Stanford Pines X You - Tumblr Posts

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

minors don’t interact

Who can’t help himself.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He doesn’t stop and you hate him.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

. 𖥔 but you belong to me (Bill x Ford x fem!reader) ˖

tags: nsfw (mdni), rough sex, triangle bill, mind fuck, p in v, oral sex, fingering, dirty talk, overstim, can this be considered as threesome?, billford, bill x reader too, because bill is obsessed with ford and reader

Ford's fingers slide your panties to the side, his thumb teasing your clit. And that’s when you feel it. His presence, slipping into your mind, into your reality. Bill, his voice fills the entire room, he’s watching everything, his creepy laugh echoing in your skull. But then there’s more, what feels like phantom fingers, Bill’s will, twisting reality, adding another layer to the sensation. 

You feel the weight of Bill's presence even before he starts talking. You gasp, feeling both Ford’s physical touch and Bill’s mental invasion. “Awww, baby, I see you squirming, so cute, so innocent, acting like you’re not dying to be fucked right now.”

You swear you feel something like ghostly fingers tracing the inside of your thighs. “You feel that, doll? That’s all me. That little pussy is practically begging for it, isn’t it?” his words curl around your mind, suffocating. “I could make you scream without even laying a single finger on you, doll. Or I could let Sixer here think he’s doing all the work. What do you want, hm? To beg? To cry?” his voice teases you from inside. “come on, you want this, don't you? How about I help make it a little more fun?”

Meanwhile Ford pulls your thighs apart, running his fingers over your skin, “Don’t listen to him, keep your eyes on me.” he whispers, leaning closer to your core.

You can’t. You physically can’t, because Bill’sthere, not touching but everywhere. His voice enters your thoughts, making every brush of Ford’s lips against your skin send electric sparks throughout your whole body. “Touch her more, Sixer, don’t hold back now, you know I don’t like when you do.”

Ford doesn’t stop, as if obeying. His hands are shaking why, Sixer? as they hold your hips, his breath against your soaking pussy, lips dragging down your inner thighs, closer. “Focus on me. Please, I’m right here.”

Your legs tremble and the second his tongue presses against your swollen clit, Bill sends a pulse through your head, flipping the world upside down. The bed disappears, replaced with something dark, flickering lights, shadows, but you still feel Ford’s mouth on you, licking, sucking, groaning into you.

Phantom touches everywhere. Invisible fingers tracing up your inner thighs, circling your wrists, grabbing at your ankles. You cry out, body arching into Ford’s mouth, but there’s something more, something that feels like Bill as you hear his voice in your head, mocking, amused. “Yeah, yeah, good girl, keep whining like that.”

You squirm under Ford’s touch, but your mind’s caught between his soft movements and Bill’s invasion into your senses. He’s twisting reality around you, making you feel as if hands holding you down are Ford’s, maybe, or maybe Bill’s invisible force, pressing down on you while Ford’s tongue fucks you deeper. 

You gasp, hips jerking against Ford’s face, his wet, eager tongue running all over your slit. But it’s Bill who makes these sensations stronger. He pounds your mind with dirty thoughts, makes every flick of Ford’s tongue feel like it’s not just Ford anymore, but something darker, more chaotic, controlling you from the inside. 

“Can he make you scream like I can, doll? you look pathetic like this, so fucking adorable.”

Ford growls in frustration what happened, Fordsy? not getting enough attention?, he drags his tongue up your clit again, sucking it into his mouth while his fingers finally slide inside you, curling, stretching, fucking into you. Your eyes widening, you swear you’re loosing your mind and your fingers clutch at the sheets. You can barely get the words out, because it feels like Bill’s fingers are already inside you too, teasing where Ford can’t reach. It’s like your body is betraying you and you can’t even tell what’s real anymore.

“M-more, please—! so good. . .” moans falls from your lips.

“She’s so wet, Sixer, she’s fucking drenched for you,” Cipher’s sick voice hums inside Ford’s head too.

“Fuck off.” Ford wants to say, but instead he talks to you: “Ignore him. I’m right here, don’t listen to him.” he mutters, pulling away from you for a second before starting to devour you again, tongue swirling around your clit while his fingers drive into you, pressing against that gummy spot and you’re falling apart. But Bill’s mocking laughter fills your ears.

Your body jerks away because it’s just too much, too much sensations they overwhelm you, but Ford’s rough hands pull you back, grabbing your hips as he yanks you closer to his mouth, fingers pumping into you faster, deeper, his tongue pressing against your throbbing clit, sucking. You can’t control the way your legs shake, the way your pussy clenches around his fingers. Ford’s groans are muffled, vibrating through your cunt and it makes your body twitch, thighs squeezing around his head, but he’s not giving in. You taste too damn good.

And Bill’s there. Watching. You scream as Ford's tongue makes you see stars, but it’s Bill who twists your mind to make it feel like there are more hands, more mouths, fingers digging into your skin, phantom lips brushing your neck, your thighs, everything. 

“That’s it, whimper like that. Ford’s doing all the hard work, but we both know who’s really in control, right?” Bill laughs and your vision blurry with how fast Ford’s moving his fingers, shoving them deep into your dripping pussy, creating these filthy squelching sounds, but Bill is flooding your mind, until you’re whimpering, shuddering, begging for more.

Ford's mouth is still working you over, he swirls his tongue on your tortured clit as his fingers curling inside, knuckle deep, drawing you closer to orgasm because you feel oh so fucking good your toes curl. But Bill’s voice is right there, crawling through your head like an infection.

Your body shakes, every nerve alive as Ford’s groan vibrates against your pussy. “I said, focus on me,” he whispers in a serious tone, plunging his fingers a little bit rougher into your wet cunt, reaching deeper. "Just me."

“Aww, isn’t that cute? you really think she’s with you, Fordsy? she’s already halfway gone, look at her, all fucked out.”

Stanford isn’t letting Bill win this. Not tonight.

Without a word, Ford grabs your thighs, pulling you closer to his body. His gaze lingers on you, on your face, your eyes stare into his, confused. Ford rarely feels this emotion, but right now he's angry, not at you. He's angry at himself for letting this happen, for messing with this demon and dragging you, the most precious thing he have, into this fucked up mess. Although he promised himself that there wouldn’t even be a hint of Bill in your life. Then how did he let such shit happen. . .?

“You're so thoughtful, Sixer. That's why I like you, even when she's lying all wet and needy under you, you still think about me. Isn't it true love?”

“F-fuck you,” Ford mutters under his breath and you give him a bleary look, your eyelashes fluttering. 

“Look at you two— pathetic. . . so desperate to feel me, aren’t you just two sick weirdos?” Bill mocks.

You don’t get time to say something as Ford slides his cock between your folds, slapping his leaking tip against your clit couple of times and then he slams into you in one swift move. You cry out, head tilting back. “You’re so tight, honey, even after I prepared you, mmhm, fucking perfect,” Ford groans, poor man can’t get enough of your wetness and tightness, as he punctuates each thrust with a hungry moan. His cock hitting so deep you can’t help but cry out, a mix of pleasure and shock. 

“Fordfordfordford—“ you repeat over and over again, mind too dumb to form anything else than just his name, you wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him close to the kiss.

Bill’s laugh cuts through the air like static, he’s everywhere, inside your head, inside your body, like he’s fucking you from the inside out, dragging every ounce of pleasure from your soul without even needing to touch you. “That’s right, doll. Let him fuck you, such a good little toy.”

Ford's face turns serious as he watches you become boneless, when you look at him through these beautiful tears of pleasure, but he doesn’t let you time to adjust, driving into you without mercy.

“Ouch, Fordsy, so rough. What made you that mad?” 

Ford is trying to drown out Bill’s voice, trying to lose himself in you. “Shut up,” he pants, his forehead presses to yours, eyes squeezed shut. “Just shut up.” but you can hear the way his voice trembles, his mind isn’t entirely here either. Bill got him, too.

“You really think you’re the one making her feel good?”

Ford leans down, pressing you into the mattress, his weight crushing into you, hands grabbing at your thighs to spread you open wider, forcing you to take him deeper. He buries himself as far as he can, because he wants, needs, to make sure only he can fuck you like that, only he can reach that deep inside your body till his tip rubs against your cervix. He groans into your neck. “You’re mine— not his. Mine.” 

There’s Bill again. “Does this cunt feel good, Sixer?” 

“Goddammit, Bill—” Ford hisses, but even as he protests, his movements quicken, his cock drilling into you repeatedly, so needy, he’s just as lost in it as you are. His thumb circles your clit to bring his lovely girl more pleasure, but it’s like Bill’s controlling the pace, dragging it out, making it impossible for you to think straight.

Ford grits his teeth, thrusting harder, making the bed shake beneath you. His hands are on your thighs, his cock driving into you with desperate, determined thrusts. “Ignore him, he’s nothing,” he whispers into your ear, but it sounds like he’s telling that to himself more than all. Ford kisses the side of your neck, groaning your name, his hips never stopping, pounding into you in deep, relentless thrusts while you hold onto him, feeling how hot his body is.

But how can you ignore Bill, when he’s slipping into your thoughts like he belongs there, his influence wrapping around your mind like an invisible hand on your throat?

Your legs tremble, body arching under him, Ford moves even deeper, rearranging your insides and you scream. “Ahh—! ahhn, damn— Ford, Ford! sl-slow down”

His cock throbs inside you, kissing your cervix, he hates being that rough, but he can’t help himself, trying to claim you, mark you, keep you away from Bill. 

Ford kisses you, hungrily, so damn messy, his tongue forcing its way into your mouth and all you can do is cling to him, your body shaking as he pounds into you, his cock pulses, grinding into that spot inside you that makes you claw at his back, nails dragging down his skin as your mind goes hazy from the pleasure.

But Bill’s not backing down. “Fucking pathetic, Sixer. Look at her, she’s still thinking about me while you’re fucking her. Can’t even keep her focused, can you?” that makes Ford’s grip on you only tighten, fingers digging into your skin as he slams into you harder, trying to get you back to reality when he sees your eyes rolling, you’re whining pathetically, your mind nothing but a fog. Ford wishes he can fuck you so deep and good that there’s no room for Bill in your head. And his too.

