#ford tied him up

[lampcry]

Billy~

made him MORE triangle

yup i made a redesign

he just got stuck in his own hands😅

OPPSIE

[legobiwan]

This is such a telling page for Ford. Not only does he detail his social missteps and admit to being lonely in Gravity Falls, despite the scientific wonder of the place, but he also uses what I call "Fordese 2," a scrambled version of the "Fordese 1" code we were first introduced to in Journal 3 to label himself a "six-fingered freak" and to state that "Stanley would have made her laugh." (Her, being the waitress Ford tries out his nerdy science joke on, which goes down like a lead balloon despite the fact that it is legitimately funny, given the right audience).

It's like Bill says. "Ego of a king. The insecurity of a circus freak. And totally isolated..." (Funny enough, Bill could probably turn those exact words on himself, as well.)

Ford so wanted Gravity Falls to be the place where he'd finally fit in, the puzzle to his misshapen puzzle piece.

And as we see in the missing Journal pages from BoB, that was not to be the case. And worst of all? Ford blames it on his hands at first, but the reality is that he says that "Stanley could make her laugh," meaning Ford's "freakishness" (as he would put it) has less to do with his six fingers and much more to do with Ford's personality and the way he interacts with others.

This is actually worse. Fingers, you can fix, if you want to. By the time you're an adult, most people probably wouldn't care. But to Ford, his fingers seem to be more a manifestation of something internal, something he feels is fundamentally broken about him and that's just the absolute worst hell to be stuck in.

So yeah, it's hardly surprising Ford fell so hard for Bill's shenanigans (and you can define "fell so hard" however you want, although that karaoke page in BoB is especially damning). Here's an interdimensional being who not only can guide you to unlocking the secrets of the universe and propel you towards scientific fame and glory (and thus shoving every taunt, invective, side-eye, and eye roll ever hurled at you over the decades down your tormentors' throats) - but he's (on the surface) completely glib about being a freak himself.

For Ford, this must have been like finding a shady, sparkling oasis after thirty years of trawling through the desert (especially after Stanley's "betrayal" - Stanley, who along with Fiddleford, being the only person Ford felt like he could be himself around and still be accepted as a human being).

Now, is Bill trying way too hard to show how much he doesn't care? Uhhh, yeah. Bill has almost the same hangups as Ford. Labeled a freak for a genetic mutation and ostracized by his peers. Has a rare gift in that he can see not only into the third dimension but can see even past that, into possible dimensions and futures, which is a wild skill to have. Compare this with Ford's gigantic science brain and academic overachievement. Same deal. And not only this! Bill, in an attempt to prove what he can do with his "freakishness," to prove his worth and place in the universe - he tries to show off something to the denizens of his dimension (we don't know yet what Bill did), only to end up slaughtering his entire dimension. Ford was a hair's breath away from doing the exact same thing with the portal. Because we know from Journal 3 that part of his motivation is to be famous and get accolades for his work, and that maybe "girls will finally talk to me." (Which, Fordsy, let's be real here - I don't think you're actually into these "girls" for real, but you want the acceptance that comes with fitting in with societal standards, and getting a state-sanctioned girlfriend is exactly the type of thing Ford would want to make himself feel "normal.")

Anyway, the point being that if Ford had succeeded with his initial portal attempt, he would have basically wiped out his own dimension. Just. Like. Bill. And it makes you wonder - yeah, yeah, Bill wanted to party, Bill needed out of the Nightmare Realm, Bill's a psychopath who enjoys destruction.

But honestly? I think part it all was that Bill wanted someone like him. His own puzzle piece. Another monster. A being whose collateral damage in the quest to justify their existence in this universe ends in wholesale slaughter.

And Ford had the capacity to easily fit that mould.

[megamindsupremacy]

I need to marinate more thoughts for this but. okay so gravity falls au. partially inspired by this. fiddleford has the memory gun and he's This Close to using it on himself to erase what he saw in the portal. he pauses. he thinks, just because I forget doesn't mean stanford will stop building the portal. he thinks it's all or nothing. he goes to stanford's shack in the woods. he sneaks in through the side door and sees stanford sleeping on the couch. it's dark outside. the lights are out. fiddleford can barely make out the shape of his former-friend's body. fiddleford looks at Stanford one last time. he types into the memory gun, Stanford Pines. he points the gun. half a second before he fires, Stanford stirs, as if sensing the danger he is in. he manages to get out "who-" before fiddleford, panicking, pulls the trigger before he can chicken out completely.

stanley wakes up on a couch he doesn't remember falling asleep in, with a terrified looking man standing over him, holding a glowing gun, and thinks this is one hell of a situation i've gotten myself into

[imaredshirt]

Last thought for the night, but weird horror au where Bill doesn't just possess Ford - he possesses the cabin.

[peepingwizard]

i think...i ha....have covid...........

[p1xi3h0110w]

the stanford pines post portal character study is literally begging me to write it.......... chat..... do i succumb.......

