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wolfhunter89 · 15 days ago

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stanford pines x reader

Holidays

“I should’ve had kids with you.”

summary: in which ford reminisces and thinks about what could’ve been and what once was

warnings: gender neutral reader mostly but there’s a line about you having his kids so take that as you will

word count: 1.2k

notes: halloween is over which means some festive ish things like this are coming!!

The words fell from his lips as if they held less weight than his usual late night words he shared with you.

“I should’ve had kids with you.”

He breathed the sentence into your neck as he got comfortable in the bed you share. It was a warm sigh that made your eyes widen as his arms moved around your waist.

You snap out of the tired trance you were in as you look at him. He’s an older version of the man you fell in love with at nineteen. The wrinkles by his eyes and slight signs of aging almost make you happy because he just looks so cute growing old with you.

After everything with the portal, you never thought your husband would come back to you. When Stan took over his identity, you were fake married to Stan. You didn’t kiss or do anything married people do other than taxes so it obviously didn’t fill the Ford-shaped hole in your heart.

When Ford came back, you were a wreck. Things hadn’t exactly ended well. You snapped just days before the portal incident. He had pushed you away and you saw him less and less so seeing him again brought back all the feelings of neglect and abandonment. But he slowly crept his way back into your heart, how could he not?

He still has that same sweet smile and the same eyes. So you worked it out. And now he spends more time with you because being away from you proved to him even more than before that he loved you. God, he loved you. His heart beats for you. He married you, for fucks sake.

He never thought he’d ever even get married. When his father gave him his suit for his wedding, he assumed he’d wear it to accept a nobel prize. Then there he was in that suit, promising you forever in front of all of your friends and family.

He missed you so badly while he was gone and he swore he would find his way back to you. To your arms, your lips, that smile that could kill him. He loves you.

“I should’ve settled down with you instead of going along with Bill. I should’ve given you babies and built you a bigger house. I wish I gave my life to you in more apparent ways.” He says, pressing a soft and quick kiss to your neck to really feel your presence. Your skin is soft and he breathes in again, feeling like his heart is completely and utterly safe with you.

You don’t know what to say. Your fingers freeze in his hair as you think about his words. His soft and quiet confession about what he wishes happened. And then you both begin silently thinking about what did happen. And that leads to mourning what could have been.

“I know it might be dumb but I think about it a lot. You know, what it would’ve been like to settle down with you. I think about picket fences and kids and holidays. I like Mabel’s philosophy on holidays. I like to think that’s how things would be at our house. We celebrate all holidays. Winter would’ve been especially fun for our kids, Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, every holiday.” He muses.

You’re silent for a moment, just listening to him talk, feeling his words wrap around you like a warm blanket. His voice is softer than you’re used to, almost reverent, as he talks about the life you could have had together. And with each word, you feel that old ache start to surface, the one that you thought you’d buried years ago.

Being completely honest, there was a point in your life where the baby-fever overtook you. You wanted a baby with your husband. You wanted the life he described. But then you came to your senses. Ford isn’t that kind of man and you didn’t want him to be. You loved the man he was. You still do. And your heart was never swayed completely one way or the other. So you let it go and you never came back to it because you were happy.

Even now, there’s no bitterness. Just that quiet sadness, a gentle ache that’s soothed by the feeling of his arms around you, his hand gently rubbing your back as he continues.

“I can picture it so clearly, a little girl with your eyes and my stubborn streak,” He says, his voice catching on the thought. “Or maybe a boy who’d want to be just like you. Who’d look at you the way I do—like you’re the whole world.”

You can’t help but wonder if he thinks about this often, if he lets these thoughts creep in late at night, the way you sometimes do. There’s something both comforting and heartbreaking about knowing you’re not alone in that.

After a moment, you brush a hand through his hair, feeling the familiar warmth of his presence beside you, grounding you.

