devientdoll

[devientdoll]

Hello! Long time follower, first time...asker?

ANYWHO I Just ADORE your writing, the short blurbs, the tantalizing long tales, the romantic romps, UHG I JUST WANNA EAT THEM ALL IN A STEW!

That being said, what's your view on the brothers walking in on their partner pleasuring themselves? Is this something you've written before that I missed?

If so, let me know!! I'd love to read it!! ❤️

hi first time asker! i’m gnawing on ur words like they’re my last meal 🫀🫀 thank u thank u thank u. i read this and i was giggling like crazy. the idea of someone wanting to eat my fics in a stew is possibly the highest literary compliment i’ve ever received?? hehdudh thank u sm!!<33

nsfw (also sorry there’s more Ford than Stan in this one. the inspiration hit like a truck when writing his part + dragged me down a dom!Ford rabbit hole. but there's pathetic Ford too)

STAN

he’s been in and out of sleazy motels his whole life, and yet the moment he walks in on you with your hand between your thighs, he turns scarlet. not the cocky, grinning bastard you’re used to, not the sleazy charmer with some bad pickup line at the ready, HELL NO. the second he catches even a glimpse of you like that, all flushed and panting, he gasps like he’s been shot. shoulders hunched, Stan freezes in the doorway, repeating that pose from the lost legends comics, haha

he’s rambling immediately. “holy moly!!! jeez, you probably shoulda locked the door, kid! f—fuck, i didn’t mean to call you kid, i know you hate that!! sweet moses, im gonna shut up. should i leave? i should leave, right? unless you want. . .wait no I shouldn’t assume anything—“

he’s fidgeting with his clothes, half-turned like he wants to bolt, but he can’t take his eyes off you. and if you’re using a toy? some big gleaming thing buzzing while you whimper and squirm, he’s so fucking done. red-faced and flustered, yeah, but his pants are already getting tight and he’s well aware of it.

or god forbid you’re riding a pillow, grinding down all slow with a little glazed look in your eyes, Stan's going to melt. and if you so much as whimper his name in that breathy little voice, fuck no, he’s staying. no matter how much he tells himself to back off. he’ll stumble over, and ask if he can help, but it comes out all hoarse and reverent like, “let me, baby. let me, c’mon, please“ first minutes he acts like he doesn’t know what to do, but the second you let him touch, he's so greedy for every sound you make. if it's your fingers, he'll slip those out of you so he can put his mouth there instead

if you’re riding a pillow he’ll get so filthy with it, placing his hands on your hips, muttering “this how you get off when im not around? huh? you need it that bad, baby?” his voice all gravelly in your ear while he makes you hump it harder till you’re shaking

and if it’s a toy, he’ll snatch it right out and replace it with his fingers or his cock, muttering how it’s so much better when you take it from him<3 although he loves using toys on you but hey that's for later!

FORD

that six-fingered genius freak, who has absolutely jacked off behind your bedroom door more than once because he heard you saying his name.

he’s repressed and painfully intelligent, all things that make his perversions so much worse. he intellectualizes everything except the way his hand moves when he hears your whines. Ford tries to resist, he does, pacing in the hallway with his fists clenched, murmuring about how he should respect your privacy, about how it’s improper, about how he’s better than this, but the second he hears you let out a desperate little “oh Ford, wish it was you touching me. . .” that's it. he’s got his belt undone, fisting himself while listening, trying not to let the door creak when he presses his forehead against it. your name leaving his mouth so softly, scared to say it too loud.

okay listen. with Ford, i think there are two (three) reactions depending on the day and what level of ✨horny repression✨ he’s working with

scenario one where he walks in on you.

probably because he was too distracted with equations and notes to notice the quiet, intimate sounds echoing from the room, he calls your name, asking “have you seen my notes?” and nudges the door open like it’s nothing. then he freezes, pupils contracting, such a beautiful sight in front of him, his darling sprawled out, thighs apart, halfway gone already, moaning into the back of your hand. and he’s just. . .rooted to the spot, making these quiet stammering noises, flushed from the base of his throat to the tips of his ears. he croaks your name, and then immediately launches himself out of the room. you can hear him tripping over smth in the hallway. probably his own feet.

OR! this can also go this way, where Ford stays. and it’s worse. so much worse. and here its also divided into TWO parts.

one is, he opens the door, same things: he freezes, gasps, blah blah, such a dramatic boy. but he doesn’t leave. he can’t. he lifts on trembling hand to cover his eyes, like some victorian lady faced with ankles, but the other is still gripping the doorknob. “o-oh! i— apologies! i didn’t realize you were— were“ Ford groans, squeezing his eyes shut with his palm pressed tight, feeling like he’s on the verge of some cardiac event.

SO !!! MY ADVICE TO YOU BABY!! don’t stop. don't you dare stop!!! spread your thighs wider, continue moving your fingers, letting soft, wet sounds fill the room!!!

“Ford,” you arch your back, looking at him through half-closed eyes, “mhm, was hoping you’d walk in on me.” his knees buckle at that, Ford actually sways where he stands. “ive been thinking about you doing it. standing there. watching me. fucking yourself to the same rhythm.” your speech is diluted with small breaths when you insert your fingers too deeply, creating a wet squelching sound.

it's obvious he’s hard already, bulging against his belt.

with dom Ford it turns into scolding. “ . . .so this was intentional? you wanted me to see this? you planned this? you wanted to be caught like some needy little thing?” but even as he says it, his hand is already moving, undoing buttons, jerking his cock free with a hiss as if he’s just been burned, when the air touches his warm shaft. “go on, then, show me what you were doing,” he growls, looking straight into your eyes. to be honest, that tone even scares you a little. next thing you know he's kneeling on the bed, shoving your hand away to do it himself. slowly, while making you say everything you were thinking about.

second option. meanwhile, if we go back to awkward shy!Ford, who covers his face, stays planted in the doorway, and asks you “do you want me to stay?” like a lost puppy. when you nod, biting your lip, all excited and flushed, Ford lets out a shaky breath, quietly lowering his pants, knowing it’s wrong but he can’t stop.

so awkward and nervous but SO horny he can’t stand it. stands there trembling while unbuckling his belt and says “please, don’t stop, i want to watch you. . .touch yourself while i— while i do it too.” he jerks himself slow, matching your rhythm, whimpering every time your fingers dip deeper, wishing it was him filling you up.

and you two end up with this messy mutual masturbation session, mirroring each other, eyes locked the whole time, trying not to come too fast but totally failing.

he’s such a freak. he pretends he’s above it but he lives for this kind of filth

[devientdoll]

Young!Ford x fem!Reader

Genre: his POV, smut

CW: smut, Ford being even more of a freak than before-

A/N: surpriiiiiise! I am posting the second part as well! Despite Ford's poetic wording, this is pure smut, so read at your own discretion. Do keep in mind that, despite being an x Reader, this piece was also written for my friend @wolfhunter89 so there might be a few descriptive words here and there (not really, but I thought I'd give you a heads up anyway). I'd also like to take a moment to thank @darlingdaisyfarm for inspiring me and kickstarting my desire to write after months of inactivity. Your lovely writing encouraged me to try and get out of my creative slump, and it constantly gives me and my bestie ideas for our own little stories (we have definitely incorporated some of your headcanons into them, especially the ones about Ford). I hope you enjoy this!

Journal entry #27:

"I had a dream last night.

Usually the merciful embrace of sleep would give me some reprieve from the flow of thoughts always taking place during the day in my already crowded mind. Thoughts about her. Of what I'd like to do, what I'd like to see...

Anyway, all of this to say that she has now made her appearance in my dreams, and I no longer know peace.

How can I look her in the eye after this? How can I call myself her friend after dreaming about her in such a manner? After enjoying it so thoroughly?

I can keep a firm grasp over my own wandering thoughts during the day, but last night, my imagination was completely unrestrained. We were together, (Y/N) and I. On a bed, not mine, but barely big enough to fit us both anyway. We were doing what I could only describe as snuggling, forced by the lack of space to stick close together in order to stay comfortable.

But for what reason were we on that bed? What brought us there together? Does it really matter, when her body was pressed so tight against me? And was it truly just out of necessity, when her hand found its place against my chest and she looked up at me like... God, like she wanted nothing more than to be there with me? To get even closer.

I just know I looked down at her, marvelling at how perfectly she fit against my side... when suddenly her lips were on mine. It was unhurried, confident, like she knew I was not going anywhere and she could take her time savouring me. I wanted her to do it. I wanted to do the same.

Her perfume, that heavenly scent, hung thick in the air around us, making my head spin and turning my thoughts into sludge, like snow after a hot day.

Her lips felt soft against mine, like being kissed by the petals of a fresh rose, and her hand came up to touch my face, suddenly making me feel like she was holding me together with the mere act of cradling my cheek in her warm palm. I felt complete, sated... safe.

If she would have allowed me, I would have stayed like that forever, pouring myself into our kiss so that she may have all of me while I basked in all of her.

She, however, had different plans for us. She pulled back from me and, with great dismay, I thought I did something wrong. I was already about to apologize, when she rose from her lounging position to slide onto my lap, straddling me with no hesitation, as if she knew she owned me and I would let her.

I did.

My head was foggy, and I was barely coherent. One blink of my eyes and suddenly she was bare before me. We both were. It should have shocked me and yet I just accepted it like it was obvious, one small portion of me aware I was dreaming... and another one, the main one, feeling like there could be nothing more right than the situation at hand. Like I was home, right there with her and stripped down to nothing.

She looked down at me with a serenity that put my heart at peace despite its wild beating against my ribcage, and as she looked into my eyes she sunk down onto me. I almost did not notice my own pleasure as the way she beautifully tilted her head back with an ethereal sigh of relief captivated every ounce of my attention. She took a moment to feel all of me seated inside of her as if she had to burn that moment into her mind's eye, and then her beautiful hips rose again, and thus began her steady, languid rythm.

I was looking at a goddess. She wasn't chasing her release. She was taking and bestowing pleasure, savouring every moment thoroughly and deliberately, as if what truly mattered to her was the joining of our bodies and souls into one, rather than the climax of our physical act. She smiled down at me, and I felt like she had just gifted me the whole sky and all of its stars. That moment alone felt like eternal happiness.

Eventually, that slow, deliberate pace shifted into something different. Something more demanding and carefree. Her hips rose and fell, again and again, and she sighed and moaned and called to me, God, she called to me while her head fell back in bliss and her hair flowed down in soft waves behind her, making her seem even more divine. I wanted to give her all she wanted. She could have taken all of me for all I cared and I would have still asked her what else she desired.

Her movements changed again. The rise and fall of her hips turned into a sensual grind. Back and forth, back and forth, then in a circle and repeat.

This was not for me. It was for her, and I was merely lucky to even be there to witness it.

Should one truly be upset about an intimate partner thinking about their own pleasure first? I could not bring myself to even care about anything other than marvelling at the miracle happening right above me. If she wanted to use me to bring herself to the very edge of ecstasy, then I would be the perfect tool for her, and I would feast on the beauty of it all. Her pleasure was my pleasure, and only then I noticed my voice echoing hers in the most delicious, sinful of symphonies.

I refused to close my eyes, despite the pleasure. I wanted to see her, all of her. I let my hands wander, thanking all that is holy for the permission she so graciously gave me, as if she was waiting for me to partake in her as much as she was partaking in me. I never took control from her, deeming it almost sacrilegious to interrupt a creature as perfect as her. Still, my pleasure ebbed and flowed and I knew she would be my ruin.

I welcomed it with open arms.

What came next is a bit blurry. An unfortunate consequence of my consciousness slowly returning to me in the early hours of the morning, but what little I could witness will haunt me for days in the most beautiful and exasperating of ways.

(Y/N)'s grinding hips sped up and my name fell from her lips like a blessing while her hands travelled against my body. They were warm, and simultaneously soothing and exhilarating. It was everything I had never known I had wanted... and with every single fraction of a second, I grew more aware of the fact that I would aways want more of it. Want more of her.

In the last few moments of this blissfully damning sleep, I saw as (Y/N)'s lips fell open with a loud keen right as she jumped over the edge. She jolted and twitched on top of me, her hips grinding down on me even though she could not take anymore pleasure. As she let herself fall on me with a contented giggle, I awoke, startled by reality as my dream evaporated into nothingness.

I was sweaty, my breathing was uneven... and it soon became clear that my nightly fantasies had some very real consequences on me.

I was mortified.

I still am.

I am just glad everyone was still soundly asleep and I had the opportunity to take a shower and wash my clothes.

I am at a complete loss... How am I supposed to face her from now on? Is this going to become a common occurrence? How can I ever pretend to just be her friend when these are the thoughts that my mind conjures up?