[thereareeyesinsidethetrees]

speaking of shifty heres a fun fact

ive never understood why so many people get angry about ford not caring for him

[the-unofficial-village-idiot]

I just keep thinking about the way ford purposely drove a wedge in dipper and mabel's friendship because he projected his and stan's issues onto them

[urdadsceilingfan]

Reverse portal au because yes

Updated refs: Dipper Mabel Stan Ford

Ford’s “museum” is just the mystery shack with decent prices and less jokes

He has a stack of different ties and suits because we all know he likes to play dress up just like Mabel

Stan has a long list of nicknames and even longer list of strangers who want him dead (some things just never change)

The twins were forced hired the day they arrived to Grunkle Ford and they have gained a new hatred for formal wear

[too-many-fandomssss]

○Random thoughts about the Stan twins○

⚠️INAPPROPRIATE! MDNI!!!⚠️

《Also not proof read bc I'm lazy...》

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♤Stanley♤

🎱Definitely loves being rough with you in bed, and im talkin' tied up or handcuffed, blindfolding you FS

🎱Probably likes having some old music playing in the backround when he fucks you, but the sexy ones (he def has a Playlist)

🎱ABSOLUTELY has to have his hands on you at all times, especially around strangers. Like after he finishes a 'Mystery shack' tour and you're waiting behind the counter, helping customers check out Stan is standing behind you, his hand around your waist, glaring at any guy that tries to hit on you.

🎱Loves when you don't cover the marks he gave you the night before, especially when you wear a tank top and he can see all the "damage" he did while you rummage around the kitchen the morning after

🎱ass man 100% Loves slapping it whenever you pass him or are bent over, you swear he has a sixth sense when it comes to your ass

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

¿Stanford?

📜At first doesn't seem like the type to want much to do with sex, constantly burying himself in his work/studying and chasing cryptids

📜oh boy are you wrong tho! Cuz the first time you guys fucked you swear he was gonna leave you're entire body covered in hickeys with how much he loved kissing and sucking on your skin

📜he's definitely in the softer side when it comes to actually p->v sex, but like I said loves kissing, sucking, and biting your skin

📜I think he'd also me massaging your body lightly as he's fucking you, especially around your hips and thighs, maybe your boob's? Who knows where his hands will end up next

📜ABSOLUTELY, undoubtedly a thigh man in my opinion. He'd love squishing them, especially when they're around his head, and he'd definitely be into thigh fucking. Just everything that involves your thighs

(Also Bill definitely fucked you when he possessed Ford)

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[jellyfishbug]

POP THE HOOD F'ME

pairing. chris x reader genre. smut with plot. MDNI. word count [5.2k]

content; mechanic!chris, flirty!chris, smoking (they share a cig), sex with a stranger ig? semi public, car head (m recieving), face fucking, big dick chris, reader has an eyebrow piercing, use of pet names, dirty talk, swearing

Maybe it was just dumb luck.

My dad has been promising me that his old ford pickup was gonna be mine when I got my license since I was ten. However, not long after my sixteenth birthday, he randomly decided that his promise had conditions.

I had to fix it myself.

I had been putting off working on it for years. I just didn't have the time, and it needed a lot of work. The list of things to be fixed was long, and I knew if I started then, I wouldn't have finished.

Finally, the time presented itself for me to start. I finally had a summer that wasn't so busy, so I decided in May of this year I was finally going to do it.

I was finally going to get my own truck.

So I did; I worked on it for two long months. Two long months spent in the garage on my back under the heavy pickup with my hands covered in soot and oil whilst sweat dripped down my face. Two long months spent fixing the paint job and fiddling around under the hood, my hair tied back to keep it off my neck while the sun beamed through the opened garage door.

I finally felt confident enough to take it out for a test drive today. It was starting fine in the garage, and I'd driven it around the block a number of times without fail.

I excitedly hopped in the driver's seat and shut the heavy door, jamming my keys into the ignition and grinning at the sound of the roar when the engine started. I made it pretty much across town without a single problem, and I thought I was in the clear.

So, maybe it was just dumb luck when not even an hour later, here I am, standing on the side of the road next to said pickup with the hood popped and smoke coming out of the cabin.

Or maybe, just maybe, it was dumb luck when I realized I was only three blocks away from an auto shop, and a guy pulled over to help drag my car there.

It felt like forever when we finally reached the parking lot. The red and white sign that hung over the opened garage doors read 'sturniolo's auto-repair".

For the most part, the slots were empty, except for a 58' baby blue Impala that was suspended off the ground, and a brand new silver Subaru outback that sat right next to it.

As we finally pushed it into the open slot on the far end of the garage, I let out a sigh of relief, wiping the sweat off my forehead with one hand and letting them both rest at my sides.

I thanked the stranger for his assistance and he wished me luck, mumbling about how much a repair on a truck like this was going to cost before wandering off. I scowled at him as soon as he turned away from me.

Walking away from the smokey and damaged shell of a car, I pushed open the clear glass door into the entry-way of the shop, and the sound of the ringing bells that were carefully tied at the top of the door filled my ears.

Near the desk stood two boys, both were brunettes that roughly stood at the same height. The first was wearing a red toyota nascar cap backwards over his brown hair, as well as a black tank top and a navy blue mechanic's suit that hugged his frame. The name patch on the chest of it read "Matt". He was speaking to another customer, flailing the rag around as he emphasized his points with his hands.

The other was standing behind the counter, a gray bandana tied around his head. He wore a navy blue button up that he left completely open with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, making the white tank top he wore under it visible.

The name patch on his chest read "Chris", and a white rag was thrown over his shoulder. A plethora of keys were hooked to a red carabiner that hung around the belt loop of his jeans. The desk hid his lower half below his waistline, and as I stepped closer, I saw a toothpick in between his teeth and his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he jotted down words on a yellow notepad with a pencil.

I slowly walked up to the desk, my arms at my sides. He didn't raise his head to look at me, he just continued writing, so I cleared my throat.

His head shot up, and his expression fell into embarrassment.

"Fuck- sorry, I didn't hear you come in. How long ‘v you been standing there?"