Ford presses closer as if he could block Bill out just by being inside you. His hands gripping so hard you know there’ll be bruises tomorrow, but right now, you’re too lost in the way Ford’s cock feels deliciously good inside you, filling you just in the way you always wished. “He can’t have you, you’re mine, honey, mine—” Ford stutters. “fucking look at me, sweetheart.” his hand wraps around your throat, not tight, but enough to pin you down, keep you in place as he slams into you, hips snapping forward with punishing thrusts that make tears roll down your cheeks.

But Bill’s presence won’t leave. His voice is like a knife in the back of your mind and Ford feels it too, but before you know it, he’s flipping you over, pulling you onto all fours. He slams into you from behind, his cock stretching you wide, what has you gasping, barely able to hold yourself up. He continues to fuck you into oblivion, thrusting into you so hard, desperate to claim you, to own you in the way only he can and all you do is moan into the sheets, your body trembling beneath him, your body so damn hot you feel you gonna explode. 

Ford grips your waist, pulling you back against him and you hear him moaning, “Fuck. . . haahhn, you feel so g-good, please, baby, pleasee,” Ford doesn’t know what he’s begging for, but he’s grinding into you, hitting that spot again and again, what feels like he’s splitting you apart, but Bill just laughs at that. Sixer, you’re always so needy

“Oh, you should see yourself right now, doll! bent over like a perfect little toy, drooling all over Sixer’s cock, what a show!”

You’re panting like a dog, barely able to breathe with how fast Ford’s fucking you, euphoria overwhelming your brain, the slap of skin against skin loud in the room. 

“C’mon, baby, don’t you wish it was me fucking you? my energy pulsing through that tight little cunt of yours, id fill you up so fucking full, you’d be shaking, just begging for more, i can feel how much you want it. All that innocence in your pretty little head? Gone, fucking ruined.”

Ford hears it too and grabs your shoulders, pulling you up against his chest, one arm wrapping around you like he’s trying to shield you from Bill’s gaze, keeping you close, possessive. Your pleasure building higher with every dirty word Bill throws at you, the way he mocks you and Ford. . . it’s so fucked up, you shouldn't get that damn wet from it.

“She’s all yours, huh? Funny, she’s about to cum and it won’t be because of you, IQ.”

“Fuck, no!” Ford snaps. “You’re mine, he’s not touching you, honey, focus on me, baby, dammit—“ he grunts loudly nearly into your face as he’s trying to make you look at him.

But Bill only gets crueler. “Aww, you hear that? he thinks he owns you, thinks he’s in control. But look at her, Sixer, she’s soaking your cock just from the sound of my voice. You can feel it, her cunt squeezing every time I talk, pathetic, isn’t it? she’s fucking pathetic.”

“Fo-Ford—! ahhnnn, I’m so close!” hearing your voice, Ford slips his hand down to rub your clit, while pressing sweet kisses on your neck, whispering what a good girl you are and begging you to cum on his cock, trying to get your mind onto something else than this demon.

But Bill isn’t done. Not even close.

“Ohhhh, you like that, baby? like when he fucks you hard like that? i bet you’re imagining what it would feel like if I were the one splitting you open instead. God, I’d tear that sweet cunt apart, fill you up so full, you’d be dripping all over the floor. You’d be fucking ruined, doll.”

Ford’s fingers digs into your skin, he’s trying so hard to pretend Bill isn’t here. “That's it, there’s my good girl, i love you s-so, fuck, so much, sweetheart,” he groans into your ear in such needy tone as if it’s the only thing keeping him from losing it completely.

If not Ford holding you, you’d surely fall because your body shaking so hard you can’t control yourself, these absolutely pornographic moans you make because your brain just melts as Ford’s cock keeps slamming into you. Your pussy clenches tight around him, you’re so wet, so fucking soaked, that the sound of him fucking you hard is so obscene, filling the room with the wet slap of his cock driving deep inside you, again and again. 

“Close, baby? Let go. Cum for him. Show him how fucking easy it is to break you.”

As if obeying Bill's words, Ford’s finger moves faster on your clit, cock pounding into you relentlessly.

“Good fucking girl. Cum for me.” now you have no idea who says that, but your orgasm crashes over you, your body shaking in Ford’s embrace, your cunt tightens hard around his cock and you cry out, mind spinning and empty, nothing fills it except Ford’s groans and Bill’s degradation. However Ford doesn’t stop moving even now as he pulls you deeper onto his cock and that’s when pleasure becomes painfully too much to handle. “Mine. . .” Ford tries to block out Bill’s voice with his own. 

But Cipher’s words sounds in both your heads. “Look at him, baby, he can’t get enough of you, can’t blame him, I’d fuck you too, but this, this is better, isn’t it?“ Bill is so caring he doesn’t forget about his lovely Sixer. “Is that all you’ve got, Fordsy?”

“Get out of my head, you b-bastard,” Ford growls, but the way his voice sounds, he’s losing it. His thrusts are so sloppy and desperate, as he tries to reclaim control, but Bill’s grip is stronger.

“Not until I’ve had my fun.” Bill whispers.

Ford’s lips hover against your ear. “Tell me. . . hngh, tell me he’s not in your head right now.” but there’s a tremor in his voice, because he knows it’s useless to fight it. Bill’s everywhere, in your thoughts, in your body, pulling every thread and Ford’s just as tangled in it as you are.

Ford tries to fuck image of Bill out of your head, out of your body, but it’s impossible, because now, that’s where he belongs. You feel both of them, in your mind, in your body, you’re both mess of moans and whines, so damn loud, but Bill adores it, it's been so long since he's heard his beloved Sixer whine like a bitch.

Ford’s hands on your your waist, fingers digging into your skin as he drives himself deep inside you from behind, your body arching into the sheets with each powerful thrust, you’re so lost in it, the overwhelming sensation, but then you feel Ford falter for a second. 

He thinks. “Fuck, he’s watching, isn’t he. . . Bill’s— he’s seeing this through me.“ Ford knows Bill like the back of his six-fingered hand, which is why he ends up being right. Cipher’s gaze burning through Ford’s perspective, he’s seeing every fucking inch of you, the way you arch for him. There's not much Ford can do about it, only trying to cover you from the all-seeing eye. But Ford is fucked up, just like Bill. He can’t help himself because the thought of Bill watching only drives him into you deeper. The way you’re taking him, yeah, Bill is getting a front-row seat. This angle, this view, Bill is seeing you like this, watching your ass bounce, watching your pussy swallow Ford’s cock. That’s why Bill got so quiet now?

"He’s— fuckk, he’s probably loving every second of it. You look so beautiful, darling." Ford’s voice breaks into a moan. "but he’s not the one fucking you, he can’t feel this— nghn, can’t feel how tight you are, how wet you are for me, oh god—!”

Pleasure tightening in your belly again, your legs shaking and suddenly you feel like you can’t breathe anymore, can’t focus on anything, your heart beats so hard. You’re close, so fucking close and it’s like Bill knows. “Go on, doll, cum,” his voice a hypnotic command. “let me hear you scream again.”

"F-Ford, I'm—"

“Yes, yes, cum for me, be a good girl and finish on my cock again, please,” Ford’s cock twitching at the feeling of your little hole squeezing him.

The pressure in your core snaps as you cum, muscles clenching hard around Ford's length, you’re shaking and trembling again, the sensation too much, too overwhelming and you’re such a damn mess, all sheets are covered in your juices, saliva and tears. Your vision goes white as you cry out, pulsing around him and Ford's name falls from your lips in broken gasps.

Ford’s thrusts stutter and you feel him start to pull out, he’s about to spill himself on your back, just like always, but then Bill's voice is heard again. “Oh, no, no, no! That’s not how this ends, Sixer.”

You hear Ford’s sharp gasp and then his hips slam forward one last time, burying his cock deep inside you again, Bill’s controlling him. You barely have time to process it before Ford groans, his dick twitching, filling you up with his cum, hot and thick. “Ohhh, fuck—! fuck, I— I didn’t— Shit, Bill, you—“ it’s like his body doesn’t belong him, Ford still moving inside you, much slower as he pumps you full of cum, until some of it starts leaking out.

Bill’s laugh fills the room. “Oh, look at that. Isn’t this just fucking perfect? Look how deep I’ve got him in you, doll. Can you feel it? Feel him throbbing inside you? That’s all me. Bet you love it! You’d let me do it again, wouldn’t you?”

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

part 1

NSFW (mdni)

There’s something about Gravity Falls in the autumn that feels like a secret the world only tells to those who stay long enough to hear it. The air smells like damp pine needles and earth, the leaves of the trees cover the ground with a carpet of golden, rusty and red shades. Mornings here are misty, cold enough that you can see your breath, but not quite winter's chill. It’s the kind of cold that makes you want to wrap yourself in something soft, makes you crave warmth. It’s a cozy time. 

Gravity Falls in the fall is just. . . different.

In the late afternoon, the rays of the sun break through the crowns of the trees, flooding everything with a lazy golden light. And sometimes when you’re out by the edge of the Shack, you catch a glimpse of deer moving quietly through the woods, their dark eyes watching you with curiosity before disappearing into the shadows of woods.

The Mystery Shack is the same, just a little too quiet now that the kids have gone back to California. It’s not empty, not really, but there’s a weight to the silence. Mabel’s infectious laugh and Dipper’s constant questions replaced by the softer, quieter rhythm of life with the twins. You’ve been here for months now, long enough that the place feels like home. Especially when the twins, Stan and Ford, are around. But that’s where it gets complicated.

It’s Ford.

You’ve fallen for him. Hard. It’s ridiculous, really, because he’s so much older and you know you shouldn’t, there’s no logical reason for it, no sense in how your heart races every time he looks at you or how your stomach flips when you catch a glimpse of him doing something, like sorting through research papers or tinkering with one of his strange gadgets.

But god, it’s the way he wears that red turtleneck, isn’t it? It clings to him in a way that makes your thoughts go to places they shouldn't. It’s so simple, so casual and yet it wrecks you. Every time you see him in it, you feel the warmth between your legs. You don’t even realize how much it’s affecting you until you're practically soaked, wishing he’d notice. Wishing he’d touch you.

It doesn’t help that he’s so damn wise, so much older and that age difference? The way he corrects you, not in a condescending way, but so softly, so patiently. Like that time when you were trying to help him with some gadget, fumbling over wires and he came up behind you, placing those big hands over yours.

