this came to me in a daydream… at work… don't ask: stan x reader who works at the mystery shack and has a flirtation / situationship going on with stan, one day they have to stay late at the shack which ends up with stan taking them on the cash register tee hee (will love you 4 ever if you wrote a one-shot about this) kisses x
A/N: guys i'm back 😈 (again..we'll see how long it lasts)
Pairings: Stanley Pines x Reader
Warnings: suggestive (16+), freaky in the shack
Working with Stan wasn’t easy and that’s not because he’s an insufferable old man with an attitude and a greediest demeanor you’ve ever come across. It’s instead because you’ve become fond of him, too fond because he’s shooting you bedroom eyes from across the gift shop every time you’re restocking, leaving lingering touches on your waist that send rivers of fire up your spine and make your hair stand up.
As wrong as it may be to you and literally anyone else who were to catch on you couldn’t help but start to give in a bit more every time he acted on one of his urges. Leaning into his touch, flirting back, and purposely wearing revealing clothing just for him.
Tonight was no different, but it felt charged in a way you couldn’t quite put into words. The Shack was quiet now, the last batch of tourists having left hours ago, and the dim lighting made everything feel more intimate. You were closing up when Stan appeared behind you, his presence impossible to miss.
“Still here, huh?” he asked, his gruff voice low as he leaned against the counter. His eyes lingered just a second too long on the curve of your figure.
“Yeah, someone’s gotta make sure this place doesn’t fall apart,” you teased, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear.
Stan chuckled, the sound warm and rough all at once. “What would I do without ya?”
It was meant to sound casual, but there was an edge to it, a flicker of something deeper.
You turned to face him, arms crossed, a smirk playing on your lips. “Guess you’d have to figure out how to charm the tourists yourself.”
He stepped closer, close enough that you could smell the faint mix of aftershave and sawdust that always clung to him. “I’m plenty charming,” he murmured, his voice dropping to a near whisper.
“Oh, sure,” you quipped, your tone playful but your pulse quickening. “That’s why you’re staring at me like that instead of counting the register.”
His grin widened, and for a moment, neither of you said anything. The air between you was thick, practically humming with unspoken tension.
“You think I haven’t noticed you?” he said finally, his hand moving to rest lightly on your hip. “The way you’ve been teasing me, wearing those outfits, leaning just a little too close when you’re helping me.”
Your breath hitched, heat rising to your cheeks. “Maybe I just like messing with you,” you replied, your voice softer now.
“Yeah?” He leaned in, his lips just a breath away from yours. “Well, you’re playing a dangerous game, sweetheart.”
Before you could respond, his mouth was on yours, the kiss rough and hungry, years of restraint unraveling in an instant. You melted into him, your hands finding their way to his chest, his tie, anything to anchor yourself.
He broke away just long enough to rasp, “You sure about this?”
Your only answer was a nod, your lips crashing back into his as you tugged him closer. The cash register was behind you, cold against your back as Stan lifted you onto it with surprising ease.
“Let’s see how good you are at staying late,” he teased, his hands sliding up your thighs, making your heart race.
And for once, you didn’t care if staying late turned into staying all night.
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