#Ford pines x reader

[darlingdaisyfarm]

♡.ᐟ his hands know you better than you do ˚⋆

a/n: sorry if this is self-indulgent but i just needed to write something where Ford fucks the stress and depression out of me. honestly, wouldn’t mind if Stan did too. this started as princess treatment but derailed into filth, but whatever

tags: Ford x reader, princess treatment, mostly nsfw, soft Ford, praise kink, worshipping, vaginal sex, oral sex (f receiving), fingerfucking actually lots of fingerfucking because Fords fingers deserve their own category, petnames, dumbification

there’s something tragic about the way you struggle with the clasp of your necklace, standing in front of the mirror with your fingers fumbling at the tiny silver hook. it's such a small thing, but frustration gnaws at you nonetheless. and Ford is always here to wash that feeling away. you feel his warm hands, six fingers sweeping your own aside, “allow me, please.”

he stands behind you as he secures the chain at your nape, admiring his sweetheart in the mirror. his fingers linger, pressing lightly against the fragile dip where your spine begins.

“there. perfect.”

Ford is always fixing things. adjusting the strap of your dress, tugging your coat tighter around your shoulders when the wind picks up, brushing stray lashes from your cheek with the soft drag of his thumb. he notices. he always notices.

there is a gravity to the way Ford Pines touches you, like the sea is pulled to the moon. six fingers softly grazing over your cheek as if you are precious, at if you're some rare, undocumented star he has been searching for his entire life. nothing has ever captivated him like you.

it's the little details that ruin you. when he pulls your gloves off finger by finger in the winter. when he cups your jaw in the middle of a conversation, just to tip your chin up and look at his sweetheart properly, murmuring about how your eyes catch the light just so.

when he says “there you go, sweetheart” whenever he helps you into a coat, a car, a chair. and you bite your lip when you catch the envious glances of other girls.

his hands, oh, his hands. meant for research, for careful sketches of interdimensional maps, for scrawled notes in the margins of mysteries unsolved and yet, they belong to you now.

Ford always pulls you closer in crowds, putting his firm hand at the small of your back because he needs to make sure his sweetheart is safe and near

if your feet ache, if your delicate ankles are too sore from those pretty little shoes, he’ll sweep you into his arms without a second thought. he grumbles though, muttering something about you being reckless for wearing those ridiculous shoes, but you know it's just because he cares.

you poor, delicate thing. you look so lovely when you’re tired like this, slumped on the edge of the bed with your heels kicked off haphazardly, body aching from a long day. too much effort, too much weight carried on your dainty little shoulders. but don’t worry, Ford will take care of you.

he kneels before you, a man who has spent decades chasing the unknown, kneeling at your feet like a man finally bowing before the only mystery he never wants to solve. calloused hands reach for your ankle, undoing the delicate strap of your shoe, fingers tracing the curve of your instep. and you sigh when you feel his warm lips pressing against the skin just above your ankle.

“you look so tired, my dear, please let me take care of you.”

his hands travel higher, peeling off the layers of the day, undressing you carefully and that feels almost ceremonial. fingers working at the zipper of your dress, pushing it from your shoulders, watching as the fabric pools around you. his breath is warm when he leans in against the curve of your thigh, kissing, kissing, kissing, an exploration, a devotion.

your hands never open doors, never carry bags heavier than a dainty purse. Ford notices everything. if your lipstick smudges after a kiss, he’s already smoothing his thumb over your lower lip. if your hands are cold, his are already cupping them, rubbing warmth into your skin, bringing your fingers to his mouth to breathe warm air over them.

in a moment of hesitation you'll always hear “don’t trouble yourself with that, love. let me handle it.”

you struggle with your hair and Ford is already reaching for the brush, pulling you between his knees as he gently, meticulously combs through the strands, what makes shivers bloom down your spine.

because Ford's sweetheart should never struggle, not when he can do something about it.

but that treatment does not stop at the threshold of the bedroom.

always kissing your wrist like a proper gentleman before pinning them down and making you sob.

when you straddle Ford's lap, rocking against him with slow, teasing rolls of your hips, he doesn’t stop you, only leans back, watching you.

“mmh, you’re making quite the mess of me, sweetheart.”

you know his hands have built machine leading to other worlds and dimensions, but now, they exist for you.

and in bed they are worshipful. you dont have to work for pleasure, you receive it. his pleasure is your pleasure.

you melt when his big hands hold you steady, guiding you against the hard press of his cock, letting you take what you want. if you decide to ride him, he always settles his hands on your hips, just because he wants to be close to you.

but oh, he likes to give, too.

you are his subject, his obsession, the one thing in all the dimensions that he has deemed worthy of true complete devotion.

you cum first, always, that's his rule. even while he’s making love to you, even when he’s right there on the edge. you'll always hear him groaning “cum for me, love,” and he means now.

fingers, fingers, fingers, obsessed with them, using them on you, making you cum on them.

because damn, he needs to make sure you’re ruined and twitching before he fucks his own release into you.

“look at you. dripping all over my hand. such a pretty little thing”

and thats a fact. his fingers always come first. they have to. he’d never think of fucking you without it, not when your little pussy flutters just from the slow push of his long digits inside. two first, then three, stretching, pressing, working until you’re soaking and weak.

Ford fingers you so often and naturally, that you start to think it’s just second nature to him. you’re sitting on his lap, buried in one of his oversized sweaters and his hand is already under it, teasing at the waistband of your panties, rubbing soft circles over your sensitive clit. or you’re in bed, drowsy and half-asleep and Ford is already between your thighs, lazily sliding two fingers inside you, curling them deep as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear.

“just relax, sweetheart, let me take care of you.”

Ford never rushes. six fingers, six places to hold, touch and tease. one teasing your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud between his fingers. another smoothing over your hip, keeping you still. but the two buried inside you work you open, coaxing wet little sounds from your lips, stroking that soft, aching spot deep inside.

his voice is always deep and soothing, even when his cock is aching, even when he’s watching your slick drip down his wrist. Ford is patient. determined. he won’t fuck you until you’re trembling, begging, nearly crying for it.

“that’s it, love. such a sensitive little thing.”

your nipples, he just adores them, rolling them between his fingers, sucking them slow, teasing, making your back arch so pretty, your fingers digging into his hair as he kisses, licks, bites, its never enough.

“so soft. you’re beautiful like this. love you so much.”

yeah, Ford knows you love his fingers because you always run your mouth about them, without even realising. you’ll watch him turn a page in his journal and murmur “ohh your hands are so strong, Ford.” or when you trace your fingertip along the veins of his knuckles and hum, “beautiful, so big.” you say it without a thought, praising him for nothing, really

and Ford never comments, never says a damn thing, but he burns with the knowledge that you have no idea what you do to him

so later, when his thick cock stuffing you up, filling every little space, fucking you open, that’s when he gets his little revenge.

“Ford, w-wait—“ you gasp when he pulls out suddenly, leaving you aching and empty when you were so damn close, in response you feel Ford rubbing his broad palm down your belly, down between your thighs. “shh, just for a second, just let me. here we go,” its two first, then three, pressing inside, stroking that spot that makes your body jolt.