“No, not like that. Here, let me show you.”

His voice was so calm, so gentle, and his hands. . . they just took over. His touch was firm but careful, like he knew exactly how to handle you and it made you melt right there on the spot. You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from moaning because holy shit, how could he not feel what he was doing to you? His breath warm on the back of your neck, his fingers touching yours with just enough pressure to make your knees feel weak.

It’s pathetic how much you crave that. How much you want him to just take control, to manhandle you a little bit, gently, of course. You can imagine it so clearly: him pressing you up against a wall, those strong hands pinning your wrists above your head, his mouth on your neck, groaning something about how you’re “too young for this”, how he shouldn’t, but fuck, you know he wants to. You can see it in the way his eyes linger on you when he thinks you’re not paying attention, the way his fingers sometimes twitch when you're near, like he's resisting the urge to reach out and touch you.

And it’s not like you’re subtle either. Maybe that’s why you’re out here now, watching him from the window as he rakes up leaves in front of the shack. It shouldn’t be hot, shouldn’t make your mouth go dry, but it does. It really fucking does.

Because it’s Ford and every single thing about him makes you ache.

For example, Ford’s in the kitchen, humming under his breath while he chops vegetables with a methodical precision that’s so him. You’re sitting at the table, scrolling through your phone, trying to distract yourself from the fact that just watching him move around the kitchen has you practically dripping. God, how does he do that? He’s not even trying to be sexy, just making dinner in that stupid, red turtleneck and apron Mabel had given him. . . and here you are, practically imagining yourself on your knees, begging for it.

You hear him muttering something to himself as he stirs the pan, his brow furrowed in concentration, but your attention is broken when he turns to you with that familiar, slightly exasperated look on his face.

“You know,” he says calmly. “these phones. . . they just eat up time. Back in my day, we didn’t have things like that. We actually talked to each other during dinner.”

You laugh, because of course he would say something like that. Ford, being thirty years in another dimension, has no clue what the modern world is like and it’s just adorable, yes. But you’re also too busy imagining all the things you’d rather be doing with your mouth than explaining social media to that old man.

Still, you put the phone down because something about his tone always makes you want to listen. Maybe it’s the way he says things, like he’s so much older and knows better, and you can’t help but get a little turned on by the way he’s so gentle when he scolds you. 

He moves past you to grab something off the counter and when he leans close, you catch a familiar blend of pine and old book scents. It makes your thighs clench together involuntarily because now all you can think about is how you’d kill to taste him. To kneel in front of him while he’s still wearing that turtleneck, his eyes watching you as you take his cock in your mouth, sucking him so slow, so deep, until he can’t help but grip your hair and guide you.

Your hand twitches in your lap, resisting the urge to touch yourself right there at the table, but fuck, it’s hard not to when he’s right there, all casual and focused on making dinner like he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. 

You shift in your seat as your thoughts get dirtier. Like how it would feel to straddle his lap while he’s working on his journals, his big hands on your hips, holding you as you ride him slow, dragging your cunt along his cock while he tries to concentrate on his notes. You can picture it so clearly, his jaw clenched, brows knit when he’s trying to stay focused, but fuck, he’s too close to losing it, too close to breaking and finally giving in, flipping you over and taking you.

“Are you alright?” 

Ford’s voice pulls you out of your fantasy, he looks at you curiously, like he knows something’s up but can’t quite put his finger on it. You must look like a wreck right now, all flushed and flustered.

The next morning, even after you spent the whole night touching yourself afterwards, you still can't get enough. Your fingers working desperately between your legs, hips arching up off the mattress, trying to keep quiet even though the need clawing at you is making it impossible. You’re soaked, drenched in the thought of him, Ford, in that damn red turtleneck, that stern look on his face when he’s focused on anything other than you. You want to shove that look right off his face, make him fall apart, make him whine your name. 

It’s shameful, really, the way you’re so gone over him. The age gap shouldn’t do this to you, but it only makes you hotter, messes with your head in the best way. He’s older, so much smarter, more experienced, and all you want to do is kneel at his feet and beg him to show you exactly what all that experience feels like. You think about his rough hands gripping your hair while you choke on his cock, that raspy voice telling you to take it, all of it and when you obey, next thing you hear is “that’s it, such a good gi—“

Fuck, your breath catches, and you’re so close, rubbing your clit faster, thighs trembling. Your whole body feels tight, ready to snap, your mind filling with images of Ford pinning you down, fucking you into the mattress until you can’t breathe, until you—

“Hey, can you come in here for a second?”

His voice breaks through your fog like a fucking bomb exploding. Your eyes wide in shock, your body jerks, because you’re so close to cumming you could scream. “Shit,” you whisper harshly, hands flying off your slick cunt like you’ve been burned, heart hammering in your chest. 

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. 

It takes you a second to pull yourself together, to stop panting like you’ve just run a marathon. You wipe your wet fingers hastily on the bedsheets, muttering, “Coming, Ford,” though not the way you wanted to. 

You get up on wobbly legs, your body still buzzing, still so damn close it’s torture and you head toward the kitchen, running a hand through your hair like it’s going to make a difference. How the fuck are you supposed to face him now?

Ford’s sitting at the kitchen table, papers spread out in front of him, and his eyes flicker up to you the second you walk in, what makes your stomach flip, your heart pounding in your chest. 

You’re trying so hard to act like nothing’s wrong, like you weren’t just moaning his name touching yourself five seconds ago. “What’s up?” you ask, even though your voice is shaky, your mind still spinning. Your thighs press together, trying to dull the ache that hasn’t gone away. 

Ford looks at you for a moment longer, like he’s trying to read you and it makes you panic inside. God, you hope he doesn’t know. “I found something interesting in the woods today,“ he says, that familiar thoughtful tone returning. “It looks like an anomaly of some kind, a gravitational distortion, but it’s hard to be certain without taking a closer look. Normally, I’d go with Dipper, he was always eager to go anomaly hunting with me over the summer, but now that he’s gone back to California, I thought. . .” Ford pauses. “maybe you’d be interested in coming with me tomorrow to check it out?” he glances up at you and for a moment, his gaze softens in that way that always makes your heart skip a beat, just the way he looks at you when he says it makes you nearly collapse. 

He’s so fucking hot without even trying.

Your heart’s pounding for a whole different reason now. “Yeah, sure,” you reply, trying to sound casual, like you weren’t just fucking yourself into oblivion a minute ago. “I mean, I’m no Dipper, but I’d love to help!”

Ford’s lips curve in an approving smile, and it’s almost painful how beautiful he looks when he does that. Like a reward for doing something good. God, you’d do anything to get more of that look from him.

He watches you for a moment, his brows knitting together like he’s thinking too hard. “Are you alright? you seem. . . a little distracted.” his voice sounds way too caring, the edge of concern mixing with that sharp, authoritative tone that always makes your knees weak. 

Oh, if only he knew just how distracted you are.

Well, now you don’t know how you ended up out here, freezing your ass off, trudging through the woods with Ford while he’s talking about electromagnetic fields and spatial distortions. The chill bites into your skin, and of course you didn’t think to bring a jacket, because why would you, when you were too busy fantasizing about him fucking you senseless? You were so distracted by that goddamn turtleneck and the way his hands move when he talks that you didn’t even consider how cold it might get. Now you’re out here, shivering like an idiot, trying to keep up with him while your body is screaming for warmth, for heat, for him.

Ford doesn’t seem to notice your suffering. He’s in his element, rambling about science and anomalies, gesturing toward the trees like he’s uncovering some deep cosmic truth. And you want to care, you really do, but all you can think about is how fucking good he looks in that tan coat, how his hands would feel on your skin, holding you still, keeping you steady while he. . . 

You try to focus on his voice, but it’s useless. Your mind is gone, stuck on the idea of him pushing you against one of these trees, ripping your clothes off, his six fingers bruising into your hips while he pounds into you, telling you to take it, like you were made for him.

You grit your teeth, the cold biting at your cheeks as you shake off the thought or try to, anyway. It’s fucking useless. Every word that comes out of his mouth makes you sink deeper into fantasy. You can’t help it; you’re obsessed and he doesn’t even know.

". . . and that's when I realized that the energy trail was much stronger than I had originally assumed,” Ford continues, but to you his voice is distant, like you’re hearing it through water. You’re so far gone in your own head that you almost miss it when he asks, “Are you alright? You’ve been unusually quiet.”

Fuck. You blink, realizing he’s staring at you now, his eyes narrowing slightly behind his glasses. You clear your throat, trying to act normal, like you weren’t just picturing his cock inside you two seconds ago. “Yeah, uh, I’m fine. Just, um, a little cold.”

Ford’s eyes flicker down to your arms, bare except for your thin shirt, and his brow furrows in that disappointed way. “You didn’t bring a jacket?” he asks in a stern lecturing tone, voice strict and that drives you insane.

You cringe inwardly. Of course he’s going to scold you. You love it. “I. . . forgot,” you admit, feeling like a damn child being corrected.

He huffs softly, shaking his head. “That was careless. You should know better by now, especially given the weather this time of year.” he sighs, but without further ado takes off his coat and hands it to you. “Here, put this on. We still have a ways to go.”

You take the coat, feeling the warmth spreading through your body — not only from the fabric, but also from the fact that it belongs to him. It smells like him, this subtle blend of his favorite coffee and old books, and you pull it around yourself, feeling the weight of it settle on your shoulders. It’s too big, swamping you completely, but somehow that just makes it better. You’re wrapped in him now and it’s driving you crazy.

“Thank you, Ford,” you mumble, pulling the clothes tighter around you. The cold air is still biting at your skin, but now, with his coat on, you can almost pretend it’s his arms holding you close. 

“You really should be more careful,” Ford continues, his voice taking on that fatherly, lecturing tone again. “Out here, exposure to the elements can be dangerous. Hypothermia can set in quickly, especially if you’re not properly prepared.” 

You can’t help it, the way he talks, the way he corrects you, makes you want to drop to your knees right here in the dirt. It’s infuriating and so fucking hot at the same time. 

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” you mutter, rolling your eyes even though you’re still so turned on it hurts. “I’ll remember next time, Professor Pines.”