“Ford,” You whisper, gently tracing the lines on his face, “You don’t mean that. It’s a nice thought. It really is. I would’ve loved to have that life with you. Kids, Christmas, fences. I would’ve had your kids in an instant if you wanted that. But you didn’t because you love your job and that’s enough for you. And you being happy was enough for me.”

He leans into your touch, eyes closing as if he’s absorbing the truth of your words.

“I know,” He murmurs. “I just…I wanted to give you so much more. More than this little cottage, more than my late-night ramblings and scars and regrets. You deserved a quieter life, one without…all the running, the danger. You deserved a less flighty husband who finds god in a cave and causes the end of the world.”

“But this is the life we have,” You remind him, gently tilting his chin up so he has to look at you. “And you’re here. That’s all I ever wanted. All those things you’re talking about—the picket fences, the holidays—they’re nice. But this is what we have, and it’s enough for me.”

His hand finds yours, fingers threading through with a familiar warmth. He looks at you for a long moment, his expression softening, as if seeing you for the first time all over again. And he feels it again going through his heart that he’s so in love with you. His heart is always gonna belong to you.

“You’re enough for me too,” He says, his voice barely above a whisper.

For a while, you both lay there in a comfortable silence, each lost in your thoughts, holding onto each other as if to prove that you’re here, that you found your way back from everything that tried to tear you apart.

“You know, maybe it’s not too late to have some of that. Maybe we don’t need the picket fence, but we could still make our own traditions. We could…we could still have holidays like Mabel would. Just you and me, celebrating everything.” He speaks up.

“Well, then, Happy Holidays, my love.” You press a quick kiss to his nose and everything in him warms for you.

“Happy Holidays, my darling.”

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wolfhunter89 · 19 days ago

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hits your blorbo with the wand that turns you into a moth

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wolfhunter89 · 21 days ago

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hes pathetic i can’t help myself

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wolfhunter89 · 24 days ago

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⁺‧₊˚ ཐི⋆ HALLOWEEN EDITION | Stan & Ford x reader ⋆ཋྀ ˚₊‧⁺

sorry if this is too late :,((

kind of inspired by two incredible artworks i reblogged earlier this week

tags: nsfw (it’s literally pure filth), fem!reader, oral (f and m receiving), p in v, praise & degradation, rough sex, overstimulating, dirty talk, biting, blood kink, sex toys, Ford is mean

࣪ ִֶָ🩸་༘�� vampire!Stanley

Stan’s in that damn costume, the deep red of his cape casting a dark shadow over his broad frame, fangs sharp and glistening. you shouldn’t find it as hot as you do. . .

Stan’s got you exactly where he wants you, pinned down beneath him, wrists locked tight in his grip, his body hot and heavy, pressing you into the mattress, holding you there like he never intends to let go. “oh, sweetie,” he murmurs, that evil smirk curling up on his lips. “you’ve got no idea the kinda trouble you’re in now, do ya? look at you. . . all spread out, soaked for me, you’re just beggin’ for it, aren’t ya?”

his mouth trails to your neck and it’s not soft. no, his fangs sink in, claiming you as his, groaning low as he laps up the drop of blood that blooms under his bite, like tasting you is all he needs. he lets his tongue trace the drop of blood that wells up, groaning as he laps it up like it’s the finest thing he’s ever tasted. Stanley is obsessed, absolutely wrecked over you, and he doesn’t even try to hide it. “fuckin’ hell,” he mutters, his thumb dragging the crimson over his lips, smearing it, his eyes are dark, half-lidded and god, he’s so hard against you, his thick length grinding up against your cunt through his pants and he feels the way you’re already soaked for him, feel it seeping through the thin fabric of your panties.

“just like that, honey,” he growls, slipping his rough, calloused hand down, pressing his fingers against your aching clit through the cloth, rubbing slow lazy circles that make you whimper, arching up into him. “needy messy thing, huh?” he lets out a dark chuckle, watching you fall apart under his touch, his finger slipping down to push against your entrance, just barely pressing in to tease, before pulling away. “you want this cock so bad, don’t ya, baby? look at you, drippin’ all over my hand.”

