting the finger, adding a second
moments later, pushing in deeper, bringing the demon to arch their back and
moan. A third is quickly added, thrusting steadily and moving much faster
inside Will. The three fingers spread, Will crying out, instinctively wishing
to move away from the jolt of pain, but staying still because Stanford
shouldn't be meaning to, right?
"Are you okay?" He stopped moving, worry falling over his face, eyebrows
furrowed. Will turned their head to look at him, cheeks bright with a flush and
body burning just from being with him.
"Y-Yes, I'm alright." Their lips connected again, now slow and steady, Will's
breath hitching as Stanford beings thrusting his fingers once more, moving
slower in an attempt to never hear the fear of pain again.
After a few moments, Will pushed their hips back, head hanging forwards, and
entire body shaking. Each breath left their lips in a sigh, desperate for more
and nearing the edge of their rope.
Just one more time, one more thrust.
"Not yet," Stanford whispers, pulling the three fingers from Will, bringing the
demon to whine and grip Stanford's thighs. "Face me again, please." Will does
so, locking eyes with Stanford, chest heaving yet nothing was wrong. They let
Stanford guide them where he wanted, eyes widening as Stanford's length slowly
makes it's way into them, Stanford moaning quietly at the tightness.
Will gasps as Stanford thrusts once, Will rutting their hips against his
automatically. Will rolls their hips this time, groaning at the new sensation,
their entire body fuzzy but also insanely frustrated. It didn't feel right.
Using Stanford's shoulders as leverage, hands carefully placed somewhere that
it wouldn't hurt to put pressure on, Will lifted themself up, Stanford's shaft
nearly leaving their hole, pushing themself back down much faster. The demon
repeated the motion, bringing them both to moan louder.
Stanford takes hold of Will's hips, bringing them up, then pushing them back
down, bringing Will to call out, "Master," just as he had when they both had
been working on the portal and something occurred that the demon was unsure of.
Oh, did he like to call him that?
Okay, then.
"My Pet," Stanford had easily replied after only a moment of thought to
understand. Will leans their forehead against Stanford's, blown pupils flashing
between gold and black. Their entire torso moved with each and every breath,
lips parted in a constant pucker, and their fingers tangled into Stanford's
hair.
"Master Stanford more –– hah, hah."
"Now, Pet, relax."
Stanford began to grip the demon's hips harder, arms shaking as he grew close
to orgasming. He ground his hips up as Will's own moved down, bringing Will to
close their eyes and tug halfheartedly on Stanford's locks of slowly-greying
brown.
They spilled their orgasm across both of their chests, feeling their entire
body hunch over as they does so, pressing their lips against Stanford's to
muffle their cry of ecstasy. Stanford followed quickly after, pushed over by
the clenching of Will around him, kissing back half assedly, tired from their
activity, tired of being frustrated with the demon, tired from just fighting
with him for the entire Weirdmaggedon.
Will sighed, suddenly regretting this new activity, dropping their head and
grumbling into Stanford's chest. "Why did I do this? I was mad at you! This is
one of the stupidest things I've ever done!"
"Will, you know that's not true."
"But it is! It was so stupid..." They trailed off, beginning to mumble into
Stanford something along the lines of, 'I didn't even do this with you when I
actually trusted you.'
"I love you, Will."
"I woveoo too."
"You're hard to understand when talking into my chest."
"Ssssshhhhh..." Stanford chuckled, sitting Will up, their healed eye half
lidded, the other now covered by a blue square eyepatch. "Love you too,
Stanford." The man brushed a hand over Will's hair, a yellowing blond, but
still more humane than any other hair color he'd ever seen him with, after
returning to this dimension.
Will stirred after a moment, suddenly remembering something. They was to speak
with the twins.
***** If Dipper hadn't acted how he had at age 13 *****
Chapter Summary
     NSFW
     Dipper doesn't kiss Mabel when they are thirteen, keeping himself
     back and refusing to commit such an act, the results would be
     dangerous.
     Mostly Mabel getting frustrated with him and kissing him herself.
Age: 13
He stops himself, licking his lips and turning back to the journal. "Sister,"
he sighs, looking up for a moment. "Come help, can't you?"
"Of course."
He can't kiss her, he shouldn't do it. It's a sin, a huge one that cannot be
forgiven, as their parents had said.
Age: 14
He gasped her name, it oh so easily falling from his chapped and bleeding lips.
His mind fizzled out, blurred just from the imaginary taste of her skin, the
false feeling of her on him, her hopefully warm breaths in his ear, begging him
for more. His lotion-slickened hand moving faster as his hips shake with a
nearing release. His free hand rushes to cover his mouth as he cries out his
orgasm, blue streaking from his eyes to his ears, in burning lightening that
singed his skin, bringing him to rush himself to leave the warmth of the
comforter.
His fingers, slowly and cautiously, ran along the bright blue lightening
streaks. He winced as each bolt glowed with each ginger touch.
 
