#obey me stan x reader

[coquettebabv]

Okay but--

[solomiracle]

i think i'm going to faint–

[luxthestrange]

Incorrect quotes#800 HouseWife Mam

In the Near Future-In the human world

Mam*In an apron glaring at the dirty window*What's up homie you pulling up on me or what-*Takes out the index cleaner out midair and starts shooting the window*BRAH BRAH BRAH!

Mam*Looking at the camera phone*Ey Welcome to another day as a Cholo Housewife, When My Treasure's at work being a Pan-winner~I get the kid's lunches ready for school!*Gives Luke and the LilDs their own lunch bags and a kiss on their foreheads as they run out to catch the bus*

Mam*Outside on the lawn on top of a yoga mat, fighting the air*I also get my morning Karate-Cholo on!-PUES ORALE STEP INTO THE RING AND THROWN DOWN ESE!?

Mam*Back inside taking the clothes out the dryer*I get the laundry done-OH!And I start watering the plants I call this one Mc 2!*Watering a small houseplant*

-Outside the house, you arrive still talking on the phone with a stack of papers in one hand-

Mam"Oh mi amor is home-I better prepare my mamacita/papacito slippers!"*Runs to the door and puts slippers at the ready for you*"Ey if they're here who's running heaven?~"

Mc*Is talking to your assistant and smiles taking off your shoes and the slippers on, letting Mammon take your belongings*

Mam"Damn look at em, still workin', Too bad our husband Rafa quit after he met me at the Christmas party"There you go my Treasure!~Take these off"Damn why do your feet still smell like roses..."

Mc*Looks up at him and caresses his face, laying a kiss on his cheek as you then hurry to the bathroom*

Mam"Oh, They're looking at me!-DONT CRY DONT CRY DONT CRY!"*Red checks as his Adam's apple goes up and down*Now one thing about my treasure, they got a cute little bladder

Mam*Uses magic to get to the bathroom door and open it for you to run in*Right this way treasure~Windows open and candles lit~*Closes the door and then naruto runs down the hallway*NOW BACK TO THE KITCHEN WHERE I BELONG!~

...I think about Mammon being my wife ...a normal amount~(I DONT)

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

im going insane under the cut about mr solomon obey me

listen his surprise guest interaction have me so down bad.

Solomon, who intertwines his fingers with yours, who looks down at you with such warmth and joy. Who softly whispers in between stuttered breaths, and clenched teeth how he wants to spend an eternity with you like this.

"Would you let me?" You don't know what he's asking, the question is sudden and confusing in between the heat of his hands in yours. All words are beginning to lose their meaning as your bodies rock against one another, hips meeting in desperation. "Ah sorry, I lost my train of thought- would you let me love you for an eternity?"

It's such a stark contrast from moments before, where he had been murmuring filthy promises in your ear while peeling away your clothes. Thoughts are so complex when his cock slips in and out of you so nicely, but still you manage. "I would." His breath hitches, his grip between your fingers tightens.

He will, he vows to himself, while sealing said vow with a kiss to your lips.

[optimisticstudentangel]

♱✮♱Simeon is the type to... ♱✮♱

Simeon is the type who would fit into your family without any problems. On the day when you decided to introduce your partner to your family, he did not feel any discomfort and quickly found a common language with them. Both of your parents gave their blessing and wished you two a wonderful future.

Simeon loves children, you've known that for a long time. If you have younger brothers and sisters, then know that they are now his relatives too. He would often suggest taking the younger ones on your walks. And he would often spoil them with all sorts of goodies and gifts.

Simeon would also suggest that Luke make friends with your siblings.

Angel would suggest creating a family early, if you certainly don't mind (including the possibility of adopting someone). There are times when he slips thoughts out loud about what a wonderful family you two would be.

Simeon is the type who prefers to give. Did you want the last piece of delicious pie? Of course it's yours. Do you need his attention? He will try to finish his business as soon as possible to give you what you want. Do you want a kiss? He's already climbing up to you to kiss you gently.

However, Simeon also likes to receive. Although it will be unusual for him at first, but in the end he will quickly get used to it. He will not require you to take care of him, but he will always be grateful to receive signs of attention from you.

He's the type who likes moderate spontaneity. Let's say, after a good dinner in a restaurant, you walk home and hear music from afar. He will offer you to dance to it. Both of you are dancing under the moonbeams, fortunately the streets surrounding you are illuminated and you can admire each other. You don't care that people stop to look at you and that they pay attention to your actions. Does it really matter? After all, you and Simeon having so much fun.

Simeon is the type who likes to walk in the rain. He likes to fool around with you and show youthful behavior. And he also likes the well-known cliche moment, where partners share one umbrella for two. He will ask you to get as close to him as possible so that you don't get wet. Angel also likes to wrap his arms around your waist and stroke you.

An angel does not mind just wrapping up in a blanket and reading a book in rainy weather. He invites you to spend this time alone with him. At such moments, each of you are doing your own business, sitting on the same sofa, sharing your warm blanket and hugging each other.

Simeon is the type who is always looking for inspiration in everything. Every creator needs to draw an idea from something, as this greatly simplifies the work process. Therefore, the angel is always looking for something new that can catch his eye. But inspiration comes and goes, and some things remain. Such as a personal muse. Simeon only needs one look at you, and he already feels much better. He can light you a dozen books and never lose ideas.

In addition, he likes to leave little references about you in each of his published books. He gives his characters some of your character traits and your habits. Reading his work, you always notice these references and are touched by this

[belphegorspillow]

helloww, if youre still considering reqs, could i please ask who would win in a fist fight between all of the obm brothers? With no powers and no weapons, just a full on brawl with one another.. and who would emerge as the sole victor?

Hi Love~! This is a pretty interesting request. Thanks for it! ~~~~~~~~ Most Likely to Least Likely to win a Fist Fight between the Brothers. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Beelzebub - Most likely ~ If we are excluding the fact, he wouldn't want to hurt anyone, he is first place. ~ Beel is a full-on body builder, goes to the gym everyday pretty much. ~ His only main weakness in a fight is the fact he doesn’t want to hurt his brothers. Lucifer ~ He isn’t as strong as Beel physically, but is really strong still, I mean he can hang Mammon anywhere... ~ He is also really intelligent, he knows how to plan ahead if he were to be told about this fight, if not, he also knows his brothers’ weaknesses. ~ His weakness would be really hard to achieve, but it would be to try and make him distracted somehow. Satan ~ He is strong and Intelligent like Lucifer in this situation. ~ He reads books on torture, I’m sure he knows some pressure points to help him in the fight as well. He is also physically strong to hold up against most of his brothers. ~ His weakness is either angering him so much he gets out of hand, and you attack his weak points while he is out of hand...or just bring a cat... Mammon ~ He is strong. He may live on spicy Ramen noodles, but being strung up helps the core- [/j... mostly.] ~ He can’t beat most, but he is able to get far in a fight I would say. ~ His weakness is being distracted by Grimm, MC cheering for him in the fight, or getting scared by Lucifer... Asmodeus ~ He isn’t entirely strong per say, but he beats the bottom two in strength. ~ He wouldn’t win the fight but can get decently far. He is fit enough to run off, let the fight start and get some of the less strong out before he gets noticed and attacked. ~ His weakness is pretty much, throw dirt at him. He will be distracted trying to fix up appearance, boom easy win. Belphegor ~ Belphie is sort of an in-between here. He is pretty strong, but not stronger than his brothers. [He also sometimes works out with Beel as the anime showed] ~ He also is tired pretty much 24/7, so that is a large disadvantage that he won’t be fully energized. ~ Also, he isn’t really fit, not as bad as Levi, but still. Leviathan - Least Likely ~ Sorry Levi, but you’re at the bottom for this one. ~ He is very unfit, he has lived in his room for decades, pretty much living on energy drinks and fast food... ~ He was part of the Navy [not anymore from what I know] and has a sixpack, but he still isn’t the strongest here physically. Power is a different story though. ~ His weakness is using his envy against him and using any anime related thing he likes to distract him. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Hope you enjoyed :] Masterlist

[fridayth13]

"i think i love you." despite the darkness, asmodeus glowed at your confession.

"think?"

your breath danced against his skin when you laughed, and he felt he could be damned all over again. the sheer brilliance that radiated from you set him alight. he was on fire. he was a star. a meteor hurtling towards you without any thought of stopping.

or he could be the moon to your sun, maybe. everything about you turned the nerves under his pearlescent skin to electric currents. asmodeus knew he was quite brilliant by himself, but sometimes— very secretly— in moments such as this, he thought it might be possible that you were more beautiful than anything he's ever encountered. including himself.

"let's just say a ninety-nine percent chance." you replied.

he beamed. "hehe. i'll take it."

he'd make you love him for sure. one way or the other.

divider from @clutteredfun

[one-britt-to-rule-them-all]

New Request Rule!

I'm putting up a character limit per request rule! This doesn't apply to the works already in progress and asks already in my inbox, but as of this going up, it's in place for new submissions. This has also been added in my request rules post, which you can find in my pinned post.

I’m now imposing a limit of 4 characters per post.

This is so that I don’t feel overwhelmed with writing. It’s better for my mental health like this! But feel absolutely free to come back at a later point a request more characters for your same request. I don’t mind at all. It’s just a character limit in one go. I tend to write a lot, and doing so for seven or more characters at a time tends to take a little while, which means I also don't post as often as I'd like.

You can follow these sets for requesting:

• The older brothers — Will include Lucifer, Mammon and Leviathan. (Can add an extra of your picking)

• The younger brothers — Will include Satan, Asmodeus, Beelzebub and Belphegor.

• The dateables — Will include Diavolo, Barbatos, Simeon and Solomon.

• The non-dateables — Will include Mephistopheles, Raphael and Thirteen. (Can add an extra of your picking)

• Mix and Match — Will include up to four characters of your picking.

I hope you understand!

