Stanley Pines X You - Tumblr Posts

Tourist trap (Stan Pines x fem!reader)

minors dni

Stan is very fond of tourists who believe his stories.

tags: nsfw, smut, p in v, fingering, riding, desk sex, semi-public, praise, sir kink, rough sex

You shifted nervously from one foot to the other, wide-eyed and excited, as you clutched your little Mystery Shack brochure in your hand. It was all crumpled from being folded and unfolded too many times, but you couldn’t stop reading all the incredible things advertised on it.

"See the world-famous Sasquatch Skull up close! Touch the Alien Artifacts nobody else believes in!" 

You believed it all. Every last word. After all, you’re such a lover of the unknown.

Your group of tourists shuffles around you, mostly adults who looks really unimpressed, grumbling about the entrance fee. You’re the only one whose eyes are wide with excitement and who literally trembles from excitement to see everything the Shack have to offer. And that’s exactly what catches his eye.

Stan Pines stands in the doorway, leaning on his cane, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. You don’t notice how his eyes scans over you, how he takes in every little detail: the innocent excitement, the way you’re practically throwing your money at the gift shop already and that naive, gullible glow about you. You practically skip forward, not noticing how Stan’s eyes linger on you. He can tell right away — you aren’t just any tourist. No, you’re special. Too trustful. Sweet. The kind that believe every ridiculous thing he’d ever put on display.

And isn’t that just. . . adorable?

The tour starts and you trail behind him eagerly, eyes wide and shining as he tells stories about the various "creatures" and "relics" in the Shack. Part of you is convinced that every word is true, that you’re standing in the presence of real magic, real mystery. 

Stan notices you hanging on his every word and it makes something stir in him. The way your lips parts just a little, these little “wow” and “ohh” you make, the way your eyes follow his every move. Meanwhile other tourists roll their eyes or sigh, bored out of their minds, but not you. You’re his favorite kind of visitor — the kind that made his job fun

"So," Stan starts, turning to you with a glint in his eye as the rest of the group wanders off, "what do you think of this, doll? Pretty impressive, huh?"

You nod enthusiastically, clutching your bag of over-priced trinkets and souvenirs. "It’s amazing, sir! i can’t believe im seeing all this in real life! i mean, is the Sasquatch skull really real? And the alien artifacts, are they, like, actually from space?!"

"Well, aren’t you just the cutest little tourist I’ve ever seen,” he smiles, leaning slightly towards you and letting out a chuckle “most people come in here and they laugh it off. Say it’s all fake, but not you. You really believe in this, don’t you?”

“Yeah! ive always dreamed of visiting such a cool place! thank you, sir, it’ll remain a good memory,” you giggle.

“Ohh, sweetheart, if you’re such a fan, maybe i can show you some of the mysteries we keep hidden from the average tourists.” he absolutely loves how wide-eyed and trusting you are. You really believe every word he tells you?

Your eyes light up, completely oblivious to the hungry look in his eyes. "Really? You’d do that?"

Stan rubs his chin, pretending to think it over, though the grin never left his face. “Hmm,” he looks at you for a couple more seconds before he tells you you. “for you, dear? Anything.”

He leads you away from the main part of the Shack, down a hallway lined with dusty old portraits and broken light fixtures. You don’t even notice how quiet it is now as the rest of the tour group far behind. All you can think about was the excitement bubbling inside you, the thrill of seeing something “exclusive.”

Stan opens a creaky door at the end of the hall and motions for you to step inside. You eagerly obey, stepping into a dimly lit room filled with more strange objects, things that weren’t part of the normal tour. At least, that’s what Stan told you.

He closes the door behind him with a soft click, the two of you now alone and you never really noticed how close he suddenly got, his hand resting on your lower back as he guides you further into the room, its cluttered with strange artifacts, most of which hadn’t made it to the main display.

You’re buzzing with excitement as you look around at the dusty shelves. "Wow!" you gasped, wide-eyed. “What’s that? and that?! oh my gosh, is that a real shrunken head?!”