I laughed lightly and shook my head. "Not long, I just walked in."

A smile painted itself onto his face as he set the pencil down and put his hands in his pockets just far enough that his thumbs still stuck out. "What can i do for ya?" He asked kindly, the toothpick in his mouth moving as he spoke.

"My truck broke down three blocks ago and wouldn't start. I tried looking under the hood to see the problem, but it was smoking, so I pushed it here." I explained, my hands finding each other and clasping together at my front.

He raised his eyebrows and tilted his head slightly. "Jesus, you wheeled it all the way here?" He asked, laughing breathily when I nodded my head in response. "Atta girl. What kind of truck is it?"

"A ford pickup," I responded all too quickly, my voice strained as I tried to ignore how my heart swelled in my chest from the impressed look on his face. He nodded as he opened the drawer next to him and pulled out a ballpoint pen, picking up the notepad once again to start writing. "What year and license plate?"

"85', boston plate, the number is 289 BTO. " I watched as he wrote mindlessly, the handwriting barely coherent.

"'M kay, I'll take a look at it for you." he said, setting the notepad and pen back down on the counter. He opened his palm, gesturing for my keys, and I dropped them into his grasp. He hooked the ring that held them together around his index finger.

"Wait here, should only be a couple minutes."

I nodded as he circled around to the end of the desk, walking past me and pushing open the door to the garage.

His absence gave me a chance to examine the decor of the office space. Family and baby portraits crowded on top of the counter below the window behind the desk. A mickey mouse clock sat above the side door, and a large OPEN sign hung in the window.

The wall was crowded with plates and signs. One that caught my eye was an eagle with its claws digging into a hanging mirror, the name HARLEY DAVIDSON displayed in bright orange letters above the eagle's head. Next to the register was a small bell with a sign that said "ring for service" and the words 'don't actually' were scribbled in sharpie above.

Just when I was getting lost in thought, I heard the door bells jingle a second time, and Chris walked back in. The rag was now hanging loosely in his palm as he approached the counter. He stood right next to me, reaching over for the notepad and throwing the rag back over his now bare shoulder, which is when I realized he had discarded his button up. My eyes dart down to see the keys to my truck now hanging on a different belt loop on his jeans.

"From what I can see," he starts, popping the cap of the pen off and leaving it in between his teeth as he spoke. "It looks like a coolant leak. The combination from the antifreeze leaking and the heat of the engine is enough to make it smoke, but it's not enough to cause the engine freeze up." he explains, his eyes meeting mine every couple of words to make sure i understand. "So, it could also be a fuel pump problem combined with the leak."

I nodded, chewing my lip nervously as he went on to explain the time the repair would take as well as the cost. When the words, "not finished until at least tomorrow" left his lips, I huffed in defeat, and tried to make my disappointment less evident as i crossed my arms in front of my chest.

"How long have you had it?" He asked, now leaning against the counter next to us with one elbow, crossing one foot over the other.

"I've only started to work on it this summer, but it's been my dads since before i was born."

He nodded. "It's a pretty ride," he confessed. "I honestly expected it to look worse when you said 85', but the conditions not bad. You been workin' on it a lot?"

"As much as I can." I shrugged.

He complimented the paint job, to which i confessed i'd done it, and he gushed. "Christ, you should work here. Matt can't paint to save his life. You could probably get him out of a job,"

Matt sent a glare his way. "Shut up, kid. Dad would fire you over me any day, especially if you keep sleeping in."

Chris laughed, a genuine sound that made Matt's glare turn into a small smile before he went back to rifling through the file cabinet.

He turned back to me, pausing to look back over the notes he'd written down. "If i had to guess, I'd say we can probably have it to you by tomorrow evening." he said, looking away from the paper and averting his gaze to instead look me right in the eye. "That work for you?"

I nodded slowly. Suddenly, the issue of a ride home became extremely apparent, and an anxious feeling started to blossom in my chest.

"Good. Just one more thing. . ." he pauses to take the pen cap out of his mouth and place it back on the pen, tapping it against the curve of his hand and grinning wildly at me.

"i'm gonna need your number to let you know when its finished."

He's just asking because he's supposed to; because he literally has to in order for me to get my car back. But regardless, i felt heat rise to my cheeks as i started shifting uncomfortably in place.

"Right," I said, moving to reach for the pen. He points to a blank part of the notepad, tapping lightly to tell me where to write it.

Quickly and shakily, i write out the numbers with dashes. I hand it back to him, and a smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. He rips the sheet off the notepad in one swift motion and folds it in half, placing it in his back pocket.

He glances towards the clock. Its nearing seven. He turns back to me, "d'you have a ride home?"

My eyes went wide. I'm reminded of my attempt to call my dad three times when the truck initially broke down, and how my shoulders slumped in defeat at the sound of his voicemail playing repeatedly.

I glance back over to him, ". . . Not exactly. I'll probably just catch the bu-"

"I can drive you,"

I swallowed, my lips slightly parted in surprise. His grin was still wide, awaiting my response.

It was a sweet offer, really. But considering my house was across town, partnered with the fact that he was literally on the job, i shook my head. "That's really sweet, thank you, but I'm far. And you're working, anyway." He shrugs, glancing at the clock once more. "It's fine, Matt's on desk duty and he's closing tonight. I don't mind."

I chew my lip. I'd be stupid to pass up on a ride, but i barely know this kid, and if my dad sees me rolling up with him and no truck, it wouldn't look great.