[darlingdaisyfarm]

₊˚ʚ Rain in the woods (Ford Pines x fem!reader) ₊˚✧ ﾟ.

part 2 | part 1

author note: hey friends, so im sorry for taking so long, i wanted to post it this Saturday but i got lots of work, it's not proofread so I'm so so so sorry for any mistakes, i promise ill fix them a bit later!

also im working on some pre portal stan x reader x ford fic and it's filled with what we love the most - glass and angst (smut included!!), i know i always say it, but im so excited to share it with you guys <3

nsfw, minors dni

Stanford Pines — the enigmatic genius who’s always just beyond your reach, a mind so vast, it feels like trying to grasp the stars. You should be focused, but your gaze keeps flicking back to him. You’re utterly captivated, heart racing, mind spinning.

And then it happens. One moment, you're holding the mug, your fingers curled around it and the next it slips. No! The mug tumbles from your grasp, its ceramic form hitting the floor with a sharp, brutal crack that echoes through the room. You watch in helpless horror as it shatters into a thousand pieces, each fragment piercing the silence like a blade through your chest.

Your heart skips, thundering in your ears, and your face goes hot with embarrassment, an awful flush spreading across your skin as you turn your wide, panicked eyes toward Ford. His gaze meets yours, a mix of surprise and concern, but it’s his calm that gets you. 

“Oh shit—” your voice cracks and you curse yourself silently, mortified. Of course, you would screw up right now, in front of him. Stanford fucking Pines, the man whose brilliance makes your own thoughts feel clumsy, an intellectual giant, and here you are, tripping over a damn mug. The pieces of it seem to scatter in slow motion, like a dream you can’t wake up from. You’re so stupid. You feel so stupid.

“I’m sorry— I'm so sorry,” you ramble, desperate to somehow undo the mess, your hands trembling at your sides. You want to sink into the floor, disappear, fade away. How could you be this careless?

But then Ford takes a step forward, and everything inside you freezes. His eyes are soft, so much softer than you expected, softer than anyone else’s gaze ever could be. He’s not angry, not even irritated. Instead, he’s. . . calm. “Hey, it’s alright,” he says, a chuckle escaping him, as though the whole situation is laughable, as though you’re not standing there, mortified in front of him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve dealt with worse. Trust me.”

For one second, everything really seems to slow down as his words sinks into you like a balm. You believe him. It’s impossible to not. He’s seen everything and here you are, worrying over a broken mug.

“Im really sorry,” you stammer again, caught off guard by the softness in his tone, the tenderness in his gaze. What did you expect? That he’d scold you, dismiss you? But no. He’s calm, like this minor catastrophe is nothing. As if nothing could rattle him, as if you, standing there like a fool, didn’t matter at all.

Stanford laughs. “You know, after all I’ve been through, interdimensional beasts, curses, that damn triangle demon, a shattered mug would be nothing. So don’t apologize.” his eyes meet yours. “Im not made of glass. It takes more than a broken cup to rattle me.”

And then his voice lowers with that quiet authority. “Sit down,” he commands softly. “I’ll handle this. Don’t want you getting hurt.”

You can’t help it. His voice sounds so low, commanding, yet laced with something so tender it makes your skin tingle. The words come easy from his lips, but when they’re aimed at you, they tear through you. They make you feel like you’re something precious, something to be cared for, protected. But more than that, a part of you craves to be held by him, right now, right in this moment. To be pressed back into the cushions of the sofa, feeling the strength of his arms, making you feel like you’re the only one in his world.

You’re not just obeying his words, you’re aching to obey. 

That’s why without thinking, you sink into the soft cushions. And shit, there he is — bending down, his bare chest covered with scars still glistening from the rain, droplets make you ache. They fucking shimmer on his skin, taunting you, daring you to touch him, taste him, make him yours. Every inch of him is fucking perfect. God, how are you even supposed to think straight when he looks like that? Your body is screaming for him, for his touch, for everything. 

You try to look away. You can’t. His broad shoulders, his strong fucking arms, his hard chest. It’s too much. He’s a fucking masterpiece and all you want is for him to paint you in ways you can’t even process yet. Your body betrays you, again, that warmth spreading low in your belly, growing. You cross your legs, trying to hide the desperate need that’s already pooling between them. Fuck, how are you supposed to calm this down? It only gets worse.

He’s everything you’ve ever wanted and it’s all laid out in front of you, impossible to ignore. His every movement is so natural, so fucking sexy, it makes your pulse race. You just know he can make you feel things you didn’t even know your body was capable of.

You’re trying to calm yourself, really, you are. 

You cross and uncross your legs again, desperate to release some of the tension building between your thighs, but it only makes it worse. Fuck, why is this so hard? Every thought you have is consumed with him, with what he could do to you, what he should do to you. And the more you try to control it, the more your body betrays you.

You need to touch yourself, but you’re stuck, just waiting, consumed by the need for him.

And then, the thoughts take over completely.

You’re delusional to the point where you feel his hands on your legs, parting them, spreading you wide. You imagine him on his knees, lowering his head, his lips tracing the inside of your thighs, so fucking gentle, so goddamn slow, as he watches you with those eyes, sharp, hungry, possessive. And then, he presses his tongue to your clit, licks you like you’re the sweetest thing he’s ever tasted, making you whine for him.

You bite down on your lip, trying to hold it back, but it’s impossible. You need him. You want him between your legs, fucking you so deep you can’t think straight, making you beg for it. Fuck, what would he say? “That’s it, baby. . . just like that… good girl, taking what I give you. . .” the words seeping into your skin like a drug you can’t quit.

You bite down hard on your lip, desperate to keep quiet, but your body is louder than you’ll ever be. Fuck, your body’s soaking through, your pussy throbbing for his touch, and all you can do is stare at him, mesmerised. His body is a goddamn work of art, and you want to trace every inch of it, feel it on top of you, pushing inside you, taking you.

It’s so fucking embarrassing, but you can’t stop it. Your body’s so ready for him, for his hands, for his cock. You can almost taste him, can almost feel his cock sliding inside you, filling you so nice.

Fuck, any writer of erotic novels would envy your imagination. The thought of him getting rough with you, pushing you down into the cushions, fucking you into the sofa until you can’t think, can’t breathe. “You’re mine now, sweetheart. Mine to fuck whenever I want. You belong to me.”

The thought of him pounding into you, his hands gripping your hips, pulling you closer, makes you want to lose your mind. You just want to hear him growl your name as he fucks you like you’re the only thing that matters.

And you know you’ll let him. Let him claim you, take you apart, until you’re nothing but a mess of pleasure, a good girl begging for more.

“Hey,” Ford’s voice drags you back into reality, unwantedly. Your heart stutters in your chest as you blink, trying to focus on anything other than the way your body’s still burning, aching for him. He’s looking at you, brows furrowed, the concern on his face so fucking intense it almost makes you want to tell him everything you’re feeling, right here, right now. But you can’t. God, you can’t. Not when the way he looks at you like that.

“Are you alright? You don’t look too well.” his voice is full of worry, but there’s that edge of guilt creeping in as he mutters, “I really should’ve checked the forecast before dragging you out in this mess. . . feels like a bit of a fool for that.” his fingers are rubbing the back of his neck in that shy way he does, that little sign of guilt that makes your stomach clench in a way that’s too much to handle.

But it’s his fucking proximity that’s driving you wild. He’s so close now, standing there shirtless, looking like some goddamn wet dream come to life. You can’t focus on anything but his body, the way the rainwater trails down his skin, glistening so beautifully. Fucking fuck. 

“No, Ford, im absolutely okay, I swear—”

“Hold still,” Ford commands and that’s when you feel his hand so damn warm against your forehead, sending a shockwave of need straight through you. His touch is too fucking soft and yet it feels like it’s scorching you. Or maybe it’s just the fact that you’re so goddamn horny your body’s reacting to the smallest contact.

You try to calm yourself, try to act normal, but it’s too fucking hard. You force a weak smile. “I told you, I— I’m fine,” you answer, the lie tasting bitter on your tongue. It’s all you can do to not let the truth slip. You want to scream it, how much you need him, how much you ache for him right now, but you don’t. Not yet. Never probably.

Ford’s brows knit tighter together and his eyes lock onto yours. He’s not fooled, not for a second. “You’re lying. Don’t try to brush it off. If you’re not feeling well, you need to tell me.”

The urge to confess everything is unbearable. You want to tell him you’re not sick, you’re just fucking drenched in need, that’s all! Aching for him to pull you into his arms, to kiss you until you can’t breathe. But instead, you do the only thing you can do: you force a nervous laugh, a weak attempt to play it off.

“No, I swear I’m fine! I could go on a thousand more anomaly hunts with you!” the words spill out with a little too much enthusiasm, a little too much frenzy and you pray to whatever god is listening that it’s enough to get him off your case.

Ford’s eyes narrow and he crosses his arms, still towering over you, still so close

Man, just step back or I'll pounce on you and eat you.

“Cold rain can do a lot more damage than you think. You could’ve caught something serious, and ignoring it won’t help. Do you have any idea how quickly a fever can develop if you’re already run down?”

Oh no, his voice shifts into that familiar, lecturing tone, the kind that makes you want to both roll your eyes and lean in closer to hear more. 

When he says something about cold exposure affecting the immune system, you should be paying attention. You try to focus on his words, but it’s hard when he’s standing there — half naked, with his chest on full display, his messy hair slightly wet from the rain. God, he's just so fucking handsome. The serious, worried look in his eyes makes you weak and you can’t help but sink a little deeper into the sofa.

Just as Ford’s lecture hits a peak, the door swings open with a loud bang and Stanley Pines strolls in, halting mid-step as his eyes zero in on the scene before him. Ford, half-naked, standing too close for comfort, and you, perched on the sofa with that nervous smile plastered across your face.