Stan chuckles, settling himself down in an old chair near desk before patting his lap. “Why don’t you come here, doll? I’ll give you a closer look.” there was something in his voice. . . something that should alert you, but you’re too caught up in your excitement to notice it.

Without a second thought, you plop yourself down on his lap, leaning forward to inspect the nearest artifact, still firing off a barrage of questions. "What’s this one? and where did you get it? oh god, is it really cursed?!"

Stan grunts, adjusting you a bit closer as his hands settled on your hips. He leans forward slightly, his mouth near your ear as he begins to explain some ridiculous story about the origins of the objects. But you barely notice how his fingers start to slip lower, just lightly brushing along the hem of your skirt.

You keep talking, completely oblivious, your words spilling out in an excited rush. “This is so cool! i can’t believe no one else gets to see this! i-“ your voice hitches as Stan’s hand slides further up your thigh, his thick fingers grazing the edge of your panties.

He continues talking as if nothing happens. “This here is an ancient artifact from South America. Supposedly cursed, but, eh, I wouldn’t worry about it too much.” he pauses, his hand gently pressing against the softness of your thigh as he keeps you pinned on his lap.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you tried to focus on his words, nodding as you squirmed a little. “W-wow, that’s- that’s so cool!” your voice breathy as Stan’s fingers brushes lightly along the edge of your panties, teasing you.

“Yeah, real cool, huh?” he asks you, still as if nothing happened, his other hand sliding up your waist to grip your side, so you wouldn’t move that much. His fingers dip lower, grazing the fabric of your panties before slipping just beneath it. “aaand this one here,” he continues, “it’s said to have belonged to an ancient tribe. Powerful stuff.”

You can barely process what he’s saying, your mind blank as his fingers lightly tease along your slit, collecting the wetness that was beginning to pool there. You shift in his lap, trying to stifle the soft whimper that escape your lips, your legs pressing together.

“Something wrong, doll?” he asks in a playful, no, mocking tone, while his fingers now lightly caressing your clit. “You seem a little distracted. Thought you wanted to hear about all these mysteries*.”

“I- I do!” you stutter. “It’s just- s-sir!”

“Just what?” Stan interrupts, his fingers now slipping lower, pressing firmly against your entrance. His other hand grips your waist, holding you firmly in place as you instinctively try to buck your hips against his hand.

You whine softly, barely able to form a coherent sentence. "I-I just. . . oh god-“

Stan smirks. “You’re so cute, sweetheart,” he nuzzles your neck, his fingers now teasing your entrance, pushing just the tip of one finger inside your throbbing cunt. “asking all these questions while sitting in my lap like a good little girl.”

You sob, your hips rocking against his hand without even realizing it. You can feel his cock, hard and pulsing beneath you, pressing against your ass, but Stan keeps his focus on you, his fingers slowly pumping in and out of your wetness, never stopping his stories.

“This one is said to have special. . . powers. Like it can make someone go crazy with just one touch.” he chuckles, his finger curling inside you, hitting that spot that made you gasp and clench around him.

Your head spinning, your body aching with need, completely at his mercy as he tease and play with you, all while still pretending like it was just another tour.

Stan’s smirk widens as he feels you trembling in his lap, the way you quietly moan, your face and body both hot. He keeps his voice steady, still saying some ridiculous story about the artifacts, but his fingers never stops their teasing.

“So, this piece here was said to be used in rituals. Uhh, something about unlocking a person’s deepest desires, makin’ ’em lose all sense of control.” its not difficult for him to imagine these false stories, he is an experienced lier after all. You try to listen, try to understand what he’s saying, but that’s just impossible to do as he presses his thumb harder against your needy bud, his fingers sliding through your slick folds. You whimper, barely able to focus on his words. Your body burning, every nerve ending tingling as his rough fingers stroke and tease your throbbing pussy. Your hips rock against his hand, desperate for more, but you’re too shy, too embarrassed to ask for it.

“What’s the matter, sweetheart? you were askin’ so many questions before, now you’re all quiet?” his thumb circles your clit a little bit faster and your body jolts from pleasure, a soft cry escaping your lips before you could stop it.