Age: 15
His fingers hold hers still, the nail polish shimmering in the sunlight.
She looks heavenly. Kiss her now.
No, no, he can't. He quickly looks away, biting his lips until he tastes blood.
 
Age: 15
He smashes his fist into the wall, not taking notice to the stinging of skin
tearing and blood flowing out of the wounds. He doesn't take notice of anything
but the burning in his brain, the fire in his stomach that can't be stopped,
that's been there for two years, no matter what he does to himself, no matter
how many of society's rules it breaks. Even touching himself won't put out the
fire, only one thing that he refuses to ever do will stop the fire from
consuming him.
 
Age: 16
He throws everything in reach until nothing is breakable within the room. His
breathing is harsh, entire body vibrating. He falls to his knees, biting down
on his palms.
"Stop, stop, please."
 
Age: 17
He can't even be in the same room with her. He's terrified.
She enters a room, he leaves.
It goes on for weeks, before Mabel grabs his amulet, pulling him into her room
before he can leave the room again.
She pushes him to sit, gripping his neck and tugging him to kiss her. The fire
grows suddenly brighter, and he flips her under him, touching every single part
of her he had ever imagined running his fingers across and kissing and biting
and sucking on, doing as he wished and no longer caring if this qualified as
rape or not, since she seemed to want this just as much as he did.
He paused for an instant, panicking because this was wrong, it'll always be
wrong, he shouldn't be kissing her soft lips or touching her perfect hips or
wrapping her legs around his waist or gasping out quiet apologies as he presses
against her, and she shouldn't be gripping his sides or letting him touch her
how he wants to or moaning as he kisses her or bucking her hips against his
hands or kissing back or pressing right back against him or saying that it's
all okay in response to each and every near-silent, "I'm sorry". She should be
hating him, refusing to talk to him, pulling away and hitting his hands off
her, yelling at him to never speak to her again.
She pulls him to kiss her, bucking her hips against his. She tugged her dress
over her head, only breaking the kiss long enough to pull it off before moaning
as warmth encircles one of her nipples, hips rutting against hers. She pulls
the fly of his jeans open, unbuttoning it with a click of her nails hitting the
false brass.
His mind is muddled, fuzzy from the taste of her skin on his lips, the feeling
of her on his skin, her hot breaths in his ear. He's no longer afraid as he
tugs his jeans down only enough to bring himself free from the confines of
underclothes, tugging her own panties to her knees, and lifting her legs over
his shoulders.
He wanted to do everything, touch everything that was wrong to, kiss and bite
everywhere he wasn't supposed to. Tentatively, his lips touch the source of
heat radiating against his face, moving away at the gasp from his twin.
He pushes his tongue inside instantly afterwards, feeling her clench around
him, her fingers gripping his thighs. He feels her beginning to pull away, and
he automatically wonders if he had done something wrong.
But suddenly she's pushing her heat on his, her hand guiding him inside her,
and he moans, head back and lips parted because nothing he could ever had done
by himself could bring him this type of pure joy, no matter how much he thought
of her doing this, it would never come close to her actually touching him,
kissing him back and making the most wrong of love with him.
She is still for a single moment as she breathes against his neck, before she
pushes her hips down roughly, and they both sigh. She does it again and again,
pushing her hips down and moving him inside her. He grips her hips tightly,
biting down on her shoulder to keep from begging for more, more, more please,
as she holds onto his shoulders for an attempt at balance.
She pulls him to kiss her, running her tongue along his lips and tasting the
slickness on his lips and sucking on his tongue. Her hips roll down, entire
body flush against his. His heart was wild, though beating in time with hers
anyway. His lips moved to her neck, kissing and nipping her burning skin. His
hips jolted, balls tightening in a sickeningly familiar way, the same way as
when he touched himself.
His logical side tells him to stop, to not cause more trouble than he and she
already had.
But Mabel whispers into his ear, "Don't stop."
And so he doesn't pull away from her, just as he attempts to muffle his cry of
pure pleasure, release crashing against him, his twin still rutting her hips
against his as he shudders out his orgasm. Her shoulders shake, hips shaking
and jolting. She slams her lips against his, moaning against him. She clenches
around his member, becoming still after a few moments.
This is extremely wrong, the most sinful thing they've ever done, but he can't
find a single damn to give anymore.
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