Stan’s grin stretches wide, clearly loving the situation as he leans casually against the doorway. His eyes flick between you and Ford, then he gives Ford an exaggerated once-over, raising an eyebrow at his lack of turtleneck. “Well, ain’t this cozy,” he drawls sarcastically, giving a smirk that only widens when he spots Ford’s obvious discomfort. “Ya know, Sixer, when I said ‘show the girl a good time,’ I didn’t mean literally strip down to do it.”

Ford’s eyes snap toward his brother, his mouth twitching in a way that’s almost a grimace. His posture straightens, arms crossing defensively as he glares at Stan. “Stanley, really? Must you always reduce everything to your level? She dropped a mug and I was helping her avoid a mess. You wouldn’t understand, but maybe try acting your age for once.”

“Hey, all I’m sayin’ is, if ya plan on gettin' cozy, maybe take it to a couch that ain’t mine.” Stanley’s gaze slides over to you, flashing a wink. “But if you’re lookin' for company, darlin’, I’m more than happy to—“

Before you can let the awkwardness spread more, you spring into the conversation, desperate to steer it somewhere less humiliating. “Stan, actually, Ford was just helping me to—” you force a friendly smile, trying to make light of the situation.

Stan laughs like he’s heard it all before. “Sure thing, toots. But between you and me. . . you’re doin’ a hell of a job of keepin’ my brother here on his toes. Haven’t seen him all riled up like this since. . . well, ever.” your heart thump so loudly in your chest, you’re sure everyone can hear it.

Ford’s jaw clenches so tight, you can practically hear his teeth grinding, but he doesn’t look away from Stan. The vein in his neck starts to twitch.God, it’s almost painful how much he wants to just end this conversation, end this moment, and pull you somewhere private, somewhere safe, where he can have you all to himself, but he doesn’t. “Stan, enough. We have an anomaly to inspect. Something I’d actually prefer not to delay any longer.”

Stan lets out a low whistle, clearly enjoying every second of Ford’s discomfort. “Yeah, yeah. Go on, Sixer, run off to your little projects. Just don’t forget there’s a real world out here, alright?” he gives you a quick nod, still smirking. “and you, don’t let him lock you in his lab too long, sweetheart.”

***

Grumpy Ford. The kind of irritated, scowling Ford you never realized you’d find so irresistibly enticing. That brooding frustration, that laser-sharp focus, you can’t help but imagine all that intensity turned on you, directed into every inch of your body.

God, if he just shoved you back onto that workbench right now, you’d let him. You wouldn’t care if his precious equipment went crashing to the floor, wouldn’t even flinch at the thought of papers and tools scattering everywhere. All you want is him, his body pinning you down, hands gripping you like you’re the anomaly he’s desperate to dissect, figure out, devour. 

Holy shit, you want him to push you up against that wall, pin you down until you’re writhing underneath him, his body grinding against yours, every bit of that frustration poured right into you.

Slick heat building between your thighs as you watch him, the way he moves around his lab, muttering in frustration as he punches numbers into some device, brows knitted in that fierce focus. And all you can do is want his hands on your hips, his mouth on your neck, his cock driving into you like you’re all he’s thinking about.

“The rain seems to have masked the anomaly’s energy signature. I suspect it might be due to ionization in the— are you even listening?”

His voice snaps you back, he’s tearing right through your flimsy attempts at focus with that intense gaze of his, as if seeing everything you’re thinking. You offer him a small, sheepish smile. “Of course I am! Gravity, paranormal. . . s-signatures, right?” you say, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes keep drifting over his body, your ache throbbing inside, thighs pressing together as he stands there, so close you could reach out, slip your fingers through the fabric of his clothes, feel the warmth of his skin.

Ford lets out a soft, exasperated sigh. “Honestly, you’re as distractible as Stan.” 

He turns away, but your eyes don’t leave him. Instead, you let your gaze slide over the room, until something catches your eye. A strange, helmet-like device bristling with wires and so, without thinking, you ask, “Hey, what’s that thing?”

Ford’s gaze follows yours, his expression changes as he considers whether to answer. “That’s a thought-reading device. Designed to access certain mental frequencies,” he explains, stepping closer to it and closer to you. “It can pick up surface thoughts. . . theoretically, anyway. I was working on it before I. . . uhm, it’s meant to strengthen and protect someone’s mental processes. Block out. . . certain entities from gaining access to their mind.”

A mind-protective device. Of course, he’d build something like that. It’s so him, his beautiful mix of intellect, caution, that underlying fear of what he’s seen, what he’s had to fight.

“So, it could let me peek into that brilliant mind of yours?” it’s a playful a tease, mostly. But inside you just ache to know, to wonder, to feel his thoughts. Would he think about you. even once, in the same filthy, breathless way you think about him?

Stanford grins. “In theory, yes, but it’s hardly necessary. My mind is. . . complex, too complicated for most people to understand."

And then, suddenly, unexpectedly, Ford lifts the machine, his grin is bigger. “Why don’t you try it on?”

Your heart slams against your chest and panic sears through you, cutting under your carefully held composure. Oh god. No. No, no, no. Every filthy thought, every desperate image of him, of those long, deft fingers tracing down your skin, of his mouth, his hands, of him pinning you down and splitting you open on his cock, of moaning his name until you can’t breathe. All of it, laid bare, displayed for him to see? 

You choke down the crazy urge to run, instead forcing yourself to laugh. “Why, Professor Pines, are you doubting my integrity?” you counter, flashing him a daring smirk, praying it’s enough to distract him from the heat that’s burning its way up your cheeks.

Ford chuckles in response. “Integrity?” he repeats, his tone mocking. “No. But curiosity? Oh, absolutely. I think it would be enlightening to see what actually goes on behind that amused little expression of yours.”

“There’s nothing interesting in my mind,” but your words barely sound convincing to you, let alone to him.

Ford tilts his head, arching his brow in that all-too-familiar, skeptical way that makes you want to simultaneously squirm and melt. “Oh really? You know, most people would be thrilled to test out new technology. But you. . . you’re avoiding it like it’s some kind of torture device.”

“Oh, yeah, you know,” a poor attempt at casual. “I just. . . don’t wanna risk, you know, brain cells or something.” you resist the urge to roll your eyes. God, please just buy it. . . 

Ford’s laughter rumbles and by the look on his face, you know he doesn’t quite believe you. But, mercifully, he lets it slide. “Alright, alright,” he relents. “I’ll spare you. This time.”

***

The rest of the evening is a haze of Ford’s intense meticulous rambling as you both sit tucked away in the quiet of his lab, soft lamp light casting warm shadows that stretch over the various gadgets, books, and uncharted maps sprawled out on every available surface, his domain, the world he’s always losing himself in.

He’s explaining again, his words so precise about the anomaly you saw earlier today. His voice rises with each detail, the way the rain altered it, how it vanished before either of you could even think to grab it. You should be focused, but his beautiful voice turns into a lullaby. Your eyelids grow heavy, your body sinking deeper into the chair. 

And Ford notices.

The way your head tilts too far, your eyes fluttering closed just a little too long. He’s not as lost in his thoughts as he likes to think. His gaze sharpens, flicking to you with that careful, assessing precision he’s always had. He sees that quiet exhaustion in the way your posture slumps, the way your breath catches unevenly as your body fights against the pull of sleep.

His voice softens. “You’re exhausted,” he murmurs. “Of course you are. . . It’s too late. Go, get some rest. This. . . all of this will still be here tomorrow.”

A sigh tries to escape your chest before you can stop it. You want to protest, to stay longer, to pass just little bit more time with him. But the way he looks at you makes the words die before they can leave your lips. There's something unspoken in his eyes, a quiet concern mixed with that stubborn, unyielding sense of responsibility.

You try to stifle a yawn, your hand reaches out, fingers brushing the fabric of his sleeve, as if the touch might change his mind. “Maybe. . . maybe just a bit longer?” however even your own voice sounds tired.

His answer is gentle but final. “No. You need to sleep. I’ll be here, as always.”

You don’t argue. When you step away, you catch one last glimpse of him, standing amidst the piles of notebooks, the soft light casting shadows along the lines of his face, catching the silver in his hair in a way that’s so painfully beautiful so you let yourself stay a little longer before you close the door.

***

The silence that reigns in the room after you leave feels like a huge, endless void that stretches to all corners of the laboratory and suffocates in its stillness. Ford exhales slowly, a sigh caught between frustration and something deeper he can’t quite name. His gaze lingers on the door, where you disappeared through just moments ago, soft sound of your footsteps still echoing in his mind. God, he’s such a fool, he thinks, fingers pressing to the bridge of his nose, rubbing at the ache that’s been building inside him ever since you spoke those soft words, just a little longer.

He couldn’t stop it, couldn’t ignore it. The way you leaned in, hanging onto his every word, as if he were something more than he really was, something beyond the man who hides behind his work, behind his mind. The weight of your trust presses on him and with it comes the unbearable pressure of knowing he doesn’t deserve it.

And God, he tries to keep himself restrained. He tells himself that this is madness, that you’re too young, that every second he spends watching you, wanting you, is a betrayal of everything he’s tried to build.

But you’re gone now and his lab feels emptier than ever. Even as he reaches for his journal, his thoughts are still tangled with you, with the way you looked at him, the way your sleepy eyes followed his every move, the way you seemed to hang on to every word, every breath he took. Did you even realise what you were doing to him?

And as he opens his journal, he knows there will be no more notes on anomalies tonight. No theories, nothing but the restless, fevered words he can never, ever say aloud. Ford knows that if these thoughts ever slipped past his lips, they’d destroy you. You’d never look at him the same again. And he can’t lose you. He couldn’t bear to watch that disgust fill your eyes, that revulsion as you saw him for what he truly is: a man with a heart full of shame, but aching for you all the same.

He writes with a fever, the words coming too quickly for him to even think them through. He’s confessing things he’ll never have the courage to say to you. The way you make him ache, how wrong it feels, how unnatural it is to want you this way. You’re so young, so vibrant, so full of life. How could someone like him, an old man, a man of logic and reason, ever think he could want someone like you?