Ford kisses your neck. “this little pussy loves my fingers more than anything, doesn't she?” fuck, you do, you can’t help it. you whimper, nodding so fast it makes him grin. “so go on, starlight. cum for them.”

there's nothing he loves more than making you cum around his fingers.

Ford, although quite awkward, insists you sit on his face and you know his mouth was made for worship when you perched prettily on him. greedy hands gripping your thighs, trying to keep you there forever. six fingers press into your flesh, keeping you open and spread, keeping you exactly where he wants you with your thighs trembling around his head.

his tongue moves with purpose, slowly lapping at your pussy like he has all the time in the world. you tilt your head back when he sucks your little clit into his warm mouth, moans against you like he's the one getting fucked, groans deep and filthy when you grab his hair.

“you taste divine, darling.”

Ford lovers to press his forehead to yours when he bottoms out deep, stretching you good enough that you whimper, wrapping your arms around his neck. he kisses your lips, your jaw, the corner of your mouth, memorising every inch of you, letting you feel every inch of him, holding himself still so you can adjust.

and Ford hates making you cry, he swears he does. but god, if he doesn’t love the way your little tears stain his lips when he devours your mouth with kisses.

“i know, darling, i know,” as his thumb catches the first tear that spills, swipes it up, brings it to his lips like he’s starving for it. “look at my pretty girl, getting all teary for me.”

he can’t help it. his hands tighten as he ruts faster into you.

It's his guilty pleasure but damn, Ford adores it when you get dumb for him, too far gone to even think as he fucks into you so deep, the bed creaking. your knees trembling where they hook over his hips.

“sweetheart, still with me?” he’s got your wrists pinned, forehead to forehead, mouth brushing yours as he drinks up every little sound.

“fuh—Ford, too much—c-can’t—“

he’s not even touching you anymore, just watching how your lashes flutter and your mouth stays open, how your chest rises and falls in rapid helpless gasps. you can’t think straight. he’s hitting too deep, ruining you too slow and that feels too good.

“you can take it. just let me make you feel good.” he cups your face, wipes the mess off your cheek.

but Ford loves it when you use him too, when you ride him, rolling your hips in teasing circles, grinding down just to hear him groan. Ford always lets you take what you need.

and when you collapse against his chest, tired, trembling, whining softly into his neck about how good he feels, he fucks up into you, slow and sweet, holding you close, cradling you.

“i’ve got you, baby, i’ve got you. let me love you.”

ever the gentleman, Ford always asks you where you want his cum.

“tell me, princess. where do you want it? inside? on your pretty stomach? your soft thighs? tell me, sweetheart. let me give it to you. im so close.“

it. . . doesn't really matter that he wants it inside you, that he needs to fill you up, keep you full and watch it drip from your spent little cunt. no. the most important thing is what his beloved wants.

even afterwards, Ford doesn’t roll away, but stays pressed against you, holds you through it all. whispers soft things against your temple, kisses your fingertips, your shoulders, your belly as he thanks you for letting him ruin you.

because princess treatment doesn’t end when the sex does. Ford cleans you up gently, tugs you against his scarred chest, runs his six fingers through your hair until you fall asleep, safe in his arms.

“there, there, sweetheart. took me so well. so proud of you. just rest. i’ve got you.” and here you are, worshipped, fucked, adored

[holycrimin]

Experimenting with like my art and stufffff and colorz

also AAAAAAA!! THEYRE SO CUTE!!!!! THE CUTIES EVER!!! I LOVE THEM!!! SM!!!!

(Dont tag as ship)

[lucigooseart]

stanley pines

grunkle gilf brain rot is going crazy rn guys. pls enjoy

[gay-dorito-dust]

What would be Stan’s brothers reaction when after Y/n helped them with stuff and they said “Well, what are you waiting for? Kiss on the cheek?” Or “what else do you want? A kiss on the cheek?” And reader fastly respond ‘Yes please’ without hesitation 🤑

Ford:

‘What are you waiting for? A kiss on the cheek?’ Ford said when he noticed that you were lingering nearby.

‘Yes please.’ You replied almost instantaneously.

The poor man was now blushing to the tips of his ears as his eyes grew wide. This wasn’t a response he was expecting and therefore not properly prepared to answer accordingly.

He didn’t expect you to eagerly agree even in the slightest and now he was racked with nerves, while his mind overworked on whether or not you were joking with him. Ford has never been in the situation before where someone shown active interest in him, so needless to say this man was imploding on himself over shat could only be a theoretical.

He hated vagueness and ambiguity, they were his biggest personal pet peeves. he much preferred things to be upfront and direct for he tended to look for deeper meaning in things they didn’t need to be looked at so intently or up close.

‘I- well if it’s okay with you.’ Ford says, finding the collar of his turtleneck a little tight and finding it hard to swallow the lump in his throat.

‘It’s more than okay.’ You said with a smile.

Ford had to steel his nerves that were running rampant within him as though he was still that teenage boy, he mustered the strength he needed to press a sweet, almost featherlight kiss to your cheek that had butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

Stanley:

‘What are you waiting for? A kiss on the cheek?’ He asked.

‘Yes please.’ You said without hesitation.

Stanley, while taken aback but your straightforwardness, smirked in response as he leant closer to you.

‘Oh do you now?’ He says playfully with a raised brow, trying his hardest not to show just show affected he was by your words as he felt his heart in his throat.

‘I wouldn’t have said otherwise.’ You replied with a smile, taking a step towards him as he internally congratulated himself for not loosing his touch. (or so he liked to claim when in reality it’s you who holds the more power in this situation.)

Stan only said what he said because it was something his father said time and time again to him after he did something that he thought would finally make his father look at him. Only for that to not be the case as his father easily dismissed his efforts and managed to degrade him with a single sarcastic comment that felt like a dagger to the heart.

Here when he said it, you made it sound a lot sweeter when you gladly accepted the prospect of him kissing your cheek, almost as though it was the only thing that would make your entire day. You were far too sweet for Stan but you attract more with honey than vinegar or so they say and needless to say you had this man hook line and sinker with how sweet you were.

‘Okay honey just remembered you’re the one who asked for this.’ Stan said as he pressed a kiss to your cheek that made you want more in the future.

[sleeplessdreamer14]

If you honestly think Ford didn't keep a photograph of you on his person during his time in the multiverse like a soldier keeping a locket with a picture of their lover during a war, think again.

[mooooonnnzz]

Platonic ask for gravity falls 🩷

The twins with a mother figure? Those kids are all around saving the world, someone needs to seriously worry about them and make a little fuss lol maybe the mother figure is Stanley or Stanford new wife? I just imagine the twins coming back next summer and boom new mother/aunt

Heartbreak, Heartbreak

Stanford x Reader / Dipper & Mable x Mother!Reader

✦ your stanfords wife whaatt?!

✦ i feel like this is one of my weaker works, i apologize

✦ 2,5k words

✦ fem reader

✦ gulp i hope i did ur request justice 😭

✦ mable goes "stop fighting!!" at some point

✦ requests r still deliciously open

꣑୧ Coming back to Gravity Falls was a dream come true for the twins. What they weren’t expecting was to see their Great Uncle Ford walk in the Mystery Shack hand in hand with you. Mable was the first to bombard you Grunkle with questions; which stemmed from “Oh my god, when did you guys meet?” to “Oh my god, oh my god, am I going to have Great Cousins? That sounds weird, doesn’t it?” Ford had to calm her down before she got too rowdy with their questions and overwhelm you. 