I could perhaps admit a small attraction to her... but this goes so many leagues beyond that. I worry I may not be able to pretend like everything is still the same as it was before. Even writing this down to clear my head has...

Well, it doesn't matter. I can make this work.

Mind over matter, Stanford. Mind over matter."

[devientdoll]

Imagine all of the special Viagra Ford creates just so he could fuck YOUR brains out!!! 🍆💦🥰

HELP nsfw

i am such a big fan of that idea. like yes. YES. absolutely Ford would make up weird little specialized serums and supplements and glowing blue vials just so he could go absolutely feral on you in ways no regular man ever could. this man was not in the multiverse for thirty years for nothing. he came back with knowledge and techniques and formulas that would probably terrify the average person but he’s just so casual about it. “drink this, sweetheart, it’ll help you withstand higher frequency thrusts”

i feel like he'd be so proud of his inventions too. he’s not just doing this for his own pleasure, he genuinely wants to blow your mind, make you see stars, and he’s applying his scientific brilliance to the cause. making sex toys that.... idkk, sync with ur heartbeat, vibrators that read ur muscle contractions and adjust speed and rhythm accordingly. like he’s not normal

he’s like, “i synthesized this bioluminescent serum that increases pelvic blood flow! it lasts approximately 47 minutes and has only minor side effects. would you like to try it tonight?” what the fuck, Ford, yes

sooo yessss after fucking your brains out he also wants to study them afterwards <3

[devientdoll]

humgry

[devientdoll]

sorry for the constant asks abt sub Ford but also like. hello. can anyone hear me. (points to the gif)

never apologise for sub!Ford asks, you are my reason for living

[devientdoll]

Hopefully it’s not too much of an ick for you, but if you’re up to it, would you ever write Ford eating Reader out on their period?

not the disaster you think it is

a/n: hey love, no ofc it's not, im absolutely ok with the whole period thing. i meant to post this a few days ago, but it’s like i forgot how to write or more like i hated every sentence i wrote and couldn’t get past it. anyway, hope this mood leaves me soon. but here we are!! back to Ford being a total freak, as usual, who’s absolutely head over heels for his partner <3 enjoy, i guess?? and thank my period for the delay :/

tags: Ford x reader, nsfw, fluff and smut, gentle sex to rough, emotional rollercoaster for reader, vaginal sex, period sex, oral sex (f receiving), i guess blood play, embarrassment, a lil bit of hurt/comfort, overthinking, established relationship

you think you're about to die of embarrassment, but Ford’s just getting started because sometimes, the worst-case scenario ends up being the best one.

finally, finally you and Ford are alone. do you even remember the last time this happened? no Stan grumbling at the tv, no Dipper hovering around with a thousand questions, no Mabel dragging you away to watch Waddles collapse in the dirt, no Soos excitedly telling you about some strange new creak in the shack’s walls that sounds exactly like a “genuine ghost noise, dude.” no distractions.

what did matter was that you and Stanford were alone, and after the morning you had, there was absolutely no way you weren’t going to fuck the life out of your man.

and god, it’s not like you hadn’t been thinking about it since the second he stepped out of your bedroom looking like that. at first, the missed period had you panicking, your mind spiraling into absolute worst scenarios, but then you chalked it up to stress, shrugged it off, and forgot about it until you saw him. jesus, he didn’t even have to try. you’d made him wear that outfit though, because it was criminal to let him sweat through another goddamn trench coat when summer in gravity falls was like hell had opened its gates and breathed directly onto this weird town, and you weren’t about to let him die of heatstroke just because he was too stubborn to dress appropriately. so you gave him something lighter. and fuck, that was a mistake, because the second you saw him in it, sleeves pushed up, collar slightly undone, his forearms out, his hands, you swore you nearly ovulated again.

but the worst part was when he came running into the shack with those big, dirty, calloused hands holding some kind of tiny, wriggling anomaly he and Dipper had just dug up in the woods, showing it off to everyone like it was nothing, like it wasn’t the sexiest fucking thing you’ve ever seen. all sweaty and flushed from the sun, completely unaware of how fucking delicious he looked, rambling excitedly to Stan, Soos, and Mabel while you had to physically restrain yourself. and you did. you were so good all morning, sitting there, waiting, swallowing down every desperate little urge watching your nerdy man gesturing with those dirty hands as he explained something.

and all you could think was, “i want to eat this man alive.” god, it was unfair how much you wanted him today.

thankfully, Stanley eventually had enough of the science talk. he let out a loud, suffering groan and declared, “that’s it, i’m getting out of here before i have to listen to one more goddamn sentence about anomalous worm lizards or whatever, Soos, Mabel, Dipper, we’re going fishing.”

so of course, there was absolutely no way you weren’t going to take advantage of this moment! it was so rare that you got Ford all to yourself like this that the second the door closed behind Stan, you practically pounced on him.

you had Ford laid out beneath you, his wide back against the mattress, your hands braced on his scarred chest as you rode him like your life depended on it.

and god, you were hungry for it, so desperate. the morning had wound you up so tightly that by the time you finally got him beneath you and finally sank down onto his cock, it felt like release, but still nowhere near enough.

you bounced on him, panting and whimpering, rolling your hips, feeling sweat beading on your skin because it was still summer. and there's no fan strong enough to save either of you. it must be at least 90°F, around 32°C, but it feels even worse and hotter when you have sex. besides, you were the one putting in all the work as your Ford, your good boy, was lying there, being so good for you. looking up at you with little hearts in his eyes, huge hands gripping your waist, trying so hard not to buck up into you too soon because he was such a gentleman even during sex. he wasn’t controlling the pace, you were, and god, he was letting you use him like a toy, groaning so beautifully every time your pussy clenched around him.

yeah, you’d definitely need a cold shower after this, but right now you couldn’t care less. little did you know, though, the shower won’t just be for the sweat.

but that’s a problem for future you.

now, however, your legs start to give out first. despite the pleasure that’s still flooding you in blinding waves, your poor thighs are already trembling and the rhythm getting uneven as you desperately try to keep fucking yourself on him. Ford notices it, even flushed, messy, drowning in you, he watches you like you’re the fucking answer to every equation he's ever scribbled in his journals.

“easy, sweetheart,” he says gently, and then his arms are around you, flipping you over with no effort at all, manhandling you so tenderly. you barely get a second to breathe before he pushes in again from behind and your mouth falls open in a cry. that's deeper. so much deeper like this, and your whole body jolts forward with a ragged moan. “let me take care of you now.”

“Ford, fuck, Ford!” his name spills from you in a gasp just as he starts thrusting, making your toes curl, fingers claw at the sheets, and he just leans over you, grinding into you, murmuring against your ear.

“just like that, you’re doing so good for me,” he groans, kissing your shoulder, “so tight, just keep taking it, beautiful, you’re perfect like this.” Ford rolls his hips, filling you to the brim, keeping you pressed flat against the sheets with nothing to do but take it.

every time he thrusts in, you feel yourself get wetter, making it so easy for him to move and keep grinding into that soft, sensitive spot inside you until you’re crying out, clutching at the pillows. and that’s it. your body breaks as you cum again, shuddering under him as your body jerks with each deep thrust. Ford holds your hips in place while the sheets muffle your screams. he knows your body, god, he knows exactly how to hit those aching spots and how to angle just right, how to drag every last sob and tremble from you until you’re nothing but a pathetic overstimulated mess in his arms. and damn it, Ford loves you like that, clutching at the blankets, so fucked out and trembling, all because of him.

and still, it’s not enough for him. hasn’t been enough all week. you feel it in the way he doesn’t even stop to let you breathe, doesn’t even let you sink down into the afterglow. instead, Ford carefully pulls you onto your back, kissing your jaw and neck, and keeps going, pushing deep into your sore, overstimulated pussy like he’s possessed.

“Ford, s-sensitive, oh god—“

“cant stop,” he pants, hunched over you, sweat dripping down his temple, “just one more. i missed you so much, just let me, i missed you, i missed this,“ he’s so deep again, making your soft walls flutter again, stretched wide around him, and his back, oh fuck, your nails drag down his skin and leave bright red scratches over old scars, painting your love right into his skin as you cry out beneath him.

“so beautiful, darling, so good for me. love you so much, l-love you, mhmm.” Ford's words make you ache in a way you can’t describe and your whole body feel like warm honey, melting under his touch. you pull him closer, wrap your arms around his neck, bury your face against his shoulder as he keeps pounding into you, making love to you like he means it, practically crushing you with his weight.

your thighs tighten where they frame his waist and you're literally clinging to him. his cock slides over your sensitive walls and you still feel so tight, despite how well he worked you open with his fingers before this and the slick mess between your legs. you're drenched, and he knows it by the way his cock nudges inside you so smoothly as you gasp each time he presses flush against your cervix.

“mmh, i love you so damn much, you feel so good, holy moses, taking me so well.” Ford's voice is husky as he kisses you between words, pressing his mouth against your temple, your cheek, your lips and sweet heavens, you’re drowning in it, in him, in the way he praises you like you’re the best thing to ever happen to him. and you know you are, because nobody’s ever looked at you the way Ford does.

”fuck, baby—“ you sob, clinging to his shoulders once he finally slows down just enough for your mind to stop spinning. “you looked so fucking hot this morning,” you whimper, biting your lip, “i wanted you, wanted you so bad, you looked so fucking good today, i couldn’t stop staring—“

Ford’s smile is all soft, even as his cock still pulses inside you. “you should’ve told me, gorgeous, m-maybe we’d have done something about it sooner.”

“i couldn’t, there were people, you know we can't when everyone's at home.”

Ford kisses you and whispers against your mouth, continuing moving inside you. “now you can, love, now it’s just us, be as loud as you want, please. . . but so?” he asks again, “tell me, was it the shirt? or the forearms?”

“shut up—shut up—”

“no, no, i’m serious,” he chuckles breathlessly, slightly changing the angle, “you’re adorable when you’re flustered. i wanted you too,” Ford says suddenly, a little softer. “it was horrible not being able to touch you all week. i kept thinking about you, sweet—“

you interrupt him by kissing him for that, you just have to because you can never get enough of his lips. you drag him down into a kiss and breathe him in like you’ll die without it. and Ford groans right into your mouth, he’s louder this time, letting out sharp grunts and drawn-out moans, that gorgeous fucking voice of his breaking with each thrust. you love it. god, you love when he’s vocal, when he lets go and stops trying to hold himself back, when you can hear how good you make him feel and how much he's enjoying this too.

then, Ford's rhythm gets rougher as he straightens his back, holding himself up as he growls out, “sweetheart, can i go rougher?”

you gasp, nodding fast. “Ford, we talked about this, y-you don’t have to ask, just take what you need, please”

“thank you, my love, thank you, you don’t know how much i needed that.” his voice breaks on it, so full of need it makes your pussy throb.

he grabs your waist, lifts you off the bed slightly, holding you there suspended in the air as he slams into your soaked fluttering pussy again and again. and your cunt takes it like she was made for him, squelching wet and hot around his cock as he uses you like a fucking fleshlight, fast enough the bed is creaking beneath you, the headboard knocking.

“Ford— oh, god!” your head tilts back, pleasure spiking, spreading through your whole body. you love this. you love him when he’s this desperate and rough, that means he needed you really damn bad. “yes! oh, my god, yes!” you arch your back automatically, body tensing as he buries himself to the hilt, his cock brushing your cervix over and over, making your thighs spasm and your toes curl. tears suddenly stinging your eyes.

but Ford keeps pounding into you, determined to bring you to your third orgasm now, and it’s all too much, making your clit throb. your brows knit together in that desperate needy expression he lives for, pretty lips parted, chin wet from drool, cheeks flushed and streaked with tears.

“mine, you're mine,” you hear Ford through your own screams and just nod eagerly.

you swear, nothing feels better than Ford's thick cock stretching you like that, fucking into you like crazy, building the sweetest pressure in your gut. filthy sounds echoing off the walls of the room and god, you’re such a mess, sobbing, literally sobbing, with tears leaking down your temples. eyes glossy and unfocused, every inch of your body betrays you, twitching and fluttering around him like you were made to be filled like this.

“so wet for me,” he grits out, “god, listen to you, soaking me.”

you can’t even answer because you’re just moaning as he keeps thrusting roughly and deep into you like you’re just a toy in his hands. his toy. your hands scrabble helplessly at the sheets as your body climbs toward another high.

oh, you think, dazed, this is actually filthy.

you’re wet, too wet. not that it’s ever an issue with Ford because he gets you soaked, dripping and ruined just from his voice alone everyday. the sounds in the room are straight-up filthy, like something out of a fucking porn. slick, lewd noises every time he thrusts in, your cunt welcoming him, spreading your arousal everywhere.

the sheets beneath you are absolutely ruined and your thighs feel sticky and messy.