And yet, it’s all he can think about. It’s all he does think about.

God help him, he wants you.

Stanford’s hand trembles as he writes fast.

“The way she seems to lean closer with every word I speak, as if I’m some kind of god to her. I can’t breathe when she’s near, but I can’t stand being away from her either.”

He’s sickened by it, disgusted by the way his hands ache for you, by how his thoughts run into places he can’t control. But even so, he thinks, I can’t stop. I can’t stop wanting you.

“If only she knew what I was dreaming about, how I want to erase all layers of distance between us. I want to melt into her, touch every inch of her skin, as if she was made to belong to me, only to me.“

Ford can’t let you know how deeply he feels, how far he’s fallen for someone like you, someone so out of reach, someone who might never look at him the way he looks at you. Because if he did, if he let those words slip from his lips it would ruin you. It would break you.

And he can’t do that.

Not to you.

So, he writes. He writes because it’s the only way he can make sense of the mess inside of him. The only way he can be close to you without breaking everything.

“God, if she knew, she'd never see me as anything but the perverted old man I am.”

“God help me. . . I want her breathless. I want her shaking, clinging to me as I bury myself inside her, feeling every inch of her wrap around me like she was made for this. I want her to be mine. The years between us be damned—”

One sentence, scribbled with shaking hands: “if she knew how much I want to make her come on my cock while explaining the fundamental laws of interdimensional, she’d never look at me same way again”

“I want her shaking, spent, marked by me, by the man twice her age who should know better but can’t help himself.”

“I picture teaching her how to harness interdimensional energy, but my mind twists it, images shifting until it’s my body pressed to hers, whispering “concentrate sweetheart,” while I trust into her from behind. Her breath would stutter as I correct her technique with my hands on her hips.”

“I shouldnt crave her, not with the years that separates us like an unyielding chasm. Yet when she laughs, carefree and obvious, I imagine making her cry my name, hands guiding her hips as I thrust inside up into her, showing her exactly what an older man can do. Showing her why age doesn’t matter when she’s trembling and breathless beneath me.”

“She's got no idea, does she? I want her bent over my desk, books and notes scattered beneath her, while I thrust into her like some animal in heat, filling her over and over until there's nothing left of her but soft, pleading sounds and the way her body pulls me back in with every move. I’d guide her, make her feel exactly what it means to be touched by a man who’s twice her age and twice as obsessed.”

Meanwhile, now, alone in your room, you’re haunted by the memory of your lovely scientist, pulsing between your legs, leaving a needy ache that’s impossible to ignore. Just thinking about him, the strong lines of his hands, those six fingers that could make you see stars. . . it all sends a jolt straight through your body and suddenly, you’re melting, undone, utterly helpless to this craving for him.

You let yourself fall back into your bed, eyes closed, his presence wrapping around you like a ghost you can’t shake off. You can’t even catch a steady breath now, the dampness pooling between your thighs, every inch of you begging to be touched — not by yourself, no. You need him, his skilled, explorative touch, those six clever fingers. The memory of every stolen glance, every careful brush of his hand, it all coils up inside, a slow, delicious torment, and now it’s throbbing there, heavy with need.

You drag your fingers down the length of your body, tracing where his hands might go as you imagine him, his fingers slipping lower, finding that sweet, drenched ache and grazing it with a delicate touch that he’d know so damn well. 'Fuck,' you’d gasp, his name like a prayer on your lips as his six fingers roam, rough and relentless, pressing right against that needy opening, filling you up until you’re nothing but breathless whimpers and cries for more.

“God, sweetheart,” you hear his voice, “I’ve wanted this for so damn long. Do you feel that? How hard you make me?” and then he’d press his cock between your legs, hot veins throbbing against your entrance, and you can feel his breath on your neck as he tells you what a beautiful mess you’ve become for him.

Your fingertips brush over your clit as you imagine his hand there, gentle but insistent, exploring you with that scientist's curiosity, his six fingers pressing slow, circling that sensitive bud, coaxing soft gasps from your lips. “Let me feel you. Take it slow, sweetheart. Let me make you mine.” but even as you touch yourself now, imagining his fingers in place of yours, it’s still not enough

You arch from own hand, fingers gliding through the wetness now slick and ready, you press a little harder on your clit, circling it faster, imagining the way his hands would dig into your skin, his strong arms wrapped around you as he thrusts into you, “take it all, darling. Every inch of me.”

And by some lucky chance, Ford stands outside your door, his pulse slamming hard against his ribs, a wreck of a man just clinging to sanity. The sound of you — all gasping, breathy moans slipping through the thin wood, whispering his name in that desperate little voice — he can’t help himself as his hand flies up to the doorframe, his fingers digging in so hard they’re going white, knuckles taut, trying to keep himself together. 

But the universe is laughing at him, at his pathetic attempt at control, at the sheer uselessness of his restraint, because fuck, every gasp you make sinks its teeth into him.

Something hot runs through him, then it sinks low, thickening in his chest, then spreads down between his legs. His cock twitches, rock-hard and aching, straining against the fabric, pressing hard, begging for the attention he keeps denying it. He shouldn’t be here — hell, he should be miles away by now, somewhere that isn’t two inches from falling apart at the sound of you! But he’s not. He’s a goddamn mess, held hostage to the way you’re sighing his name.

“Fuck, sweetheart. . .” he’s going insane out here.

Ford knows how you look right now, imagined it thousands of times, laid out on your bed with those soft thighs parted, hands trailing down, fingertips grazing over warm, damp skin, teasing yourself open, getting yourself wet just for him. Fuck, he thinks, I shouldn’t be this fucking desperate.

Ford lets his hand slip down, pressing hard against the hardness straining in his trousers, feeling himself throb against his own palm. There’s no relief, just that painful, growing ache that has him grinding his teeth, biting back the low, broken sound that wants to rip free from his throat. He’s a man undone, ruined just by the thought of you, the image of you with your legs open, your body calling out for him like he’s the only one you need.

“Jesus, fuck. . .” his free hand reaches down, trembling as he slides it beneath his waistband, wrapping around the throbbing heat of his cock, feeling himself swell, hard and pulsing against his palm. It’s wrong, so wrong to be here, touching himself to the sound of your little whimpers, but fuck if he can stop.

The sounds coming from your room grow louder and it’s too much for him. He’s already so fucking close as he imagines himself on top of you, sinking inside you, feeling your cunt wrapped tight and hot around him, your body arching, your hands clawing at his back, those delicate fingers pulling him close, begging him not to stop. 

Ford’s back collides with the lab door as he stumbles in, chest heaving, adrenaline of hearing his name on your lips. He locks the door behind him.

Fumbling hands tug at his belt, fingers clumsy, impatient, tearing at the fabric as it’s the only thing standing between him and relief. Finally, the belt slides free, and he wraps a shaky hand around his cock, swallowing down a low hiss as the raw heat of his own skin meets his grip. 

He strokes himself roughly and desperately, letting his thumb graze the sensitive tip with a ragged groan that he’s helpless to contain. His mind runs further, and he pictures you, perfect and pliant, sinking to your knees before him with eyes so innocent, with lips parting as you take him into your mouth. As you let him fuck your throat.

A shiver runs through him and he leans his head back, sighing, groaning and grunting louder as he loses himself in the fantasy. God, if you only knew. If you could see him like that, a desperate moaning and trembling mess with his hand wrapped around his leaking cock. 

“Ahh— ffuck,” hell, just how much he wants to hear you make those sounds too, moan for him, he wants to feel you beneath him, warm and soft, clinging to him, legs tangled around his waist as he sinks into you. His strokes become faster. Ford imagines pressing you down onto the lab table, your dripping pussy welcoming him as he thrusts deeper, deeper, deeper, deeper until there’s no part of you he hasn’t claimed. His breath hitches, hips bucking into his hand as he imagines the way your walls would tighten around him, clenching, pulling him in. 

He’s shaking now, barely able to hold himself together, his free hand clutches at the edge of the workbench, knuckles white, as he lets himself sink fully into the fantasy. You’d look so damn perfect spread out for him. Ford’s hand moves faster, tighter, fueled by the image of you writhing beneath him, helpless, pleading, so sweet and open, absolutely his, his beautiful girl, sweetest thing. 

The pressure building until he can’t take it anymore. His hips jerk, a loud needy moan spilling from his lips as he cums, his body shuddering with release. For a few long, breathless seconds, everything fades: his mind, his shame, everything but the overwhelming, blinding wave of pleasure.

***

The morning breaks, a new day arriving, one that promises to be spent with Ford close by— and, isn’t that something to look forward to?

When you meet Stanford, the first thing you hear is, “Did you not learn anything from last time?“

You bite your lip to keep from laughing, but before you can protest, Ford is stepping closer, his coat swishing around him as he moves. The wool of his scarf unravels with practiced ease, and in a smooth motion, it’s over your shoulders, the warmth of it spreads around your neck. You want to say something, but all you can focus on is the way Ford’s thumb traces the edge of the scarf, his touch so delicate it feels too intimate for something so simple.

This shouldn’t feel like it does, you think, but your body screaming what your mind refuses to admit.

“There,” Ford says, stepping back. “You’ll thank me later.”

“I thought you checked the forecast this time,” you tease, raising an eyebrow. “Isn’t today supposed to be sunny?”

Ford crosses his arms with a smile. “Yes, well. . . One can never be too cautious. After all, last time—“

“—last time, I nearly froze my ass off,” you finish, the laughter bubbling up between you and Ford shoots you a look that’s equal parts exasperated and fond, like he’s about to scold you but can’t help himself.

“I wasn’t going to put it quite so crudely,” he says, but that reluctant chuckle escapes him before he can hide it.