꣑୧ Once Mable was calm enough to sit down in the same room with you, without bursting in her seat with excitement, was when Ford broke the news. “Mable, Dipper. This is my wife,” He said, wrapping his arms around you, his hand moving up and down your arm in a soothing manner. You introduced yourself to the twins who were more than happy to meet you. 

꣑୧ “Did our Grunkle by some chance, manage to hypnotize you into dating him with a book?” Dipper asked with an analyzing stare. His lips were puckered, pointer finger and thumb on his chin, tapping it curiously. Not expecting a question as absurd as that, you let out a laugh. Shaking your head, you smiled at Dipper. “Not at all,” You respond, taking Ford’s hand with yours, intertwining your fingers together. “He just won me over with his nerdy charm.” You say, your eyes locked on Ford. A rush of blood swarmed Ford’s cheeks. A chorus of groans echoed in the shack. Stan appears behind the kids, resting his arms on the top of their chairs. “See, kids,” He motions over to you and Ford with a swipe of his hand. “This is what I had to deal with while you guys were gone.” With a sympathetic look, Mable rested her hand on his arm, shaking her head sorrowfully. “I’m so sorry, Grunkle Stan.” 

꣑୧ After the initial shock wore off, Dipper and Mable began to grew skeptical of you. What if you were one of Bill’s goons disguising yourself as a human? And your goal was to take down their Grunkles and start Weirdmageddon 2?! Rushing up to their room in the attic, they pulled out their trusty 8-ball, the one they used the first day they arrived at Gravity Falls and when they were unsure if they were safe to stay with Grunkle Stan. They both sat down on the floor, 8-ball in Dipper’s hand. “Okay, magic 8-ball!” Mable boomed loudly with a weird amalgamation of a British and French accent. “Mable, keep it down.” Dipper shushed. “Oops,” Mable giggled. “Okay, magic 8-ball,” She whispered, her head uncomfortably close to the 8-ball. “Is Grunkle Ford’s wife evil?” With a rapid shake, Dipper and Mable peered into the ball. A pyramid accompanied with words appeared. “Don’t count on it.” The twins read out loud. “Huh…” Mable slowly nodded her head, eyes squinted in thought. “Well,” Dipper tossed the 8-ball behind him. “The magic 8-ball never lies.” 

꣑୧  Getting along with the twins wasn’t hard. All you had to do was grab your car keys from your purse, jingle them as if they were a bell and wait. Few minutes later, you’d hear their feet stomping down the stairs and a flash of colors swarming the living room. “I heard keys jingle, I heard keys jingle!!” Mable’s eyes darted around the room in search of the keys and when her eyes landed on you, her eyes sparkled with joy and anticipation. “Are you taking us somewhere, Great Aunt [Name]?” You smiled, spinning the keys around your finger. “Depends,” You pretended to think for a moment, just to keep them on their toes. “Where would you guys like to go?” A laugh escapes you as Dipper and Mable attack you with where they want to go. “Alright, let me tell your Grunkle that I’m taking you guys out.” Digging through your purse, you fish out your phone. You turned it on and went to your contacts. With a tap, you dialed his number. He picked up almost immediately. “Yes, dear?” You could hear his pencil scribbling on a piece of paper. “I’m taking Dipper and Mable out for the day.” You tell him, mouthing to the kids to get in the car. They scampered out of the living room and to the hallway. You could hear the door open and their hushed voices as they made a beeline to your car. “Okay, be safe when you’re driving and call me whenever you can, okay?” You hummed in response. “Of course, I’ll keep you updated on the kids.” You say, walking out of the shack and to your car. “I want updates on how you feel too,” You could feel the love dripping from his tone. “I will, my love.” You blow a kiss into the phone, wishing Ford goodbye. He blows one back and the call ends. Entering the car, you look behind you to see the twins all buckled up and ready for their adventure. “You guys ready?” “Yeah!” 

꣑୧ “So, Dipper, what’s with those dots on your arm?” You point at the four dots on his arm with a fry. Dipper looked down to his arm. His eyebrows rise in shock. “I-I completely forgot I had these,” Dipper’s thumbs the scars, an uneasy look on his face. Your heart stops in your chest. “I’m so sorry, Dipper. I didn’t mean to make–’ Dipper’s hands raise up to his chest, waving them side to side, dismissing your concerns. He assured you that your question didn’t make him uncomfortable. “No, no! It’s just…” He rubs the back of his neck anxiously. “He got possessed by a demon!” Mable blurts out, stuffing her face with a greasy burger. “Mable!” Dipper whines. “I’m sorry! I couldn’t handle you beating around the bush any longer.” She says with a mouthful of chewed up food. You leaned yourself back in the booth, trying to assess what Mable just said. “Dipper got possessed?” You repeated in a question. “Yeah, I kinda did.” Dipper said with a slight voice crack. “Can I know how?” Disbelief was thick in your tone. You didn’t know whether to laugh or walk away in shock. They don’t look like they’re telling a joke? The way Dipper has his head slightly hung low and a tiny frown on his face proved that. But Mable seems as jolly as ever. You fight with yourself, trying to make sense of what happened when Dipper spoke up. “Have you heard of the name Bill Cipher?” Shaking your head no, the twins dove straight into a very long story pertaining to Bill Cipher and how he tormented them throughout summer last year and ultimately led to the world almost ending. “Wow,” Was all that you could mutter. You never got your question about Dipper’s scar answered that day. 

꣑୧ Laying in bed, you eyes drifted over to Ford who was brushing his teeth in the bathroom. “You wanna know something crazy the twins told me earlier today?” Ford spat out the toothpaste into the sink. “What did those knuckleheads tell you?” He said, cupping his hand under the running faucet and filling his hand up with water. “It was this really crazy story,” You started. Ford nodded, dunking the water in his mouth and sloshing it around. “They told me about this interdimensional demon named Bill Cipher?--” Ford spit out the water in shock, spraying it everywhere on the mirror. You sat up in surprise. “Ford?” You pushed the blankets off of you and walked over to Ford, your hand on his shoulder. “You okay?” With a forced, “mhm,” he wiped the dripping water from his lips with his forearm. “Y-yeah, no. I’m fine.” He waved you off, nodding his head vigorously, almost as if he was convincing himself that everything was fine. “Are you sure?” Concern laced your voice. Someone who’s fine wouldn’t spit out their water like that at the mention of…Bill Cipher? That’s when it clicked for you. “You have history with this demon as well, don’t you?” Ford groaned, running his hands down his face. “Those kids can’t keep their mouths shut, can they?” He mumbled to himself, his head turning to face you. “What else did they tell you?” That night, you spent it horrified with the tales he told you regarding the past summer and his time with Bill. “And you never told me this, why?” Ford nervously pushed his glasses up, his eyes looking everywhere but you. “Because I…” He trailed off. “I don’t know,” He stops for a moment, inhaling deeply before continuing. “I didn’t want to scare you off. My past...isn’t something I could easily tell you without having a second thought.” A frown pulls to your lips. “Were you ever going to tell me?” You ask, your voice frail and quiet. “Yes?” His tone was full of uncertainty. You didn’t know what to think. One side of you wanted to be mad at him for keeping all of this from you, but on the other hand you felt sympathetic. You knew this wasn’t an easy topic to discuss normally. And you could tell it took him a lot of courage to admit a side of him that he wasn’t fully ready to reveal. But you were deeply hurt that he kept such secrets from you for a long time. And considering how he responded to your question, you weren’t even sure he was going to tell you any time soon. “What are you thinking about?” Ford’s voice ripped you out from your thoughts, grounding you back to reality. “I’m thinking about how crazy all of this is. I didn’t know. The kids went through so much at a young age. A-and you act like it was nothing, they could’ve died Ford.” Your hand rested on the side of your forehead. “You also made a deal with a demon? I…” You let out a sigh. “I don’t know, Stanford.” Ford cringed at the use of his full name. “I can go, if you’d like me to.” You raised your hand up to stop him. “No, I don’t want you to go. I just need time to process this,” You offer him a weak smile. “That’s all I need right now my love, just time.” 