Stan can’t help himself; totally crazy about the way you’re gasping, moaning, whining, practically riding his hand as he slides one thick finger inside, then another, stretching you open, working you slow, feeling how you pulse and clench around him, desperate. he’s watching, that dark gleam in his eye as he yanks your panties in one quick, brutal motion, tearing them away, they’re useless anyway, leaving you bare, spread open, trembling under him, your needy cunt exposed to his hungry eyes. “that’s it, sugar.”

Stan’s fingers pump into your wetness, reaching deep, curling up to press against that sweet spot inside that makes you moan his name and beg for more, makes your thighs shake and he’s just eating it up, every little sound, every twitch, every shudder, enjoying how helpless you are. “you’re squeezin’ me so damn tight, doll, like this pretty little pussy’s just beggin’ to be filled. you want it, don’t ya? you want this cock filling you up ‘til you’re creamin’ all over me?” Stan just watches how your pussy takes his fingers, admiring how hot it looks, nearly salivating, oh how starved this man is.

“goddamn, what a beautiful fuckin’ sight.”he mutters, voice low, fingers tracing through your slick, swollen folds, spreading.

his thumb brushes over your clit, gentle at first, just enough to make you squirm and buck your hips. hell, you look so delicious lying there, all innocent and laid out just for him, for his fangs. Stanley doesn’t just want to taste your blood; he wants to drink down every ounce of you, to watch you writhe under his tongue, to fuck you senseless until there’s nothing left but trembling submission. you’re such a stunning sight, gazing up at him with that smoldering need, thighs pressed together as your arousal builds. your neck is covered in bites and love marks, smears of blood dotting your collarbones and throat. fuck, if he weren’t so obsessed with your pussy, he’d paint you in crimson. you’re just so damn sweet, so tempting.

you feel his hot breath against you, his mouth hovering so close, so achingly close to where you want him, need him. and then— oh, god, he’s kissing you there, pressing his mouth right against your wet entrance, sliding his tongue slowly over your slit, drawing out every sweet sound from your parted lips. the first taste makes him groan and he just goes feral from there, his mouth open, wet, hot, working over you like he’s starving, he’s devouring you, worshiping every inch, tongue dipping into your wet opening, making your thighs tremble.

he’s so lost in it, groaning against you as he buries himself between your thighs, tasting you, savouring every last drop. “fuck, you taste so good, baby,” Stan groans, pulling back, watching you with drunk eyes and glistening lips. “sweetest damn thing I’ve ever had.”

he sucks hard on your swollen clit, his lips wrapping around the sensitive bud, tongue rolling slow thick strokes against it until you’re gasping, your hips bucking against his mouth as he laps at you furiously. Stan lets out a low grunt, one hand sliding down, pressing his fingers into your hot soaked opening, working it slow, just barely breaching the entrance, collecting your juices as his tongue works relentlessly over your clit, making you see stars and tug his hair, your vision blurs from pleasure.

he slips his fingers out, just to watch the way your slick coats them, shining, glistening so beautifully and then he’s bringing them up to your lips, pressing them against your mouth with that devilish grin. “c’mon, open up, darlin’. taste yourself, yeah? wanna see you suck those fingers clean.” and when you do, sliding his thick fingers past your lips, tasting your own arousal as you suck them, he’s watching you hungrily, groaning, his hand moving to unzip, to free his cock — thick, veined, throbbing for you, so ready, practically aching as he strokes it, his gaze never leaving your flushed, needy face.

“get on your knees,” Stan commands and as you sink down, legs trembling, he fists a hand in your hair, guiding you to his cock, pressing the swollen, dripping head right up against your lips. “gonna make you choke on it, baby,” he murmurs as he pushes in, filling your warm mouth, groaning at the sensation. the taste of him hits you, salty, hot, intoxicating and when he reaches the back of your throat, he doesn’t pull back, but holds you there, buried deep, growling as he watches the tears prick at the corners of your eyes, feeling you struggle, feeling you take him like a good girl you are.