And then I think about the hour long bus ride that would be in the near future if I declined.

I screw my eyes shut. "You know what? Why not."

Despite the scenario i was in, my mind was pushing out any and all nerves as I watched Chris collect his things from behind the desk. He pulled his wallet, shop keys and jacket out of a cubby.

The two of us walked back into the garage and over to Matt, who was washing his hands in a sink bellow the tool shelves.

Chris bid goodbye to his brother, who looked at the clock and then frowned, turning the faucet off and reaching for the roll of papers towels.

"You're seriously slacking off? I already covered for you and Nate leaving early last weekend." He complained, discarding the wad of paper towels he'd used to dry his hands into the trash bin below.

Chris shot him a look. "And then i covered your sunday morning shift because you were hungover. You owe me."

Matt rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just put your tools away when you open tomorrow. It drives me fucking insane when you leave them everywhere."

Chris salutes. "Roger that." He turned to me and winked, gesturing to follow him through the garage with a tilt of his head.

I followed behind him as he went out a different exit; this one leading to a parking lot on the back of the building. A large EMPLOYEE PARKING sign hung on the fence near the driveway.

He fiddled with the many keys on his carabiner before finally finding his and walking towards a car near the opening in the gate.

A blue, four-seater, convertible 65' mustang. The light from the setting sun literally reflected off of it. He mindlessly stuck the key into the passenger side door, twisting and pulling it open with a faint click.

He gestured his hand towards the seat playfully, "Ladies first."

I rolled my eyes, placing one foot on the floor of the car and ducking my head to sit down. "How gentlemanly of you,"

He grinned at me, closing the door and walking around the back of the car before popping into the driver's seat.

"This is.. wow." I mutter, admiring the small details and cleanliness of the car as he closed his door and threw his belongings in the back. "Jesus, this is yours?"

He smiled proudly, his tongue darting out to dampen his bottom lip. "All mine,"

His fingers twisted the key into the ignition and the roar of the engine made the car buzz against my feet. He rolled both of our windows down, the summer air blowing smoothly through the car.

His smile was wider and prouder than ever as he glanced into the rear view mirror, throwing an arm over the back of my seat to glance behind him as he reversed. We pulled out of the parking lot and turned left onto the main road, Chris letting the steering wheel slide back into place under his palm by itself once he'd done so.

"You said you were far," he mumbled. "What area are you in?"

The question pulled me back into reality. I'd gotten so distracted by the way he drove so carelessly, like he was completely relaxed and in control of everything movement the car made, like fear didn't even exist to him as he pressed harder onto the gas pedal with his foot, my eyes choosing to ignore the way the tic on the speed meter start to spike.

His jawline was illuminated in the dim light, and the toothpick that was still resting on his lips stayed moving as he spoke gently, waiting patiently for me to answer.

I started giving him directions, and he listened carefully and intently, glancing over to look at me to make sure he understood my instructions. Once we were on the freeway, he went even faster, lane switching if someone in front of him wasn't going as fast as he'd like them to.

Soft giggles left me as he did, basking in the view of his lips parted into a smile, showcasing pearly teeth between pink lips.

Once he pulled onto the off ramp and we were stopped at a red light, he turned to look at me again, the bright red turning the car a faint shade of crimson.

"What time do you need to be back?"

He asked with a tone of voice he hadn't used till now. The sudden lowness caught me off guard as I shrugged, "'Dunno, not for a while."

He hummed in acknowledgement. "You wanna stay on the road for a bit?"

I pull my knees up to my chest and let my head fall against the headrest, a careless smile on my face. "Definitely."

And we did; we ended up back on the highway pretty quickly, blasting music through a speaker Chris had propped against the dashboard.

His speed only got higher and higher as time went on, carelessly resting one hand on the wheel whilst the other gripped the gear shift. At some point, his hand had mindlessly traveled to rest on my upper bare thigh below the hem of my shorts, cold and partially ringed fingers pressing against my skin.

"Will you do me a favor?"

I raised my eyebrows and hummed in response. He gestured towards the glove box. "Theres a pack of camel blue 99s in the glove box, would you grab em for me?"

I bit my lip. "Depends, you sharing?"

"Duh."

I leaned forward, feeling my stomach flip when his hand didn't much as move an inch on my thigh, brushing against my lower stomach as I lurched forward to fiddle with the glovebox.

I propped it open and grabbed the pack and paused, "d'you have a light?"

He nodded. "Should be one in there."

I learned more forward and reached farther back, glancing around before locking my eyes on a silver flip top lighter and grabbing it. Once i lean back up, Chris is pulling into an empty lot. His hand leaves my leg to push the gear into park, and i try not to frown.

I flick the top of the cig carton open and hastily pull one out, dropping it into Chris's palm.

He places it hazardly between his lips and turns to face me, silently asking for me to light it.

I pop the lid of the zippo open and hold the flam to the end of his cig, waiting to pull away until his expression signifies that its lit enough. His expression relaxes as he breathes in before pulling it away from his mouth with two fingers and exhaling, the smoke filling the car.

"If I'm honest, I prefer marlboro reds." I say quietly in an attempt to break the silence, watching Chris flick the ash out the window lazily with his thumb and index finger. He shakes his head. "Camels are undeniably better."

I laugh lightly and raise my eyebrows in amusement. "No accounting for taste, I suppose."

He takes another drag before holding it in between his fingers in front of my face, and Instead of reaching for it, I place my lips around the filter while it's still in his hand. Our eyes lock while I breath in sharper, the cool feel of the smoke filling my chest.