Ford pauses, his eyes flickering to you at the sarcastic tone in your voice. “You’d better,” he grins. 

Fuck, why does he have to be like this? All you can think about is him pinning you against a tree, that authoritative tone pushing you further into submission, his hands rough on your skin, his voice in your ear telling you how badly you need it, how good you’re going to be for him—

“Honestly, you seem. . . distracted, again,” Ford says, he stops walking, turning to look at you.

Shit. “What? No— I’m just tired.” how the hell are you supposed to concentrate when all you can think about is getting railed against a tree by the man who’s currently lecturing you about hypothermia?

Ford gives you a look like he doesn’t believe you for a second, but thankfully, he doesn’t push it. Instead, he just sighs, turning back toward the woods. “Try to focus, okay? this anomaly isn’t going to find itself.”

You bite your lip, nodding even though your mind is anywhere but on the anomaly. If only he knew what you were really thinking about. If only he knew how badly you wanted him to stop being so goddamn serious and just fuck you dumb in the middle of these woods.

The two of you finally reach the spot Ford had been leading you to, hidden deep in the woods, tucked between towering pines and thick underbrush. It’s a small clearing, but something about it feels. . . wrong. The air here is heavier, like it’s charged with something invisible. Ford crouches low, gesturing for you to follow him into the bush, and you drop down beside him, trying to keep your breathing steady, you watch as he surveys the area with full concentration.

“There,” he murmurs, pointing ahead of you. “do you see it?”

You squint through the branches, at first, you don’t see anything unusual, just trees and shadows. But then, something shifts. A flicker of movement catches your eye, something that shouldn’t be there. It’s wrong, like it’s not part of this world. It’s hard to focus on, almost like it’s glitching in and out of existence, flickering at the edges like static. You can barely make out its form, part animal, part shadow, part something else. It’s small, no bigger than a dog, but the way it moves, the way it breathes, feels unnatural.

“What. . . is that?” you whisper, leaning closer to Ford, your shoulder brushing against his.

He glances at you with a glint of excitement in his eyes. “Distortion in the structure of reality,” he explains quietly. “I’ve seen creatures like this before. They exist in pockets of dimensional instability, places where our world overlaps with others. Their form isn’t stable, which is why they appear, uh, fragmented.”

You stare at the thing, amazed. It moves silently, its body flickering like a bad signal, its limbs elongating and shrinking as it drifts through the clearing, unaware of your presence. You should be scared, but all you can think about is how close Ford is to you, how his voice sounds in your ear and how much you want to feel him right now. You can’t focus, not when he’s explaining these wild theories with that serious tone, making you feel like an idiot for not understanding.

“And what does it. . . do?”

Ford’s gaze remains fixed on the anomaly. “They’re typically harmless,” he murmurs, “but they’re drawn to specific atmospheric conditions. This one, for example, seems to respond to shifts in barometric pressure and electromagnetic fluctuations in the atmosphere. But more interestingly,” he pauses, glancing at the sky, “rain tends to destabilize them completely.”

You blink, confused. “Rain?”

Ford nods. “Rain disrupts their ability to remain in our dimension. The water molecules interfere with the dimensional rift that keeps them here. It’s fascinating, really. I’ve observed this behavior before, it’s as if the rain itself acts like a natural disruptor!”

You’re about to ask him more when, as if on cue, the first cold drops of rain start to fall, splattering against the leaves and the ground. Ford’s eyes widen and you glance back at the anomaly. The creature twitches, its form flickering more violently now, like it’s struggling to hold onto something.

The rain falls harder, and within seconds, the creature’s form starts to dissolve. It doesn’t vanish all at once, no, its body breaks apart in fragments, each piece flickering and glitching until there’s nothing left but empty air. One minute it’s there, the next it’s gone.

You stare at the empty clearing, rain dripping down your face, soaking into Ford’s coat. “It. . . it’s gone.” 

Ford leans back slightly, his eyes still big in surprise. “The rain destabilized it completely.” there’s something in his tone, something deeper, like he’s not ready to leave yet. Ford wipes his glasses with the sleeve of his turtleneck.

The rain starts falling harder, drops turning into a full downpour that soaks everything in its path. You stand there, wrapped in Ford’s coat, but he’s not as lucky, his hair quickly becomes drenched, plastering to his forehead in thick, graying strands. The fabric of his red turtleneck clings to his body, outlining every muscle, every curve of his broad chest and shoulders. The rain slides down his skin, leaving little rivulets of water dripping from his neck, his hair curling at the edges, making him look even more handsome than he really was

You can’t stop staring. He’s just so damn hot, god bless him. You feel a rush of heat despite the cold rain, you bite your lip, fighting back the urge to push him against the nearest tree and kiss him. 

Ford wipes his face again with the back of his hand, visibly irritated by the rain now. His expression grows more serious as he watches the empty clearing where the anomaly had been. The rain’s still coming down hard, and Ford’s soaked through, he runs a hand through his wet hair, pushing it back, but the rain keeps coming, relentless.

“We should head back, there’s no point in staying here now that it’s gone.”

There’s something different about his tone, more serious, frustrated, maybe? He turns, starting to walk back the way you came, and you follow, the tension between you is growing. It’s obvious he’s frustrated, his normally calm demeanor slipping just a bit, and you know it’s not just because of the rain. It’s the anomaly disappearing, vanishing right in front of him, after all that work. 

You pull his coat tighter around you, trying to keep up, but it’s hard to focus on anything besides how good he looks, even now, soaked through and visibly annoyed. Every step now feels tense, the silence between you stretching uncomfortably, broken only by the sound of your boots squelching in the mud and the steady rhythm of the downpour.

Finally, after what feels like an eternity, you reach the Mystery Shack. Ford’s steps quicken as he approaches the door, shaking the rain from his hair like an irritated cat before pushing it open. You follow him inside, immediately hit by the warmth of the indoors, the cozy smell of wood. The contrast between the cold, wet outside and the warmth of the Shack feels surreal, your skin prickling as you step out of your soaked boots.

You turn to Ford, feeling a little shy as you glance at him. “Thanks. . . for the coat,” you murmur in a soft tone, giving him a little smile.

He nods, still looking slightly annoyed, but the tension in his shoulders seems to ease a bit. “Of course,” he speaks. “you shouldn’t have come without proper gear in the first place.”

You roll your eyes, but there’s no real bite to it. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’ll. . . I’ll make us some tea,” you offer, eager to warm up and maybe soften the mood between you two. “You want a cup?”

Ford glances at you, thinking, then nods. “Yeah, that would be nice.”

You head to the kitchen, still feeling the weight of your earlier thoughts clinging to you, but trying to shake them off as you busy yourself making the tea. The warmth of the kitchen seeps into your bones, and soon the kettle is whistling, the scent of the tea filling the air. You pour two cups, careful not to spill as you carry them back out to the living room. 

But the moment you step back in, everything stills.

Ford’s standing there, his back to you, and he’s in the process of pulling off his soaked turtleneck, peeling the wet fabric off his skin, revealing his bare back, broad, strong, skin glistening from the rain. You freeze, eyes wide, the cup trembling in your hands. You almost drop it right then and there, the mug slipping slightly as you catch your breath, heart racing, your brain is an absolute mess

Holy shit.

Ford turns slightly, glancing over his shoulder at you, completely unaware of the effect he’s having. You look down, watching the movements of his body, the way the muscles roll under his skin as he turns to face you fully now. You can see the soft gray hair on his chest, the way it leads down to the waistband of his pants, and suddenly, you’re not thinking about the tea or the rain or the goddamn anomaly anymore. 

Ford glances at you, frowning slightly when he notices the way you’re standing there, staring at him, barely able to breathe. “You alright?”

You nod, “Y-yeah.” but you’re barely listening, the pounding of your heart too loud in your ears, your body too warm, too needy. All you can think about is how you want to tear the rest of his clothes off, feel the weight of his body pinning you down against the kitchen counter, hear him grunt your name as he ruins you. You’re imagining how he’d taste, how he’d groan as you took him in your mouth, his hands fisting in your hair, his hips pushing deeper until you're choking on him, eyes watering, but you’d love every second of it, because this is Ford.

You can barely stand on your feet and all he does is run a hand through his wet hair, oblivious. "You sure?" 

And then you blink, realizing that you've been staring too long, but it's too late to back off.

"Seriously? I can't believe it's that easy!"

"Once you get the hang of it, anything is easy."

"You're so sweet."

"More than you? I highly doubt that."

My dumbass was really just obsessed with this mans while I was studying statistics and history, legit gonna write a fic about how cute Ford is when it comes to academics AHDOSHDJSJSH

Please send me your headcanons of him guys, I literally wanna know what you think of him-

Wrote a teensy Ford x Reader fic since I've got a much longer one in the works and this idea has been plaguing my mind for a while, hope you guys enjoy!

Crush

(Stanford Pines x Reader)

Stanford Pines meets you one fateful day at the local library and you both hit it off, the rest of the Pines family notices the author’s shift in his behaviours before he even realises anything about his own feelings towards you. It only hits him at some point during a random walk in the forest with you, slow at first but then all at once.

Aka: After meeting enough times, Ford realises he has somehow developed a crush on you and chaos ensues.

Inspired by drabbles I've read from @multi-fandom-imagine, here's an AU I've made with what if Ford had a family. Ford has triplets and yes they are honeymoon babies, I've yet to flesh out the rest of the timeline but a lot of the dates are from @fordtato's theory and posts.

Chances are I'll make xReader drabbles in tandem with this because Ford is a funni man and I am very hooked on him rn, so please give me ideas/situations in my inbox yall THANKS!

I can and will expound on these losers(/pos) if you guys want more, hell I want to get back into RPing too so that'll be fun. But yeah! In the meantime, have Aeschylus, Alexander and Athena!

A little imagine that I've got with Ford and his s/o in this universe is that his s/o is at BMU just like him because of financial struggles but is a similar strain of genius. I can see them having biology classes together since I'd kinda like his s/o to have taken mycology(study of mushrooms and fungi).

Imagine just walking to class with him every now and then, or being lab partners that get everything done before the rest of the class even gets half-way through.

Imagine playfully giving him kisses when he scores higher than you and then taunting him to do the same when you do, it's your "prize" as much as it is his.