“ffuck, that’s it,” Stanley grunts, hand tight in your hair, guiding your mouth over him, setting a slow, torturous rhythm. “take it all, honey, don’t you dare pull back. i’m gonna fuck this pretty little mouth ‘til you’re drooling, ‘til I see those sweet little tears rollin’ down your cheeks, beggin’ for more.” and he thrusts slowly, but roughly, his cock filling you over and over, making your throat clench around him as you choke, drool slipping down your chin while he just groans, rolling his hips, pushing deeper, claiming every inch of you, feeding his length into that hot, wet mouth until you’re utterly, completely his.

࣪ ִֶָ🧪་༘࿐ scientist!Ford

that look in Ford’s eyes is downright terrifying, a hunger so dark it borders on obsession. standing above you in his lab, he’s like a predator cornering his prey, latex gloves snapping tight over his hands as he flexes his fingers, testing the restraint of each one. “just perfect,” he says, a sinister smirk tugging at his lips, his gaze devouring every inch of your body, laid bare on the cold examination table. “finally, I have you right where I want you.” Ford feels like watching some rare, elusive phenomenon, one he’s waited years to study up close.

he adjusts his glasses, looking down at you like you’re his own personal experiment. his six fingered hands itching to explore every part of you.

“such a rare subject, huh. . .”

the way you’re spread out on this cold table, vulnerable, open, ready to be ruined, it drives him insane. Ford drags a gloved finger along your needy entrance, feeling how wet you already are. “there we go,” he whispers, eyes glued to your exposed core, barely able to keep his composure as he leans down, his breath hot against your skin, even behind his mask.

he’s teasing you, tracing his gloved fingers along your inner thighs, ignoring the way you squirm, the way your hips lift in search of friction. "oh no, no. . . don't get ahead of yourself. we’re doing this my way, understood?"

then Ford pulls a small vibrator from his lab coat pocket, holding it up to the light, inspecting it clinically with that smart look of his before pressing it right against your swollen clit, flicking it on with a twist of his wrist. you don’t except this at all, the buzz jolts through you, sparking your nerves into overdrive and he watches, utterly fascinated, as your body writhes under him, chest rising and falling, lips parting in gasps and moans as you shake in pleasurable agony.

“no squirming.” he says seriously, even a little bit enjoyed as he adjusts the speed, pressing it harder against your poor little clit, holding you in place with one hand. “do you know how beautiful you look like this? squirming, desperate. . . jesus, and I’m the only one who gets to see it.” he presses it harder, moving it in small circles that make you bite back the desperate cries spilling from your lips.

“god, look at you,” there’s something cruel in his tone, something filthy and mocking that makes it all the hotter. “already dripping for me and I’ve barely began. pathetic.” he doesn’t even wait for an answer, he knows you can’t, not when he teases you like this as he just pushes the vibrator against you harder, grinding it all over your swollen sensitive bud until you’re mewling, “such a good little experiment, so fucking obedient, just look at you. . .”

you’re trembling and he’s right, you’re so damn wet, your thighs slick with arousal. Ford finally pulls the toy away and just when you think he might give you a second to breathe, his fingers are on you, pressing two thick gloved digits right into your drenched cunt so deep it makes your eyes widen. “ohh, you’re squeezing my fingers like you’re trying to keep me inside,” he chuckles darkly, curling them just right and you see stars, your walls pulse around him while you can’t do anything but lay there and take it. “this desperate cunt was made just for me to fuck with.” and he’s got that creepy insane grin which you can’t see through mask, but you definitely know it’s there, as he starts pumping his fingers in and out, dragging every inch until you’re whining again, hips lifting, needing it rougher, needing something much bigger than just his fingers. “just listen to those sounds,” he taunts, twisting his fingers as he buries them knuckle deep into you, pulling out to thrust in again, making the filthiest wettest noises echo through the lab. you’re a whining mess, helpless to the way he plays your body like a madman studying a phenomenon he’s finally captured.

then, without a word, his hand comes down against your clit in a sharp slap, making you jolt, a cry slipping from your mouth as the shock and pleasure blend together, you look down with eyes full of needy tears, sniffing. “oww, did that hurt, darling? is that why your stupid pussy got even wetter? little slut.” Ford growls, rubbing your swollen bud with his thumb, soothing only to slap again, delighting in the way you jolt, the way your mouth opens in a silent scream.