He licks his lips, and for a moment, his eyes dart down to look at mine, and he's starts he's studying my face. I'm doing the same.

His eyes are bright blue, surrounded by thick lashes, which are barely visible with stray pieces of his hair hanging down below the bandana on his head. Freckles lightly paint his noise, and his pink lips are slightly parted as his eyes scan my face.

"I like your piercing," he finally says, pressing his one hand to his eyebrow as if he had one himself. I breathe out the smoke i'd been holding in my lungs and smile at him. He's still looking at it as he speaks again, "Did it hurt?"

I shrug. "Not really," Because it didn't, but also because I'd feel like an idiot saying it did. "Just a pinch."

He nodded slowly. "Hm."

I take another hit from the cig which he's still holding up to my lips. Our faces are closer now. One of my elbows is resting on the center console as I look at him through my lashes.

"You should get one." I say.

He laughs, breathy and genuine. "Yeah? You think so?"

"Mhm," i reach my hand up to graze above his eye with two fingers. "It would look good on you." He watches my movements. "We'd match, too."

He digs his teeth into his bottom lip, finally moving the cig back to his own lips and taking one more long drag before carelessly discarding it out the window.

All too quick, he's facing me again, and he leans even closer. I can feel the warmth of his breath on my face. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, and a part of me thinks he can hear it.

Before I can even blink, he places his fingers on my chin and tilts his head, smashing his lips against mine hard.

Its all teeth at first, clashing messily as his hand leaves my chin and rests as the base of my neck. My hands are on his face, my fingers messing with the curls at the back of his neck while he grins against my lips.

He lightly bites my bottom lip, taking the opportunity to slide his tongue into my mouth. He tastes like cherry and camels, and I feel myself whimpering at the contact.

"Fuck," he mumbles into my mouth, and his tone is exasperated, partly because the console between us is making it harder for him to kiss me like he wants to, and partly because his attempts to pull me close enough for our chests to press together have been unsuccessful.

His hands reach down to tug at the belt loops of my shorts, trying to pull me onto his lap. I pull away for a second to push myself over the console, Chris's grip on my hips staying firm to assist me. I duck to avoid hitting my head on the roof of the car, and Chris giggles lowly.

I finally relax once I'm comfortable in his lap, straddling his legs below me. One of his hands is across my lower half, sliding his hand into my back pocket, and the other rests in the middle of my back, holding me in place.

We're kissing again, and this time it's more lips and tongue then teeth, but he's still lightly tugging at my lip.

I'm tugging at his hair as I push myself closer to his lower abdomen, pressing down, which elicits a groan from him. He pulls away from me, and I try to follow his lips with a whine, but he tugs at the back of my hair lightly so he can press kisses from my jaw down to my neck.

I'm already whimpering as soon as his teeth press against my throat, and he digs them deep, kissing the mark once he's satisfied with the shade of purple its turned before finding a different spot to do the same thing.

"Chris, fuck- please."

I can feel him below me, and it's making me crazy. He doesn't budge, even as I continue to whine breathlessly at him.

He only grins as he continues to nip at my skin, and i felt the smirk on his face against my throat. I tangle my fingers in his hair and tug as a silent plea. "What s' it, baby?"

Baby.

I practically keen at the nickname. He finally pulls away, a string of saliva connecting his lips to his previous spot on my neck. He grins proudly at the marks he's left before looking at me again.

"What d'you want?" his tone is cocky and assertive. His lips look red and bitten, and I start to feel embarrassed at the fact that we were sucking face so lewdly in a literal parking lot.

I want to squirm and writhe away under his gaze, but his knuckle tight grip on me won't let me. I fiddle with the neck of his shirt and avoid looking at him as i whisper, "I need you."

He grins madly. "How d'you need me, sweetheart?"

I lean forward and press my lips back against his, and he entertains for a little before tugging my hair lightly to pull me back. His fingers grip my chin, holding me in place to look at him.

"Tell me what you want."

I brush my hand against his belt buckle. "I wanna suck you off,"

It came out in a mumble, but he understood, nodding somewhat cockily with a shit-eating grin on his lips. A groan left him as he tugged me even closer so our chests were pressed together. "Yeah?"

I nod eagerly, another 'please' ready to escape my mouth as my impatience grows. He ducks his hand between the seat and the door to push it farther back, "On your knees, then."

I obliged immediately, sliding off his lap to rest on my knees below him. My elbows rest on either side of his legs as my hands flew to his belt, unbuckling it and tugging at his jeans and boxers.

He lifted his hips lightly to assist me. I pulled them down until they rested around his ankles, and I feel myself gawk.

He's big. Bigger then I expected.

A nervous feeling bubbles in the pit of my stomach, but the way he's looking down at me through hazy vision makes it vanish even quicker, and I wrap my hands around his length.

"You okay?" He asks, moving his hand to rest on my cheek, his thumb soothingly pressed on my temple.

"No- yeah, i'm good." I breathe. I hover myself over him, finally taking him into my mouth. A string of curses leave him in a hushed breath, and his head moves to rest at the back of my head to coax me farther down.

I pull back slightly, wrapping my lips around his tip and sucking lightly. His chest is rising and falling quickly above me, and his labored breathing is music to my ears.

His cock is heavy on my tongue, and its addicting. I take him farther down my throat, hollowing my cheeks to fit as much of him as i can while my hand is in a fist around his base. I bob my head and twist my hand, looking up at him to see his flushed face as he pants.