Ford has to feel it too, how effortlessly he slides in and out, how fucking easy your wet pussy swallows him every time. and he doesn’t stop. your head’s a haze of pleasure, but somewhere, deep in the rational part of your mind, a little warning bell rings and you hate it.

okay, let's think then. you’re wet, and that’s good, but something feels weirdly weird. you feel you're leaking like a damn waterfall, it gets too warm down there too. your moans taper off slightly, not enough for Ford to notice yet, but you’re thinking too much now, caught in a spiral of why is it so much and why does it feel different. your period is one week late. couldn’t be, right? right. . .

just in that moment Ford slides out and you almost yelp from the loss, but he presses the thick head of his cock against your aching clit, rubbing slow, teasing you like he knows you love. you barely suppress a whimper, melting in this feeling, but before he can push back in you open your eyes and whisper.

“Ford, stop.” you feel your stomach twist with nausea before you even look down.

but that makes him freeze immediately. “what? what happened? did i hurt you?” his voice sounds hoarse from all the moans and groans, but concerned still. he sits back on his heels, wide-eyed, hands hovering over your hips.

ignoring his questions and gathering your strength, you look down and there it is.

blood. a lot of it. smeared on his cock, slick on your inner thighs, staining the sheets beneath you.

“oh my god,“ you gasp. no. no, no, no, no. you’re about to fucking die.

Ford follows your gaze, sees the red, and panics. “holy multiverse! are you okay?? did i— was i too rough? fuck, sweetheart, i’m so sorry,“ he looks like he’s about to pass out from guilt, already reaching for you, checking you over like you’re injured.

“no, Ford, it’s not that, i—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, heat crawling up your face. embarrassment punches through you like a fucking bullet. your throat tightens and you barely get the next words out of yourself. “it’s, uh, my period.”

yeah, your period that just ambushed you, right in the middle of the most intense sex you've had in a month, and of course, it would happen now. during the one time you feel gorgeous, needed, good, loved and craved by your man.

silence. fucking silence. your worst fear is coming true now. you can’t even look at him. your hands tremble as you try to close your legs to hide yourself from this fucking shame, but Stanford who's still between them, doesn’t budge.

you’re bracing for it. for disgust, for Ford to pull away, wrinkle his nose and be mad or scold you or run to the shower or something—

“oh. well, that makes sense.”

your eyes snap open. “. . .what?”

Ford’s face softens. “considering the amount of blood that comes out during your period, i'd guess your cycle kicked in just as your uterus was having those strong contractions during climax. its. . . fascinating, really. i mean, maybe the orgasm actually triggered the bleeding? what do you think?“

“Ford, let’s NOT.”

he pauses and smiles. “oh. right. sorry, sorry.”

you exhale shakily, rubbing at your face. “god, this is so embarrassing.”

“why?” Ford frowns.

“why?? Ford, i literally just ruined everything. i got you all dirty and the sheets and— fuck, im so sorry! this is disgusting—“

through all your panicked monologue, you dont even notice Ford looking at you like wants to eat you alive.

your body is still sensitive, but the shame sits heavier than the pleasure now. you don’t even want to look at him. god, you were just bouncing on his cock, losing your mind on him, moaning into the mattress like a fucking animal and now you’re bleeding? how humiliating.

“anyways, this is—“

“not a big deal,” Ford finishes for you. “you're overthinking.”

you glare at him. “of course i'm overthinking, Ford. i just ruined—“

”ruined? is that what you think you did?”

“well, yeah, obviously.”

“sweetheart,” he moves closer, “why do you think that?”

“b-because sex is over now?” you flail an arm vaguely at the mess beneath you. ”we can't just—“

“sex is over?” he interrupts again, tilting his head, genuinely perplexed. because truly, he doesn’t understand the concept.

“uh. yeah. i mean, obviously? normal men wouldn’t want to keep going after.“

Ford’s expression tightens. “‘normal men’? darling, if you wanted a normal man, you wouldn’t be with a virgin who hops dimensions and gets annoyed by bad grammar.”

you stare, feeling the tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from sheer humiliation. “so, you’re not mad you mean? or disgusted?”

“honey, there's nothing in your body that could make me mad or disgusted.” Ford huffs, wiping a smudge of blood off your thigh like it’s nothing but a wine spill.

and you want to believe him, you do, but god, your thoughts are spiraling again. he didn’t even get to finish, because you ruined everything. sheets soaked, mood killed, you were so close and now it’s all gone. and all of that is because of you.

“i still ruined it.” you admit and hate how ashamed you sound. “it was so good and now it’s just—“

“but darling,” Ford cuts in. he leans down, kisses your hipbone, tongue brushing so hot and tender it makes you twitch. “who said anything was ruined?”

“i mean, we can’t exactly keep going.”

“but why? who says i was ever going to stop?”

and it hits you. he hasn’t even finished. not once, he’d been so deep in you, feeling your pussy gripping him like a fucking vice that he didn’t even bother to chase his own orgasm.

you gape. “wait. you’re still—“

“hard?” he chuckles. “yes. painfully.”

“and you’re not mad?” you ask the same thing again, confused.

Ford kisses the inside of your knee. “the only thing i’m mad about is that i didn’t get to make you cum with my mouth first. you think I could be satisfied knowing I haven't tasted you yet?”

“wait, wait, wait, im—“ you start to panic when you realize what Ford is hinting at.

but it's too late because he's already gripping your thighs and spreading you open.

“you know we don't have to—“

”yes, we do,” he murmurs, “yes, we absolutely do.”

honestly, if you think Ford’s gonna let a little blood stop him from eating the prettiest pussy he’s ever seen, sweetheart. . .please, you clearly don’t know how fucked in the head this man is for you.

because after a week of not having your body beneath him, this is nothing.

“but—“

“sweetheart, ive been waiting a week. a week. let me take care of you.”

god. this man, fuck. you want to be mad. really, you do. you want to groan, roll your eyes, throw a pillow at him for ruining your chance to bury your shame in silence. but the worst part is that he’s smiling in that awful, devastatingly gentle smile.

and oh fuck, you cry out, trying to twist away because you dont want to make him uncomfortable or anything, but Ford's strong arms are caging you in. “i love this pussy. love how wet you get for me. i don’t care if you’re bleeding, i care that you’re not done yet, sweetheart.”

“you’re insane,” you whisper, biting your lip.

“for you?” Ford grins against your skin, “absolutely.” and then he’s already lowering, teasing at your folds, unbothered by the mess, more turned on by your shuddering and beautiful whimpers. your blood is barely noticeable compared to the way you leak for him, messy and dripping still, your clit so swollen and sensitive, you jerk as soon as he touches it.

Ford's tongue slides against you like velvet, then circles, and flattens.

fuck, he’s good.

he groans when you grind into his mouth, and the sound rumbles right through your gut. your hips buck, and he holds you firm.

shit. you should’ve never taught him. you should’ve kept the knowledge to yourself, never guided his eager mouth and shown him the way your body sang under just the right pressure, never taken his trembling fingers in yours and said “no, baby, slower, feel how sensitive i am here?”

because now, Ford is using it against you.

he starts slow, tracing that familiar path from the crease of your thigh up to your clit, breathing you in like it’s a drug he’s been deprived of.

you want to scream, cry and curl up into nothing and vanish forever, but Ford is licking right over the spot that makes your legs kick, and you swear he smiles when you do. because he knows your body. knows your pulse, rhythm and your shame and he’s pulling it apart with every flick of his fucking tongue.

“so sensitive already,” his breath ghosting over your drenched folds. “you really thought we were done?”

you don’t even know what he’s doing anymore, only that it’s working. it’s so working. too well, in fact, because you’re not even thinking straight, brain full of static and white noise and the obscene sounds of his mouth devouring your pussy like he’s making up for every lost second of the week you went without.

and he has improved. god, he’s weaponized everything you taught him. the way you showed him to suck your clit gently, not too much, just a little pressure like he’s savoring it. . . yeah. he remembers. that damn freak

each groan against your clit is like a vibration in your bones, each sigh filled with hunger and fucking adoration, because you gave this to him. you taught him this. you trusted him to touch you, to taste you, so now you pay for this. your pussy’s so sensitive, sore from earlier, still fluttering and tender, but he doesn’t stop.

“F—Ford, please—“ you don’t even know what you’re begging for. mercy? more? less? it all blends together. hearing your weak voice, Ford smirks against your pussy and then moans as if the taste of your blood and arousal is some forbidden elixir that gets him drunk on you. “s’too good,” you cry out. “how are you this good now? you damn nerd, oh my god—“

you can't finish your sentence because he flattens his tongue and licks again, so slow, making a long drag from your entrance up to your clit that makes your hips jerk and your hands fist the sheets.

and fuck, fuck, he remembers this too, how you explained him how to circle his tongue just beneath the clit too, where your nerves are raw and sensitive, and now he’s there, swirling soft, teasing spirals that make you shudder down to the bone.

and then he sucks your clit deep into his mouth again, groans, sending vibrations through your entire pelvis, making your back arch and your legs twitch around his head.

“that’s it, sweetheart,” Ford's voice all fucked-up and hungry, and god he sounds ruined, “give it to me.”

his thick fingers slide in without resistance, two of them, slow and fucking perfectly angled, crooking just right, the pads of them brushing over your sweetest sensitive spot in lazy pulses. he’s stroking you like he’s trying to coax something out, and you’re so soaked that the sounds are filthy, wet and too obscene.

you whimper, trying to close your legs but his wide shoulders are there, unyielding, pinning you open.

Ford kisses your clit like he’s in love with it, and you feel your orgasm coming like a storm on the horizon, making your thighs shake violently around his head.

but what kills you is knowing that this is your fault because you made him this good. you trained him. shaped him. built him into this monster of a man who eats you out like you’re the center of the universe.

and now he’s fucking feral with it

you cry out, too breathless, feeling your cunt pulsing around his fingers now that he added third one, your clit is so swollen under his mouth. “you’re so perfect,” Ford pants, grinding his mouth into you, his fingers pumping harder now, “god, you’re gonna cum, aren’t you? let me have it, sweetheart, give me that pretty orgasm.”

holy shit, you cum so fucking hard your body locks up, hips lifting off the bed, thighs clamping around his head, but that doesn't stop him. not even when you sob and beg, not even when your clit twitches and your hands shake, he’s still licking through it, swallowing you down. your pussy squeezes his fingers and leaks, your whole body folds inward.

but Ford holds you through it, tongue slowing to soft kisses, his fingers gently easing out.

“that’s my girl,” he breathes, smiling silly, chin wet with you.

“never knew you were such a freak, Ford,” you breathe, giggling through your tears, your fingers tightening in his silver hair. “i created a monster.”

Ford looks up, brown eyes glassy. “darling, didn’t you read my journals?”

you laugh breathlessly, still dizzy from your orgasm, but then it falters because your gaze flicks down to the blood. the mess. the ruined sheets and the guilt curling hot and tight in your chest.

“do you still love me?” you ask, unexpectedly even for yourself. “after all this. . . i ruined the bed and—“

Ford's heart breaks at that. he’s kissing your thighs before you can even blink, holding your hips like you’re something fragile. “hey. hey. look at me, sweetheart. you didn’t ruin a thing. you gave me you. and i’ve never wanted anything more. blood, tears, whatever. . . you think any of that changes how much i love you?”

you don't even notice how quickly a smile creeps onto your tear-stained face.

“you’re the most beautiful thing i’ve ever touched, and i’d ruin a thousand sheets for just one more taste of you.” and that’s what love sounds like in Ford’s voice.

[devientdoll]

trying to keep my account alive so have two hunky grunks for some insta drawing requests

[devientdoll]

I hope ur feeling a bit better ! if not I hope it happens sooner than later :) manifesting ur health. to make up feel better, take this picture I saw and thought of ford abt lol

[devientdoll]

he’s so handsome I’m gonna come just from looking at him

[devientdoll]

Okay okay okay so I'm tired as fuck and running on fumes BUT @darlingdaisyfarm breeding hcs got me thinking about this and I HAVE TO YAP:

So its a fairly well-known fact that during pregnancy, when the mother's body starts producing milk, it can get really painful or even just extremely uncomfortable. So, in order to alleviate that feeling and help stimulate milk production, it's usually recommended to express some of that as needed. Best method of doing it? By hand! And I absolutely think Ford would participate in that.

You would insist on doing it yourself, at first. But that proves tiring and frustrating extremely quickly, and you're already so far along in your pregnancy by this point that your tolerance for those two emotions is very low. So, after one especially irritating attempt left you still sore and feeling pretty full and uncomfortable, you set off to find him. You don't have to go far, of course. He hasn't strayed much from your side since you got pregnant, and it's only worsened the further along you get. You don't mind, though. It's sweet seeing him so clingy and hell bent on taking care of you with every little thing. You find him in his study, wrapped up in his hyper-preparedness of attempting to read every single pregnancy book he could get his hands on. When he looks up and sees you standing there, dressed only in an oversized shirt that stretches over your belly and breasts, two damp spots around your nipples from where you were leaking, and looking tired and on the verge of tears, his heart just breaks.