When the sun climbs higher, the forest around you changes in hues of gold, the leaves thinning just enough to let the light filter through in soft rays. You walk side by side, close enough to hear the rhythmic crunch of your footsteps in the fallen leaves and Ford’s murmured observations, but it’s all you can do not to lose yourself in him. His words float past, about terrain, weather, anomalies and predictions, but your mind doesn’t follow, not when your eyes keep straying to him.

You can’t help but wonder if there’s any room left for you in his head, if he ever thinks about anything other than those damned anomalies. A piece of you wants to shake him, to pull him from his thoughts, to remind him that life is more than equations and mathematics. But, god, there’s something so cute about him when he’s like this, so fully consumed by his world, and you can’t look away.

“You’re thinking about something,” Stanford starts, pulling you out of your trance. “Is it the anomaly, or. . .?”

“Just wondering what it is we’re actually tracking. I mean, last time it disappeared before we could even get a good look, so. . . what’s the plan if it shows up again?”

Ford’s face lights up with approval at your question. “It’s an elusive creature, no doubt,” and again, his voice slips into that familiar lecture tone, one you’ve learned to love despite yourself. “But this time, I have a better understanding of its behaviour. The rain threw it off last time, but if my theory is correct, today’s dry weather should keep it on course! And if we can corner it near the ravine, there’s a chance we might get a clear reading on its—”

“Ford,” you interrupt, he stops talking, his brow lifting slightly. “I mean, yes— corner it near the ravine,” you repeat. Wait, what did you just say? 

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Ford asks, smiling at you. “If you’re still tired from yesterday, I can handle this on my own.”

You scoff, rolling your eyes, crossing your arms as you look at him defiantly. "Oh, please. I said I could do this a thousand times over with you and still keep up,” you challenge.

He laughs again and his laughter is so damn cute. “That, I don’t doubt.”

Time pass and as you walk beside Ford, your mind drifts, you're not really thinking about the anomaly or the hunt anymore. No, your thoughts are elsewhere. Again. Somewhere they shouldn’t be, but there they are. You can’t help but notice the way the sun highlights the strands of silver in Ford's hair, the curve of his shoulders as he walks, his posture so effortlessly confident and strong. And you think about how much you liked the way his body looked in the rain yesterday, when the wetness clung to his clothes and made every line stand out even more. 

You sigh inwardly, watching him from the corner of your eye. The weather, as perfect as it is, only makes you feel a bit wistful. Why did it have to be sunny today? You had been hoping for more rain. The kind of rain that soaked him through and made his clothes cling to his skin, the droplets tracing the curves of his chest. That was a sight you’d never forget. But today sun is too bright, too cheerful.

The soft breeze brushes your hair against your face, and you snap out of your thoughts just as you see the clearing ahead. Ford slows his pace, his gaze scanning the area with his usual calculated precision. And just as yesterday, air here feels different, as if charged. You feel the hairs on the back of your neck stand up, the unease settling in. This is it, the spot where the anomaly was last seen. But, of course, there's nothing. The clearing is quiet, calm, completely empty.

Ford steps forward, looking around with a frown, muttering something under his breath. You stand there for a moment, waiting, listening to the wind rustle through the branches and the distant call of a bird. But there's nothing. 

“Where is it?” you ask and Ford turns to you, his expression calm but with that familiar hint of worry in his eyes, the kind that usually only surfaces when he’s feeling frustrated. 

“Don’t worry,” he says, though his voice sounds more like he’s trying to reassure himself than you. He straightens up, adjusting his glasses. “The anomaly will show itself. We’ve got all day to catch it.” he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck.

All day with Ford? 

Your heart skips a beat and you have to fight to keep your expression neutral. What could be better than spending the entire day with him, just the two of you in this quiet, secluded place? No distractions, just you and Ford, and the anomaly that might never show up.

It takes a little more time while you and Ford are waiting for the anomaly to appear and so, a dialogue ensues.

“I’ve seen some more strange things. In all my years of research, there have been anomalies of all shapes and sizes. Creatures from dimensions we can’t even begin to understand. Some are harmless, just curious things that wander around, never meaning to cause harm. Others. . . Others are far more dangerous. I've seen creatures that could tear through steel without breaking a sweat. Their behavior is— well, unpredictable.”

“What about the really dangerous ones?”

“There's one anomaly, one creature that I’ve encountered that still haunts me, to this day.” he looks away for a moment, as if weighing the decision to tell you more. “a beast unlike any other. Its skin is like iron, nearly impenetrable. And its mind is relentless. It doesn’t think like us. It doesn’t have the ability to reason, only the ability to kill and survive.”

Wow, you already can see it in your mind — a massive, hulking creature, covered in jagged, metallic plates, its eyes wild with an animalistic hunger.

“And you’ve seen it?”

Ford nods slowly. “Yes, once. And it wasn’t an experience I care to repeat.” and then he calls you by your name. “Listen, if we encounter anything dangerous, you stay behind me. Don’t try to be a hero, don’t try to ‘help out.’ I’ve trained for this. I know these creatures; I know their instincts and behaviours. You. . . you don’t. It’s crucial that you follow my lead.”

“I’m not helpless, you know,” you mumble, folding your arms. “I can handle myself.”

But Ford only smirks, oh how cute you are. “And if you ever find yourself lost between dimensions, the key is to stay calm. Panicking is a surefire way to make yourself vulnerable. Reality in those places doesn’t play by the same rules. Your mind can trick you, distort what you’re seeing” 

You stare at him, a mixture of awe and confusion washing over you. “Well, thanks, Ford, for the guide on how to travel through dimensions and fight the monsters that live in them.”

“Years of experience. Sometimes the hard way. But you don’t need to worry about that, alright? Just stick close, keep your wits about you, and we’ll make it out just fine.” he smiles.

“Easy for you to say,” you mutter, your gaze dropping to the forest floor. “You’re. . . you’re Stanford Pines. You’re used to dealing with this kind of thing. Me? I’d probably end up wandering off into some other dimension if I so much as blink wrong.”

He chuckles softly, and you feel his hand gently rest on your shoulder. “That’s why I’m here. To make sure you don’t.”

You open your mouth to respond, but then— crack. A twig snaps somewhere in the trees to your left. The sound is sharp, distinct, echoing through the quiet forest.

Your heart skips a beat and you instinctively grip Ford’s arm, eyes widening. He tenses, immediately going on alert as his gaze darts toward the source of the noise. “Stay behind me.”

You swallow, nodding as you press yourself close to him. Ford moves slowly, keeping himself between you and the sound, his shoulders squared, every muscle tense and ready.

Another rustle, this time from the other side. You bite your lip, feeling the cold prickling sensation of fear clawing up your spine. This doesn’t sound like a bunny, not in the slightest.

The sounds grow louder, surrounding you both. Ford’s posture tightens, his gaze focused and determined, while you hover close behind him, whatever lurks in the shadows isn’t friendly, and Ford, as always, stands ready to protect you at any cost.

Suddenly, Ford raises a hand, signaling for you to stay still. One. . . two. . . three—

A small, furry creature darts out of the bushes, a pudgy raccoon, more plump and inquisitive than fearsome. It scampers out, blinking innocently at you both and you feel sigh with a relief.

You slip out from behind Ford, who’s still standing rigidly, eyeing the raccoon with disbelief. “Well, would you look at that,” you say, glancing up at him with a slight grin. “Our terrifying forest intruder was just looking for a snack, huh?”

“Don’t get too close,” Stanford warns, still frowning. “These things are rarely alone.”

You laugh softly, crouching down and letting the raccoon sniff at your hand. “Oh, come on, Ford. You really think this little guy is hiding—”

The words die in your throat as you catch the look on his face, his eyes wide with sudden horror, mouth open as he shouts, “behind you!” and you whip around just in time to see something that makes your heart freeze, a hulking mass with matted fur and claws like daggers, looming in the shadows. Its eyes flash like yellow lanterns and a rank smell hits you, earthy and rotten all at once. You barely manage a step back before it lets out a furious roar, its maw wide enough to fit a head and then some. The sound is so loud it rattles through you and a splatter of spit flies from its jaws, landing on your clothes. You go stock-still.

“Th-that’s. . .” you stammer, but Ford’s voice interrupts you, calm and steady despite the chaos.

“Stay calm. It’s eyesight’s weak, but sound-sensitive. Just— slowly step back.”

You barely have time to take in his words before the beast’s head snaps toward you again, snarling with an intensity that shakes the trees. Immediately, Ford pulls out his gun, aiming directly at the creature, he fires off a round that echoes through the forest, hitting the beast and it lets out a howl of pain that sends birds scattering from the treetops. But it’s still very much alive, and now it looks angry, furiously angry. The monster's gaze is fixed on Ford with a vengeful glare, and he rushes towards him with a blood-curdling growl.

Ford stands firm, taking careful aim as he readies to fire again. But just as he steadies his grip, a branch underfoot shifts, making him stumble. The gun slips from his hand, landing somewhere in the tangle of roots and leaves and suddenly, he’s weaponless, the monster mere feet away.

Panic flares in your chest as you see the creature, claws poised, ready to strike. Ford scrambles back, but it’s too close, and something snaps inside you. Without thinking, you dart forward, adrenaline flooding through you and you grab a thick branch from the ground. With a yell that’s as much out of fear as it is determination, you swing it at the creature with everything you have, landing a blow that momentarily distracts it from Ford.

But that monster retaliates, slashing out in a blind fury and suddenly you feel the sting of claws raking across your leg. Pain flares sharp and hot, but you grit your teeth, ignoring it, keeping yourself steady enough to stay upright.

Ford seizes the moment, his eyes flashing with a mix of fury and fear as he snatches his gun from the ground, turning back to the creature. His voice is hoarse but resolute, “what are you doing?” he shouts irritably, calling your name again. “I told you to listen to me!”

With a final, controlled shot, he fires, the bullet hitting its mark. The monster lets out an agonized cry, staggering back before it turns and lumbers off into the dense woods, its snarl fading into the distance.