"Fuck, you look so pretty like this." He babbles, a throaty moan leaving him when I twist my hand faster, swirling my tongue along his cock as my head rises and falls.

I hum around his dick at the compliment, the slight sting on my scalp from him pulling my hair only pushing me to do more. He pushes me down slightly, and i choke at the burn of his tip making contact with my uvula.

I moan loudly on him at the feeling, tears building in my eyes as the vibration from the noises i'm making cause him to throw his head back, a blissed out expression on his face. "Fuck, so good. Just like that, god."

Drool seeps from the corners of my mouth as I speed up all my movements. Chris is a breathy, moaning mess above me, watching me through lidded eyes as I glance up at him.

He moves his other hand to rest on the side of my face, grinning at my fucked out appearance. "Fucking filthy girl, aren't you, baby." He says through gritted teeth. "You love this, don't you?"

I whine at him, furrowing my eyebrows in pleasure to say "yes', and watching as his eyes roll lightly back in his head when i start to suck lightly at his tip again.

My hand falls from his base to lay on his leg, the other holding the bottom of his shirt in my fist. I try to push my head farther down, whimpering faintly at the stretch.

Chris's hips jerk up lightly at the sensation, causing him to push himself down my throat until my lips hit the base. I start to choke, but I breathe heavily through my nose, screwing my eyes shut and hallowing my cheeks out to stop myself from pulling off.

"Fuck!" he grunts loudly, his grip on my hair turning animalistic. He mindlessly mutters out curses and praise as he pushes my head up and down with his hands, 'good girl', 'don't stop', 'takin' me so good, baby' 'just like that' . . .

My hands are resting completely at his sides as he guides my mouth on his cock, slightly bucking his hips to push himself as far as I can take him. His strokes turn sloppy, and I look up at him again to see him looking at me with a broken glance, bottom lip between his teeth. "Fuck, gonna cum," he gasps.

I begin to swirl my tongue around him, moaning messily on him as if to say, 'in my mouth, please', but he's already reading my mind, digging his nails into my scalp as he spurts coats of white down my throat, an incoherent string of "fuck fuck fuck"'s spilling out of him. Im swallowing as quickly as i can.

I pull off of him with a lewd pop, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. I know i look completely ruined, but I'm still focused on catching my breath and looking at Chris's flushed pink face above me.

His hand rests on my face again, and his thumb soothingly rubs my cheek. "You okay? Was that too much?" he asks, his expression full of concern as he wipes the tears from under my eyes.

I smile, leaning into his touch. "I'm good, it was really good."

He nods, smiling dumbly. "Good."

He pulls his jeans and boxers back up, bucking his belt before pulling me off my knees and back onto his lap. He presses a soft, passionate kiss on my lips, and then trails kisses down the side of my face, pulling my hair back off my shoulders as we both catch our breath.

We're both startled by the loud ringing of my phone in the passenger seat. I reach over the console, sighing in relief when i flip it over and see my dad's name at the top of my screen.

I put the phone up to my ear, watching as Chris rubs circles into my side with his cold fingers.

"Hi," I breath out. I listen as my dad apologizes for not answering earlier. He tells me he heard my voicemail and asks if I'm okay. "M' fine, I just wheeled it to a shop a couple blocks over. I'm on the bus home now, should only be a bit."

Chris pouts at me, and i roll my eyes at him. My dad talks for a couple for seconds before hanging up, and i leave my phone in the drink compartment next to Chris's forgotten lighter.

"D'you need to get home?" He asked. I nodded, and he frowns. "I was gonna get you off in the backseat,"

part two? :)

thank you for reading! reblogs are DEEPLY appreciated. I hope you enjoyed. links below !

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[fordtato]

Alex Hirsch will imply or say through text and subtext of books about FiddAuthor and BillFord, while Dan Povenmire and Swampy Marsh will just have Perryshmirtz moments on Chibi shorts and tiktoks... and you know, sometimes I'm glad I get to live in this world. (I made this weird train of thought connection through the ending joke in Bill's interview in the book.)

SPOILERS: Look, no matter how one feels about it, Hirsch used terminology associated with romance and breakups throughout nearly every interaction between Ford and Bill. "Attracted-to," "will-they-won't-they," "were we even partners?," starting a conversation after a fight with "Can we talk?", calling Fiddleford a "third wheel," etc. - THESE ARE QUOTES.

Also, Bill uses language that is INCREDIBLY tied to abusive relationships when talking to Ford: "who else will make you feel like this?" etc.

Hell, Bill goes on a drunken bender after the breakup. Mabel calls Ford Bill's ex, and tells him to "get over" her Grunkle.

I've seen some discussion on the timeline on whether or not it's problematic to make BillFord canon and my thoughts are: this book DEPICTING an abusive pairing (or at least using language that echoes an abusive relationship), and then framing it through the lens of an unreliable abusive narrator is not the same thing as glorifying, romanticizing, or supporting the pairing. The people reading this recognize that Bill is a villain and not to be trusted, you know? It isn't even shades of grey, it's 100% depicted as the most ruinous thing in Ford's life. Hell, I think it's just very compelling writing. I love this. I think it's so interesting. Books should be able to tackle this.

And then the Fiddauthor fodder. The FIDDFODDER. He handmakes Ford two xmas presents, and makes nothing for Emma-May??? HE COMES BACK FOR FORD AFTER HIS FIGHT WITH HIS WIFE? AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES IN COLLEGE? AND FIDDS MADE 5 PROTOTYPES TO HANDKNIT FORD GLOVES??