꣑୧ “You what?!” Mable and Dipper both screech at the same time. “Yeesh, Ford. And I thought I was a screw-up.” Stan chuckled, elbowing Mable to see if that got a rise from her. It did not. “I thought I was protecting her from all of this madness!” Ford’s elbow rested on the dining room table, fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. “Grunkle Stan tried doing the same thing, did you see how that almost ended for us?” Dipper said. “I know, I know.” Ford weakly muttered out. “Then, why did you keep such important details away from her?” Stan argued. “Because I was trying to protect her!” Ford yelled, slamming his hands on the table. That seemed to get a rise from Stan. “Well, maybe you weren’t trying hard enough! Now, look at what you did. You fucked everything up.” He shouted. “Oh!” Ford stood up from his chair. “That’s hilarious coming from you!” Scrambling up the table, Mable slammed her foot down, gaining the attention from Ford and Stan. “Fighting isn’t going to fix things, guys.” She said, “Ford had his reasons, like how you had your reasons for hiding Grunkle Ford from us, Grunkle Stan.” Ford adjusted his sweater, sitting back down on his chair. “Now, Grunkle Ford. What did she tell you?” She asked, turning over to Ford. “She told me that she needed time.” Sitting crossed-crossed, she nodded her head intently. “That’s good, right?” In return was silence. “Right, guys?” Both Dipper and Stan agreed. “Great! Now while we wait, can we apologize to each other for acting so mean and for swearing.” She directed a look to Stan who scoffed. 

꣑୧  And wait they did. After a couple of days, Ford’s phone randomly started ringing. Rushing to pick it up, he lifted his phone to see you calling him. He gulped nervously, suddenly second guessing himself. Should he pick up the phone? If he does, what if it’s you telling him that you want a divorce? Or that you need a break, or that– “Grunkle Ford!” Dipper snapped his fingers in front of his face. “Answer!” He pointed to the phone. “I got it!” Mable sang out, swiping her finger to the right. There was a beat of silence. Mable and Dipper anxiously waited for at least you or him to speak. One of them was about to intrude, no longer able to withstand such silence when you spoke up. “My love?” Your voice was timid. Ford’s heart lunged to his throat. How he missed your voice. “Y-Yes?” He mentally punched himself for stuttering like a complete fool in front of you. “Can you open the door for me? It’s locked.” Without a second thought, Ford practically ran over to the door and whipped it open for you. The twins watched you and him silently talk to each other from a distance. After a few tearful words and hugs, they recoil in disgust when they see Ford swoop you in for a kiss. “Oh my eyes!” Mable dramatically exclaimed. “Gross.” Dipper made a face in disgust. 

꣑୧ “I’m still mad at Ford for roping you kids into all that madness.” You tell the kids, mindlessly scrolling on your phone. “Dawww, don’t you worry about us.” Mable put a hand to her cheek bashfully. “We can handle it.” You found that hard to believe. “Is Gravity Falls still…crazy?” You whisper the last part, in case Bill Cipher is listening. You’ve only heard stories of him, but hearing what he has done rooted a new fear in you. “Kind of? There’s still weird things that happen here, but not as bad as last summer.” Dipper said, jotting down a few notes in his journal. “How come I’ve never seen anything weird?” You wondered. “Because you’re too busy making out with Grunkle Ford to notice anything!” Mable chirped, kicking her feet as she drew on colored piece of paper. That elicited a laugh from Dipper and a “What!” Ford walked in with an eyebrow raised and breakfast in hand. ”I heard I was mentioned in a conversation. Are you guys talking crap about me?” Ford places his food on the table and pulls back a chair. He sits right next to you and before he dives in on his breakfast, he gives you a quick kiss on the lips. “You wish!” Mable says, flipping her paper on its backside. “I do not.” Ford said quietly. “So, kids saving the world, huh? That has to count as some kind of child abuse.” You half said seriously, half said jokingly. Ford rolled his eyes. “What? Are you gonna arrest me?” You glared at him. “I might…” 

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Please, write something about facesitting with Stan and Ford, cuz with those giant noses I know its good.

A/n: 👀

Warnings: Oral sex, female receiving.

•Stanly Pines•

Stan love's nothing more than to eat you out though the moment you let it slip that you want to try something knew the man tease's how can he ever go back.

You're adorable, so adorable,

Stan can't help but smirk at your shy request, feeling his cock twitch in anticipation. He loves when you take control like that, it’s so damn hot.

"Anything, for you angel, though who knew you were such a naughty one."

He purrs, gently guiding you to straddle his face. His strong hands grip your hips as he eagerly starts to devour you, his tongue expertly exploring every inch of your dripping pussy.

Your cries only fueling his own desire as you tried to move, Stan's hands clutching preventing your movement as he held your hips tightly.

He moans softly against your folds, the vibrations sending shivers down your spine. Stan's fingers dig into your skin as he worships you, determined to make you feel good. He loves the taste of you, the way you squirm and moan above him only fueling his desire.

You can feel his hot breath against your sensitive skin, his tongue flicking and teasing your clit with expert precision.

Stan's hands roam up your body, squeezing your breasts and teasing your nipples as he continues to eat you out with fervor. He’s completely focused on giving you pleasure, lost in the moment as he worships you like the goddess you are.

“Mmm, you taste so fucking good, baby,”

Stan groans, his voice thick with desire. He’s completely under your control, eager to please you in any way you desire. His cock strains against his jeans, desperate for release, but right now all he cares about is making you feel good.

•Standord Pines•

It all started in High School for Ford, he was tutoring you well doing his best as you complained about your boyfriend refusing to eat out which lead to you dumping him. You didn't know why you told him, maybe it was because you had a soft for him a crush and you were hoping that he would notice your feelings despite you being popular.

Though it didn't take long for you to try it, neither of you had experience and looking back on it, you couldn't help but chuckle at your first time with Ford though that night lead down the road of your experience with your six fingered lover.

