Anything You Desire (Ford x Reader / BillFord x Reader)

Frustration

Your eyes, your hair, your skin, your scent, the way your ass moved when you walked... These things were filling Ford's mind as he palmed at himself through his pants helplessly. He panted and moaned your name as he released his painfully erect cock from its cloth prison and placed a six fingered hand on it for relief. He pumped up and down, his eyes closed as he pleasured himself.
Ford usually didn't indulge in masturbation, but only because Fiddleford and you were always around. Fiddleford didn't actually live there, but he was over a lot. You had to live there. Ford just couldn't turn you away when he saw you hopelessly sitting outside of the Triple Digits Truck Stop, trying to find a ride. It was late, and he didn't have the heart to just leave you there. He offered you a meal at the diner, and a bed at his cabin for the night, which you readily accepted. You were allowed to put your bag anywhere you could find a clean spot, but every surface was covered in research clutter, so he suggested you put it in his bedroom.
"You can sleep there too... uh, not with me, of course! I don't think you're that kind of girl... I'm not like that either. It's just more comfortable, and I'll clear off the couch or something for myself." He stumbled over his words. His nervousness made you giggle. At first he looked embarrassed, but you assured him "no, I'm not making fun of you or anything. It's cute." A blush covered his face in a deep red, and he escaped through the bedroom door, muttering some excuse about how he had research to do and that you should make yourself comfortable.
That was your first night there. The next morning, he noticed it was noon and you were still asleep. He softly knocked on the door, but got no response and opened it. There you were on his bed, snuggled into his pillow and curled into his blankets. He gently woke you, and as you rose, the strap of your tank top fell. You didn't notice at first, but he certainly did. To keep his mind off it, he offered you a shower, and went to make coffee and breakfast.
You padded off to the bathroom, and he watched your butt move through your shorts as you made your way down the hallway, mentally berating himself for indulging in such a thing.
When Fiddleford came to Gravity Falls he realized how lonely he's been, and seeing you made him feel like you were what was missing from his life... other than academic awards, of course. He wanted to keep you around, but couldn't think of a good reason to ask you to stay. This is when he saw the sink of dirty dishes and the clutter of the kitchen, and got an idea.
Fiddleford was his assistant, but he had enough grant money left to hire a domestic helper. The cabin was practically too cluttered to do much of anything anyway. In the middle of this thought, he heard you call his name. He almost dismissed it as his imagination until he heard it again, clearly calling from the bathroom.
Ford went down the hall, and asked what you needed.
"There aren't any towels in here. Do you have any in a closet or something?"
His face turned red again at the thought of you naked and dripping wet, pressed against the door. "Uh- of course! One moment."
Ford could feel himself getting hard, and tried thinking of anything he could to get rid of the blood rushing lower so you wouldn't see his half-chub when you got out. He went through a linen closet, and pulled out an old towel, which he handed you through the door. As you reached to grab it through the crack in the door, Ford could see your reflection in the mirror in a momentary glimpse. Once you grabbed the towel, thanked him for it, and closed the door, he went back to the kitchen to finish breakfast and allow his heart to calm.
Once you dried up, dressed yourself, and left the bathroom, you followed the scent of bacon into the kitchen, where Ford seemed to be in a good mood as he flipped the little bits of meat, and stirred the scrambled eggs next to them. You tried to find a place to sit without clutter on the table, but couldn't. Everything was covered in paper. Ford noticed your predicament.
"Yeah, it's pretty messy in here. I'm a scientist, so I'm usually kept pretty busy. I don't even have time to sleep sometimes." He placed a plate on top of a pile of papers, and motioned for you to sit down. You glanced at the papers. Calculations of some kind.
"You should try to take care of yourself", you stated softly.
Ford pulled up a chair across from yours. "Actually, I was going to ask you about just that. I don't have time to take care of my home and workspace, as you can probably tell. I'm not sure what your situation is exactly, but you seem to be in need of a job and place to live, so I was thinking maybe we could help each other out. You could clean the place up a bit, and in turn you can stay here, and I'll pay you for your troubles. What do you say?"
You thought about it, and discussed some details over your meal, but eventually you two came to an agreement. You would do the domestic chores around the house and workspace, run errands, and do things of that nature for him and his partner Fiddleford, and in return you could live in the cabin, taking over a small bedroom next to Ford's that had been used for storage. You'd also get a yearly salary, deducted from Ford's research grants. You were even allowed to use Ford's car, and share food. It was a perfect situation.
You settled in quickly, and once you met Fiddleford, you two got along famously. The clutter in the house was being reduced little by little, and Ford's fondness for you was growing. Everything about you was perfect in his eyes. Well, there were a few things that peeved him here and there, but some of those things were almost cute, and the others were tolerable. He suspected you felt the same way about him, but was too shy to ask.
That's how he ended up here, in his room, cock in hand, furiously trying to get some friction, and relief from all the tension that had been building up over the past few weeks. Living with you, especially after you got comfortable, he's had plenty of memories to fuel his imagination. The way your shorts rode up a little too high sometimes, the way your nipples peaked through your shirt when you didn't wear a bra, and even one often visited memory of a time when you were doing laundry and decided not to wear parties so you could wash everything at once. He got a few good peeks that day, but his favorite was when he watched you bend over to put the laundry in the drier, and saw everything under your short skirt.
He thought about this incident for a few moments before cumming in his hand, letting out a small whine as he did. He hoped you didn't hear through the wall, but you did, and you hoped he wouldn't hear you as you shamelessly rubbed yourself to the sound of your boss/roommate jerking off.
Little did either of you know, you were both being watched by a certain ethereal Dorito, who rubbed his hands together gleefully at the thought of how he might use this to his advantage.