The book also has a reference to Ford possibly being ace. Ford has nightmares about a pop quiz asking him what he's attracted to. He answers "planning and preparation." So, I have layered feelings about these tongue-in-cheek references to asexuality without just SAYING asexuality, you know? Like when it's wrapped in a joke, I think it affects how meaningful it is, but I'm not ace, so it's up to ace people to decide how they feel about this. But I do think it's interesting.

At the very least, this book adds queer undertones to the way Ford and Bill interact. Book of Bill gave more queer undertones in the TEXT, not just subtext, to how Ford interacts with others, and while that experience is translated through an abusive relationship, it's still there.

Y'all, this man is queer. I can't believe I'm not seeing everyone talking about this. Ford is queer. I don't know how to define his relationship with Bill Cipher, but it isn't straight.

[hoe4hotchner]

Hiii!! Could you do another non bau rich fem!reader where she gave Aaron lots of designer stuff and he starts wearing them to work? Like maybe ties, cuff links, and like an LV duffel bag and the team is just like “??? Woah dude where’d you get that??”

Subtle flex | [A.H]

Pairing: Aaron Hotchner x rich fem!reader| WC: 0.9k | CW: nothing

Aaron Hotchner was usually not one for excess. His wardrobe was practical and professional, his tastes minimalistic, and his life, outside of Jack, revolved around efficiency and exuding authority on the job. Sure he had splurged occasionally on a stray high-quality tie here and there as well as his Rolex watch. At least that was until you entered his life.  

The first gift was a tie — a deep navy one in silk with subtle pinstripes. It came in a sleek wrapped box with some designer brand he had never even heard of before. You’d handed it to him with a casual smile, brushing off his initial protests with a light, “Aaron, I saw it and thought of you. Let me spoil you for once.”  

He wore it the next day, paired with his standard black suit, and noticed how it caught the light in the mirror. “Looks good,” he muttered to himself, brushing his hand over it. As hesitant as he had been to accept it, he was thankful for the present and happy that you'd chosen one that wasn't smothered in logos or brand names.

Then came the cuff links. They were sterling silver and engraved with his initials. He opened the box late one evening after you handed it to him over dinner. “You didn’t have to,” he said softly, though his smile betrayed how much he loved them.  

“Of course, I didn’t have to,” you replied, leaning in to press a kiss to his temple. “But you deserve nice things, Aaron. You do so much good without even expecting a thanks.”  

And so it continued. A Louis Vuitton duffel bag for his work trips, a black leather wallet that somehow managed to look even more professional than the one he’d carried for years, and a collection of even more ties that were understated yet undeniably luxurious and seemed to multiply in his closet every so often.  

At first, he rotated the items slowly into his everyday wardrobe, unsure if they would draw attention. But one particularly chaotic morning, he grabbed the LV duffel, clipped on the cuff links, and shrugged into a jacket before heading into the office having gotten an urgent notification for a case.  

It didn’t take long for the team to notice.  

“Uh… Hotch?” Morgan’s voice cut through the usual buzz in the conference room as Hotch entered. “Is that a Louis Vuitton bag you’re carrying?”  

Hotch glanced at him briefly, setting the duffel down by the door before striding towards the front of the room to grab the file Garcia was holding outstretched for him. “Yes. Why?”  

Morgan blinked. “Why? Man, you’ve been holding out on us. Since when do you roll up looking like you just stepped out of GQ Magazine?”  

Emily leaned back in her chair, eyebrows raised. “Is that a new tie, too? That’s at least Tom Ford.”  

Hotch adjusted his tie instinctively. “It’s not. It’s Brioni.”  

“Oh, excuse us,” JJ chimed in throwing her hands up and exchanging an amused glance with Emily.  

“I’m sorry,” Spencer Reid piped up, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Are those cuff links monogrammed?”  

“Okay, seriously,” Morgan said, crossing his arms. “What’s going on, Hotch? You win the lottery or something? Cause if your salary is high enough for those purchases Imma have to talk to Strauss about a raise.”  

Hotch, shrugged lightly as he opened his case file. “No. My girlfriend has… a habit of giving gifts.”  

The room fell silent for a beat before Emily’s jaw dropped. “Wait, girlfriend? You’ve been holding out on us in more ways than one!”

"Who is she I need details," Garcia cut into the conversation, her excitement starting to bubble over.

JJ smirked. “Are you telling me she just gives you designer gifts casually? I agree with Garcia, who is this woman?”  

Hotch allowed himself the smallest of smiles as he glanced up from his paperwork. “Someone who insists I deserve the finer things.”  

“Damn,” Morgan muttered, shaking his head. “Where can I find one of those?”  

“Maybe start with charm school,” Emily teased.  

As the team bantered, Hotch’s phone buzzed on his desk. A message from you:  

Miss you already. Hope you’re putting the cuff links to good use. Dinner at my place when you get back?

He smiled quickly at his phone before typing back a quick reply.  

Always. I’ll bring the wine.  

When he looked up, the team was staring at him, curious. “What?” he asked, his tone amused, knowing fully well that they wouldn't stop bothering him about you until he eventually agreed to let them meet you.  

“Nothing,” Emily said, though her grin suggested otherwise. “Just trying to imagine Aaron Hotchner in love with a rich fashionista.”  

“Not just a fashionista,” Morgan added, gesturing toward the duffel. “An angel sent from the heavens, apparently.”  

Hotch shook his head, lifting his file up in the air in a quick and smooth motion as if to remind them why they were there. “Focus, everyone. We have a case.”  