“my god, look at that,” Stanford finally pulls his fingers out and holds them up in front of you, you bite your lip, all humiliated as your juices dripping down his knuckles. “such a filthy mess you’re making of my gloves, dripping all over me and it’s just from my fingers?”

when you’re all dazed and ruined, with flushed face and body, all brain fucked out of you, he finally takes his fingers away. Ford undoes his belt with his free hand, pulling out his cock — hard, thick, dripping with pre-cum as he lines himself up against your soaked needy cunt. "you’re going to take every inch of this cock,” he guides himself at your leaking entrance. "you’re going to take it, let me fill you up, fuck you so deep you feel me for days.” his length slides against your puffy folds, pressing in slowly, groaning at how good you feel, your warm and soft walls squeezing him, until he’s buried to the hilt, stretching you open. “mmhm, barely fitting around me, but you’re taking it, aren’t you? good girl. . . there you go, keep squeezing me just like that.”

he doesn’t give you a second to adjust before he starts moving, driving his cock into you, thrusting hard, rough, hitting so deep, making your eyes roll back, mouth open as your body clings to him. “can feel you getting tighter— gonna cum for me already, aren’t you? barely even started fucking you and you’re already falling apart.”

and when you cum, your whole body shakes, gasping for air as a powerful orgasm tears through you because nothing compares to the bliss of cumming on Ford’s cock while feeling him so deep inside. but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t pull out; he keeps fucking you, barely holding back his own moans, lost in the incredible feeling of your little pussy squeezing around him, making it all too fucking good to resist. chucking, Ford pulls your leg up, shifting you to your side, thrusting into you from a different angle, his cock hitting that spot that makes you moan his name, lost to everything but the relentless drive of his hips. “oh, you like that, don’t you?” you can’t even a answer, your body so pliant in his hands as he pounds into you, watching the way your pussy hungrily sucks him in deeper. “feels that good, huh? can’t believe how fast you’re cumming, such a desperate little slut for me.”

he really is fucking every last bit of sense out of you, until the only sounds you can make are broken cries of ‘dr Pines!’ and ‘please!’ as Ford pounds into your dripping cunt, rough and relentless, your leg hooked over his shoulder as he drives deeper.

drool is spilling down your chin, your mouth slack, open wide as the lab fills with the sharp slaps of his hips against you, the sounds of your desperate cries and his ragged breaths. but it feels so fucking good, his cock stretching and filling you in ways that make your pussy squelch with every thrust. Ford smirks, eyes dark as he watches your slick drip down onto the cold lab table beneath you.

you’re so fucked out that you whine pathetically when he pulls out, your cunt clenching around nothing, left empty and throbbing, aching for more. that’s why Ford slips you over, bending you forward, one hand fisting in your hair as he slides back in, thrusting deep, filling you again, and that angle makes you gasp, makes you feel every inch, every thick, throbbing vein dragging against your soft walls. “you’re just swallowing me up, aren’t you? like this greedy little pussy was made for me,” he groans, his hand gripping your hip, pulling you back onto him with every thrust, filling you, splitting you open, slamming into you hard enough to make the table shake.

“look at you, cumming again, can’t even help yourself,” he pants, voice mocking as he feels you tightening around him again, finishing on his cock again and again, trying to milk him. and he doesn’t stop, doesn’t slow down, just keeps thrusting, filling you over and over, until you’re nothing but a moaning, trembling mess beneath him, totally, completely his.

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wolfhunter89 · 26 days ago

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paws. touching paws. reaching out. booping me. booping you

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wolfhunter89 · 27 days ago

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"I know who you pretend I am"

Imagine Fiddleford going to Ford every day but only Stanley is there. And because Fiddleford's memory affected by the gun, no matter how many times Stan chases him away, he still comes back until he forgets everything.