Ford had gotten better, more experienced with sex when it came to you. One particular memory came to mind, you two were running from some asshole on some planet and one thing lead to another as the man had you pinned to the wall. Bottom's gone, panties hanging off your ankle as your legs draped themselves across your lovers shoulders.

You head hitting the wall as your eyes closed shut as your fingers wove through his hair. "That prick in the bar said he could eat me out better?" You had a teasing tone to your voice but you wanted to see Ford's reaction.

Ford's eyes darken with possessiveness and desire as he hears your words, as his glasses nearly slip off his face . His hand tightens on your waist as he adjusted your legs so you were more comfortable

���Like that bastard knows you like I do! I am going to show you what it’s like to be worshipped properly,” his voiced muffled by your thigh, his breath hot against your skin. The hunger in his eyes is undeniable as he eagerly waits for you to take control and give him what he craves.

Ford groans softly as you settle on his face, feeling the warmth and weight of you on him. His hands grip your hips firmly, guiding you into the perfect position as his tongue eagerly darts out to taste you. He moans in delight, the vibrations sending shivers through you as he starts to worship you like you deserve.

His tongue explores every inch of you, licking and sucking with skill and precision. He's relentless in his pursuit of your pleasure, making sure you feel nothing but bliss under his ministrations. The sounds of your moans and gasps only fuel his desire, and he's determined to make you unravel completely with his touch.

Your fingers gripping his hair, tugging at the silver strands, your eyes squeezing tightly shut.

He devours you with a hunger that matches his possessiveness, wanting to show you just how good it can be when you're with someone who truly cherishes you. And in this moment, with you on top of him, he's proving just how much he adores you. He may no longer be that fumbling teenager but Ford loves you and he'll always make sure you know.

[stanfordswifey]

Stanford Headcanons!!

(Bf ver.)

Giggling hes so pretty in this picture-- COUGH COUGH SORRY ILL GET STARTED (pre-portal)

Loves physical touch. Would lowkey miss you whenever he's working so he always hugs you, and gives you cuddles whenever he can.

Kisses? Yes please, he'd be flustered at first but reciprocate it sooner or later, he's a shy lil dude.

Gift giving!! He'd make silly gadgets for you for no reason, you need a pen holder? Boom made you one, need anything at all and he'd get started on it just for you <3

Quality time is something he'd like also, since he'll be working on the portal so much he'd spend time with you whenever he can, sometimes it'd just be the both of you cuddling in bed and he'd start infordumping about the most random shit ever.

He would promise to take you to the galaxy and even farther, that he'd show you everything and adore it with you, but out of every gorgeous sunset, out of every prettt flower, he'd always see you as the most beautiful little thing he'd ever lay his eyes on.

Might be possessive, just a little! He'd 'accidentally' leave hickeys in obvious spots on your body (neck, chest, etc)

He'd take you on dates, he would cook your favorite food, setup the table and for nighttime lazy dates he'd just get some popcorn and you two would watch documentaries together or go looking for a new creature to document.

He would let you draw on his journals or add some stuff in, decorations, notes, etc.

He's the type to pat your head when you do something good

[yandere--stuck]

Laughing at the idea that while playing dolls using the reader and ford he also has a little doll version of himself and does poor impressions of their voices

Bill doing a ford impression: “how was your day homey? I made you a nice bowl of teeth for dinner”

Ford: this is ridicules

Bill doing an impression of the reader: “come here and let me give you a kiss bill!”

Reader: please stop making me kiss the weird doll

"You know what means!" Bill beamed.

"... You'll let us go?" You dared to ask, held in mid-air.

"Extra kisses!!!"

You surged forward, wind whistling in your ears as you brought up, face-to-face, with a plastic replica of the triangle demon. Your face met plastic, Bill maneuvering your body and smushing it against the toy.

"MWAH MWAH MWAH!" Then, the triangle put on an impression of your speaking voice. "I love you sooooo much, Bill! Mwah mwah mwah mwah mwah!"

"Put them down, you animal!" Ford barked from below, trying to act intimidating despite the size difference.

"Oh, is someone getting jealous, Fordsy?"

Thankfully, you were ripped away from the plastic Bill. You sneered with disgust, suddenly realizing drool had been smeared over your face - but it was replaced by a look of fear and a sudden yelp as the ground rushed to meet you.

Only for Bill to suddenly stop, jolting you in his grasp, before dropping you hard onto your ass. Immediately, Ford rushed to your side.

"Are you alright?" He asked breathlessly. His hands were on you, helping you to your feet. "I've got you, don't-"

"Not so fast, Sixer!"

You grabbed for Ford's hands and a shout of 'No!' burst from your throat, but it was too late - he was already lifted high into the air. You couldn't look away, heart pounding in your ears.

In Bill's other hand, he still held the replica of himself.

"Now, pucker up, Braniac."

[imagination-phantom]

POV: you tried to flirt with Ford ~

“Ford … Ford … STANFORD! Hi yes I um well I had a question I was hoping you could answer? It’s very important … um … I was wondering … Are Those Astronaut Pants Youre Wearing Cuz Your Ass Is Out Of This World!”

I’m gonna go now, thank you for your time *runs away.

[sunniskyies]

𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 || 𝐒𝐭𝐚𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐏𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬 𝐎𝐧𝐞-𝐒𝐡𝐨𝐭

𝐑𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭: - 𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: Reader forgets she has Ford’s mind reading device on… 𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: Ford Pines x fem!shy!reader 𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: - 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬: Makeout, fluffy shy stuff 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 2k 𝐀/𝐍: This is so so so out of my league with this kind of thing, but I had a vision and had to try, so forgive me if it’s not the best !! ( you can read this as young or old Ford by the way ! )

“Are you going to tell me what exactly that is?” You ask shyly, perched neatly on a wooden stool in the deepest room of Ford’s laboratory. The man in question is bustling around the benches, plugging in wires and fiddling with dials and buttons.

“It’s a mental-strengthening device, able to encrypt one’s thoughts to prevent dream demons like Bill Cipher from entering.”

You purse your lips. “Ah. Of course.”

Ford looks briefly over at you while he tinkers. “I don’t want any chance of that creature making his way into our world. The damage he causes is… irrevocable.”

You fall silent, quietly studying the scientist’s practised hands and that little furrow in his brow you doubt he’s aware of. You see it often, in your stolen glances as you set his coffee down in the mornings, or when his eyes linger for a moment on his work when you call for his attention.

You let yourself sit in the warm feeling that spreads through your skin, toying with the fantasy of him for just a moment. Before you know it, Ford is approaching you with a gadget in his hands, and you’re pushing those silly thoughts from your mind.

“This is the receiver,” Ford explains, gesturing to the sieve-like helmet in his hands. “May I put it on you?”

All you manage is a ‘mhm’, and you hope your ears aren’t bright red when Ford places the bronze contraption over your hair. As he adjusts it here and there his fingers often brush your skin, you’re mortified as goosebumps shiver over your skin. Luckily, from what you know about Stanford Pines, he isn’t the most observant man unless you happen to have three eyes or an off-on switch.