A few days later, when you saw Aaron again, he mentioned the team’s reaction with a mix of exasperation and amusement.  

“I think they’re more interested in my wardrobe than the case,” he said, loosening his tie as he sat beside you on the couch.  

You laughed softly, running a hand through his hair. “Let them wonder. They’ll get used to it eventually.”  

“I’m not sure they ever will,” he muttered, leaning into your touch.  

“Good,” you teased, leaning in to kiss him. “I like keeping them on their toes.”  

[megamindsupremacy]

Explain Yourselves AU:

Spent all of class coming up with this instead of taking notes. Enjoy

Edit: Part 2 in the notes!

(Transcribed under the cut)

gravity falls human bill AU where bill comes back as a human except instead of dropping in at the mystery shack, he appears outside of mabel and dipper’s house in piedmont

dipper and mabel have So Much explaining to do

their parents want to call the cops but mabel and dipper are like NO. DONT.

we canNOT let anyone know he’s here and alive. actually we might have to kill him.

parents, hearing their thirteen year olds casually discuss murder: WHAT

theyre like “we have to call the grunkles” and the parents are ?? plural? grunkleS?

then they have to back up nd explain ford

and all of that

this whole time bill is tied to a kitchen chair all gagged and blindfolded and yelling in annoyance

mabel and dipper are ignoring him and the parents are Very Much Not Ignoring Him

they call the grunkles and explain the situation and the parents hear a twin WHAT followed by a lot of yelling and swearing and crashing and then stan says “okay we’ll be there by tomorrow love you kids STAY SAFE BYE”

dipper: wait. if they’re getting here tomorrow then… what do we do with Bill in the meantime?

mabel, behind him holding a frying pan: i have an idea

parents: NO

they ungag him and it’s like. dipper and mabel armed with grappling hook + baseball bat plus their parents standing behind them trying to figure out if a) their kids are having a mental break and b) if they just kidnapped some random dude

these concerns are quickly allayed when bill starts threatening to kill everyone really loudly and graphically

then suddenly dipper is like. wait. if you could kill us by ripping our skin off our bones limb by limb…. why haven’t you don’t that already

bill:

Dipper:

bill:

dipper: ARE YOU POWERLESS

bill: nO-

mabel gets him with the frying pan

[multi-fandom-imagine]

A/n: possessive Ford 👏.

It was a seldom rule...a rule that people in town would usually follow.

'Don't touch Standford's wife'

Everyone knew that!

Even though the townies tried to tell the man that was hitting on you to just leave you be he decided to ignore them.

They didn't know of he was stupid or just didn't care but either way it was out of their hands now.

Not when Ford caught wind of it, oh be he'll learn they always do.

Running his thumb across your swollen lips, wiping away the lipstick. Your body was still trembling from the love making. You did your best to catch your breath as Ford fixed himself, the man not caring much about your disheveled appearance or know he wanted that bastard to know how good he fucked you.

"Do you think, you could ever handle her." Ford tried to not growl as his fingers ran down your neck, tracing the marks he left her.

He tensed, body ridged as he slowly turned to face the man tied in the chair trembling. His fingers pushing up his glasses they tinted in the light, the Author taking another step towards him. "Pathetic."

His fingers clutching an amulet in his grasp as he bent down to meet the terrified gaze of the man, a smirk slowly forming on his lips. "I'll show you what it mean's to touch what is mine...it's just a shame you won't live through it but your careless act will be a warning to the other's."

Adverting her gaze from the grizzly act, you examined your nails doing your best to tune out the man's screams.

You knew this man's death would mean nothing, it never did but at least it was good entertainment not to mention Ford spoiling you after the deed was done.

Slipping off the desk, you sauntered over to the man as your arms wrapped around his waist. "If you're not careful you'll get blood over your nice suit."

Scoffing, Ford adverted his gaze as he stepped away from the corpse. "I'm fine...though I may have went a bit over board." He muttered. "I'll have someone clean this up. I want that dress burned."

"Perfect! I had my eye's set on a cute set."

Grasping his hand, his fingers bringing a comfort, a touch that washed away that man's touch. "Anything for you dear."

[joicecubes]

dunno about you guys but i’m still not over “i’m sorry fiddleford” being a part of ford’s thoughts in the last mabelcorn. i don’t think i’ll ever be over it. because like!! ugh…

devastating to me that the regret he still feels about that time didn’t present itself on the screen as like… “i shouldn’t have trusted him” (him being bill) or something similarly vague. no!! sure he probably dwells on his mistakes having had the possibility of destroying the world, but the thought that was at the forefront of his mind was specifically about FIDDLEFORD.

and like! how often must he think about that for it to show up right away? how often does he lay awake at night thinking about how he so callously threw away their friendship over a misguided fantasy of glory and success? when fiddleford had always believed in him? when fiddleford had been right about the portal being a dangerous idea all along?

it kills me to realize how deeply ford must miss him in the days he’s back home. he has his family now, of course, and he’s warming up to them bit by bit, but what had felt like home to him for a good while was fiddleford. they lived together, worked together, fiddleford was ford’s best and only friend. and now everything is different, and ford doesn’t even know where fiddleford IS, much less if he’d ever want to reconcile their friendship.

“i’m sorry fiddleford.” fiddleford, who uprooted his life to be by his side. fiddleford, who devoted so much of himself to ford’s ideals, to ford’s eventual success. fiddleford, who stuck with him until he literally couldn’t anymore, until the result of ford’s foolish ambitions irreperably scarred him and severed their ties. “i’m sorry fiddleford.”