“I’m just-“ you stammer, your cheeks flushed with embarrassment as you squirm in his lap. “I c-can’t, sir, can’t think”

He chuckles, now pushing two thick fingers deep inside your tight, clenching cunt. You gasp and your back arch against him as he starts to pump them slowly, curling and scissoring his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside you that made your whole body tremble. What a lovely sounds you’re making.

“Aww you poor thing, so lost, huh? cant even think straight, can ya?”

You whimper, biting your lip as you try to stifle the noises that are spilling out of you, but it’s useless. Your hips are moving on their own, grinding against his hand as you clung to his shirt, “sir” and “please” leaving your mouth as his fingers stretch you so well.

“Just relax, doll, I’ll take care of you. Just listen to me.” his fingers pumped harder inside your pulsing pussy. “you wanted a tour, right?”

You nodded weakly, not even listening him, unable to focus on anything but the way his fingers were fucking into you, the wet sounds of your dripping pussy filling the small room. His thick digits stretch you open just good, making you lose your mind.

“So this here,” he continued, his voice still calm despite the way you were practically writhing in his lap, “was used by an ancient tribe. Supposedly, they thought it could help them communicate with the gods, but I think it’s more useful for somethin’ else. . . don’t you, sweetheart?”

You could only sob in response, your body trembling as his fingers drove deeper, stretching your tight walls, his thumb never leaving your poor sensitive clit, your muscles clenching around his fingers as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge.

“You’re such a good girl,” he praises as he watches you squirm in his lap, your wetness coating his fingers. “so cute, all worked up like this. You gonna cum for me, doll?” you nod , your hips bucking against his hand, his fingers thrusting deeper inside your aching cunt. Stan laughs at that pathetic sight, his fingers moving faster now, fucking you hard and deep, your pussy clenching around his digits. “Go on, princess, cum on my fingers.” you exhale when Stan finally let you finish. With a strangled cry, your body shakes, your cunt clenching around his fingers as your orgasm crashes over you. Your eyes rolled and brain fucking melted as you shudder in his lap.

Stan grinned, watching you with a satisfied smirk. “Good girl, such a good little doll for me.”

His hand rests on your breast, first slowly and gently caressing it. His fingers find your nipple and give it a light squeeze, drawing another sound from you. Stan smirks to himself as he feels you shaking in his lap, your body responding to every little touch he gave you. His fingers still buried deep inside you, moving at a slow, teasing pace that had you on edge, desperate for more. You can barely sit still, squirming against him, your breath coming out in soft, shallow gasps.

His fingers curling inside you again, and you whimper, your hips jerking in response. “You want somethin’, don’t you? you gotta tell me what you need, doll.”

Your mind foggy, every nerve in your body on fire as his fingers keep working you over, drawing soft, desperate noises from your parted lips. You could barely think straight, let alone put together a proper sentence. “pl-please, sir”

He chuckles, clearly enjoying your struggle. “Please what, sweetheart? you gotta use your words if you want somethin’ from me.”

You bite your lip, trying to keep yourself together, but it’s damn impossible with the way his big fingers thrusting inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over again. You can feel the heat building inside you again, that desperate, aching need, but of something bigger than just his fingers. You need to be filled, to have your brains fucked out. “I need more. . .”

“More, baby? you want my fingers to go faster? is that what you mean?”

You shake your head frantically, your whole body aching for something else. “No, I need- need your cock, sir-“

He raise his eyebrows in a fake surprise. “Oh, is that what you’ve been tryin’ to say this whole time? you’re beggin’ for it now, huh? pretty little thing, all desperate for me to fuck you?”

You whimper softly, your hips moving on their own, trying to push down on his hand for more friction, more pressure, but he holds you still, keeping you right where he wanted you. “Please, sir,” you whisper and nearly cry because of horrible emptiness you’re feeling. “please just fuck me, sir, i need you!”

“You’re lucky I’m feelin’ generous today, sweetheart,” he tells you, his hand finally pulling away from your dripping slit. “don’t say i never gave you nothin’.”