Being Ford’s assistant has been the best opportunity of your life, but childishly you often wish for something more. To see those lips say your name not just to thank you for your helping hands. To have the confidence to show Ford the book of research you’ve been privately gathering, his eyes catching yours as he realises the potential he’d never seen in you before…

For the millionth time reality pulls you from your daydreams. Ford crouches down slightly, your faces level, your eyes on his while his are at your hairline. A six-fingered hand gently tucks loose strands back from your face.

“There,” he says, eyes catching yours. “Equipped. How does that feel?”

You swallow, voice a tad too squeaky, “All good!” 

“Perfect. I’ll begin the calibration, inform me if you experience any discomfort,” he nods, satisfied, before sweeping away again.

As you wait, you silently tap on your knees, looking around. You look over the table behind you to see a television screen with—

Your thoughts.

A string of your most embarrassing ideas visualised on a ceiling-high collection of screens, unarguably clingy and desperate desires paired with Ford’s name scrolling everywhere.

You whip your gaze over to Ford, dew already appearing over your skin. He seems to be engrossed in whatever's in his hands, but it’s only a matter of time before he sees all… that!

Fuck, fuck, fuck! The screens mirror the chant in your mind.

You try vainly to think of other things, random words and imagery slowly but surely creeping onto the televisions. Polar Bears. Adjectives. Pencils, pens, markers. Dates and historical impact of various civil wars. Charity raffles. That one catchy jingle. Discombobulation. Ambystoma mexicanum.

Ford looks up. “Finished!” He says with a quick smile.

You quietly clear your throat. “Uhm. Wow! This is very clever, Ford, although I must admit didn’t realise it displayed the user's consciousness?”

His eyebrows raise at your question, before his face softly twists with confusion as he stares at the reading. He glances back over at you with the face of someone just realising how stupid something is. Yet, you almost slump with relief. At least he only thinks you're simple, not a freak.

“Well, yes, it does. Did I not mention that?” He says slowly. “I was going to suggest you exercise your brain to ensure the program reaches every aspect of your cognition… but it seems you’re… already… doing that?” He questions hesitantly. Your smile is too-bright.

“Oh, yes, that is what I am doing. Yep.” You squeak.

“Right.”

The silence is palpable, a thick sludge that clings to your form. Sometimes both your wandering stares slide over each other, awkward blips before you both avert eye contact. You hear the hum of machinery, the soft tap of your shoe on the floor. Your fingers itch to grab your journal from your pocket to give yourself something to do with your hands, but you’re embarrassed at what Ford would see as you ponder over it. The silence stretches on and on, until you can’t bear not to break it.

“So, you, uhm, said something about exercising the mind?” You blurt sheepishly.

Ford’s eyes are immediately on you. “Yes! Yes, just try to keep your mind active, it helps the protection process.”

And the silence is back. Perhaps even worse than before.

Desperate for relief, you pull your journal from your pocket. You wave it weakly, “Mind if I do some work?”

Ford adjusts his glasses. “No, no of course not. Go ahead.” He gestures at the various desks stationed around the room. You shoot him a quick smile and spin on your stool to the table next to you, propping open the journal and continuing an essay you plan to submit as a paper in your current university course.

This works, taking your mind off your vulnerability as you focus on your work. This is what you love about science, about academia, the ability to lose yourself in something so complex, so worthwhile. You really can’t wait to get your research out there and make a name for yourself.

You write for a while, pen often times balanced between teeth. You don’t quite register Ford coming up behind you until his tilted head is in your peripheral.

“Fantastic,” he mutters absently, his face well and truly absorbed on the open page. Embarrassed, you half-heartedly cover the page with your hands.

“Oh, no, it’s really not anything special.” You mumble, eyes averted. 

“No, really, I love it. You’re studying quantum physics, right?” He insists, head tilted trying to catch his eye. When you do, he has a soft smile painted on. Your cheeks glow pink.

“Yes, I major in quantum physics and forensic science. I minor in biomedical engineering, and I’m additionally doing an online paper on parapsychology with the only university that does it, in, uh, Finland.” The sparkle in Ford’s eyes grows as you timidly recite your areas of study.

“Parapsychology? That’s brilliant!” He remarked, awed. “Why didn’t you say that, I would love to take you out on my field days. I study all sorts of paranormal and supernatural activity here. It'd be great to share it with someone.”

“Oh, I don’t want to trouble you,” you say hushed, fending off a stammer. Internally, your heart is soaring. Yes yes yes!

“It’d be no trouble,” he says earnestly, soft features returned as if coaxing you out of your shell. “I knew you were smart, but I had no idea the extent,’ he says, almost to himself.

Your eyes lock on him immediately. “You think that?”

He seems surprised. “Of course I do. You’re an exceptional assistant, and you’ve been in study for ages. I’ve heard nothing less than great things about when I send my own work to our local university. Not many scholars live out here, you know?”

You can’t drag your eyes away from him, and you're sure Ford can see every star in the galaxy swirling in your pupils right now. This is everything, everything you’ve wanted.

You’re not sure whether it’s the surge of confidence, or the way Ford’s looking so gently at you, but you’re acutely aware of how low Ford has bent down to talk to you. It would only take a small movement to bring your faces together.

And so, heart fluttering with this moment of bravery, you rise slightly up on the balls of your feet and press a small kiss to Ford’s cheek.

“Thank you,” you breathe, the sensation in your chest borderline sickening. “It, uh, means a lot.”

Ford doesn’t say a word, eyes wide but painfully unreadable. The silence is once again, stifling.

“Not a lot of fellow scientists in this area, like you said,” You hastily ramble on after a long moment. The gap doesn’t last this time, though.

In a swift motion Ford’s hand is at your cheek. You barely have time to inhale before his lips are on yours, their warmth sinking against your mouth.

You’d never imagined them to be so firm, although his proximity doesn’t give your mind any room to think about anything. It’s all happening so fast, your mind dizzied as you reciprocate his intentful kisses.

Your pen clatters slightly on the table as your hand releases it, quickly gripping to Ford as his arms snake around you and lift you up. He spins, setting you on the table in the middle of the room. You’re sure at some point you have or will let slip an embarrassing sound, but you’re wholly focused on Ford and how you’re sitting at his level on the tall table; him standing before you with his hands at your waist. Your knees brush either side of his thighs.

Your hands bury themselves in his hair, his hands in turn pull you closer. It’s eager and messy, making your pulse thud wildly. You never thought a man would want you like this, never catching an eye. Let alone the genius that is—

Abruptly, his lips leave yours, the emptiness not lasting long as they move just beneath your lip, then down to your jaw. They trail down to the side of your neck, lips brushing over the shiver on your skin. Small breaths leave your mouth when you feel a glimmer of teeth against your collarbone.

You tilt your head, resting against his where he’s kissing your shoulder in the crook of your neck. Your hands remain tangled in his hair, your eyes closed.

Your bodies are so close together, his lips are all-consuming. It’s bliss. The man you’ve loved for so long, holding you like he’s besotted. Like he’s just as infatuated as you. The thought thrills through your mind; He wants me.

“I can assure you, I most certainly do,” Ford murmurs breathlessly against your skin. You pause, the statement uncannily sounding like a response to your thought…

Oh. Oh no.

The machine. The mind reading. The television directly behind your back.