The adrenaline ebbs, leaving you and Ford alone in the sudden silence. His gaze finds yours, mad and worried all at once, his hand reaching out to steady you as your breathing finally starts to slow.

Ford’s face twists with frustration, jaw clenched tight and when he speaks, his voice is seething with barely controlled anger. “What the hell were you thinking?” he snaps. “You could’ve gotten yourself killed, charging in like that! I told you to stay back!”

You swallow, feeling a flush creep up your cheeks, not out of embarrassment or fear, but because, god, he’s hot when he’s angry, with that fire in his eyes and his tone like a damn storm. You force yourself to stay upright, despite the dull ache pulsing in your leg. “Ford, it’s fine. I just wanted to—”

But he’s already looking at you, really looking, his gaze flicking from your face to the way you’re leaning on your uninjured leg. “You’re hurt,” his tone dips from anger to something softer and worried. “Damn it, I should’ve never brought you out here. I’m such an idiot—“

“No, Ford, it’s just a little—” you try to brush him off, waving your hand dismissively, but as you shift your weight, a sharp bolt of pain shoots through your leg. You bite back a wince, forcing a smile. “Just a scratch, really.”

“Don’t even think about hiding this from me,” Ford turns annoyed and dead serious again, he steps closer as he assesses you, and there’s something really fierce in the way he insists, “Let me take a look. Now.”

For a moment, you think about arguing. But the pain flares again and you realise there's no winning against that look in his eyes. With a sigh, you give in, nodding reluctantly as you show him your new wound, from where the blood has already soaked into the fabric, turning it dark red.

Ford’s face changes instantly. “Damn it,” his hand hovers uncertainly like he wants to reach out, to touch, but doesn’t quite know where to begin. “This is— this isn’t just a scratch.”

His fingers finally settle gently around your calf, supporting you, his touch unexpectedly gentle as he examines the wound. You can feel his pulse under his fingertips, it’s obvious he’s anxious, and for a second, he doesn’t look like the Ford who always has the answers.

“This was my fault, I shouldn’t have— damn it, I should’ve kept you safe.”

***

The journey back to the shack feels agonizingly silent. Ford has one arm around your waist, nearly carrying you as you limp along, every step makes the wound throb in your leg. The sting, the ache, it’s all mingling with a sick sense of regret. You feel it settling in your chest. The whole day had been a disaster. You both went out to catch that anomaly, that one lead he was so excited about. . . and instead, you ended up facing something brutal. The monster had nearly killed you both.

Ford hasn’t spoken a word since the forest and with each passing second, it gnaws at you more. The thought appears in your mind, he must regret it. Bringing you along, letting you be there, yeah. . . he’s mad and not in the way you find hot. He’s distant, still supporting you, guiding you with a firm hand, but it’s as though he’s somewhere else entirely.

When you finally make it to the Shack, you find it blessedly empty. No Stan’s loud jokes or questions to break the heavy silence between you. Ford helps you to walk, still wordless and the whole way, you’re trying to find something to say. Some excuse, some apology, but every time you look over at him, you just see that grim look and you stop yourself.

Inside, he lets you sit on the couch. You clear your throat, forcing yourself to speak, to try to lift that heavy cloud around you. “Ford, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean for things to go that way. I didn’t mean to—”

But Ford cuts you off. “No, don’t apologize. It’s my fault. I should never have let you come along, I put you in danger.”

That serious tone. . . You nod, saying nothing more and after a beat of silence, you get up slowly, mumbling something about heading to your room. Ford doesn’t stop you, and he watches you go, still worried as fuck, but he doesn’t say anything. He’s rooted there, expression tight as he watches you limp down the hall.

When you get to your room, you close the door softly behind you, but the pain in your leg has started pulsing heavier, sharper, demanding your attention. You look down and finally decide, you’re going to check it, even if just to prove to yourself that Ford’s look wasn’t warranted, that maybe you’re not as bad as he seemed to think.

You settle on the edge of your bed, carefully and slowly taking your pants off, but as you pull the fabric, the sight that greets you isn’t reassuring in the slightest. The cut on your thigh is deep, seeping a fresh, dark line of blood that’s begun to smear against your skin. “Fuck. . .” you curse, tilting your head to get a better look, your fingers hovering over the edges of the wound. Just as you’re mentally preparing to find the first aid kit, a familiar voice cuts through the silence.

“No, please, just— let me help still. I won’t be calm until I—”

In the midst of your concentration, you hear the faintest creak of the door, and before you can even react, it opens. 

You barely have a moment to react, still sitting on the edge of your bed, the bloody gash on full display as Ford steps inside, eyes widening as he looks at you. He freezes and for a moment, you both just stare at each other in silence. You’re sitting there in your panties and a t-shirt, and you don’t know if to be happy or not, realising how exposed you must look. Ford’s gaze flickers to your bare legs, to the wound on your inner thigh.

You cross your legs in shock and embarrassment. “Ford, what—” you start, but he quickly raises a hand, cutting you off.

“Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to—“ Ford approaches, he kneels beside the bed, looking up into your eyes. “I— I can’t just leave you like this,” he pleads. “Please. . . let me help.”

“Ford—“

Ford’s hands hover over your leg. “You need to stop the bleeding, disinfect it, make sure it doesn’t get infected. It’s going to hurt, but, I can help. I’ll be gentle. Just let me. . . please.”

His eyes search yours, a quiet desperation in them that seems to say more than just his words ever could. Ford may be brilliant when it comes to the unknown, but in moments like this, when it’s you that’s hurt, he’s lost, even if he tries to sounds smart. He doesn’t want to mess this up, doesn’t want to fail you.

Slowly, you nod, the vulnerability in his gaze too much for you to ignore.

“Alright,” you whisper. “but be careful, okay?”

[thesuperiorrobin]

𝐀𝐧𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞~

Pairing: Damian Wayne x fem!Reader (platonic)

Word count: 854

Warning: none

A/n: sorry i haven’t posted in a while

Damian trains his pets well. They know how to defend themselves and whatnot. He understands them and they understand him to a high level. But he doesn’t understand why Titus and Alfred are so attached to you from the moment you step foot into the manor. After thirty dreadful minutes of him introducing you to his obnoxious brothers, it was time for the both of you to go up to his bedroom and work on a project for your class that was worth about eighty percent of your grade.

The feeling of something rubbing against your legs makes you stop and glance down. A tuxedo cat stands below, rubbing its small head at your leg. You kneel, cooing at the small cat as it jumps into your arms. Back pressed against your arm, giving you full access to its belly as you rub it gently.

“Aww, who’s this little guy?” You say, laughing softly, watching the animal nudge closer to your palm as you gently rub behind its chin and ear. Damian’s stunned, to say the least, that goes for his brothers. The cat normally hisses and scratches anyone who tries to pick him up, which is something Damian totally didn’t train him to do, he doesn’t willingly jump into people's arms.

The young Wayne clears his throat “That’s-um—my cat, Alfred”

“Aw, you’re named after the butler of the house. That’s adorable” Alfred lets out a soft meow before jumping out of his arms out of fright when a loud bark echos off the walls. A Great Dane appears, reaching up to your waist, maybe taller if the big dog stood up straight. He sits down in front of you and lifts his paw. He wants to shake your hand. You do so without hesitation. Grasping the Great Danes paw as you move it up and down. You let go after a while and the paw is right back on the ground.

“And that’s Titus” Damian stares “My pet dog”

“Aren’t you such a cutie?” You say scratching behind the big dog's ear as he leans further into your touch. They pray for your safety. Titus wasn’t a violent animal, he was far from it, besides the fact that he barks and growls at Damian's family members, besides Alfred whom he loves because he feeds him at times, and Damian hero teammates, it’s a surprise when he doesn’t growls at you.

In fact, they were more surprised that the Great Dane came over on his own and greeted you with a paw by the front door along with the cat. Damian excuse the both of you, leading you up to the library where you two will be working on the project. You set your things down and he sends you to find useful books.

You’re so engrossed in finding books that you don’t hear the door open, but Damian does. He looks up from the book he holds in hand and sees his two pets walking in. He goes to shoo them away, but the minute you walk out of the lined shelves with books in hand, they walk to you. Damian can only stare confused. He thinks you are a witch, a little childish but he lives in a world where they, are in fact, real by any means. But that can’t be, because Damian did some digging on you. It’s a little weird and creepy but there was no way he was going to let a complete stranger in his home.

They stop in front of you and you smile down at them, An “excuse me” leaves your lips as you walk around them and make your way towards Damian. They follow you closely. A book falls from your grasp and lands on the floor right by Titus.

Titus picks up the book with his mouth, softly so he won’t leave bite marks. “You have well-mannered pets Damian” You smile dropping the books on the table in front of you as Titus does the same with the book in his mouth.

“Makes sense since they were trained by me after all” he hums. “And they were trained to obey and not to do what they want when they want” he’s scolding them, they aren’t allowed in the study. “Now go you two” he points to the door, They seem to hesitate and hide behind you. Damian looks done at them with wide eyes, and you stand there awkwardly.

“Let them stay for a bit. They won’t bother us” You get done to their level, in the middle as you wrap your arm around the Great Dane and carry the tuxedo cat in your arms.

“Please?” He would say no to you, but he can’t say no to his animals. Ever. He least put a heavy sigh

“tch, alright! But only for a few minutes, I don’t want you to get distracted and leave me to do all the work”

“That won’t happen” It did happen. You were too busy baby-talking them and rubbing their bellies. But you two did pass your class all together so it was worth it.