"Oh, honey. C'mere," he gets up, arms open and ready for you and you're tucking into his chest immediately. Sniffling and embarrassed that more than a few tears escape. He just hugs you tight and rubs your back, soothing you immediately. He eventually gets you to move to the couch, finding a position that's comfortable for you with your back to his chest and his hands under your bump, just cradling it and helping to take some of the weight off your body. You sigh and sag into his arms immediately. For awhile, you two just sit there. Ford nuzzling at your neck, kissing you gently and rubbing your belly, telling you how much he loves you, how amazing you are, how he can't believe you're doing this. That you're carrying his child and how strong he thinks you are. Eventually, he gets it out of you what brought this on. It takes some coaxing but you tell him, unable to hide anything from him.

"My poor, sweet darling. Is that what's wrong? Too full?" He smoothes his big hands up over your belly, chuckling softly when you nod. "Y'know I can help if it's too much to do on your own, I don't mind." Really, he'd be ecstatic to do this for you. He lies and tells himself it's purely because of scientific curiosity, that he's simply intrigued and amazed by the changes your body is going through, but that's not all. Buried underneath the layers of professionalism is an itch he can't scratch. A desire that he can't quite explain but makes him flush with shame anyways. You're uncomfortable and in pain, for christsakes! The last thing he should be doing is... perving on you like that!

"I know, I just... I'm worried I'll gross you out..." You mumble the words and Ford has to take a minute to process. To figure out if he heard you right. Judging by the thoroughly embarrassed look on your face he figures yes, he did, and he's unable to keep the look of incredulidity from his face.

"Darling, you can't be serious." You stayed silent, refusing to look at him. "Darling." Still nothing. He sighs, bringing one hand up to gently grip your chin and turn your face to his. "My love, I promise you there is nothing you could do that would gross me out. Certainly not to the extent that you're worried about, I mean. You're carrying our child. You have no idea how amazing you are to me, how much I cherish you." Your eyes fill fill with tears and you blink them away, huffing at him as though that might conceal the blush on your cheeks.

"Fine, fine," you mutter, turning your head away. You sit up and quickly whip off your t-shirt, laying it over your belly in a sort of makeshift towel. You grab his hands in yours, tentatively bringing them up to gently cup your sore, full breasts. Now Ford's the one blushing, grateful you aren't looking at him anymore so you can't see how his pupils dilate at the feel of you in his hands. Before, you fit perfectly in them. Now, the fat of your breasts spills out around his fingers and he wants to squeeze.

You lay your hands over his, fingers overlapping slightly. You show him how to do it properly. How he's meant to massage the tender skin, the precise pressure you need without it being painful. When you're satisfied that he gets it you let your hands fall away, resting them on your belly while his continue the gentle pressure on your breasts. You lean back against him, sighing softly and turning your face into his neck. The scent of his cologne still lingers on his skin and it makes you shiver in his arms. Slowly, the aching in your breasts ebbs away, and Ford watches with rapt attention and fascination as a slow, steady stream of milk starts to drip from your puffy nipples.

He swallows thickly, finding the scene to be far more erotic than he expected. But then, he supposed he should've known as there were very few things to do with you that he didn't find attractive. His thumbs dart out, swiping over the peaks of your nipples, smearing your milk across the sensitive buds. You shift in his lap, a soft, panting exhale puffed across his skin. But you don't pull away. If anything, you lean into it. He feels your back bow slightly, pressing your chest into his hands even further just the smallest bit. He keeps his movements up, making sure your milk continues to drip out in a steady stream but you make it hard to concentrate. And he is desperately, desperately trying to concentrate.

"Feel good?" He murmurs, hoping you don't pick up on how his voice has deepened, roughened.

"Mmmmhmm," you hum lazily. "S'real good, your hands are like magic." The way you slur your words, sounds almost drunk, makes him twitch in his pants but he ignores it. Chuckles softly at the way you nuzzle into his neck.

"You're so cute," he mutters softly, more to himself than anything else. You consider making some smart comment, but the pressure release from your sore, overfull breasts is too good. You’ve been effectively tongue-tied, and not just because of that. Maybe it's because you haven't had sex in awhile, maybe it's hormones, or maybe it's just because it's your Stanford's hands that are on you. You're not sure; all you know is there's a steady heat building between your thighs. You can actually feel yourself getting slick at the sensation of Ford's rough, calloused fingers gently tugging and soothing over your hypersensitive nipples. The motions sending little shocks of pleasure through you that make your back arch involuntarily, pushing your chest further into his hands. You hadn't worn any panties to bed, and you're certain Ford has no idea. You're bare beneath the shirt you're wearing and you think he'll find out soon enough with how wet you're getting.

"F-Ford..." You whine his name, squirming under his hands and Ford knows. He knows instantly without you ever having to say anything, knows from the way you whine his name. He dreams of it, that sound from your pretty lips. He squeezes gently at your nipples and his cock throbs at the borderline pornographic mewl you let out.

"Fuck, honey," he groans into your ear. Your hips are rocking, desperate for friction against your clit. Anything to ease the sudden ferocious need that's pooling through your veins. "S'my poor darling sensitive? S'that it? S'that what's gotten you so sweet and desperate in my arms?" His talking only makes it worse but you love it, always have. You bite your lip, nodding and moaning out a whiny little "mmhm" that has him aching.

"What do you need, sweetheart? Hm? Tell me," he encourages you softly. Desperate to hear your voice. You grab his wrist, gently tugging his hand from your breast and dragging it down your body. His fingers slide between your legs on instinct and you feel the groan he let's out, rumbling against your back. His fingers drag through your folds, parting you and finding you absolutely dripping for him. He sinks two fingers into you easily, thumb finding and stroking along your swollen clit. Your hips grind down into his hand with a whimper, moaning as his other hand squeezes your breast.

"Let me take care of you," he murmurs softly once he finds his voice again. It's low and rough with need. "Just lay back and let me take care of you, darling."

[devientdoll]

https://www.tumblr.com/ragrfisk/777905191230013440/please-dr-pines-im-trying-to-behave

🍆

I opened this link in public, in a Wetherspoons...... and I was very glad do so. Would do it again. Thank you for the free penis.

[devientdoll]

Errmmmm do you think the glasses stay on or off during sex? 🫢 (Asking for a friend)

Imagine making out with Ford with them on and him getting so red in the face because you have to take the sleeve of your shirt to clear them from getting all fogged up 😭

Or when he’s pounding you into the mattress they start sliding off his face and he goes to take them off but then you’re like ‘NO! THE GLASSES STAY ON’ 🤬 And he gets all flustered because he had no idea you even liked them on him in the first place but now? He gets a major boost of confidence.

Yes Ford, glasses are hot.

They stay on. I'm a firm believer that he can't see anything without them on, so he has to wear them all the time. Even when he gets all sweaty and they constantly slide down his nose, he has to pause to shove them back up into place :) Even better, pushing them up for him because he's too caught up to notice.......

But also yeah even if he didn't need them on all the time then they'd need to stay on because glasses are very sexy!!!!! He'd definitely get a little boost out of it for sure. I think he's quite shy about the way he looks/has low self-esteem in general, so any little compliment like that would make him get all red and smiley.

[devientdoll]

Imagine edging Ford with a blowjob while calling him a good and handsome boy 🥰

But I can't talk with my throat full........

ajdhsjdhnj kidding. I can multi-task.

Yes 100%. Out of breath, all hot and bothered, barely able to string a sentence together. But absolutely doing his best to hold out and last for as long as possible because he just doesn't want it to be over and he's willing to suffer if it means you'll just keep going for hours.

[devientdoll]

ok now I can't not think of reader doing a lewd shoot and surprising Ford with like a small stack of polaroids as a going away present (I need that man to knock the sonic rings out of me)

RRRRRRRRRRRRAH that would be so cute oh my god

Even better, imagine giving them to him and telling him he can't open the package until he reaches their first port. Because he's a good boy, he does as he's told, and when he does he calls you from the boat's satellite phone to tell you how devilish you are and how much he loves them.

He's sent Stan off to go and get more supplies (he definitely did not throw his brother's beers overboard in order to pretend like they were out so he'd have to leave) and then jerks off over the phone with you because he's so wound up over them.........

[devientdoll]

FORD PINES HCS: SMUT EDITION PT. 1

A/N: I've been thinking about these for a hot minute and wanted to put my two cents in; most of these will include some of the less common ones and some I've not seen at all w/ short-ish explanations/scenarios! They'll also be a mix between things I think he'd like to do to you and things he'd like you to do to him😈 we stan a switch king!

CW: breeding kink, size kink, dumbification, somnophilia, blood play

!!! MINORS DNI OR ILL CHASE YOU WITH A BROOM LIKE GIDEON !!!

BREEDING KINK: I've seen this one a few times and listen, I am weak, okay? WEAK. Despite being a little awkward at first, as is his personality, he loves kids and is actually really good with them! He never said a word of it to anyone when he was younger, but a part of him always wanted a family and kids and to be a better dad than his ever was. So I think, when he meets his partner and reaches the point where he's like. Holy shit, I love this person, I want to spend the rest of my life with this person then it kicks in in a big way. Before I think he would've hidden it pretty well and the only real indicator you'd have that he even has one is when you're ovulating and you make the mistake of telling him ONE TIME and you two don't leave the bedroom at all that day. You would definitely have to be the one to broach the subject though, because I think he'd be too nervous to talk about it and scared that if he did he'd find out you don't want kids with him:

"Hey, Ford, honey?" Your sweet voice brought him out of focus, your arms wrapping around his broad shoulders as you came behind him.

"Yes, my love?" He murmured, turning his head slightly for you to plant an affectionate kiss on his cheek.

"I've been thinking, and," you trailed off, pointer finger lazily dragging up and down his sternum through his sweater. You waited until he stopped writing, feeling the questioning tilt to his head before you continued. "Well, d'you ever think about... having kids?" You could hear his breath hitch as the words left your mouth.

You knew you had him right where you wanted him; could feel the frantic pace his heart picked up under your palm as soon as your honeyed voice spoke the words. You felt him suck in a breath. Then another. Then:

"Y-You know, I've never really given it much thought." Liar. "I don't, uh-- I mean- do- do you want kids?" His voice was rushed, a little breathless, and it made heat curl in your belly. You loved seeing him so shy yet so eager. You felt like you were getting a glimpse at how he used to be, before the portal. He felt like he was balancing on a dangerous edge as he waited for your response.

"Y'know, I used to think I didn't," you started, stepping back to let him turn to face you in his desk chair. You stepped back in close, standing between his now spread legs. You took his hand in yours, gently kneading at the tense muscles. "Used to think I wouldn't be a good mom," you laughed a little when Ford frowned at that. "But lately, I've been... considering it. A lot, actually." He swallowed thickly when you looked up at him then through lidded eyes.

"H-Honey?" He asked, feeling hot and breathless. You hummed and slid into his lap, straddling him. His mouth went dry to feel every inch of your soft, plush curves pressed against him. "What are you-- oh..." His head fell back against the headrest with a dull thud as your hips slotted against his, starting to grind against him, slow and dirty.

"Ford," you breathed softly, leaning in to nuzzle your nose against his. You heard him sigh softly and smiled. You moved to kiss his cheek. Once, twice. Then trailed to his ear. "Put a baby in me, Ford." You murmured the words, soft and dreamy, like it was the only thing you wanted in the world and Ford... well, Ford was only a man. And he was weak when it came to you.

With a low, broken groan he picked you up suddenly, strong hands locked tight around handfuls of your ass and you shrieked with laughter. He stood, kicked his chair out of the way, and turned to press you into the desk with a hot, messy kiss at your lips. You squeezed your thighs around his waist just to hear him moan. You could feel the way he strained under his slacks as he kissed and bit at your lips.

"Say it again," he murmured between kisses. "Please, say it again," your heart felt full to bursting with the love you had for this man as he pulled back to look at you. You cupped his face in your hands with an impish, lovesick smile.

"Stanford Pines," you started, feeling him shudder the way he always did when you used his full name. "Put a baby in me. Now."