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wolfhunter89 · 28 days ago

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feeling pretty low today, so i’m turning to these two old men for a little comfort

nsfw under the cut, fem!reader

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Stan likes to call you:

sweetheart, honeybun, doll face and on occasion baby girl. when he’s feeling extra bold? princess — always with that unmistakable smirk

calls you “my good luck charm" if you help him out in the Shack, especially when he’s trying to swindle a tourist and you flash a pretty smile.

✦ “c’mere, darlin’. Can’t let a fine gal like you walk around without her prince.”

✦ “ah, y’know, you’re the only reason I don’t go completely nuts in this crazy town. sometimes, doll, I think yer my only sane thought all day.” said so casually as if it’s not gonna hit you right in the heart.

✦ if you get hurt (even the tiniest scratch), he’s going into dad mode: “who do I gotta knock some sense into, huh?” even if you’ll tell him it was just a clumsy accident, he’ll grumble, “well, now I’m the one hurt. Bein’ all worried like that. You’re killin’ me, kid.”

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ Ford likes to call you

“dearest” when he’s feeling soft, sweetheart, darling, honey, baby

he’ll whisper “love” against your temple when he thinks you’re drifting to sleep, his voice quiet and reverent like it’s sacred to him.

Starlight – Ford’s been out in those other dimensions, faced down monsters and madness, but he says he’s never found anything so bright, so grounding. “c’mere, starlight, I’m not finished admiring you.”

༄ “don’t laugh, but. . . I’d chase you across universes, even if it took me another thirty years. no dimension is worth exploring without you by my side.”

༄ if you’re reading one of his journals, Ford’ll slide up behind you, his hands on your shoulders as he murmurs, “curious, are we? so, what do you think of my work?”

༄ he’s not a show-off, not by any means, but catch him fixing up a machine? he’ll lift his gaze to you, smiling. “I could teach you, you know. but you’d have to be a very attentive student.”

༄ oh, if Ford wrote about you in his journal, you know it’d be scrawled between notes on trans-dimensional theories and arcane symbols, the ink smudged in places where he hesitated, where his pen hovered just so before he let himself write the truth.

“Strange anomalies detected….. not in the temporal or metaphysical sense, but in a far more personal dimension. Subject exhibits an inexplicable gravitational pull, distinct from any gravitational force I've previously documented. When I observe her, I feel an uncharacteristic deviation in my thought patterns, an accelerated heartbeat not caused by heightened blood pressure or adrenaline, but by… attraction. Confounding. She’s somehow eclipsing the most rational parts of my mind.”

And, because Ford’s words can’t capture the whole of it, there’d be tiny sketches of you, like half-finished thoughts.

nsfw

what Stan says during sex

“Damn, honey, you’re makin’ an old man feel young again. Don’t stop.”

“You’re makin’ me wanna be a better man, but not right now, baby, not right now.”

“Mmm, there it is— yeahh, keep doin’ that. . . feels so good, darlin’, you got no idea.”

“Makin’ all these pretty noises, huh? Lemme hear ‘em, baby. Don’t hold back on me.”

“You’re somethin’ else, y’know that? I’m gonna be thinkin’ ‘bout pussy all week.”

“Fuckin’ hell, don’t know if I’m gonna last much longer with you doin’ that.”

“Look at ya, so needy for me, beggin’ to be filled. You got me so riled up, I can barely think— ah, f-fuck. . .”

Ford:

“Ohh— sweetheart, you feel even better than I imagined, i’ve waited for this.”

“I need you so much it scares me.”

“You’re brilliant, utterly captivating. . . yesyesyes, keep moving like that, please.”

“Tell me exactly what you want, darlin, I need to hear you say it.”

“I never thought I’d feel this way again; you’ve woken something in me.”

“God, I can’t— can’t believe you’re letting me have you. I need you so much, it hurts.”