[outro-jo]

when skz says “no”

pairing: skz member x reader

type: scenario

warnings: none

request: yes

notes: requests are open but pls read info before requesting! also this is a formal apology to the seungmin stans. it’s so short but it was the last one i wrote and my brain was fried 😭

masterlist | info

———————————

bang chan- this vacation was much needed and highly anticipated. chris definitely needed a break but you were anxious for entirely different reasons. the ring hidden in your pocket was the whole reason why. well, that and your plans were almost foiled at every turn. at tsa they had you show them the ring and chris almost saw. you thought you lost it in your luggage when you finally arrived. the fancy dinner you plan was almost rained out as well. all of that and chris himself almost ruined the proposal as well… with his own. he turned to look at the sunset and when he turned back, you were on one knee. before you could even ask, chris gasped and went, “No!” as your face was dropping, chris reached into his suit pocket and pulled out a ring of his own. “i’m was going to ask you.” he said with a giggle. you got up to your seat, scooting it close to him. reaching up behind his neck, you scratched at the hair line and brought his forehead to yours. “i guess we’re just perfect for each other.”

lee know- when thinking about minho and your lives together, you knew it was a forever thing from early on in your relationship. the two of you talked fondly about marriage and possibly raising a family if your life allowed for it. with you two being together for years now, you were staring to think it was time for you two to move to the next step. the beauty of your relationship is that you and minho were equals. there was never any question about it or hard work it make it so. it was just something that happened naturally and just who minho was. when it came to the proposal you knew it had to be something low key and intimate. a big fancy proposal with flowers and at a special location just wasn’t either of your style. you decided that a movie night with the cats was the perfect time and place to do it. all night you felt the jitters, minho even commented on it a few times when you thought you were alone to catch your breath. the perfect moment had finally arrived and in the middle of the film you got down on one knee and asked the question. minho gave no sort of expression on his face. he just looked down at you in his usual deadpanned manner and pat the couch cushion next to him. “no, come sit back down. this is the best part.” you hesitantly obeyed, closing the ring box and returning it to your pocket. there was no way you were enjoying the rest of the movie the way your mind swirled. “he really doesn’t wanna marry me?” “should i have done something else to make it more special?” “does he want to break up.” though you were sitting still and quiet, minho could feel the way your mind raced and rolled his eyes. not at you of course, but you were always the impulsive and impatient one in he relationship. he reeled you in the way you needed. if you had waited just a little longer… but seeing how that wasn’t going to happen once the credits rolled, minho got up with an exasperated sigh. he knew he had to do this now or it was gonna eat you up. you sat in silence while he went to the back bedroom and returned with a black object in his hand. minho looked adorably annoyed as he got on one knee, his eyelids lazily drooped over his eyes. “fine, marry me.” he opened the box in his had to reveal the most stunning engagement ring. you gasped, watching it sparkle in the dim lighting. “minho, are you sure?!” “yes, i’m sure but you ruined the surprise i had for next week, pabo.” you laughed and tried to hide the embarrassment on your cheeks behind your hands. “you’re my pabo and i wouldn’t have our life be any other way than you moving too fast because you’re excited then i have to come behind you and do it right.” he told you, his face relaxing into what one could only describe as fondness for you. you nodded as the tears started to flow and he pulled you into his arms, sitting you on his knee for hugs and kisses. after a few seconds minho pulled away and said, “ok, gimme my ring.”

changbin- your boyfriend was old fashioned, traditional. he liked things a certain way whereas you were totally unconventional. admittedly, he loved that about you. it pushed him out of his comfort zone and challenged his way of thinking. you brought out the best in him. though some things were just sacred to him. changbin always expected to be the one to propose to you when the time came, but it never did and you were getting tired of waiting. you took matters in your own hands. the plan was in motion, taking him out to dinner, then a quiet boat ride on the han river. just as binnie was distracted by the fireworks going off over head you, got down on one knee. “binnie, will you—“ “no!” he got down on one knee in front of you. “marry me!” “you don’t even have a ring!” you protested. “yes, i do! i’ve had it since i met you! it’s in my closet!” he shot back. “then why haven’t you asked me to marry you?” “because…” he paused for a moment. “i was too afraid you’d say no.” he spoke in a soft voice, almost embarrassed for thinking the way he did. “but you’re the one that said ‘no’ to me.” you teased him gently. “well… that doesn’t count. you ambushed me.” “it’s called a surprise!”

hyunjin- paris was one of hyunjin’s favorite cities. you never really understand the “city of love” thing until you went there with your love. all the lights and beautiful blossoms on the trees, the incredible food and shopping, it all was so much better experiencing it with the love of your life. you were so swept up in the feeling, you couldn’t help but want to make the most of your time here. before you knew it, you were walking out of a jewelry shop with a ring for your boyfriend but no plan whatsoever. you had resigned to let paris work her magic and the moment will come when it was supposed to. it was a beautiful afternoon with you and hyunjin walking hand in hand, his camera around his neck to take shots as you went. walking along the river, the sun was just setting and hyunjin had to stop you because you looked so beautiful. “wait, baby, the light is perfect right now!” he held the film camera up to his eye, squinting to look through the view finder. he took two shots of different poses and before he could realize what was going on, you got down on your knee. the flash went off but hyunjin froze, his hands slowly lowering to reveal his jaw agape as he stared at you. “will you marry me, hyunjinnie?” you opened the box to reveal the ring. “no…” it was so faint, you weren’t sure you heard it right. “what?” you asked. hyunjin suddenly snapped back into reality, the weight of what he said hitting him. “no! no, i mean, no!” as if the word wasn’t already echoing in your head, hyunjin kept repeating it as he fumbled. “i can take a hint, babe.” you scoffed bitterly and went to stand. “wait, no! i— uggghh” he was growing more frustrated with himself. letting the camera fall, held by the strap around his neck, he dug into his pocket. “i mean, ‘no’ as in, ‘there’s no way i found someone so incredibly perfect for me’.” hyunjin held the ring out to you, beaming. your face lit up before you jumped up, wrapping your arms around his neck and kissing all over his face repeating “yes” over and over.

han- competitive. that’s one word everyone would use to describe your relationship with jisung. not in a bad way. it was very playful and usually lighthearted. the two of you joked about who would end up proposing first and mock fighting it was gonna be you while he insisted it would be him. this also resulted in a proposal from him that you just rolled your eyes at because you knew he was just doing it for the bit. when you finally decided enough was enough and you had to marry him, you put a lot of thought into how you would propose to him. the perfect day was planned and it was jisung to a t. by the time you were about to drop to a knee, jisung was completely oblivious but panicked the minute he turned and saw you. “NO! NO!” he fussed, dropping to his knee. “i was gonna ask you first.” “too bad.” you gave him a shit eating grin. “i won. now you have to marry me.” jisung couldn’t help but laugh at you. “fine, ok, but i also won and you’re my prize.”

felix- dating felix was nothing short of magical. even the harder times when you two were apart or struggling to communicate, you always felt this overwhelming love for him. it gave you hope in those times that it would always work out. your and felix’s relationship was unique in that neither of you fell into specific gender roles. felix always prefers to keep gender stereotype out of quite literally everything. it felt completely right with him. which is why it felt totally natural buying an engagement ring, especially so early on in your relationship. the saying, “you just know” couldn’t have been more true and you finally understood when you met felix. the ring lived in your sock drawer, lying in wait for the right time, which you knew was probably some time in the future. the universe had other plans. the ring stayed perfectly hidden for a year or so until felix had decided to take the relationship to the next step: moving in together. he very sweetly offered to help you pack and quite honestly, the ring had been in there so long that you often forgot about it. it wasn’t until felix was in the drawer and you walked in and heard, “oh, no…” that you froze. you panicked, “felix, baby, i can explain!” you didn’t have to, felix was already on his knee in front of you, holding your own ring towards you. he was teary eyed and grinning ear to ear. “i dunno why i didn’t think about this sooner. i guess you’re always one step ahead of me. you’ve always been smarter than me.” he chuckled. “but i want this. i want you. i promise i’ll get you a ring, too. just please… marry me.” silence hung in the air as he finished his proposal. you hesitated, “lix… is it too soon?” felix quickly stood, shaking his head as he took you in his arms. “of course not! i want forever to start as soon as possible with you. i love you so much!” he emphasized the last sentence. “then i guess it’s a yes.”

seungmin- seungmin was very particular about literally everything and it was your job as his partner to mess that up a bit, bring him out of his comfort zone. he had a love/hate relationship with your ‘job’. seungmin needed the house cold, you turned up the heat. seungmin folded his clothes a certain way, you found a better way to fold them. seungmin wanted an apartment out of the city, you found a block away from the dorms. every single idea or thought was challenged by you. so when you proposed to him and he said no, it didn’t faze you one bit. you still loved him just as much as you did before. it was only two weeks later when seungmin proposed to you over dinner, in his own way. sometimes you gotta let him win some.

i.n- in his defense, you shouldn’t have asked while he was in a game with felix. he just looked so beautiful. freshly showered, no makeup, his skin glowing after his skincare routine. jeongin was so stunning that in that moment, you couldn’t help but ask. “will you marry me?” the words just fell from your lips effortlessly. your boyfriend tucked a headphone behind his ear, half glancing down at you as he said, “what? oh, no thanks, baby,” before returning to his game.  you weren’t really serious but to hear ‘no’ still stung. having taken all your bruised ego can handle, you went back to your shared bedroom to nurse your wounds. it’s not like you and jeongin have been together for a few weeks or even months. it’s been years by now, but you both are still young and he has stay and stray kids to worry about. i guess it wasn’t good timing anyways. but you couldn’t help but wonder if he ever wanted to get married. the worry plagued your mind for weeks after and you felt yourself growing more distant. it wasn’t intentional but the small incident couldn’t help but have you insecure in yourself and your relationship. jeongin on the other hand didn’t really notice as his mind was a little preoccupied. he had a comeback and tour in the works and there was something he decided that he needed to do before he left. on the night before he left, he took you out to dinner at you favorite fancy restaurant. this was the restaurant where you spent birthdays and anniversaries. the restaurant where your parents met for the first time. this was a special place but you hardly paid attention. for the first time, jeongin could see the space between the two of you in the glossy look in your eyes. they stared at the utensil you fidgeted with in your hands. the fear of not asking you far outweighed you possibility of you saying no so he finally had to ask. rather than getting down on one knee (which you both had prior agreed was a weird tradition), he slid the little black box to you across the table. you rolled your eyes playfully and took it. “you didn’t have to get me anything.” you teased him. all the air in your lungs dissipated when you saw the ring glittering back at you. “jeong— wha—?” your words failed you. your boyfriend couldn’t hold back the biggest smile, tears forming in the corners of his eyes. “i couldn’t go on tour without knowing i’d come back and you’d still be mine. i know i’ve done it before but i just need you so badly. i wanna spend forever with you. will you spend it with me?” needless to say, the two of you now had a funny proposal story to tell your family now.

taglist: @ujejdjd

[itszerotwoo]

Obey me mc supremacy 🛐

I really like how obey me made their mc. They're not your typical otome mc that is automatically a girl. They made their mc gender neutral so everyone could be them. Also, i like mc's personality, they're not the basic type of otome mc that is always naive, innocent and fragile. Obey me mc is literally dealing with demons, angels and immortal creatures yet they can still handle themselves, belphie literally killed them but they came back to life like nothing happened, they got chased by cerberus but still managed to survive, they got into a lot of trouble and yet they're still alive. Basically, obey me mc is an immortal girlboss/manboss no wonder the obey me brothers, angels and immortal creatures there are so down bad for them.