Imagine dragging his ass to actually sleep for once and if he's too stubborn you sit in his lap until he yields.

Imagine as a graduation gift as you're walking back towards the dorms, he gets on one knee and actually proposes. He was supposed to do it on stage but chickened out.

Okay yeah that's a couple blurbs from me I should make a whole ass fic for those- aiiiight- XD

In my case, yall pls do this for the Stan Twins or Mr Bill Pines AU Billford I'll write stuff for it

NSFW or SFW are welcomed :D

Send me a headcanon or scenario for Ford / Stan Pines and i’ll write a five paragraph fic for it.

Revers Falls / Monster Falls scenarios welcomed

NSFW / SFW welcomed too

Imagine being Ford's lovely wife and mother to triplets, they take after him in so many ways and you couldn't be happier.

Poindexter named the trio, you were too out of it to really have done much and he didn't want to disturb you. Personally you couldn't help but think your husband went too brainiac on even this— but the kids had relatively normal names so you were okay with it.

Aeschylus Maximillian (Lastname)–Pines

Alexander Euler (Lastname)–Pines

Athena Faraday (Lastname)–Pines

Dude really had to name them after scientists or rulers huh-

Especially the eldest of the trio, he takes after the researcher in so many ways it's almost like your husband suddenly spawned a mini-me.

For the first couple months, Sixer constantly had one of his toddlers either in an arm or in direct vicinity when he could. He couldn't stop himself from wanting to be around them in some capacity, always wondering and always worrying if they were okay.

It took a couple months for the both of you to figure out a system that divided his time aptly and everything was well.

Given that Stanford was always so busy with his research and work, the triplets could only really spend their nights with him. Even if he was busy, the pictures and memories formed on those nights with your workaholic lover was more than enough for the time being.

Imagine Stanford's expression when the triplets each say: "Dada" as their first word. This man would break down in sobs, he could take that day off and spoil them.

He's also totally not crying over the fact that his little tykes are also somewhat growing up in just the teensiest manner.

Everything seemed to be going so well, so smoothly, when all out of the blue your husband seemed to grow distracted. The distance wasn't apparent at first, only getting worse and worse when he eventually never had time to spend with the triplets because of a project.

"Ma...? Where's Dada?"

The crippling feeling of being unable to explain such a loaded question, instead just tossing back a sad: "He's busy working." And noticing the similarly dejected response from your kid.

Imagine how different it eventually is when only you end up waking on the bed meant for two. Rarely would you find Ford even in your shared room anymore, having made himself home down in his lab.

You didn't know when or what caused him to work like tomorrow didn't exist, Ford never had this insane of a drive to research before. It concerned you all the more that he didn't seem to tell you anything.

It was like both of you weren't even married when he brushed past you with another cup of coffee in his hands before disappearing into the lab again.

Eventually it all imploded, you couldn't take it anymore. You confronted Ford down in his lab and you both had what was likely the worst fight you both ever had in your years, that was when he finally came clean about his project.

Not to mention about his 'muse' to add to it.

You couldn't understand why he even vaguely thought being in cahoots with what for all you knew was some kind of demon was a good idea.

You had an extremely bad feeling about all this.

“Daddy dearest can't save you now squirt! You're mine!”

Aeschylus has nightmares about a familiar chaotic triangle we yeet around because LORE! I'm planning to make a comic about him waking up from the nightmare because holy SPAZZ he needs some good shit to recover and help with this.

More lore and context under the cut:

Way back when Aeschylus was a kid he used to adventure out of the shack and into the woods to explore and or bring back neat little critters to ask papa Sixer about(despite his mom having scolded them both about bringing random specimen of all kinds into the house). The behavior didn't really stop even after Ford got sucked into the portal, hell it happened more often because Max kept looking for his dad- convinced he just got lost on an expedition or something similar.

However, as you all know how Cipher messes with everyone's minds when granted the opportunity- the triangle tried to beeline for the kid that most resembled his darling Fordsy in both personality and behavior when the researcher finally grew wise to his shenanigans. He didn't really have many opportunities to for a couple years because of Stanley and Ford's wifey protectively hovering over the triplets but Bill would say waiting four earth years was well worth the return for the damage he had inflicted.

All it took was a little bit of stroking that same flame of curiosity as he did Sixer and Aeschylus was all his for the taking. Like father, like son, Bill couldn't have found it more amusing. Slowly he guided the kid deep into the forest, away from the eyes of mother mayhem and uncle irritating.

Much to the triangle's annoyance however, Aeschylus was more cautious of him than Ford ever was. The kid refused to make a deal with him and even tried running away at some point when he finally realised what the triangle was trying to do.

"Nu-uh! You're the weird guy that made my daddy crazy! My mommy says to never make a deal with you!"

Bill was pretty pissed at this point that his plans are being proper screwed with so he forced his hand.

"If you're not going to give me access to your head, I'll just take it then!"

Imagine having taken your eyes off your eldest toddler son for just a second only to find him suddenly gone. It took so much strength to even allow the kids outside of the cabin you called your home ever since Cipher started haunting you and the family since Ford's unfortunate incident with the portal. To find Aeschylus missing would've driven anyone at that point into a flurry of panic.

When Stan came out to check on the both of you, his expression of dread and anxiety merely mirrored your own to a lesser extent. The two of you immediately shouting for the kid as you checked the nearby area thoroughly, the both of you making your ways deeper into the forest surrounding the log cabin cautiously.

It was Stanley who found Aeschylus first, seeing the kid strung up high into the canopy was eerie enough but noticing he wasn't responsive made the panic shoot sky high. There was some kind of large furry creature that poked and swat around the young boy like a pinata which Stan immediately threw hands with the get rid of the darn thing in his emotional high.

You heard the screaming and shouting and rushed over before feeling sick to your stomach, there your kid was- but strung by the neck by a vine so high he seemed to nearly be a part of the forest canopy. You steeled yourself and pulled the small pistol from your pocket which your husband had made prior with the intention to use it for hunting creatures.

Who knew it's first use would be as a pivotal tool to save your son?

Despite shaky hands and eyes blurred with tears, your aim rang true and the ion blast burnt the vine clean a couple inches above the toddler's head. You didn't account for the tall drop however, as the priority was first and foremost to get him down before he was hung to death.

Thankfully, Stanley had been paying close attention as he managed to catch Aeschylus with a loud grunt. The kid was dropped on him like a bomb multiple times both literally and metaphorically but this moment falls under the former. Your stomach dropped to the floor when you also started to smell the familiar metallic tang of blood.

It wasn't rocket science for both you and Stanley to know that you needed to rush Aeschylus to the hospital, especially as the vine around his neck unwound to leave a large and nasty wound that seemed to circle around his entire neck. The vine itself was thorny and barbed but it had apparently dug deep enough into the kid's skin to cut.

Stanley drove to the hospital like a bat out of hell while you kept a towel firmly pressed into your son's neck in an attempt to stop the bleeding. The kid was breathing but shallowly, not to mention he was turning paler by the second.

You and Stan were never really religious, but you could both only really pray to whatever deity was up there if there even was any- to keep Aeschylus alive. You wondered how much your husband would've lost his shit had he been here, but you swallowed down the grief at the reminder of him as your in-law pulled into the ER parking lot.

Memories from that point on were a blur, you could only be grateful that despite the apparent tension between your husband and his twin brother- Stanley didn't just leave your family behind. He was expectedly dejected that he wasn't even told about the triplets getting born, much less his brother getting married, but he still stayed to care for you all in place of his brother. Not to replace him, but to do what he knew Poindexter would've and should've had he not been stuck wherever the portal threw him.

By the time you'd been able to see Aeschylus again, the doctors claim that it's a miracle the kid even survived. It's as if just enough pressure was put on his neck not to kill him but to make him suffer. He didn't pass out from oxygen deprivation, but from the pain.

You fell to your knees sobbing when you heard that, already knowing what or who was responsible rather because of their words. Aeschylus couldn't talk for a couple weeks due to this incident, and even afterwards his voice had changed due to the damage.

You regretted this moment every single day afterwards, all the more when your son even refused to step a foot outside anymore. He refused to explore the woods he once loved, the woods your family used to stroll by sunset or camp out in when Ford was still around.

Aeschylus started wearing high-collared shirts or turtlenecks to hide the scar as well, not telling anyone exactly why or how he got into that situation in the first place as everyone in the family already had an inkling or hunch. They didn't need to ask. He didn't want to be shifted to homeschool however, as much as you and Stan tried to convince him- since he seemed determined to study for whatever reason.

This event still gives Aeschylus nightmares until the present day, Bill Cipher didn't get into his head- but the triangle got damn well close and he would've had to pay his life if you or Stan hadn't found him.

Those same nightmares is why Aeschylus barely manages to sleep, having developed insomnia out of the fear and paranoia around the same time he was able to come home from the hospital. Even if you asked him now what was the scariest experience in his life, Aeschylus would likely mention this near death experience- as nothing else in his life has ever come quite close to this incident, not even weirdmaggedon.

Sketchy for this piece is here:

Imagine Ford with baby fever, he isn't really hit with it at the start as you had both just moved to gravity falls at the time. Despite being engaged fresh out of university, he told himself he was going to take his time with you. The both of you were young and ambitious, you both had plenty of time left.

Compared to him, you were pretty touchy and cuddly since coming to gravity falls. Ford supposed it had a lot to do with the engagement, which you were both still running a high from. It was difficult for him to completely focus on his research when you would randomly butt into his mind, his journals would have drawings or entries on you scattered about and you found that adorable.

You were more excited than him to plan your wedding, but Ford was the one more obsessed over it happening at all. He didn't think he would get to this point, much less with someone to have and hold; cherish through joy and sorrow for the rest of his days.

During one of your little expeditions through the forest(you were collecting fungal specimens to study while your lover was doing who knows what-) you both stumbled across a little kid crying in a clearing. The toddler was most likely only a couple years old and wailing for their parents.

Predictably, your fiancé stood there scratching the back of his neck awkwardly not entirely knowing what to do. Even if he was an older brother, it was only by a short while to a twin. So you figured it made sense that he didn't know what he was doing. Even so, Stanford rarely talked about his brother happily- more like somber or spiteful so you rarely brought it up when talking about relatives.