SIZE KINK: Ford truly, genuinely had no concept of how big he was before you. Overall, really, but especially below the belt. He strikes me as the type of guy to read rather than watch his smut (or listen to it if he's feelin' frisky) so I don't think he would've had many, if any, opportunities to really compare his size in relation to other men. And, of course, he realized post-portal that he'd filled out quite a bit as one tends to do with age and fighting interdimensional space monsters. But he never really thought about it until you. Or, rather, until you pointed it out. Then, it's all he can think about; how big his hands are when you slip yours in his or when he grips and squeezes at your hips and thighs. How broad and wide his frame is compared to yours when you crawl into his lap to snuggle or he's got your back pressed to his front while he slowly and lazily opens you up on his fingers. Getting you to take his cock was... a bit of a challenge, and it still can be if you haven't had sex for awhile. He's a grower, not a shower, after all and is a good 8.5 inches hard and thick like a fucking coke can. But God, if it isn't one of his favorite memories:

"F-Ford--" you panted his name across his collarbone, voice high and breathy. Your forehead was resting in the crook of his neck, your body spread out beneath him like a beautiful, perfect gift. He ran his hands softly, reverently, over every inch of your curves.

"St-Stardust" he choked out. "You can't-- don't do that, not when I'm trying to be-" he moaned. "-be gentle." The gentleness in question was referring to how he had sunk just the perfect, thick, mushroom pink tip of his cock into your clenching cunt and nothing else.

Ever since you'd told him you'd need more prep if you wanted to take him (and you wanted to take him) he'd made it his mission. And there was nothing more dangerous to your sanity than Ford on a mission. He'd spent the better half of two hours making you cum over and over again. On his fingers, his tongue, his thigh. Until your poor pussy was dripping slick and your clit was swollen and aching. But you were determined and Ford would never not give you what you wanted. Eventually.

You whined and dug your nails into his bicep, thighs trembling where they were draped around his hips. "Can't- can't help it, m'sorry, I just- I need you so bad." You hiccuped the words and looked up at him through teary eyes. Ford swore and his hips twitched, sinking in another few inches to the hot, wet clench of your cunt.

You whimpered, hips rocking into the sudden intrusion with a breathy little moans; punched out "aahh, aah, ahh" noises that were wreaking havoc on his sanity. Ford moaned into your tangled hair, peppering kisses across your forehead and face.

"S-So good, y'so good for me, sweetheart, so- god, so fucking tight," he babbled. He couldn't help it. Your pussy was going to drive him insane in the best way. He cursed as you moaned another string of pleas, nuzzling gently at your flushed cheek and kissing you.

"Sweetheart, you're gonna kill me," he moaned. "Don't wanna hurt you, Stardust-" He cut himself off with a whimper and another twitch of his hips as your blunt nails found his back and scratched from his shoulders all the way down. The sting shocked him, the pleasure even more, and he couldn't help sinking another few inches deeper. "Oh- fffuuuuuck, s-sweet-"

You sobbed, body shaking and trembling, and for a moment Ford was worried he'd hurt you. Until he was able to tune his brain back in, listening to the way you moaned and feeling the way your hips pushed and rolled against his hand, trying to push into the overwhelming feeling of his cock stretching you out.

"W-Want it, Ford," you panted. "Want it so bad- I- don't care if it hurts, want it to hurt. Wanna feel you all the time, please? Please, Ford?" He looked into your dazed, teary eyes, your quivering lower lip, and the lewd way your flush painted your cheeks. He groaned, then growled as you clenched and pulsed around him at the noise. He shifted his weight, gripped your hip in one large hand, then sunk all the way in.

"Ohhhhh fuck, honey- y'feel that?" He murmured, sounded dazed and so absolutely fucked out. You nodded brainlessly, unable to think properly when you were so full. His hand moved to your lower tummy, pressing down until you gasped. "Feel me inside you? S-So good for me, taking me so well," he kissed along the curve of your breast. "You're so perfect, gonna make you feel so good." He started to shift, thrusting slow and deep, dragging along your walls and lighting up your nerves. All you could do was hold on for the ride.

DUMBIFICATION: Okay, Ford is not proud of this one. I don't think he'd even know what it was exactly, or if he did he definitely wouldn't admit to it. But we all know he's got that massive ego right? And he's got it pretty under control, I mean, he's older and wiser. He's a far cry from the more egotistical version of himself he used to be in his youth. But every single time, without fail, that he's got you on him, under him, or otherwise wrapped around him you reach a certain point. It's usually around your 2nd or 3rd orgasm (because, let's face it, he would give you multiple every time unless he's deliberately trying not to) but you just start to get a little... hazy. He's so attuned to you, especially during sex, that he can almost clock the exact moment it happens. Your noises start to take on a breathier quality, your thighs start to tremble and lock around his waist depending on the position, and half the time the only sentences you can produce are just moans and pleads for more, harder, deeper, etc. To Ford, it's like your brain just... turns off. And all you can think about is him and how good he makes you feel. And he shouldn't like it as much as he does, he knows he shouldn't, but fuck it just strokes his ego in all the right places:

"Darling... oh, fuck," Ford is panting into your shoulder. His chest pressed to your back while you're leaning over his desk, propped up on your elbows while he sunk into you with devastating accuracy. You were already feeling drunk on the sensation after he made you cum twice earlier, and you let out a shaky moan as you felt his tip skate across your g-spot.

He peppered kisses and bites across your neck, bruising a particularly dark mark into his favorite spot in the curve of your throat. He withdrew his hips just barely before sinking back in; starting a slow, dirty grind that knocked the breath out of your lungs.

You ached from being pressed and pushed into the hardwood of his desk but you needed him inside you like you needed air and couldn't refuse him when he'd tapped his sticky tip at your entrance.

"Fuck, m'sorry honey, you just--oh god, yes--looked so- so pretty," he gasped into your skin. He sounded breathless and desperate, like he'd been helpless to resist this siren song of temptation you presented to him. When really, all it was was you sitting on the couch in his study, deep in thought as you frowned at your phone. Ford hated seeing that look on your face; as far as he was concerned, the only way you should look was rapturous with pleasure.

Your soft, whimpering sob of his name as he grinded against your g-spot brought him back into the moment. "Yeah?" He panted. "S'that it, baby? That the spot?" His heart clenched as you nodded furiously, eyes unfocused and teary with the pleasure. He shifted, lacing the fingers of one hand with yours and stretching you out so you laid flat across the desk with him over you, possessive and worshipful. He nuzzled behind your ear, licking the shell of it as he adjusted his angle to grind, relentlessly, against that spot.

"Oh, good girl, fuck yes, that's it-" He cooed as your walls clenched and sucked at his cock inside you. He bit and sucked along your neck, moaning with you as you whined and whimpered.

"Fffuuuuck Ford- y'so- so deep, can feel you in my stomach," you whimpered and Ford groaned.

"Feel good, honey?" He cooed and you nodded, fixing your bleary eyed gaze on his and you felt his cock twitch inside you. "Ooooohhh sweetheart, don't- don't look at me like that," he moaned, trying to hide his face in your shoulder as if he could escape the vicious pleasure ripping through him at how fucked out and dumb you looked.

You clenched around him, making him twitch and whimper. "Can't help it," you said. "Feels too good- fuck, Ford, please," at his soothing murmur of anything, anything for you you trembled in his arms, grinding your hips back against his. "Harder, harder please!" You sobbed. Ford bit at your shoulder, growling into your skin.

He pulled away from you and adjusted his angle, so that now he was crashing relentlessly at that spot inside you. He watched you take in the sensations, moaning and writhing under him, and he swore he could see the exact moment your brain just... turned off. Your eyes fluttered, mouth slack and drooling just the slightest bit, as you pussy clenched and creamed on his cock.

Normally, this is where you'd slow down at the very least, but not when you got like this. Not when you had that hazy look in your eyes and that fucked out little smile. His conscience rearing, Ford started to slow his pace until you sobbed and arched your hips back, chasing after him. "Noooo," you whimpered. "Nononono, please Ford, please- wan'it so bad, need it, please?" You pouted at him, bottom lip quivering, and Ford whined.

"Fuuuck, look at you honey- can't even think, y'want it so bad, huh?" He cooed and you sniffled and nodded. Sliding one hand down your back to pin you to the desk, his other gripping your hip, he slowly increased his pace until you were clawing at the desk and sobbing. "Okay, okay honey. I'll give you anything you want, y'know that," he mumbled.

SOMNOPHILIA: Another one that he's not proud of, but unlike the last one, he definitely knows what this is. You don't know this because you respect his privacy, but nearly all of the smut he consumes has somno in it at one point or another. And this is one that goes both ways: he would love to wake up to your mouth on him or your pussy sinking onto his cock as much as he would love to wake you up with an orgasm. I headcannon that post-weirdmageddon!Ford is significantly less sleep deprived than pre-weirdmageddon!Ford, mostly because he has his family to keep him in check and you now, and snuggling with you ALWAYS makes him sleepy. So when he's well rested and maybe just sleeping in, or happens to go to bed before you, he loves to be on the receiving end. There's just something about being so wanted and loved, even when he's doing nothing important or impressive, just sleeping sleeping, that wrecks him in the best way. But when he's pulling an all-nighter (or several) and sees you sleeping so peacefully on the couch or in his lap, sometimes he just can't help himself. I don't think he'd bring it up, so you'd have to be the one to ask him about it or suggest it, but once the topic is brought up he'd absolutely be all for it.

Ford's soft, sleepy snores echoed in his study. You woke slowly, squeezing around his middle where you'd draped your arm, and nuzzling into the warm skin just below his jaw where you'd tucked your head. The sun was setting, casting warm orange and red beams of sunlight to filter through the partially open blinds. It danced along your skin and you smiled to yourself, feeling completely and utterly content.

You shifted, just enough that your thigh tucked between Ford's spread legs dragged deliciously along where his cock rested against his inner thigh. You felt the muscles in his belly tense, his chest expanding as he inhaled deeply. Your hand trailed from where it had been drawing lazy patterns on his chest to scratch lightly along the strip of skin revealed by where his sweater had ridden up. You scratched your nails along his happy trail, just to see him twitch.

"You're so beautiful, Ford," you sighed the words against his sleep-warm skin. Arousal was curling through you, breathing life into sluggish limbs, and mischief into your thoughts. You'd talked about it before, waking each other up with more... pleasurable methods. You knew it was okay but had never had the opportunity to indulge.

You cast a quick glance to the door, noting it was still closed and locked, before you gently eased yourself out from where you were wedged between him and the couch. He frowned in his sleep, grumbling and immediately moving into the patch of warmth that you vacated. His hands slid and groped like he was looking for you, and you huffed a laugh.

Cute you thought to yourself before returning to the task at hand. You shimmied yourself as gently as you could down the length of his body, stopping when you were knelt between his spread legs. You slid your hands up his legs slowly, starting at his knees and stopping once your fingers molded over the shape of his semi-erect cock through his pants.

You rested your cheek against his inner thigh on the opposite leg, eyes lidded and molten as you stared at his sleeping face. You didn't want to miss a single twitch or micro expression as you started to toy with him. Your thumb rubbed slow, teasing circles along his head, satisfied by the way his thighs clenched and twitched. You trailed those touches down, down, down. Right along where the thick vein on his underside started to throb.

Slowly, lazily, you coaxed him to full hardness all while watching for any signs he might be awake. The closest he got was a soft, raspy gasp and one of his hands fisting in his sweater where it lay over his belly. Satisfied, you slowly unbuttoned and unzipped his pants so you could gently pull him out. Your breath hitched once you did, drool pooling in your mouth and thighs clenching when he lay, thick and flushed, against his belly.

You grasped him in hand, shifting and leaning forward to take him in your mouth, desperate to taste the pre already leaking from his tip and sliding down the curve of his cock. You moaned around him once you got him in your mouth. The vibrations tugged a quiet whimper from his lips, his hips flexing and twitching under you. You figured you only had a few more moments until he woke and you were determined to get him inside you before that happened.

You sucked and licked at him until he was dripping with a mix of your saliva and his pre, making sure he was nice and slick. Then, you shimmied out of your shorts and panties, tossing them to some random corner of the room to be remembered later. You shifted and clambered over his still-sleeping form until you felt your pussy part over the hard line of his cock.

You couldn't help the gasp and moan you let out as you rocked your hips. His tip caught on your clit and the friction made your toes curl. Seeing his breathing start to pick up and his eyes flutter sleepily, you planted your hands on either side of his head and leaned forward, chest to chest. You pressed your forehead to his, cooing at him as he slowly came back to you.

"Mmmnn- honey?" He grumbled, voice still raspy with sleep. "What's- oooohhh fff-" the curse was lost in a deep moan as you notched him at your entrance and sank down to the base in one smooth motion. Honestly, you were a little impressed with yourself but the sensation that coursed through you at the stretch blacked out any thought that wasn't Ford and how he felt.

He looked up at you, moaning as you gingerly rocked your hips. You leaned back down to give him a deep, lazy kiss as his hands settled on your hips. "Mmm... good morning, handsome." You purred and he whimpered as he felt you clench around him.