[luxthestrange]

Obey me!Memes #177

Out of the 10 demons,3 Angels,Reaper and Merlin-I mean Solomon...He believed in our supremacy before ANYONE!

[cherry-flavoured-thot]

"Seems like you missed me," Solomon is always quick to point out how eager you seem to see him when you've been apart for a while. "I missed you too of course," he adds just as fast to beat your inevitable retort. He did. He's just as overjoyed to have you back in his arms, as you are to be in them.

He's lived such a long time, but the days he's away from you seem to be the longest. It doesn't matter how many tasks he has to complete, or how many distractions he makes, his mind always finds his way back to you. What are you doing right now? Are you thinking about him too? What can he do to get back to you the fastest? The questions continue until he realises you've consumed his thoughts again.

He won't tell you outright that this is the case almost every time he has to go away. Then you'd find it too easy to convince him to stay, and without little argument he would every single time.

[dulcelovestoomuch]

Devildom's Idol // Obey Me Brothers x Idol!Reader Headcanons

As you stand on the stage, you realize after a long journey that you have made it. A mere human singing on a stage, surrounded by hundreds of demons singing along to your music.

It took time for them to recognize you, but no one could deny your voice or impact anymore. You sung your heart out on stage and that alone gave rise to the fanbase before you. You were truly an idol that transcended the realms.

The music blared and you raised your microphone to your mouth.

"Are you ready, Devildom?"

The crowd screamed and you smiled. You began singing, listening to the chants of fans and watching swirling light-sticks in the crowd. This was everything you ever wanted, but you didn't do it alone.

You glance to the person staring at you behind the stage, waiting for you to finish your last song. He had been with you every step of the way.

✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°✧˖°

Lucifer

Definitely proud of you and having a famous partner is probably some type of ego boost to him.

Would be protective of you though, from fans and both the industry itself.

Not afraid to put any creepy idols or executives in their place.

Looking over contracts with your manager for sure.

You're just sitting there as they go back and forth on the prices to negotiate for.

Would be like a second manager to be honest.

Makes sure you eat and take care of yourself.

"MC, did you take a break, yet? You've been practicing since early morning." "Uh..."

Will pick you up and force you to sit down and rest.

He knows how hard your work to give your best performances.

You will have to do the same to him sometimes.

You both work too hard.

Mammon

Definitely would ask for like 10,000 grim whenever someone wanted a picture with you.

Partially out of jealously even if he denies it.

Would sell some random things of yours, nothing too personal, but a pen is definitely going missing when he can't fight the urge.

"Mammon?" "Yeah, MC?" "Where's my pen? "..."

He bolts every time.

Photoshoots together 100%

People would definitely realize you were together at some point.

There would be rumors and gossip, sometimes people talking bad about Mammon, but you didn't tolerate that at all.

He may not be perfect, but he was yours.

He secretly doesn't understand why someone as great as you is with him.

May or may not know some fan chants, but that's his business only.

Levi

Probably stans you

"I-I can't believe the idol MC hugged me???" "Levi... We've been dating for six months..."

Can't believe he's dating an idol

Is this an anime plot???

Posters of you in his room

Definitely fights to get merch of yours even though you could give him freebies

Would be jealous at other fans talking about you, but would then realize he's the only one that actually has you.

Still gets jealous though.

He tries his best to attend your concerts, sometimes he's overwhelmed, other times he's waving his light-stick and chanting in perfect harmony with the other fans.

You are both in awe and horrified at how perfect he does the fan chants.

Satan

Sometimes when he wants background noise while reading he'll put on your music.

Always manages to go to your concerts.

If anyone tries anything, they better be careful.

Once a demon tried to grab your hand and pull you close.

Satan got involved.

You prayed for that random demon.

Secretly feels like he has a one-up on Lucifer by dating you.

Not that it's the reason he's dating you, but it's a bonus.

Definitely would buy all the magazines that featured you in someway.

Front covers?? Interviews??? Boy has got it all.

He makes even the most dedicated fans look like fake fans with his collection.

"Satan, you don't have to buy every magazine I'm in," "I don't have to but I want to."

You wore cat ears a fan gave you once and it literally broke him.

Asmo

Selfies everyday, and I mean everyday.

Everyone in Devildom would be delusional if they didn't notice you were together

The most sought after demon and the most sought after idol??

Definitely lots of talk about you two.

You used to sing at his "Asmo Nights" but the crowd got too large at some point and Diavolo had to step in to prevent a hazard.

So, only sing at concerts please, for Diavolo and Barbatos' sake.

You find out that boy can sing and the Devildom is flipped upside down when you two release a duet.

However, even with all the attention, he would always make sure that you know he's loyal to you. He doesn't care about others or fans as much as he cares about you.

Your love is what he needs most.

"You know I love you the most, right? <3"

Beel

Feel like he would be proud of you, but in the end it wouldn't matter to him if you're famous

He just likes you for you

And your cooking

I can see him going to every event though, waving a light-stick in one hand while munching on something with the other.

Seeing how hard you work makes him hungry.

He would be protective of you though, not afraid to step in if a fan was getting too close.

Brings extra snacks into the practice room and tries his best not to eat them so that you can eat when you're done.

"MC, take a break," "I can't Beel, I still haven't got this step down," "Well, I brought your favorite," "..."

You try to say no, but your stomach growls and you end up beside him, munching together on your favorite snacks.

Belphie

Sings your songs while he's asleep.

You recorded him singing in his sleep. You watch the videos whenever you need to pick yourself up.

Tries his best to stay awake during your concerts, but if he can't, he'll find all the posts he can about it.

That way he can see if he missed anything.

Definitely makes it a goal to have you rest.

You are booked and busy, but you can't forget to sleep.

Admires how hard you practice.

But is possessive and hates when can't spend time with him.

Sleeps in the practice room as you learn new dances.

You wake him up when you're done and he just pulls you close and cuddles with you awhile.

"Belphie, I'm sweaty," "And?"

Eventually will let you go so you clean up.

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Hope you enjoyed. I tried my best to make things accurate, I'm still new to writing the boys and Satan gave me the toughest time. This is my second work and my first time doing headcanons in the fandom, hopefully I can do more soon, and maybe make this one a series!

[lovelykil]

Could you do some nsfw imagines for Craig like you did for Kyle maybe ?? 👀🙈

suree😯

craig x reader older ver.

cw; nsfw

sfw ver.

Imagine. . .

Sitting on his lap feeling his length beneath you as his hands wander up to your shirt to grasp your breasts.

Him telling you to keep it down, his friends were just in the other room and he was fucking you deep from behind as you threw your weight on the sink, your hand covering your mouth to muffle out the loud moans.

Craig accidentally letting out a clear low moan from you sucking on his bare pasty skin while you stroked his hard erection.

Him holding up your hair to make it easier to face fuck your mouth, his head rolling back, he tells you how good your tongue is in a low whiney voice as his dick slides against it just right.

The way his warm tongue glides over your cold bare stomach, sending a slight shiver up your spine. He slowly reaches up to your neck kissing it lightly before biting down softly, his hands cuffing your right boob.

His hand over your mouth to cancel out your noises just for a tease as he grunts into your ear thrusting into you harshly

Your neck covered in visible hickeys along with some bite marks that your friends pointed out, Kenny nudged you in the arm while Kyle and Stan looked at each other.

Craig being on his phone completely ignoring the current situation but being very aware as you nervously try to avoid their assumptions, he smirks seemingly being proud of himself.

His moderate, deep voice degrading you from above, he fucks your pussy with both of his strong hands on the sides of your glossy, sweaty hips,, enjoying himself quite well when you respond with what he wants.

"You take me in like such a dirty whore, don't you baby?"

"Ah, good girl. Now take my cock you slut."

Him holding you by the waist when he wants to kiss you, gripping it slightly if he wants to make out.

He bites down on your lower lip wanting to be let in.. once he is his tongue voyages into your mouth, it finds yours and slides against it exchanging the warm saliva you both shared as they mush together. It makes you weak in the knees as he takes full dominance over your tongue, just causing a low moan to escape into his mouth that gets him hard.

Him blowing smoke into your mouth, he grabs ahold of your chin lightly as you took in the airy drug, he smiles down at you before licking his lips to crash his own into yours. His hips grind slowly against your crotch feeling himself grow hard for you.

Craig growing needy of your touch. He sets you on top of him to sit on his erection with both of his hands on your hips. He tells you to move your hips around for him slowly, you obey and lean forward to give him lazy kisses and lightly bite on his lip with a mischievous grin.

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