You weren't so fond of your family yourself, born to a house of multiples on multiples of children- your father's plan was to simply marry you off to someone old and wealthy to leech off that. You already knew how that ended up with your sisters and didn't want to fall into the same situation.

So you studied your ass off, but because your old man didn't want to support you through university- you ended up grasping at straws but at Backupsmore where you met the man who promised you forever. Somehow you felt like it was likely a better outcome than even if things went as planned.

Sure, he was kind of an asshole at the start as your academic rival- but you both learned to get along after a while. Acquaintances became friends and that friendship bloomed into romance, the rest is history.

Imagine the adoring look in Ford's eyes when you managed to gently comfort the child and calm them down. Apparently they had wandered too far from a nearby campsite and got lost, it didn't take long for the both of you to return the toddler to their parents and you ended up with a marigold in your hair as thanks.

It was that moment seeing you with the kid in your arms that Stanford's thoughts suddenly crashed to the side with a loud and adamant needwish to have a family with you. Which just as immediately both flustered and terrified him, most of the developments in your relationship with him happen this way. It's kind of as if this man is hilariously allergic to anything new.

Since that day he started being equally as clingy with you. From hugging you from behind as you cooked the both of you breakfast to practically developing a sixth sense to when you pull away from him in your shared bed. Having a living space heater for a partner was great in the cold months, but during the warmer months you sometimes wanted to kick Stanford out of the bed since you were baking from his warmth.

Sometimes he would catch you staring at some baby items when you both went to the store and that just worsened his already crippling yearning. Unintentionally he ended up making more rooms in the cabin than needed, you were surprised by the amount of space, not to mention you and Ford weren't exactly sure at the time what to use the rooms for. Partially you wondered how Ford was able to build the shack in such a way that the inside seemed much larger than the outside.

He went into a full blown infodump about a time-space anomaly on the land that he kind of abused Dr. Who style to actually make the inside of the house bigger than it actually is.

The touchiness festered and grew over the couple months towards the date of your planned wedding to make things official. It wasn't to say that you both haven't ever had sex, but there was something different about the hunger and electric desire that crackled between the both of you building up to that day.

The couple times you joked about having kids with your fiancé had him stuck between looking worried and turned on. Good thing you were both at home since you didn't exactly know what to make of it before he kissed the daylights out of you.

The wedding was small and quaint, neither of you had ever been one to flamboyantly show off anyway so it was just a ceremony to finalize things, you both opted to just remain in gravity falls for your honeymoon as well since it was just more convenient.

It was mostly friends who came to celebrate, the two of you opting not to invite your families given the less than savory situations you had with them. It really was the best day of your lives, you also had the photographer to thank for capturing the memories so well.

Stanford couldn't even keep his hands off you during the party, always having a hand on the small of your back or around your waist. Likewise, you couldn't stop leaning on him or hanging off his arm. Even during Fiddleford's best man speech, you'd met the man back in BMU and to say he and your fiancé/now husband got along like peas in a pod was an understatement.

You were barely listening to whatever was said though, far too entranced in the man who you were married to as he laughed or grew bashful of the things said about him. Stanford almost jumped out of his skin when he saw the intensity of the desire in your eyes, a flame to light fireworks and you were both sure come midnight explosions were sure to set off.

It didn't come as a surprise to anyone that after a couple weeks you were sick as a dog, puking and getting random bouts of dizziness that had Stanford in a panic since he couldn't pinpoint why. A quick trip to the hospital later and then came the news, you weren't poisoned, injured or dying, you were just pregnant!

Ford immediately fainted upon hearing those words, you still have no idea if it was the overwhelming shock or the joy.

I made askblogs for my AU triplets to RP with people! Go bother them if you want lore or are just bored and want to mess with them HAHAHAHA

So far here's Max: @aeschylusmaximillianpines (I'll add the others after I'm done fixing their blogs!)

I just realized that two of the three triplets use Latin phrases as a sign-off like daddy dearest except for one who just doesn't even bother LOL

Like, Aeschylus carries a journal around with him to jot down notes about his day to day. More like a diary than something for research but it's spliced in there, he signs off with "Vincit qui patitur" which directly translates to: "He who suffers, conquers" which is just another way to say: "He who perseveres is victorious". Literally copied his old man with another flavor of: "Through hardships to the stars" LMFAO

Athena always signs off her prose or writing with her alias, but when she writes academic papers or letters, she signs it with: "Audaces fortuna juvat" otherwise known as "Fortune favors the bold/brave". She's a risk taker unlike Aeschylus so it makes sense that she uses this phrase. It's still funny to me that she even signs off with a Latin phrase to begin with but we ball LOL

Meanwhile Alex doesn't even use sign-offs thinking it's too old fashioned or geeky. He just uses the ordinary letter sign-offs compared to the fancy things his siblings pull.

Of a similar vein, imagine somebody asking you and Ford who your favorite kid is. The answer should be really straightforward right? That they're all your favorites?

Yeah, and that is true for you since you love the triplets all the same. Ford's system for it however is so convoluted it's actually hilarious how saying that all of them are his favorite is true by sheer technicality.

If Aeschylus doesn't randomly bring home some random thing or creature he found in the forest- automatic favorite.

If Alex doesn't come back tracking mud in the cabin after a long day of play- now he's the favorite.

If Athena doesn't burn down the kitchen trying to create something edible- then she's the favorite.

If Aeschylus doesn't return home with any injuries whatsoever, he's once again the favorite-

Then if Alex returns without any random thing or treat he swiped since he has sticky fingers- he's the favorite again!

Pile on Athena not trying to take apart any of her toys? Back to her!

And it switches and switches and switches so often that they all really are his favorites.

You couldn't help but sit down and laugh when he explained everything to you in such great detail one night that you legitimately wondered how long he thought it over for. Stanford couldn't help but pout when you just kept giggling after he explained, he just wanted to make sure the triplets were loved equally and for who they were.

It wasn't a privilege he was granted as a kid after all, as much as he hates that fact.

You both spent that night watching movies and talking about the triplets, thankfully those three were already asleep in their beds at this point and time too.

Now... to figure out how to put your husband in the same restful state as them. Sometimes you don't know which is more difficult between them all to enforce bedtime, Stanford or the kids.

Ford simply rolled his eyes at you when he noticed you giggling again, what could you possibly have found funny now???

I know it's probably shitpost but imagine Ford and his triplets dressing as the different Doctors from Doctor Who- like- it would be so fucking cute- and yes all of them are actually Doctors, they all have PhDs. Literally just imagine them binging the Dr. Who series, somebody's gonna call out some science shit and another is gonna go full theorist like the paranormal and cryptic hunters they all are.

Seriously just imagine seeing Ford one day not wearing a turtleneck, instead sporting a dress shirt(still high-collar no shaz) and a vest, not to mention he's wearing the black trench coat that he came out of the portal with. Man looks like he's about to go to a party in the 20s so you had to stop him and ask why.

"Hun, what are you doing?"

"I'm just passing through-"

Stanford wanted to laugh because of how cutely the confusion rested on your face. Granted, you probably wouldn't have realized who he was dressing up as since his wardrobe wasn't too distinctly different from the character he was referencing.

"Ford? Darling? Are you okay?"

"Nooo- I'm inside a Dalek!"

That reference hit you immediately and Ford couldn't help but start laughing at your befuddled expression. You just shook your head at the man amused as he leaned against the wall in a fit of giggles like the adorable nerd he is. Married to geekazoid with six fingers but hell yeah he was cute. It was an initial worry that your husband wouldn't properly assimilate into how earth is now, but it seems like he's taken well to bits and bobs of media.

Especially Doctor Who.

You wondered which of the kids decided it would be a great idea to introduce the show to him. Dipper was likely, but so were the chaotic triplets.

"Alright, so which Doctor are you supposed to be?"

"The twelfth! I found his character quite interesting and humorous, as well as oddly relatable compared to the other reincarnations."

You couldn't say that wasn't expected, but you definitely didn't predict what was gonna happen next. Not when your eldest son was frozen in the doorway sporting suspenders and a bowtie. Seems like it you found the culprit and it wasn't just your anomaly loving partner dressing up today.

"So... I guess the both of you are going to go cryptid hunting like this?"

"You say that as if it's a bad thing, but honestly ma– it's the best thing there is!"

You shook your head again as the two men laughed. As if that was the end of that chaos, soon after your other two children made an appearance.

"Alexander Euler Pines are you wearing a suit??"

"I mean, what else would I be wearing ma?"

You elbowed Ford when he started snickering, who really was the one who orchestrated all this? Seriously?? Not to mention- you weren't invited! How rude!

"Okay- so who are you supposed to be?"

"Well, that's the question isn't it?"

You facepalmed, causing the three men to just erupt once again in laughter. You looked over at your only daughter and she finally gestured to the other three and explained.

"10, 11, 12, and I'm 13."

"Huh, that explains the printed tee and white coat. Anything else I should know about?"

It was finally your turn to laugh when the lot of them suddenly whipped out the iconic screwdrivers, each of them buzzing with a high-pitched whir. Somehow you felt like it was safe to assume that they actually did have some functionality and it would be safer not to ask.

A family of doctors! Thank goodness nobody owned a TARDIS!

All of them did plan on going hunting like that though, something like a funny little family excursion. Ford offered that you join them but you figured it would be a great time as any for him to reconnect with the three so you declined.

"Stay safe you rascals!"

"We will!"

You smiled at them and waved before Stanford kissed the top of your head prior to exiting the shack to follow his triplets. As if today hadn't already been full of surprises.

"We'll be back in time for dinner, love you!"

And like that he was out the door. You couldn't help the warmth that bloomed in your chest watching the four of them scurry off into the forest to cause who knows what kind of chaos. You didn't mind or worry however, you knew that they'd all be fine.

Genius and oddity are apparently hereditary- and in this family, being ordinary is overrated/j

A slow day with the triplets, I would think that this happens post-weirdmaggedon after all the family drama is (mostly)resorted. No that isn't Ford in the left-hand corner that is Alexander, he just looks like a young ford by default LMAO. I'm testing out different appearances for all three of them to showcase their different temperaments and personalities. I'll be changing Alex's hair at some point in the timeline post-weirdmaggedon since he'd be more interested in his appearance if he's going to fully dedicate himself to business/entrepreneurship.