BLOODPLAY: Okay, so I've seen this one I think maybe once or twice before? It's mostly based off of that one journal entry about vampire bats and the, imo HEAVY, implication that Ford either A. Knows what human blood tastes like and likes it or B. Doesn't know but wants to know, yknow?👀 either way I love it. I think he'd be reticent to share this one, not out of embarrassment, but out of concern for how you might feel about it. The last thing he would want to do is scare you. But he's so beyond eager to take care of you on your period that you kind of already figure it out, mans is not subtle at ALL:

"Wha- Ford, are you serious?!" You said, a little too loudly for the current setting. Thankfully Stan was downstairs in the Shack, scamming poor tourists, and the two of you were holed up in Ford's bedroom. Well, you were holed up. Your period decided to start a few days early and you'd woken up to the most ungodly cramps. So, you opted to stay in bed, at Ford's insistence. That's where you were now, curled up with a heating pad in the form of a little mothman plush the older man had gifted you, and Ford kneeling at your bedside with an odd little glimmer in his eyes as he spoke his request.

"Well, we don't HAVE to, of course. You know I'd never do anything you truly weren't 100% on board with, darling." He said, thumb rubbing soothingly over your knuckles. "But, I also remember your rather frequent and loud complaints about your increased libido this time of the month. And, you and I both know it's been proven that orgasms help with cramps so," he shrugged. "Why not?"

You groaned and hid your burning face in your hands. You knew you would regret telling him about the way your sex drive went into overdrive on your period. But you also couldn't ignore the way your pussy throbbed at the thought. Seeming to sense that you were toeing the line of your decision, Ford took a deep breath, and decided to admit to something he never thought he would.

"Honey?" He murmured. You peeked at him from between your fingers and he chuckled nervously. "Do you, ah- do you remember one of my old journal entries? The bats?" You moved your hands from your face then, brow furrowed in confusion. You nodded. Of course you remembered, you'd teased him about it mercilessly because he'd gotten bitten and had to get a rabies shot.

"Well, I never got to finish that section of my notes, but I'd noticed some changes in animals that had been bitten and... noticed the same changes in myself." His face was on fire now, and he was resolutely avoiding your incredulous gaze. "Certainly not to the same degree! I'm not- not a vampire," he stressed the word. "And maybe it's just the placebo effect, I mean, the bite could've just unlocked an association in my subconscious which is now why I-"

"Ford." You interrupted him, taking his face in your hands and forcefully turning him to look at you.

"Yes?" He asked, blinking owlishly at you.

"Are you trying to tell me that you have a blood kink?" He groaned, falling forward into the pile of blankets in your lap. He tried not to inhale, but even through the comforter he could smell you. "Ford?" You prodded and he heaved a sigh.

"Yes.." He grumbled. You giggled at him, feigning like you couldn't hear until he growled at you and picked up his head. You gasped when you saw how blown his pupils were. "You beautiful, insufferable woman- yes, that's exactly what I'm telling you." He stood suddenly, scooping you up in his arms and tossing you further onto the bed. You shrieked and laughed, Ford climbing over you and hovering on his hands and knees.

"God, it's ridiculous the things you do to me," he groaned, hot and wet into the crook of your neck. He started kissing along your skin, every inch he could reach, like he couldnt get enough. You shivered under him, in love with this previously unknown side of your boyfriend. "You have no idea," he grumbled, sliding his big, warm hands under the oversized BMU sweatshirt of his you'd pilfered. "No idea how difficult it is to be around you, to behave myself, on just a normal week. Let alone one where I can-- god, where I can smell you, all the fucking time." Inbetween his grumbling and your soft, whimpered moans he'd stripped you of your sweatshirt, sitting back on his heels to look at you fully.

You sat there, so flushed and pretty, smelling so mouthwateringly that he let out a broken groan and he was on you again. "Mmm, oh! F-Ford-" you sighed his name as he bit and licked over the curve of your breast, hot mouth finding your nipple. You tried desperately to gather your thoughts, not wanting to give up the game yet. After all, teasing the poor man was your favorite past time. "Oh! S-So-- mmmnn yes-- I didn't know you could smell- smell me, should I be worried?" You managed to get out between soft sighs and breathy whines.

Ford's hands splayed out over your hips, his chest between your legs as he kissed at your sternum. When your question filtered through his foggy thoughts he looked up at you, pupils blown so wide they nearly blended with the dark brown of his iris. "God, no," He looked almost offended that you'd even think that. "Never be worried, you smell--" he kissed across your lower belly, nipping at the soft spot just below your hipbone. You blushed when you heard him inhaled audibly, then whimper. "You smell divine." Ford was actually worried he'd start drooling if you didn't give him the go ahead soon.

You inhaled shakily, unable to ignore the way you could feel your heartbeat between your legs now. You subtly squeezed your thighs together to try to relieve some of the ache, and Ford felt the motion, moaning softly into your skin. "Just- tell you don't want it, and I'll never say another word about it again," he murmured, looking up at you. Your heart squeezed in your chest and you couldn't tell anymore if it was blood or arousal you were slick with. Biting your lower lip you nodded slightly, and that was all Ford needed.

"F-Ford! Ford wait, we need a towel-!" You yelped as he grabbed and spread your legs, wedging his broad shoulders between then as he took off your lounge pants and panties and tossed them to a corner of the room, pad going with them.

"I've waited long enough," he said. "If you make me wait anymore I might actually die." He groaned and you laughed, carding shaky fingers through his hair.

"Drama queen," you breathed fondly. He smiled up at you from between your thighs and your heart fluttered. Only Ford could manage to look so cute in such a lewd position. Your brain blanked as soon as the thought came, though, as he chose that exact moment to lick straight through the center of you. Your blood and slick coated his tongue and, if you had any doubts about him faking it for your benefit, they were wiped clean from your thoughts now. You felt him shudder, the low groan vibrating through you as his hands grabbed your ass and hauled you closer, all but pinning you to his mouth.

Clearly you were in for a long ride.

[devientdoll]

Heyyy doll, I was wondering if we could have more content on Ford having a breeding kink. PLEASE omg PLEASE! Or maybe with Stanley too? I just really like all the stuff you write and I need some good breeding kink content in my life.

(I’m sorry if this was a weird request)

Stan & Ford’s breeding kink headcanons

a/n: i was writing smth angsty, but i lost inspiration and suddenly i remembered this was sitting in my drafts unfinished. and.....uhh im so sorry, horniness won....so today i bring you this.. a shameful descent into filth...there are some headcanons in here that aren’t strictly about breeding, but honestly, at some point, i lost control :) dont blame me!! anyways posting this and running away........

tags: nsfw, smut, literally just filth tbh absolutely filth, breeding kink, pregnancy mention, mating press, cum play, cockwarming, cycle tracking (ford being pervy)

STANFORD

꩜.ᐟ he can’t help it. he doesn't know when it became so necessary to keep you full, but now it’s the only thing that makes sense

꩜.ᐟ he wasn’t always like this, Ford used to be so cautious and careful. but then he came inside you once, and suddenly it was all he could think about. ruining you. stuffing you. leaving you dripping. it’s become a biological imperative

꩜.ᐟ pre portal paranoid!Ford would definitely use it as survival mechanism. it would calm him down, keep him sane. the only way he can fall asleep again is knowing you're full of him (it needs its own fic)

꩜.ᐟ another pre-portal paranoid!ford thought: you don't know how much you help him actually. how he'll appear from a 20-hour shift in the lab, his brain literally pulsing, body trembling, hands unsteady, you don't know how desperate he is by the time he reaches you. he needs to bury himself inside just to breathe again.

꩜.ᐟ pre portal ford! thinks he'll go insane if you wont let him fuck you

anyways back to our lovely old man ford

꩜.ᐟ you gasp when he pushes you onto the desk, moan when he spreads you open and tremble when he whispers in your ear that you're ovulating and he's going to breed you. and despite the fact that you always smile and call him a pervert, your soft walls squeeze him so tight every time he says it

꩜.ᐟ Ford makes u take it and he doesn't stop until he knows you're completely full of him. he keeps his hands on your stomach, pressing, feeling how his cock reaches deeper inside, as if he could ensure that you stay filled just the way he need you to be

꩜.ᐟ and. . . then the shame sets in, the guilt

꩜.ᐟ when after, you stroke his hair, kissing him, telling him it’s okay. but it’s not. it's damn not

꩜.ᐟ because Fords knows the truth. he knows he'll do it again. and that knowledge alone is enough to ruin him

꩜.ᐟ and now he, regrettably, memorised your cycle. at first, it was “unintentional” simply observations noted in passing, as any man of science would. then it became smth bordering on obsessive. now, he knows exactly when you're at your most fertile. he knows that when he touches you on those nights, you react differently, your body welcomes him differently

Ford knows he should be disgusted with himself for using this knowledge the way he does. he should resist. but he doesn't

꩜.ᐟ goddamn, he knows it’s invasive and it’s not something he should do without asking, but he's a creep. he couldn’t stop himself

꩜.ᐟ he knows when you’re ovulating, knows all the signs. and he loves how your body is begging for it without you even realising

꩜.ᐟ he marks it in his journal, writes down when you get your period, when you complain about cramps, when you seem unusually sensitive and most importantly when you’re fertile. he knows the window, the days he have to make love to you if there’s going to be any chance of conception

꩜.ᐟ but honestly Ford never used to care about kids, his mind always was busy with smth else, for example, saving the galaxy. he never thought about having children because his life was always too dangerous, but now every time you have sex, it’s on his mind, wondering if this is the time, if he'll push himself deep enough, letting his seed coat your insides and stay

꩜.ᐟ you mentioned it once, offhand, said, ‘Ford, what if we had a baby?’ and almost fell to his knees and thanked you for even considering it

꩜.ᐟ now he fantasies about it, you pregnant, your cute belly swelling, your breasts growing heavier. he wishes to read to you every night, read to the baby, talk to them through your skin

꩜.ᐟ Ford can't help but imagine a child with your eyes and his hair, or perhaps the reverse. a little one clinging to your leg while you cook breakfast, or sitting on his lap while he reads to them from one of his journals, simplifying the complex concepts so they can understand. . . ahhggghhgg

꩜.ᐟ congratulations, its affecting him during sex now. he can't stop thinking about coming inside you without restriction, without fear, about letting it happen naturally, so you would have begged for it yourself. he caught himself saying things, very filthy things, about breeding you, about wanting to watch you swell with his child and the worst part is how much you respond to it

꩜.ᐟ Ford knows that when his sweetheart is ovulating, the cervix moves higher. its softer too, more open. and last night, he damn felt it. pressed the head of his cock right against it, pushed deep and when you gasped, cried out and your glossy eyes widened, he knew you felt it too, he told you he was right at your womb, told you he was filling it and you just whimpered. god, it made him lose his mind

꩜.ᐟ you told him he was too deep but he couldn’t stop, even growled while hiding this pathetic sound in your neck. he had to press into it until he was buried inside you. because for him, he was claiming you, touching the most intimate part of your body, a place only he should reach

꩜.ᐟ Ford doesn't really know what to say when you keep asking him why he's so intense lately. why he stares at you so much. he can’t tell you it's because he's counting the days till your next fertile window

꩜.ᐟ i just know he's a pervert, big pervert, even if he hides it behind “im just observing”, nah. so Ford always spreads you open after. he hates himself for it, but he just have to watch it drip out, see how much of him is still inside you. and fuck, you get embarrassed, squirming and trying to close your thighs but Ford doesn’t let you. he needs to see. needs a proof that he was there

꩜.ᐟ and. . . he didn’t mean to go down on you after finishing inside, but he had to. had to taste the both of you. you were still so sensitive, fluttering and weeping, but that didn't stop him. he had to lick you clean after he came inside you. doesn't matter how filthy it is, it’s. . .uh, it’s scientific! really! making sure it’s all there! making sure nothing’s gone to waste!

he looked good with your mess on his face tho

꩜.ᐟ every time he comes into you as deep as he can, he barely holds back from falling on top of you after after, he just cant resist when you look up at him, dazed, and whisper, ‘again?' smiling and swaying ur hips

꩜.ᐟ the other night, Ford caught himself thinking, what if he kept you so full of him, you couldn’t walk straight? what if he fucked you so thoroughly your legs shook for hours afterward? he loves the idea of your body remembering him, carrying the imprint of him

꩜.ᐟ you asked him to try a new position, smth called the 'mating press.' he didn’t know what it was and felt foolish, having to ask, but when you explained, his brain went blank. he couldn’t think, couldn’t speak, he had to try it right then. he folded your legs back, knees by your ears, and pushed so deep, deeper than he knew was possible

꩜.ᐟ he came inside you like that, immediately. couldn’t stop. held your legs up and just. . . stayed there. plugged you full, thrusting deep, while holding you close as you cried in his shoulder. he groaned and whined loud as fuck too

꩜.ᐟ “mating press was a mistake. an irreversible, devastating mistake.” he attempted it once, under the illusion that he would be able to maintain some semblance of control, but the second he felt his sweetheart that deep, the moment your body trembled like that. . .