You haltingly turn your head, face pale. The screen is, in fact, still reciting your thoughts. Every thought. And Ford’s facing it.

“Oh my god,” You groan, palming your forehead. You sink into yourself, drowning in humiliation. But Ford’s hand fishes beneath your chin, tipping your glowing face to look at him. His face is one of endless kindness beneath his mussed hair.

“It’s really not a bad thing, sweetness.” He says gently. You shake your head slightly, eyes squeezing shut.

His thumb creeps up the side of your face, face dipping level to yours. “No, seriously. It’s a very encouraging thing for a man to see.” He jokes warmly. You peek an eye open. Heavens, did he have to look so irresistibly handsome all the time?

“Should I, uhm, remove…” you gesture at the contraption atop your head, teeth worrying your lip.

Ford hesitates for a moment, thinking as his thumb strokes your cheek. “No. No, it’s too important. I can’t have Bill infiltrating your mind.” 

You wilt slightly, but Ford once again brings you back to him. “It’ll only take a moment. Half an hour at most.” His eyes flicker fleetingly at your lips. “And besides, it’ll be sunset by then. I hear you can see a meteor shower tonight? If you drive up the hill a little.”

You hum a soft confirmation, smile melting onto your flushed features as Ford presses a last kiss to your cheek. “Good,” He murmurs. “I’ll go fetch the coats.”

𝐓𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @sleeplessdreamer14 @2hiigh2cry @taffycandyqt @papi-machucha @muffin1304

 @space1crow @fries11 @yasuuuudere @shadowsandswords @darling-eos

@bloodspatteredprincess @snake-in-a-flower-crown @defmxl @ryanthatsgay2

© sunniskyies 2024, do not repost or translate my work

[darlingdaisyfarm]

˚⋆｡ thinking about Ford who. . .✧˚ (x fem!reader)

minors don’t interact

Who can’t help himself.

His mind never really stops working, even when he’s inside you, moving so slow that has you writhing beneath him. His cock buried inside you, stretching you out inch by inch, but even now, his thoughts are somewhere between the galaxies and the stars. His cock pulses inside you, making you feel so good, but it’s not enough and yet he's still talking about the fabric of the universe. 

“You know. . . mmm, parallel dimensions have an infinite number of variables, but if you—" his breath hitches as he rolls his hips deeper, forcing your body to arch. “if you narrow them to specific constants you find— hahh, patterns.” little moan escapes your lips, needy, as his cock drags slowly against your walls.

His voice is calm, even steady despite the unhurried, delicious way he's fucking you, but you're barely listening. How could you? Every thrust has your mind blanking, leaving nothing but pleasure pooling low in your belly. Your nails digging into his back, you feel so abandoned each time he pulls out, only to have him slide back in with agonizing precision.

"Forddd. . .” you moan, head falling back into the pillow, begging for more, for faster. But his rhythm is controlled, measured, its like he’s savouring the way your cunt grips him, tight and so damn warm as he’s balls deep inside you.

“Dimensional travel. . . it’s not just theoretical, you see,” Ford’s voice is calm, as if he’s lecturing a class and not thrusting into your slick, dripping pussy, as if you’re not clenching around him so tight it’s driving you both insane. “If we can manipulate space-time— like this. . .” he punctuates his words with a deep thrust, his cock dragging against your soft walls in a way that makes your whole body shake. “we can alter outcomes. Mm, t-that means every choice you make branches into— fuck, you’re tight— into infinite possibilities.”

You can hardly breathe, can barely think because of the pressure building between your legs and he’s still talking. God, he’s still talking. You hear him, even if barely, something about gravitational fields and parallel worlds, but it’s all turning into a blur with your eyes rolling in the back of your head when he hits that sweet spot inside again and again.

“You like it when I explain things to you,” Ford claims. “It turns you on, doesn’t it?”

You can’t even find the words to respond, because yes, you love it and fuck, you hate that you love it. All you can do is mewl and whimper, your hips rolling against him in a futile attempt to make him pick up the pace. He knows, god, he knows exactly what he’s doing to you.

“Ford, please—!” his cock slides deeper, but that serious, calm tone, fuck, it’s driving you wild. You want him to stop talking, to focus, to pound into you like you need, but his voice just keeps spilling from his lips like honey. Your head rolls back, lips parting in pathetic little gasps and moans, tears prickling at the corners of your eyes. You can’t take it anymore, he’s teasing you, playing with you, dragging it out just to see how far he can push you before you break. “please, faster!” you plead, desperate for more, desperate for him to stop talking and just fuck you properly, hard and fast. But he’s still so calm, still so fucking unflappable. 

“Oh? you’re getting impatient?” Ford’s hand slides down your trembling thigh, lifting it higher, opening you up even more to him. “You wanted to learn about interdimensional physics, didn’t you?” he mumbles under his breath as he grinds into you, his cock plunging deeper, completely filling you and it feels like a dream for both of you. “I’m just giving you what you wanted.”

His fingers find your needy clit, rubbing in torturous circles as he continues that slow rhythm inside you. He’s barely breaking a sweat, his brow furrowed in concentration as if this is just another experiment to him meanwhile you’re such a mess under him. His cock twitches inside you as he changes angle again, deeper now and he takes a sharp breath, but he doesn’t stop talking. 

He doesn’t stop and you hate him.

Ford’s eyes roam over your trembling body, reveling in the sight of you, desperate and needy. Your eyes watery and mouth open in a breathless moan.

“The fascinating thing about dimensional shifts— god, you feel so good,” he trails off for a moment, and you think, finally, he’s losing focus. You roll your hips against his, hoping to break his composure. But instead of faltering, he chuckles, leaning down only to plant a small kiss on your lips. “you’re trying to distract me, aren’t you?”

“Fuck, p-pleasee!” you whine, spreading your legs wider, trying to press up against him, but he pins you down.

“Clever girl,” he mutters, voice rougher now, losing some of that composed edge as he looks at you, the desperate need written all over your cute face. “letting me teach you like this.”

He pulls out, almost completely, leaving you aching, empty, before slamming back into you hard enough to knock the breath out of your lungs. "That’s my girl." his words make you cry out his name over and over again, your nails digging into his back as he starts to fuck you better, properly, his pace quicker, rougher now, the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress.

He’s no longer focused on explaining the mysteries of the universe, he’s focused on you, on how your body responds to him, on how good it feels to have you wrapped around him, hot and wet and perfect, on how your wetness and slick coating his length. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the air, mixing with your desperate, needy moans and his groans when he finally fucks you the way you wanted, he ruts into you faster, harder, and it’s everything you needed, everything you craved. 

“Ford— oh fuck,” you cry out, head thrown back and he’s there, finally losing himself in the way your cunt clenching around him, making such wet squelching sounds, he’s lost in the way you’re moaning his name, voice so beautiful. You’re nearly drooling as you give him a silly smile, begging him to finish inside you.

“Cum for me,” he growls, his hand sliding down, thumb finding your clit and pressing down in fast circles what makes your head spin. “I want to feel you— cum for me, now.” you arch your back as the orgasm crashes through you, you walls flutter around him, the sensations are so intense you can’t even scream, only shake and try to cross your legs because pleasure is fucking overwhelming, though Ford never stops thrusting into your wetness. You’re trembling, mind blank as you cling onto him, holding him, feeling him.