I also feel like Ford would've found them like this at some point and either got roped into journaling with Alex or playing video games with Athena. Just a lazy day and he's reconnecting with his kids after being away from them for 30 years.

Another point that I think I haven't mentioned enough is how Ford and Reader's relationship is with these three at this point in time. With daddy dearest it's definitely strained, but with mother darling I can't say it's any different.

The reason why Stanford will struggle is self-explanatory, but the reason why there's a struggle with even Reader is because they shift from pretty okay to overprotective helicopter as the kids get older. It's not surprising given the danger of Bill and then the grief of losing Ford that they haven't really processed. But yeah, Reader is pretty overbearing on the kiddos which is why they were so eager to transfer out when they got to university.

These three are close because they know they can only rely on each other, even when they split to go to different universities they still had each other's backs. Unlike the falling out between Stan and Ford, they all act like different people and end up treated as such. Most of their acquaintances don't even know they have siblings, much less are part of a triplet since they rarely talk about them to other people.

Sixer and Reader making amends is going to be a lot of separation anxiety among tears and everything else. I feel like Reader would make him promise to put his family above all else after getting him back and Ford would swear his life on that, especially knowing how much he's lost in the 30 years he was gone.

Stan and Ford having been exposed to the triplets in some capacity I think would also affect how they deal with Dipper and Mabel, Stan not being as reckless and Ford being more accommodating. Granted they're both still very much chaotic and the triplets as Uncles and an Aunt don't fall that far from the family tree- but Dipper and Mabel are still key players into how the family makes amends.

I also think Mabel would be the type to be like- GASP "GRUNKLE STAN NOW WE NEED TO GET YOU A WIFE!" While you and Ford cackle up a storm. Stan is already content being the chaotic uncle that constantly spoils the kids, you and Ford have to play responsible and get him to stop.

Man knows he's a bad influence and dngaf LOLOLOL.

You also reach out to Fiddleford now that he's regained his sanity and mind, so I think everything does eventually come full circle when it comes down to it.

Either way, send requests about art or writing in my inbox guys! Feeling pretty bored so why not XD (Might finish this sketchy with color at some point too so I'll have a proper picture of the trio together)

Oh dear god what have I done, this is hilarious to watch- time to start drawing Fordsy since it seems like it's a resounding yes LMFAO

If you're wondering why I'm asking, it's because I need to decide how I'll handle his expressions in the drawing and his mannerisms in the fic. There's a LOT of differences guys JUST SAYIN.

Watch this man be a flirty sunofabitch in my AU PLS HE KNOWS HE'S HOT SHIT-

Do I dare draw the strip challenge with Ford- I can do it- just do I? HAHAHAHAH OH WOW THIS COFFEE IS GETTING TO ME-

If this gets an overwhelming about of spread and reaction I'll even write a fic drabble to go with it at every step cuz why not? Reblog, Comment, Like, or just @ me like crazy if you wanna see it.

Ngl it's screaming 'tism because this is from HIS point of view so like EVERYTHING HE NOTICES- high-key I am like this too WAHAHAHAHA-

Anyway, gonna end up posting the prologue soon- figured it would be WAAAAY too long to have as a one-shot with all the nuances and twists so it'll be a whole ass story- it won't be too long though cuz I wouldn't actually be able to handle that XD

Thoughts about this little snippet?

I'm literally hit with the Ford brainrot rn imagine if Filbrick literally shipped this man off to an arranged marriage for money because that was a thing back then! So like- imagine that where he got into his dream school, but is literally already promised to someone he doesn't even know. I'd be pissy about that, and I'm pretty sure he'd be too. But like like- hear me out- what if he meets a girl at West Coast Tech, and that girl is you, who he falls for hard.

It just so happens as the graduation day nears, ironically a day he should cherish but instead resents because it's also his wedding day! But against all odds, for whatever random chance or crazy luck of the draw- You're the one he sees at the altar. You're the girl he's apparently supposed to marry.

How's Stanford supposed to deal with that when he learned to love you during your years together, not knowing you also held the same position of a person he was supposed to hate?

If you take spicy requests, can you write about Ford teasing reader during sex? Like making the reader begging Ford to stop teasing them sexually

A/N: OH HELL YES LEZZGO! This man, this man istfg there's two sides of his fanbase and that's either him being an inexperienced cutie or a straight up sex god. WHAT THOSE FINGERS DO THOOO- remember ya'll my inbox is open for more spazz about this mans come feed me ideas HAHAHAHA- ANYWAY- because this is a spicy 18+ request, fic is under the cut.

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!

Addicted (Stanford Pines x Reader)

Ford just couldn’t get enough of you, his love, his life, his vice, his addiction. You drove him crazy by simply existing, he couldn’t get enough. Now presented with the opportunity to return the favor, Stanford Pines was going to go the full nine yards and maybe an extra mile.

You didn’t know how you got in this situation to be totally honest; back pressed against the wooden walls of your shared bedroom while being kissed senseless by no one other than Stanford Pines. In one moment you were both sharing wine late into the night, laughing and chatting about whatever. In the next– you were here, the alcohol forgotten as you got drunk on something entirely different. 

Fingers tangled into his hair, you returned his passionate kisses with a fervour; earning a deep grunt from the scientist. The tension wound tight between the both of you, intense and electrifying every action and setting it alight. You were drowning in this man, intoxicated by the smell of leather and ink that clung to him like a second skin. There wasn’t anyone else you knew who could swear the scent of a library like an irresistible cologne. 

Thirty years had been far too long.

Ford couldn’t tell where his desire began and his affections ended, the situation played with his head like a snake eating it’s own tail. It should have already triggered the alarms in his head the second you came to him with a bottle of Port, all the more when you offered to share. Now, the uncorked beverage simply sat off to the side; an afterthought halfway empty. 

It wasn’t as if Stanford didn’t have self-control, the man was disciplined and strict especially with himself. The problem starts when you’re introduced into that situation. You leave Ford grasping at straws to maintain a coherent mind, much less a sane one. Like the differing poles of a magnet, the two of you were just drawn to each other for reasons words couldn’t begin to explain.

One was so bored of the mundane ordinary, the other wanted to find respite in it.

A sharp gasp spilled from your lips when Stanford so easily hefted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist for purchase. You both surged on like desperate teenagers getting lost and crazy in each other. Ford quickly took the opportunity to trail kisses down your neck and on your collar, sucking a couple hickeys that caused you to squirm and cry out for him. 

The idea that he’s able to maneuver you like this, to position you in any way he wanted with ease really set something off in your brain. Likewise, the way you writhed against him drove your lover up a damn wall. The way your fingers shakily dug into the knit of his turtleneck made Ford’s ego swell with pride. It was because of him you were like this, pliant and at his mercy.

Initially, he felt guilty for even indulging in the first kiss when you both shared that glass. One turned to two, then three and four; another and another no matter how much he tried to stop. You kept pushing his buttons and foolish as ever, Stanford kept falling for it. 

He told himself that he was going to take it slow with you, to treat you like royalty the way you deserved. Hilariously enough, Stanford failed to factor in that for every queen– there was a king; and you would stop at nothing to treat him as such.

The researcher knew the buzz that ran in his veins wasn’t because of the ethanol he consumed; the tightness in his slacks and heat in his blood wasn’t because he was inebriated. Sure, he was completely wasted; lightheaded, dizzy and incoherent, but it wasn’t because of the Port. 

Need burned through his flesh when you roughly pulled him back to meet your lips, a low moan slipping from your lover when you lightly tugged at his silver strands. His hands firmly gripped your hips in retaliation while fingers danced around the waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

“Ford. Bed. Now.”

You mumbled amidst fervent kisses, the scientist shivering at the stern tone of your instruction. It was always like this between the both of you; a push and pull that didn’t have just one person explicitly calling the shots. His heart thundered against his ribcage when you nibbled at his bottom lip, you just couldn’t stop teasing him for even a moment could you?

Stanford didn’t dare to break away from kissing you as he clumsily shuffled over to the bed nearby, he was surprised he still even had as much coordination as he did with you distracting him this much; and as if luck decided to taunt him with a jinx– Ford tripped and caused the both of you to ungraciously tumble on top of the mattress.

You both shared a surprised look when that happened before breaking out into giggles, that was an overdue dampener; not to mention extremely sobering. Your lover awkwardly scratched the back of his neck and shyly looked away as he adjusted his glasses, only then did you realise how much of a number you really did on him. 

Tousled hair, red-faced, swollen lips, it really reminded you of the first time you’d both gotten carried away snogging back in university. Though, back then you’d both been interrupted for different reasons. Stanford looked really adorable like this, plus– he’d gone all bashful. 

You were hoping tonight would end in a different way though. 

Gently cupping his cheek, you urged the man to look at you again and gave him a brief peck on the nose. You knew you’d gotten the reaction you wanted when the flame of desire reignited behind his eyes. Moving his spectacles to rest on top of his head, you leaned forward to whisper in his ear,

“I never said we had to stop~”

The response was instantaneous, an excited squeal erupting from your throat as Stanford pinned you down against the bed. He was capable of doing a lot, even back then; you just had to poke and prod him to elicit the reactions you wanted. The researcher just smiled down at you amused, leaning down to meet your lips in a gentle kiss.

“You’re still a minx.”

“I’m your minx.”

That sass quickly left you when he snapped his hips into yours, despite the fact you were both clothed– you could feel his arousal through the fabric. Your face bloomed in a furious red, it’s been so long…

“You look cute.”

Forget his trademark eloquence, the enamoured gaze Ford was giving you sent butterflies to your stomach. He never did look at you with anything less. Curiosity and adoration seemed to mix in his eyes around you, hand in hand and step by step. You sighed happily when he went back to nuzzling your neck, only jolting when you felt his teeth graze your skin. The heat surged in your core, the mood was back.

“May I?”

You’d laugh if it weren’t for the distracting feeling of his calloused palms roaming your skin, your nerves melting and then some from the stimuli. There was no underestimating how much your lover knew, applying that knowledge in practice however… sometimes you’d still get burned since age did make him much bolder compared to back then.

“Yes please.”

That was all the permission he needed, gently biting down on your neck as his hands cupped your breasts.  The moan you let out was no short of sinful, Ford’s eyes narrowed into slits and his actions grew a bit rougher. He felt you shiver when his thumbs brushed over your nipples, arching into his hands as your breathing grew laboured. 