“Mmm, god, yes. . . yes, you’re mine, all mine. . . can’t believe I get to have you like this.”

“O-oh god, you feel so tight around me, sweetheart, I can’t-can’t hold back!”

“Please, oh, please— just, just like that, don’t stop, keep. . . keep going. . .”

“I can’t help myself; I need you. I want to feel you around me.”

“You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re like this. I can’t take my eyes off you.”

“Oh gosh, I need you to take me deeper. Please, baby.”

“Tell me how good it feels; I want to hear it.”

“You feel incredible. I could stay buried inside you forever.”

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wolfhunter89 · 29 days ago

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first comic and it's angst. my condolences?

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wolfhunter89 · 1 month ago

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wolfhunter89 · 1 month ago

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RAAAAAA I JUST FOUND YOUR BLOG AND I LOVE YOUR ARTSYLE SO MUCH!!!!! Particularly how you draw ford too hoooly moly he looks so SILLY!!! I want to squish him and run at him at approximately one million miles an hour and give him a hug <3 literally sitting kicking my feet and giggling because I just adore how you draw him so much!!!!

This mental image was too adorably funny I had to draw it immediately

And thank you! I still love this nerd.

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wolfhunter89 · 1 month ago

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DRUNK?

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wolfhunter89 · 1 month ago

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jealous!ford x reader headcanons

pre relationship:

depending on his current mood and state of mind, his reaction to someone showing romantic interest in you ranges from:

1) heartache,

feels like he doesn't deserve you, that he isn't good enough for you, he's not your type and also he is too old for you

self-esteem on the floor, feels like a kicked puppy seeing you flirt with someone else

over 2) mild annoyance; 'what's so interesting about them?'

what could they possible give you? why are you even talking to them, you already said you aren't interested in them

to 3) almost hostile towards the other person

all in all just one big mess of feelings

he's not good with them okay

confused and frustrated by his emotions; spends a lot of time overthinking them, in order to rationalise and understand them

too insecure and doubtful to tell you about his feelings, but too easily agitated to not be jealous when someone comes up to ask for your number

tells himself he has no right to feel that way, and yet...

in relationship:

protective and maybe a little possessive. maybe a bit more than a little. okay, a lot

definitely a lot more than he shows

(related to the first points pre-rls) very rare reaction: amused. god complex activated. who do they think they are? do they really think you would be interested in them? tch, please.

when he sees a guy flirting with you, he will come up behind you, put his arm around your waist and stare the guy down

the scene where he intimidates the bus driver, just to any shady guy who won't leave you alone.

insecurities, so soo many of them

'You could have anyone you want. Why would you wanna be with me?' *

that man was bullied his entire youth, never had a proper relationship and holds so much trauma and shame - it's the glue that holds him together at this point

ford is deeply afraid to loose you

through something supernatural or otherwise dangerous yes, but also trough some stupid mistake on his side and interpersonal problems

he is afraid he will mess up one day. then you will start seeing him as someone not worthy of your love and find someone better

it is one constant battle between his low self-worth and his god complex/admittedly somewhat inflated ego

-------------------------------------------------- thank you for reading <3 reblogs are appreciated

a/n: longer piece with this trope will follow soon(ish), stay tuned :P poor ford, doesn't know how to feel his feelings appropriately (same dude, same) * 'jealous' by eyedress

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wolfhunter89 · 1 month ago

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6th Sense Drabble- Stanford Pines x GN!Reader

Inspired by a headcannon by @cosmicdahlias

It was late and the stillness of the night had settled in. You laid next to Ford in bed, his slow and steady breathing the only sound in the room. The blankets were tangled from where you’ve kicked them off, desperate for a little cool air. Ford, as usual, radiated warmth like a furnace. It was always comforting at first, but, after a while, it became too much.

You shifted uncomfortably in desperate need of some cool air. You let out a quiet sigh, rolling over to the edge of the bed, for some reprieve. The cool air touched your skin, and you felt a wave of relief wash over you. Finally, some space to breathe, to not feel like you were roasting. You closed your eyes and tried to relax, letting the chill sink in.