Before you can even process whats happening, Stan shifts you in his lap, his strong hands lifting your hips and positioning you right above his length. You can feel his cock, already hard and throbbing beneath you, pressing up against your soaked entrance, and your whole body tense, your breath catching in your throat.

Stan’s hands grip your hips tightly, holding you steady as he lines himself up with your glistening cunt, spreading your folds. “You ready for it, doll?” he asks. “this what you’ve been beggin’ for?”

You nod quickly, fuck enough of questions, you thought. “Yes,” you whisper. “yes yes yes, ple-“ but before you can even finish, he slowly pushes inside you, stretching you open inch by inch. You immediately gasp at the new sensation, your hands gripping onto his shoulders as your body adjusts to the sudden fullness. Oh god, it’s thick, so hard, filling you completely and you can feel every inch of him throbbing inside you, every vein, it feels so hot.

Stan huffs out, his grip on your hips tightening as he buries himself to the hilt. “Fuck, you’re tight. like you were made for this, doll.”

You whimper softly, holding on him, your body trembling as you try to adjust to the feeling of him inside you. It’s almost too much, the way he stretches you so perfectly, the way he fills you completely. You can barely breathe.

Stan gives you a moment to adjust. his cock pulsing inside you. “There we go,” he mutters watching your brows furrowing. “Just like that. . . you’re doin’ so good, babygirl.”

You moan again, your hips shifting slightly in his lap, and you feel him twitch inside you,. “I. . . nhhah, s-sir”

He leans towards you and kisses your forehead, his hands guiding your hips to start moving, slowly at first. “Go on, princess. Ride me, let me see how bad you want it.”

You bite your lip nervously as you’ve never been in this pose before, you slowly start to move, lifting yourself up and then sinking back down onto his cock. It feels incredible, the way his cock stretches you open, hitting all sweet spots inside you. You feel the tension building inside you again, that same desperate, aching need, and you whimper again and again, your hips moving faster as your cunt tightening around him.

Stan’s eyes locks with yours as he guides your movements, kissing your neck. “That’s it, sweetheart, you feel so fuckin’ good, yesss, such a good girl, ridin’ me like that.”

You cry out at his words, what a sweet praise, your body moving on its own now, your hips grinding down against him, taking him deeper with each thrust. You can barely think, barely breathe, the pleasure overwhelming your senses, your mind clouded, you can’t even maintain the eye contact.

Stan’s hands moves to your waist, holding you steady as he starts thrusting up into you, meeting your movements with deep, powerful thrusts. You whine, your hands gripping onto his shoulders for support as he fucks you, your mouth hangs open while he fucks you faster and harder with each thrust, he holds you so tightly, squeezing your body while you ride him.

You gasp. “I- I’m gonna-“

“Go ahead, doll, cum for me, let me feel it.”

Your body tensed, your walls clenching around his cock as your orgasm hits you hard. Your body shaking, trembling in his lap as you cumming, rambling pleas leave your mouth when you feel the tip of his cock rubbing sweetly against your cervix. Stan groans, his grip on your waist tightening as he thrusts up into you harder, deeper, drawing out your pleasure as long as he can. “That’s it, such a good girl, baby. . . so fuckin’ tight.”

You fall on his chest, still shaking, your mind still spinning from the intensity of it all. You can feel him still throbbing inside you, still hard, and you whimper softly, your hips shifting slightly in his lap, he’s clearly not planning on pulling out.

After you manage to get your breathing back to normal at least a little you feel his hands still all over you, roughly dragging you up and laying you out on the old wooden table. Your legs tremble, spread wide as he stares down at you, taking in the sight like you’re his prize, his fucking reward.

“Not yet, sweetheart,” grin crosses his lips as he grabs your thighs, pulling you right to the edge of the table before slamming his cock back inside your pussy, forcing a cry from your throat. Your body jolts at the sudden penetration, and you moan again, legs wrapping around his waist as he starts pounding into you again. Hard. Rough. Fast. There’s not a drop of mercy in his movements, he's not holding back, fucking you like you're just a thing for him to use. Your sweet moans and that pathetic "sl-slow down!" sound like music to his ears.