“Ford~!”

The rush of need shot straight down. That had set something off in him, he needed to hear you say his name like that again. Your sweet tone was only doing him in, Stanford couldn’t help bucking his hips into yours and a shiver raced up his spine. You rewarded his actions with another desperate cry of his name.

The scientist thanked his lucky stars that he had the foresight to soundproof the rooms back when he built his home.

Stanford finally allowed his hands to wander elsewhere after some time, moving his lips down to replace his fingers instead when giving your breasts attention. He was being so thorough and meticulous; however, it was driving you crazy just how insanely slow the man was being. 

A small sadistic part of Ford wondered just how far he could take it before you’d beg him to do more; but even that would already be a test of his own control that was rapidly wearing thin thanks to your adorable noises.

“Ford please…”

“Please what my dear?”

You would slap this man for his smug tone if you weren’t so impatient on getting him to rail the thoughts out of you. Even if you squealed in surprise at him suddenly groping your ass, his hands had slipped below the garter of your bottoms and he gently kneaded the supple flesh.

“Don’t– Don’t tease!!!”

You cried out when his teeth grazed your nipple, oh fuck this arrogant man–!

“Why should I?”

Ford chuckled against your skin when one of your legs weakly kicked his side, he continued to press kisses to your chest while one of his hands finally shifted to give you attention where you sought it the most. It didn’t surprise him how soaked you were, but he couldn’t say the same for how receptive you were. Just the faintest touch already had you shaking in his arms.

“Sensitive?”

You kicked him again, only to exclaim in surprise when he started to rub at your clit. You could tell he was still teasing, the pace he chose would sooner drive you crazy from the frustration than the creeping pleasure. All the more when his tongue flicked over a nipple, you screamed his name in frustration.

“Ford!! Please stop teasing!”

“You’ll have to do better than that my love.”

You attempted to buck into his hand but the other was holding you down in place, he sucked harshly on your breast as a consequence and you wailed. It was simultaneously too much and too little, what kind of hell was this?!

“Please~!! Please, Ford! I need–”

He didn’t give you the chance to finish that statement before a finger finally slipped into your entrance, the scientist shivered at how warm and velvety your insides felt wrapped around his finger. He kind of regretted not removing his slacks now prior to this, they were painfully uncomfortable now.

“You’re so pretty for me~”

You whined at the praise, shivering at the gently firm pace he chose in thrusting his finger in and out of you. Pulling him up by the collar, you messily crashed your lips into his again as he added another finger inside of you and curled them. 

He knew how you ticked, what would get you to cave to him. Your head fell back when he purposefully pressed into that spongy part that would have you seeing stars. It should’ve been a bigger concern to you how smug your lover was being, abusing that spot with his fingers until you became an incoherent mess. You cried out his name like a broken record, Ford found himself hooked on it– on you.

“Please– please– Ford–!”

When he slowed his pace down when you got closer to that precipice, you knew he wasn’t going to let you fall over that edge so easily. Fuck. So much for hoping he'd play good boy tonight.

It was going to be one of these nights again.

Fic is also here on Ao3 :D

YALL PLS WAHAHAHAHA PICK ONE- we're definitely going down swinging at this point LMFAOOOOO-

For context, this is me asking which Ford do I draw and write for the strip challenge, poll is in my blog's pinned message go vote if you want to LOL

Linkie here too

Just imagining Ford giving hugs rn, feeling in the dumps because parental figure decided to be a POS. Just imagining him being there, giving reader a hug and telling them that it's going to be okay.

You don't need to smile all the time.

You don't need to act like it's always fine.

You don't need to be strong for once.

It's okay to cry.

It's not reader's fault that their parents think they're a failure when they've already achieved more than most. It's not their fault that their parents are greedy or narcissistic.

Just imagining him holding reader and patting their back as reader silently cries, he doesn't say anything else. He doesn't need to say anything else. He's just there, and that's enough.

Since the poll is practically over and the outfit's largely been decided, I'll be dropping the first post to the strip challenge in a couple hours on my Ford Blog @gftimelord to christen it HAHAHHA- (psst go bother him it'll be funny HAHHAHAH) Thanks for the interaction everybody, I only hope to deliver. Here's the first drabble to start it off with since I am pairing every drawing with a story sequence as promised. You could probably think of this as my interpretation for some kind of continuation to Ford's route in "Swooning Over Stans" by @gfdatingsim since I've genuinely been non-stop playing that game since it's recommendation to me. I will balance med proper and my delulu if it's the last thing I do HAHAHAHA-

Reply to this post as well if you want to be pinged for whenever this challenge updates!

I Accept Your Challenge!

(Stanford Pines x Reader)

After you heard a new challenge becoming trendy among couples you decide to try it on a certain Stanford Pines; just... you didn't exactly explain to him what the challenge was.

Maybe his competitiveness was a good thing in this case. You at least got a bloody good show out of his cluelessness.

Another slow summer day and you were in the living room of the mystery shack alongside the Pines as they went about doing whatever. Navigating your relationship with a certain scientist definitely somewhat of a learning curve but you digressed. Similar to Dipper and Mabel, you'd receive post cards from the twins about their seafaring adventures; your mail just came with additional special letters from your beloved. All of which you'd neatly stowed away in a bag that you always had with you, no use keeping it at home when you were rarely there.

Often traveling for a nomadic lifestyle was serene and fun at times, but you found yourself missing this place. It felt more like a home to you than your own place did in the couple weeks you'd stuck around after your car got smashed into the side of the log cabin.

Who knew that the same man who totaled your car one day would be the same adorable nerd you now called your lover?

It felt a bit like those romance dramas Stan liked to watch but you quickly dismissed that thought. Fairytales weren't real, fate isn't exactly something you believed in either. Stories of princesses finding their prince charmings were mostly smoke and mirrors, things you'd tell a child to give them hope of a better world than reality.

In gravity falls however... you quickly learned that nothing was truly impossible. Never say never in this small town of Oregon.

You sat on the floor next to Dipper and Mabel as they boredly flipped through TV channels; books, papers and crayons littered about around the three of you. The glass danced with colors from the rapidly flipping images while the twins struggled to find anything even remotely entertaining to watch, you couldn't help but allow your mind to wander from the boredom.

You and Ford spent quite a bit of time since you'd arrived at the beginning of the week, frankly you'd made the trip as soon possible when Stan shot you a message that they'd finally docked to spend the summer with the kiddos. You hoped it wasn't all that obvious how much you missed Stanford, but you didn't really need to worry when he was the one who immediately swamped you up in a hug the second you were out of your car. It's only been two years thus far since you've known the man but Stanley and Mabel insisted that you stay with him in his room, you didn't know why they were so adamant until you saw the state of the man's living quarters.

A whole day was spent with the both of you furnishing and cleaning the said room because of that but neither of you complained, most of the time was spent goofing off anyway.

Now... you were wondering where Ford was, not to mention what he was doing. Was he down in the lab tinkering again? You didn't want to disturb him, but you really wanted to find him. Any time spent apart didn't feel like time used to it's full capacity, even if you did enjoy the company of the other Pines; it just wasn't the same.

At some point, you were bored enough to not necessarily care whether you'd be disturbing Ford's work or not when you went down to the lab. It was just last summer when he taught you how to get down there, as well as spilling more about his past. All of which you simply listened to unless he asked anything; it was better to listen and attempt to understand than say or do something that would make it worse.

Seems like he really wanted to get it off his chest too, be transparent with you; something you appreciated.

You were shaken out of your headspace when you heard the rustling of boxes from the lab, as well as some hushed but frustrated cursing. You didn't really recall a time Ford swore unless he was legitimately ticked off, the man made a valiant effort not to compared to his twin.

But they both had sailor mouths anyhow even if it was fitting.

"Ford? Are you down here?"

"Ah-! [Y/N]! What- what are you doing down here?"

You moved closer to him in an attempt to see what he was doing, even if the man looked a bit rattled to be found like this by you.

"What are you doing?"

"I asked first my dear."

Ford chuckled, shifting to hide something behind his back. You pouted at him and crossed your arms. He couldn't help but smile at how cute you looked doing that.

"Was looking for you, Dipper and Mabel are bored watching TV upstair anyway... sooooo- what are you doing?"

You smiled when Ford returned your inquisitiveness with a small laugh, showing you what he held in his hand. A pair of goggles?

"What's that for?"

"I was attempting to sort through which of my belongings I could still use among the ones I wish to discard. Inadvertently I ended up finding these, I think I could still make use of them."

You tilted your head at him as a silent prompt to continue, it took every bit of control from Ford not to laugh again. You looked like a curious puppy, though he figured he shouldn't say that outright.

"It's simply among the items I collected and kept with me through my time in the multiverse. Protective eyewear can be useful for many things."

"Huh, if you have that— does it mean you still have the rest of the outfit?"

Now it was your turn to think Ford was being cute, he just wordlessly blinked at you in surprise. Was your request really that odd? You'd barely seen him in any other outfit combinations, of course you'd be curious.

"I—... I think I do? Why do you ask?"

"Do you think you'd still be able to rock it like you used to?"

"'Used to'? Excuse me?"

"I mean, it's been a couple years... why don't you try it on again?"

Ford laughed once again from your teasing, the way you sassily tried to goad him on was entertaining in it's own right. He was a bit on the fence about the whole outfit however, especially due to the memories associated with it.

It's not that bad compared to some things he'd found though... maybe he could indulge you.

"Hm..."

"I-I mean, if you really don't want to—"

Your panicked stammering was cut short when a warm palm cupped your cheek, meeting Stanford's eyes as he pressed a chaste kiss to the crown of your head. He could feel your skin heat in up in his hand, hiding a cheeky smile in your hair as he held you there.

"I'll show it to you... as soon as I can find the rest of the outfit."

Ford couldn't help but smile wider when your cheerful laugh rang out; it's the best sound to ever have graced his ears in the time he's been alive. A bit surprising given how many things he's been exposed to, but he couldn't name another chime so pleasant.

"I'll hold you to that Ford."

"And I accept your challenge my dear."

YEAAAAH HERE IT ISSSS- TEXT THING CUZ WE NEED INTRODUCTION-