Ford groans at the beautiful sight, his clever girl looks so pretty when she’s dumb fucked and cock drunk. However Ford is lost in pleasure too, your pussy feels so warm, so tight and good he just can’t stop fucking you. But he’s damn close. He grits his teeth, taking a deep breath, thrusting into you so hard, burying himself so fucking deep, his cock twitching as he spills into you, filling you up with every last drop. Finally, finally. He’s breathing heavily into your lips, glasses fogged, his chest heaving. You just lay there, taking it like a good girl you are.

Ford can’t stop looking at you, he kisses your forehead, softly and gentle. “Now. . . where were we? Ah, yes. Dimensional theory.”

You can’t help but laugh, head still spinning as he pulls you close, already starting to ramble again about parallel worlds and universal constants, like he wasn’t just inside you, fucking you senseless.

And honestly you wouldn’t have him any other way.

[angelyuji]

ford pines dating headcanons

18+!!! minors dni!!

cw // sexual content under the cut

cutie patootie

FIT AS FUCKKKKK

writes about you in his journal like first time he sees you, first date, every single thought about you? journaled!!

he wanted to ask you out but he was sooo nervous you would reject him, especially considering how young and pretty you are

he was scared you would laugh at him for trying

so he didn’t try :(

so when you showed up at the mystery shack and asked him out to dinner, he would’ve jumped for joy

“you-you’re asking me? on a date?” ford stares at you, mouth open. you tilt your head in confusion and ford almost melts. he clears his throat, “i-i would love to, (y/n). thank you.” ford blushes.

your first date was cute, he was so flustered and so nervous

i feel like he calls you by your name, sometimes by your last name, sometimes like ms/mr. last name. idk he’s silly like that

HE loves pet names tho, he lovessss pet names

when you call him love, baby, sweetheart, anythingggg he loves it

he especially loves when you call him sir like in any context

idk he’s silly like that :)

literally the sweetest man in the world

constantly thinking about you and talking about you

constantly creating new things/inventions for you

he would start writing up the mock-up of a project or an experiment and start thinking about you and then end up making something he thinks you’d like

sooo down bad for u dude, would give you the world if you asked

i feel like bill would find his love for you either fascinating or be so insanely jealous that you’ve got ford wrapped around your finger like that’s his man

imo the only solution is a threesome

WHAATTT WHO SAID THAT…. some of these artists draw bill so fine that i cant help it

he loves when you’re passionate about something! it doesn’t have to be mysteries and monsters, but just something that makes you yap (but he also loves when you listen to him talk, he’s more of a talker than a listener but he will listen to you)

yk that scene in those cliché romcoms… idk how to describe it so ill just put it into dialogue

‘gorgeous’ ford hums as you talk, the way your lips move, your expressions, everything hypnotizes him. ‘gorgeous’ he can’t help, but be enamored with you. you’re smart, kind, and passionate. “gorgeous” you stop and look at him.

“thank you?” you tilt your head at his words and his eyes went wide. he sputters as you laugh.

can have moments of smooth talk and flirting but the moment you reciprocate, he’s red in the face and stuttering

need him carnally, need him ways that even god will not allow me into heaven

switch!!!

he can do both i fear

he’s okay with you on top or him, definitely depends on his mood

like i said, FIT AS FUCK, whatever he’s been doing in that portal has treated him well

not insecure about his body more insecure about his lack of experience

he never talks about it about the stuff from before

he did a lot of research in positions, toys, and stuff like that

you had to tell him to calm down and take it slow

he’s more into giving pleasure than receiving

he wants you to feel good more than he wants to feel good

if you feel good, he feels good ykwim?

hes sooo pathetic tbh like begging, pleading, to eat you out like he wants it so bad

his glasses would fog up as you guys make out and he whips them off like sung-hoon does in business proposal

honestly that entire scene in business proposal?? ford.

hgnhhghghgngngnhgn i need him i feel ill

[lucigooseart]

sixer 💋

[gay-dorito-dust]

Imagine just how quickly Ford would fold if you were to hold his hand or kiss each individual finger fondly all the while calling them beautiful.

Poor old man’s face is redder than cherries and has a dopey smile across his face.

You didn’t see his six fingers as weird or freaky, you thought they were cool and unique, just like him.

He’s been made to feel insecure about them when he was younger but overtime he stoped caring, however that doesn’t stop Ford from feeling warm and fuzzy within his chest whenever you intertwined your fingers with his and even more so when you called them cute at one point.

You claim you’re the lucky one to have him but Ford thinks it’s the opposite, he was the lucky one to have someone who admired him and everything that comes with him.

[radiantrosaa]

Minors DNI

All characters are 18+

Not proof read

-

THIS with Stanley and Stanford‼️

-

When Stanley first sees you in the outfit, he would have to do a double take before he eyes followed you out of the room. He would get up and follow you into the kitchen where you would begin making dinner, before you know it you can feel his hands on your hips which results in them getting slapped off by you.

He would be baffled by the sudden attitude at first then resume with trying to hold you again, once he got slapped off once more he’d get a bit frustrated and ask why you’re doing that only for you to respond with “nah, don’t touch me.”

He didn’t realize why you were acting this way until the quick flash of a little argument from earlier ran through his mind. Oh you are petty.

Stan wouldn’t stop no matter how many times you tell him to quit it because he knows you love it. Next thing you know, you’re sitting on the counter glancing at the stove to make sure it’s turned off all while Stan is hammering his cock deep within your cunt. He’s racked two orgasms out of you already but if you know Stan, two is barely enough for him.

Maybe just maybe, you should be petty more often..

-

You and Stanford got into a little bickering session earlier due to him continuously forgetting to eat because of how zeroed in he is on his current research project. He claims he’ll always remember and missing a meal or two won’t kill him but you just want him to stay healthy and not miss out on what’s important for his body. He claims he’ll eat when he’s done but then he never does which resulted in you finally trying to talk to him about it.

You left him to his work after that and decided to start cooking dinner, you always did bring it down to him anyway so he could make sure and eat. You had bought this cute little piece earlier in the week so you decided to make use and wear it. It was comfortable and fit your body perfectly, it was amazing.

Ford actually ended up finishing a part of his research early so he decided to head upstairs and make himself some well deserved coffee. As he strolled into the kitchen, he’s met with the sight of you in that outfit, when did you purchase that?

He would walk up behind you and slowly run his hands up your sides, feeling the fabric under his palms. Before his hands could rest anywhere comfortably though, you slapped them off much to his surprise. He gave you a puzzled look only for you to say those petty words “don’t touch me.”

He raised his eyebrows as he tried to figure out where this attitude came from only to have the realization slap him across the face, that petty little minx.

One thing led to another though and he had you sitting on the edge of the counter as he’s eating you out with vengeance, his tongue lapping at your folds before dipping inside your heat to explore further. You’re a mess and that’s exactly what he wants. As his mouth is working down there, his hands are snaking their way up to grope and feel you up.

You’re definitely paying another visit to that store tomorrow..