His hands all over you, squeezing, groping, touching. He grabs your breasts, kneading them, pinching your nipples through your shirt so hard you whimper, arching your back off the table. He groans at that, leaning in close, his breath hot against your neck as he whispers, “Fuck, you feel heavenly, baby, can’t get enough of this sweet little cunt.”

His fingers finds your clit, rubbing circles around it, teasing you until you can’t stop the pathetic whines spilling from your lips. He keeps fucking you harder, his hips slamming against yours, the table creaking under the weight of it all. The sound of skin against skin fills the room, mixed with your gasps, your moans, your begs and his grunts as he’s pounding into you like he was starving for it.

“Look at you,” he looks down at your flushed, wrecked body, his hands gripping your waist tight enough to bruise. “Such a fucking good girl for me, huh? letting me use this pretty little pussy however I want.”

You can’t really form words, can’t do anything but take it. Your so brain fucked, body burning, you’re so close you can’t think straight. He’s rough, fast, his fingers rubbing your clit in time with his thrusts, pushing you higher, higher, until you can’t hold back anymore. You cum hard, again, your pussy squeezing his cock well.

But Stan doesn’t stop. He just keeps going, fucking you right through it, ruining your pussy, even harder now, his hips snaps into you, faster, rougher, and you can feel the slick mess between your thighs, the obscene sound of it only making it filthier. You're choking on your moans.

“Ugh, gonna cum inside you, doll,” he groans. “Gonna fill this sweet pussy up, you want that? you want me to fucking fill you up?”

You nod frantically, too far gone to care about anything else, and with one last, hard thrust, he buries himself so deep, his cock pulsing as he finishes inside you. You feel how warm it is, his cum filling you up, spilling out of you as he keeps thrusting, riding out his high.

Finally, he slows down, pulling out with a groan, and you collapse back on the table, spent, utterly wrecked. Youre literally shaking, panting, his cum dripping out of your used pussy onto the wood below. Stan stands there, catching his breath, looking down at you and all that dirty mess, what a beautiful sight: your legs trembling, your body marked with his touch and his cum leaking from between your thighs.

He leans over. “you know, guess I'll give you a discount for that pretty face of yours.”

Ford x fem!reader x Stan

minors dni

Stan’s grip on you tightens, pulling you against his frame as he crashes his lips against yours. There’s no hesitation, just raw, impatient hunger, the kind of kiss that takes your breath away and leaves you wanting more. His hands roam with a boldness that leaves no room for doubt, fingers digging into your hips as if claiming you.

From behind, Ford’s approach is way softer. His lips ghost along the curve of your neck, pressing tender slow kisses to your skin. Such contrast between them makes you dizzy, overwhelmed by the intensity of their touches. You groan softly, caught in the heat of it all, and instinctively lean back into Ford’s embrace. There Stan's face visibly frowns.

Stan pulls back just enough to mutter, “Don't let him think he's in charge here.” his tone is rough, tinged with jealousy, his hand slides over your side, possessive and demanding as if trying to take you away from his twin.

Before you can respond, Ford’s voice cuts through, quiet but confident. “She can decide for herself, Stan,” he murmurs, his lips grazing the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “can’t you, darling?”

The tension between the brothers is palpable, but so is the way their hands explore your body. Stan’s touch is firm, always a little too eager, while Ford’s fingers trail gently over your skin, savoring every inch. They both can’t get enough of you. Stan’s lips crash back into yours, but Ford’s kisses never stop, his mouth pressing slow, sensual kisses along the sensitive skin of your neck, you literally melt between them. 

A loud moan escapes your lips when Stan's hand slaps your butt, you sob from a little pain and feel Ford's body tense behind you as he glares at his brother. “What? Are you trying to make me look bad?” Stan huffs.

Ford smirks softly, nipping at your skin gently before whispering, “no? Im just appreciating how beautiful she is.” his touch is feather-light, contrasting with Stan’s more possessive grip. “and I'm trying to please her, Stanley, not hurt her."