Before long, even in his sleep, Ford seemed to sense your absence. You felt the mattress shift as his arm stretched out, groping for you in the dark. His hand landed on your waist and, without hesitation, he pulled you back toward him. His warmth engulfed you once again, his arm tightening around you as he nuzzled his face into the back of your neck. His breath was soft and even.

You smiled despite the heat, your body pressing back into his instinctively. You couldn’t help but feel safe in his arms even if he’s turning your side of the bed into an oven.

Ford shifted slightly, his hold on you loosening just enough to give you a bit of breathing room, but he didn’t let go entirely. He needed to feel you there. You were safe space to him just as much as he was to you. Even in sleep, his need to keep you close outweighed everything else. You could feel the steady thrum of his heartbeat against your back, a rhythmic reminder of how deeply he cares, how much he wants you near.

The heat was still there, but, now, wrapped in his arms, it’s bearable, comforting even. With a sigh, you nestled back into him, knowing that, no matter how far you roll away in the night, Ford will always pull you back.

#THIS IS SO CUTE #I LOVE IT

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wolfhunter89 · 1 month ago

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Bath - Stanford Pines

Based on this post by @typing-catastrophe! Thank you for giving me permission to write a fic based on your headcanons!!

I was listening to this Billy Joel song as I wrote this.

Tags: Fluffy and intimate

“This is nice,” you sighed as your head lulled back on Stanford’s bare shoulder. The water, the warmth, the bubbles, it was a dream.

You sat between his legs, both your bodies bare beneath the perfumed water. Your back was pressed firmly against his chest. Kisses were peppered across shoulders and neck. Ford’s arms were wrapped tightly around your middle.

One of his old Billy Joel records played on the bathroom sink as his hands massaged your thighs. You loved moments like this. The rest of the house was quiet. Everyone was asleep except the two of you. Candles were lit around the bathtub. All was dark apart from the warm glow.

“I love you,” he whispered against your throat before placing a kiss where his pretty words rested.

You craned your neck to press your lips to his. Your eyes fluttered closed as twelve fingers dug into your waist. You cupped his face in your hands, reaching behind you as you pulled away to lay your head against him once more.

If you could pause time, you knew Ford would be the first to stop time to hold you like this forever. However, the two of you were pruning. The water was already starting to chill. The candles had begun to burn low, the light around the two of you dying the more relaxed you became.

When Ford’s hands left you, you huffed and pressed your body closer to his, but the smell of your shampoo was so delightfully distracting. His fingers traced down your spine as he pushed you forwards to lather your hair.

His fingers worked magic as they circled your scalp. A gratified moan escaped your lips. Nothing about this was sexual. It was just pure bliss. Those hands of his, god you loved them so much. They felt so nice in yours and they felt even better where they were, working through your tangled hair.

His hands dipped beneath the water before tilting your head back. The water in his hands poured over you and he kissed you again once you were throughly rinsed.

The water splashed around you as you turned face him and his face grew red. Your knees rested on either side of his. “Stanford,” you sighed, “you are-“

He interrupted you with a kiss. How were you so beautiful? How were you more beautiful than any galaxy or dimension he had ever visited? It was impossible. You were impossible, but there you were, right in front of him.

You wetted his hair with a smile and a kiss to the scar across his chest. You were so glad he didn’t flench when you touched them anymore. Despite the marks that marred his skin, you thought he could hang the moon. He was everything to you.

His fingers ghosted over your hips as you gave him the same relaxing treatment he had given you. A soft grunt escaped him as your nails scraped over his scalp. All the tension, thirty years of fighting for his life, seemed to melt away as the suds slid down his shoulders.

Finally, the candles burned out. The water was warm, but was too cold to keep you from shivering. Ford helped you out of the tub and wrapped a fluffy towel around you.

“I love you,” you muttered into his neck as he pulled you close.

“I love you too, [Y/N].”

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