꩜.ᐟ you told him once, in the early hours of the morning, when you were still sleepy, that you'd never felt so safe as when you're lying in his arms after he fucked you full. that you need him like this. need him to fill you up and keep you warm, to hold you close. Ford has not stopped thinking about it since

꩜.ᐟ he thought he was sick for needing you this much. for wanting to stay inside you even after he had already finished, just so he could feel you clench around him again, so he could keep himself as deep as possible for as long as possible. he thought he was sick. but when he did it for the first time, pressed his weight down onto you, stayed buried inside you, let his cock soften while you pulsed around him, you didn’t protest, only held him tighter. you wanted it too. and it made him smile against your skin

STANLEY

꩜.ᐟ jesus fucking christ, do you even know what you do to him? what you have been doing to him every day since the moment he met you?

꩜.ᐟ Stan swears to god, doesn’t matter if you've fucked once, twice, a hundred times, all he ever think about is your pussy and how good you feel every damn time

꩜.ᐟ he finds it amusing how you always call him a dirty old man, even when secretly you like it too. hell, you love it! all that tough talk, but you go all soft the second he pulls you on his lap

꩜.ᐟ Stanley realised this kink when he spent three months out at sea with Ford. three whole fucking months. do you have any idea what that does to a man? what it does to him? as soon as he got home, he threw his duffel on the floor, grabbed you, carried you straight to the bedroom (god i love this idea sm)

꩜.ᐟ he literally couldn't keep his greedy hands off you. didn't even think about a condom, didn't ask if you were on anything, just threw you on the bed, yanked off your panties, kissed you senseless and. . . no, didn’t just fuck you. he made love to you. so gently snd slow, so deep, praising you, holding you in his arms. kissed you all over, told you that you're perfect, that he missed you. Stan wasn't gonna stop until you were begging him for more. and damn, you were clinging to him, keeping your legs locked around him after, wouldn’t let your Stanley go. cried a bit more, kissed his neck, said he's never allowed to leave again. so he didn’t, he stayed inside you. stayed as long as you needed him to.

꩜.ᐟ that night, he filled you up real deep, held you tight so you'd know it was real, that he was here and he wasn’t going nowhere. you felt so fucking warm he didn’t wanna pull out. now you're his home. his everything

꩜.ᐟ so after that, he never knew he'd get so obsessed with it. caught himself wondering last night, were you fertile? did it matter tho? he didn't care, just wanted to keep you full, even if there wasn’t a chance

꩜.ᐟ he's not sure if you're trying for a kid or not, but he tries not to overthink about it too much. you want it, he wants it, and even if its not about kids, he'd still be fucking you just the same, still be filling you up until you're dripping with it, still be pushing it back in with his fingers and telling you to keep it there, hold it there, “good fucking girl”

꩜.ᐟ and yeah, Stan loves pushing it back in with his fingers. when he pulls out and it starts leaking out of your pussy, he just always uses his thick fingers to push it back in. keeping his thumb on your overstimulated throbbing clit, two fingers sliding his cum right back inside. he tells you it’s so it doesn’t go to waste. so you don’t miss a chance. you never stop him though

꩜.ᐟ loves it when you’re too dumb to speak. just a lil ragdoll for him, taking everything he gives you. yeah, you’re smart, but not when he's done with you

꩜.ᐟ he needs to keep you filled up, stuff you with himself every chance he gets, doesn’t matter if you're on the pill or no, doesn’t matter if you want a kid or not. i mean, it’s not even about the baby, but about knowing the he could. he could get you all knocked up if he wanted to, put a little part of himself inside you and make you his in every goddamn way

꩜.ᐟ because why’s it so good? why’s it so fucking addictive?

꩜.ᐟ with time, Stan noticed its getting bad. real bad. he can't stop thinking about you swollen with his kid, walking around the shack all round, telling everyone it’s his baby growing inside you. Stan literally sweats. god, you’d look so good pregnant. . .

꩜.ᐟ he started paying attention to your behaviour. counting days in his head whenever you mention cramps or headaches, making mental notes when you buy pads or complain about bloating. he's not a damn scientist like Ford, but he's not stupid either, he knows what it means when it’s been a while and you’re not bleeding

꩜.ᐟ in his dirtiest fantasies he wants to catch you when you’re ovulating, corner you against the wall, yank your clothes down, and fuck you so deep you can’t help but take it. he needs to finish inside you and keep you full, hold you there after, make sure it sticks. hell, he'd do it over and over and over until there’s no chance it didn’t work

꩜.ᐟ you asked Stan once if he thought he'd be a good father and he couldn’t answer you. although, the thought of you round with his kid makes him feral, he's scared he'd end up like his old man. he's sure he'd be a shitty dad, Stan thinks he's too rough and loud, too much like him. but. . . if you wanted it. if you asked him for a baby. fuck. he'd thank you for trusting him with smth like that. for letting him make a family with you

꩜.ᐟ also every time he thinks about you full with his seed, it happens when he's fixing the vending machine, holding a wrench in his hand. jesus. and every time, he has to take a 'smoke break' just to calm down

꩜.ᐟ no matter how rough or how gentle he has been, he just has to lay on top of you after. chest to chest, breath to breath, his warm cock still buried in you. you like it too, wanting him to stay there forever. you play with his hair when he's like this, running your fingers through it, scratching his scalp, whispering the sweetest things he ever heard. you tell him he's the only one you've ever wanted, the only one who made you feel this safe and good

[devientdoll]

FORD PINES HCS: SMUT EDITION PT. 2

A/N: soooooooo I ended up needing a part 2 because I wrote too much😅 whoops! Hope you enjoy anyways! I would also like to note these headcannons, as well as the first part which you can find here, are inspired by @darlingdaisyfarm and several of their wonderful, wonderful fics and scenarios. If you happen to stumble across this and you haven't read any of their work, definitely go check it out! Their writing is divine<3

CW: voyeurism, primal play, restraints, free use, overstim

!!! MDNI OR I WILL CHASE YOU WITH A BROOM LIKE LIL GIDEON !!!

VOYEURISM: Okay, so I think we can all agree Ford's experience with human women probably isn't much, if he has any at all. Personally I think he's had. A fling or two, maybe one pre-portal and one post-portal, but definitely not enough for him to feel confident in his skills. In fact, most of his skills come from anatomical knowledge/research and the smut he reads. With that in mind, I think the voyeurism thing would be discovered completely by accident. Like, for example, when you two first get together he's insanely nervous. Like, to the point where he puts off sex for as long as possible because he's afraid of disappointing you. When it finally comes out what he's doing and why he's doing it, you suggest a compromise and his immediate first thought is "well, why don't you show me what you like?" And your face goes beet red. But you agree because the thought of all that laser focus centered solely on you is too good to resist. And he tries to stay somewhat neutral, but then your noises and your expressions start drawing him in and- oh. Oh no.:

This was a bad idea. A bad, terrible, wonderful idea.

Ford felt like he was going to combust. You were laying in your shared bed in his room, propped up against a small mountain of pillows. The lights were off, several candles around the room providing a nice, romantic sort of ambiance that you appreciated. You knew he'd prepped the room for tonight mostly as a way to distract from his nerves, but you still appreciated that that energy went into making it nice for you instead of something else.

You'd chosen something a little more... risqué than what he'd seen you in previously. You wore a sheer mesh babydoll in a deep maroon color that matched his sweater. You knew that fact wasn't lost on him by the way he kept touching you. Like it was impossible for him to let you go. Underneath you wore silk panties in the same color, and they felt divine on your skin.

You tilted your head back and hummed softly, content, as you felt Ford’s hand slowly skim up your calf from your ankle. "You look incredible," he murmured. You cracked open your eyes and smiled at him. With an impish little grin you stretched your other leg out, sliding your foot along his knee and up his thigh gingerly.

"You're not too bad yourself, handsome," you cooed, gratified when he blushed even more. He'd dressed down for the occasion, option for slacks in a softer material and a button up that was partially undone, allowing you a glimpse of the hair on his defined chest. You'd told him he hadn't needed to, wanting him to be comfortable. But he'd told you he did for the exact same reason, not wanting you to be the only one vulnerable tonight, and your heart had melted.

"Kiss me?" You asked sweetly, holding your arms out for him and wiggling your fingers in a way he found absolutely adorable. Helpless to resist, he shifted forwards and you met him halfway. You let the kiss start off slow; just wanting to savor each other and the feeling of your skin, no need to rush. He shivered when you nipped gently at his lower lip, moaning when you dipped your tongue into his mouth.

Slowly, the heat built and built. Ford could feel it, that constant, low-level desperation to touch you and feel you bubbling just beneath his skin. His hands slid up and down your thighs, massaging the soft skin and supple muscle. You arched under him like a cat, moaning into his mouth. He didn't know how or when it happened, but somehow, he found himself on top of you, one hand intertwined with yours above your head.

"Have I ever told you," he panted softly. "What an incredible kisser you are?" He kissed down your neck, occasionally pausing to press a soft bite in, to your delight. You giggled breathlessly.

"No, I don't think you have." You said then your voice broke on a moan as his hips canted forward, grinding the hard line of his cock beneath his slacks against your center. "Mmm-- honey, yknow, might be time to do this now if- if you still want to," you breathed softly. You practically watched his pupils dilate at the mention of why you were here. He breathed in once, shakily. Then:

"Yeah... yeah, okay." He shifted and sat back, returning to his original position of kneeling just between your spread legs. His breath caught in his chest as the flickering candlelight illuminated the wet spot on the fabric of your panties. The way it clung so tightly to the shape of you. He trailed his palms up and down your thighs, spreading you wider. He looked dazed, like he was in a trance.

"Like what you see?" You asked him softly, teasingly. The way he looked at you then, with so much admiration and heat, made your pussy throb. You bit your lip softly, hand already drifting over your body. His eyes clocked the movement before you did, watching with rapt attention the way you palmed your breast, drew your thumb over your nipple, and arched into your own touch.

"Love the way you look at me," you breathed, hips squirming slightly as you continued to tease and play with your chest. Ford swallowed thickly. He didn't expect this part, but he wasn't complaining. Not in the slightest.

"How do I look at you?" His voice sounded foreign to his own ears. Rough and gravelly. His lips parted as he sighed, your lips parting on a high, whimpering moan.

"Like you want to worship me." You breathed the words, voice soft and slightly raspy as your hand slid down your body to the apex of your thighs. His attention was rapt, glued to your hand and it's every movement and twitch. He watched as you toyed with yourself over the fabric, toes curling. He nearly jumped out of his skin when your voice broke the silence again. "Ford, will you take these off for me?" You asked and he couldn't have said no even if he wanted to.

His hands trembled slightly as he gently slid his palms up your legs. Hooking his fingers in the band, he slowly dragged it down and off, dropping it to the floor to be remembered later. His cock twitched in his slacks as you spread your legs wide. Like this he could see everything. Every slick inch of you, how you glistened slightly in the candlelight, how he could just see your pretty, swollen clit. He swallowed the whimper threatening to escape. You grinned.

"Pay attention, now. This is very important."

PRIMAL PLAY: This one may be a little (a lot) self indulgent and idk if anyone will agree with me on this but here it is. Another one I think he'd stumble upon by accident, too. I think Ford enjoys outdoor sex more than the average person, and I think part of why Ford would enjoy sex in general so much is because it's one of the few ways he can get out of his own head, so to speak. So I think he would tend towards more primal displays during sex anyways (lots of growling and whimpering/whining when he gets really into it or overwhelmed). He's possessive, too. So I picture him discovering this because he intended to "punish" you for making him jealous except you keep darting away from him. Right when he's about to grab onto you, he can just feel the graze of his skin on yours, and then- ope. You've shifted just out of his reach again. And he's frustrated, sure, but then he sees your face. The mischief in your eyes, the little smirk, and it clicks into place:

"Darling..." Ford's voice was low. It would've been menacing if not for the playful air to it or the way it made your thighs clench. You had a hand over your mouth, trying to stifle your breathing as you pressed your back tightly against a tree. You wanted to keep the game up, just a little longer.

You'd been a menace to Ford’s patience all day. First, you were flirting with a tourist in the Shack. Every time you could feel Ford’s attention on you, you had to touch the man. A graze on the arm here, 'accidentally' bumping into him on your way to the register there. Then, when Wendy came to relieve you, and you and Ford disappeared into the woods for your usual sparring time, you teased him there, too.

Instead of actually committing to it, trying to get him to the ground like you usually did, you opted for... this. This little game of cat and mouse where you kept him on his toes. Forced him to chase you. Every time he thought he had you, you'd twist and wriggle and squirm out of his grip or avoid it all together. It frustrated him almost as much as it excited him. And that lead you to where you were, now.

You'd given him that look. The one filled with mischief that promised him the ride of his life. It never failed to get his blood pumping and cock hard. Though this was different. More. The longer he spent without you bent over beneath him, the more he wanted to catch you. To bite you and mark you and make you cry with how good he made you feel.

It was electrifying. And he knew you felt it too.

He paused, stopping completely and listening intently. The normal, ordinary sounds of the woods echoed all around him. But then, just beneath it all, he could hear you... your soft, excited pants of breath coming from just over to his left. His heart thudded in his chest and some distant, rational part of himself was put off by the feelings churning in his gut. The primal urge to pin you beneath him. To make you pant and scream and cry his name. But that part if him wasn't in the drivers seat, and as he closed in on you, he paid it little attention.

You couldn't help the yelp you let out when two large, strong hands gripped your hips and suddenly hauled you backwards against Ford's strong chest.

"Caught you," he all but growled into your ear. His grip was like iron and you knew there was no getting out of it. Not that you wanted too, really. You could feel yourself practically dripping down your thighs with how wet you were. Knowing your panties were somewhere in his pocket, after you'd taken them off under your skirt and tossed them at him to rile him up. But that didn't mean you couldn't keep the ruse up.

"Oof-" Ford's breath left him in a rush as you swung a leg out to kick his out from underneath him. An underhanded tactic that didn't work the way you'd intended. Ford went down, but you went with him, and soon the two of you were grappling in the grass. He'd sparred with you enough to know you weren't really trying. Your hits were softer, intended only to push him further than to really catch him off guard. You were wiley, but still pliant under him as he forced you down. Pinning your hands behind your back and practically mounting you. Your struggle against his grip was half hearted at best, the thrill finally settling in fully and making you whimper even as you struggled. It went straight to his cock.

"Stay." His voice was rough with desire. You shuddered beneath him as his breath rolled over the shell of your ear. Your response was a high, keening whine. A tilt and arch of your neck that had you all but baring your throat to him. Ford was helpless to resist, and leaned in. When you felt his teeth sink in at the curve of your shoulder, your hips shifted back on instinct, body seeking him out. You moaned with palpable relief when his hips pressed against yours. You shook beneath him when you grinded back against his bulge and he only bit down harder.

"Ford- fuck, Ford please-"

"Is this it? Is this what you needed so bad you had to drive me insane all day?" Ford's voice was sharp and harsh. To anyone else he would've sounded angry, but you knew better. Knew the tightness in his voice was just the last vestiges of his self control. Knew the sound of him, spitting curses like venom as he pulled back to wrestle his pants open and notch his cock at your entrance, was because he couldn't contain himself and how much he fucking needed you.

"Ffuuuuuck-" his groan as he sank into you blended in with your belly deep moan. He watched as all the fight bled out of you. You slumped into the ground beneath you, a fucked out, satisfied little smile already tugging at your lips. Ford groaned. "God, it is. This is exactly what you needed, isn't it, darling? Needed to feel fucking owned. Needed a big, strong man to pin you down and make you take it. Fuck, you're so fucking wet for it- like a bitch in heat."

You whined, high and desperate. Ford never spoke to you like this but God if it wasn't driving you insane. You felt him draw back then sink in all at once, punching the air from your lungs.

"Well don't worry, angel. M'gonna make sure you're well and bred by the time we're done."

RESTRAINTS: Ford's known about this for awhile now. This was a pre-Bill interest, and being chained up during weirdmageddon just fueled it. He has a really, really hard time admitting to that though. He probably honestly wouldn't even tell you about it until he gets drunk around you. Then he's pulling you into his lap and telling you aaaaaallll the dirty shit he wants to do with you:

Ford has no idea how he got here. Actually, that's a lie. He knew exactly how he got here: too much downtime, your beautiful smile, and about three bottles of wine split between you. He's struggling to remember, though, why he hadn't told you about this little interest of his sooner.

"Comfortable?" He blinks, looking up at you where you're straddling his hips. He pulls at his wrists where you've bound them with some soft rope to his bed frame. Though he was dubious about it's integrity at the start, it holds fast, and he has very little, if any, wiggle room. Looking back to you he smiles.

"Very, actually," you hum in satisfaction. Leaning back, you take the time to admire your handiwork: Ford, spread out beneath you. He was naked, save for a leather collar around his neck clipped to a leash wrapped around your hand, and you were clad in very little. Just a sheer, maroon babydoll that you had worn in a previous encounter with him, sans panties. He'd gotten hard while you were tying him up, and when you sat back you positioned yourself so that your warm, slick cunt was sat directly over his cock. Not inside you, not yet, but still keeping him warm. He struggled not to show that it was affecting him, but you knew. You always knew.

"Mmmm, good," the way you moaned out the words made him shiver. "Do you remember your safewords?" He nodded.

"Green to keep going, yellow to slow down, and red to hard stop," you smiled, cradling the side of his face in your hand. He turned into the touch, eyes fluttering closed.

"Very good, such a good boy for me," you cooed and delighted in the way his eyes fluttered and he whined. You tugged on the leash sharply to get his attention. He whined again. "What do we say when we're complimented?" He swallowed thickly, gazing at you through hooded eyes.

"Thank you, ma'am," his voice was already hoarse. You smirked. This was going to be so much fun.

FREE USE: I think this is something he would discover one of two ways: either through his smut or through you. Either way, he's immediately interested in the concept. After all, it's not uncommon for him to be sucked into his research and experiments and you suddenly start feeling needy and wanting him. It's not that he doesn't want you; quite the contrary, he wants you all the time, but he's extremely used to ignoring his own needs in favor of his work. So he likes the idea of you just. Taking him wherever he's at and using him:

"Ford, honey?" You murmured. It was almost 5 AM. You'd woken up in the middle of the night and rolled over, only to find the other half of your bed empty. You'd given him a 30 minute grace before getting up to go find him. You knew where he'd be the second you found him gone, though, and that lead you to where you are now.

"Oh, Stardust I'm so sorry. Did I wake you?" He asked, voice laced with concern as he turned in his desk chair to face you. You inched closer, standing between his spread legs, and rubbed your eyes sleepily. His heart clenched at the sight of you: clad in only an oversized t-shirt (his t-shirt) and panties, your hair still wonderfully mussed from sleep. You tried to glare at him but it lacked any real heat.

"Must've. Can't imagine why I would've woken up from an otherwise peaceful sleep," you groused and he chuckled sheepishly.

"I'm sorry, dear. I couldn't sleep and I had a breakthrough. Didn't want to loose it." He shrugged slightly, feeling antsy under your nonplussed stare. His hands rubbed at your outer thighs and you closed your eyes on instinct at his touch, swaying closer to him. He chuckled softly.

"C'mere, you," he murmured and tugged to closer. You went easily, letting him tug and push you until you straddled his lap, curled up against his chest with your head tucked against his neck. He swallowed, feeling the heat of you seeping in through thin sleep clothes. You nuzzled at his neck and he inhaled, heat stirring in his belly just at your nearness.

You knew what you were doing. Ford was always easy to rile up, especially when he had you pliant and soft in his lap. But you were still irritated at his forgoing sleep, and as he turned back to his journal and you felt him move and heard the scratching of pen on paper, you had an idea. And evil, evil idea.

Ford had just gotten back into the zone when he felt it. The tiniest shift of your body against his. Easily mistaken for just getting more comfortable if it wasn't for the way it had the heat between your legs resting right against his groin. He felt himself twitch in interest. Inhaling deeply through his nose, he paused. Then resumed writing.

You continued like this for who knows how long. Shifting against him and grinding in his lap. Just purposeful enough that it caught his attention, but subtle enough that it didn't provide real relief. Serving only to frustrate and arouse the man beneath you. And it was working. You coaxed him to full hardness this way, and that's when you started the next phase of your calculated attack.

"Ford..." You whimpered against his neck. Your breath skated across his skin, making him shiver. Your voice was still laced with sleep, and it was high and breathy as you said his name. Fuck, he loved the way you said his name. He choked out a groan when he felt you shifting, this time grinding more deliberately against his cock, and he felt how slick you were through your panties.

"Fuck- darling, please," he groaned, dropping his pen as his hands gripped your hips and pushed and pulled until you were rolling your hips against his. You allowed it, for a moment. Then deliberately stilled yourself against him. Smirking when you felt more than heard his answering whimper.

"Darling," he murmured, pleaded. You felt viciously pleased at hearing him like that and cooed at him in fake sympathy.

"Awww, what's wrong?" He twitched at the tone in your voice. So condescending, but it made him ache. "If it was important enough to get out of bed for, than it's important enough to continue now, no?" Your voice was polite. Too polite as your hands delved into his pants and boxers and tugged him out, hard and dripping for you already. Hus head fell back against the headrest.

"Baby," he choked out, feeling you start to stroke him. "I can't- you know I can't, not when you're-" his voice failed him, a high whimpery moan ripped out of his throat as you sank down on him suddenly. His hands flexed against your hips, his mind blank. For once he couldn't think of anything except you, you, you. The way you felt, slick and hot and dripping down his cock. The way you moaned as you took him, rocking your hips and grinding him against your g-spot. Your hands came up to grip his shoulders and he turned his head, kissing at your hand and wrist, desperate to do something, anything for you.

You worried your bottom lip between your teeth. He looked so good like this. Hazy and fucked out already, not a thought in that pretty little head. Your stomach dipped and swooped when his eyes fluttered and he groaned and you realized you'd said that out loud.

"Shhhh," you soothed. Your hands shifted to tangle in the curls at the base of his neck. You scratched your nails there and watched him shiver. "Just- just let me use you, okay?" He nodded, drunk on the feeling of you.

OVERSTIM: This is discovered by pure, genuine accident. I saw somewhere on here the thought that Stanford just loves to put you up on his desk and eat you out when he's stuck on something and I'm OBSESSED. I think about it so often it's probably unhealthy but cmooooon. Ford is a fiddler; he likes to mess with things while he thinks, needs to occupy his brain and body while he works on a problem in the background, so why not do that and bring you pleasure? He doesn't even mean to overstimulate you, he's just so pussydrunk that getting him away from you would be a herculean task and you are far from God's strongest soldier:

You were exhausted. You knew you were definitely sweating, squirming in the iron grip Ford had on your hips. You'd passed overstimulated about two orgasms ago, and now your body deliciously toed the line between pain and pleasure, as Ford took to eating you out with a passion and a vengeance. The man was well past pussydrunk and you knew it, with the way he was messily eating your cunt like a man starved. Against your better judgement, your legs wrapping around his head, heels digging into his upper back. Ford groaned into your pussy and that was all it took; back arching as you let out a pitiful whine while your nth orgasm rolled through you.

"Fuck- you're so good for me, so fucking perfect," Ford murmured, voice low and reverent. Your grip around his head had slackened and he pulled away, using your thigh as a pillow as his fingers came up to slide into your twitching entrance. Aided by the copious amounts of slick your pretty pussy was just drooling onto his desk. He knew you needed something of a reprieve though, clit swollen and aching. So he buried his urge to taste you again by biting and sucking and marking your inner thighs. His cock throbbed when you twitched and squeezed at his fingers.

"Look at you- so overstimulated there's not a thought in that adorable little head," he cooed and he was right. You'd passed blank awhile ago. Now it just felt like your brain was filled with white noise and TV static and Ford. "You're so perfect, so good for letting me do this, letting me have you." He was babbling now but he couldn't stop. Curling his fingers into your g-spot he groaned when you arched and grinded down into him.

"Ford," you whimpered. "Ford please- please please please." You didn't even know what you were begging for at this point. More of his hands? His cock? For a break? You remembered your safe word though, always managing to keep it in the back of your mind even deep in the throes of pleasure.

Ford hummed thoughtfully. "Do you remember your safeword?" You nodded. He stilled his movements all together, watching you like a hawk. "Do you want to use it?" You shook your head vehemently. Ford smirked and chuckled. "Words, dearest." He reminded you gently.

"N-No- don't wanna use it, just- mmmmmnnn fuuuuuck just need you," you whimpered and Ford's heart clenched. His fingers resumed their movements, albeit at a slower pace.

"So good," he murmured. "So good for me, darling. God, you're so fucking perfect. Don't know what I did to deserve you." He leaned into your touch as your shaky fingers carded through his hair. For a moment, the only noises were your moans and the sloppy squelch of your pussy. He smirked.

"Get comfortable, angel. I'm not done with you yet."

A/N: and we're done! Whew! As always, thank you for sticking around, and if you're wanting to read more i have a few more Ford things on my blog already and some more coming up! My inbox is always open, so feel free to request some longer form content on some of these headcannons if you like!