“Yeah? well, I’d like to appreciate her too,” Stan bites out, jealousy bubbling inside him. “don’t forget who’s been here longer.” he murmurs into your mouth and leans in again, capturing your lips.

You whimper softly, overwhelmed by their attention, your face all flushed as you try to hold yourself. Both men vying for your attention. Ford smiles against your skin. “Good girl,” he praises softly.

Stan, at the exact same time, mutters, “Atta girl.”

They both fall silent as their words intersect in the most unexpected way. They pull away, looking at each other over your shoulder, realizing what just happened. There's an awkward silence for a moment, but then Stan huffs in annoyance, his grip on your waist tightening. “Seriously? you gotta steal my lines now?”

Ford, always calm, arches an eyebrow, and the corner of his mouth twitches in a smirk. “Didn’t realize praise was trademarked,” he remarks dryly.

You laugh softly, but the sound breathy from arousal. "Are you really arguing about this right now?” you ask them, needing their attention and kisses so badly, you don’t want that to stop.

Stan shoots a half-grin your way, nodding. “You better believe it, sweetie. I’m not lettin’ this nerd outdo me.”

Ford still remains calm and patient, although his hand slides up, cupping your chin, gently turning your face towards him. “Outdo you? Stan, we’re not in a competition.” his lips gently touch yours as he murmurs, “we’re both making her feel good.”

Stan’s cocky grin widens, and he leans in, his voice rough as he rests his hands on your thighs. “Speak for yourself, i think she likes me better.”

Ford chuckles smoothly, rolling his eyes and pressing another kiss to your shoulder, his breath tickles your skin pleasantly. “Is that so? Why don’t we let her tell us herself?”

Your heart pounds, your body burns at their touch and it takes your breath away when their eyes focus solely on you, waiting, watching. “I. . . I like both of you,” you admit breathlessly. “please, just- just continue, I need you both.”

Stan’s eyes light up, his fingers slide lower, his thumb brushing teasingly along your hip. “That’s my girl.”

Ford’s touch remains soft still, his lips pressing a delicate kiss to your neck as he murmurs against your skin, “You’re perfect, darling.”

✮⋆˙ how they kiss (x reader)

Stan — fire

Stan’s kisses are not something you just forget

They’re all-consuming, passionate, fiery, rough sometimes, sometimes quick, but they always leave you wanting more even when you think you’ve had enough. No, you’ll never have enough of Stan. His kisses are always so sudden, intense, noisy, leaving you breathless and dizzy, because he is greedy not only for money, but also for you, for your attention.

Stan is especially fond of casually kissing you when you’re resting on his lap while he’s snuggled up in his favorite armchair, the TV playing in the background but neither of you paying attention to it. He relishes in the way you hold onto him while he lazily captures your lips with his. One of his arms is wrapped around your waist, pulling you close while the other rests on the armrest, his thumb gently caressing your skin. 

Or small, but promising kisses when he needs to give a tour to newly arrived tourists. “Hey, sugar, I gotta go now. But before I go-“ there he cups your face in his hands, his thumbs caressing your cheeks. Stan smiles as he leans in and presses his lips to yours in a brief, yet tender kiss.

When the two of you in his car, seats pushed back, his hands pulling you closer until you’re practically on him. He’s so fucking impatient.

Stan never just kisses, he claims you. His lips crash against yours, forceful, as if he’s trying to pull every breath out of your lungs. He kisses you until there's no air left in your lungs. Stan loves to touch you a lot, just feel you next to him is important, one hand gripping your waist, the other buried in your hair, pulling, demanding. He can cross the line sometimes, being too rough, touchy, but you love it. Stan’s hands slide up your waist, gripping, pulling, pressing you closer, as if there’s not enough skin-to-skin contact in the world to satisfy him. Stan knows how to kiss, where to touch, what parts of yours are sensitive, where you need him the most.

His touch is a flame that burns through you. And you swear that kissing him is hot. In all ways possible.

Stan’s mouth drops to your neck, kissing and sucking skin here too. He kisses the curve of your collarbone, leaving marks on your skin, proof of what’s his. “Mmhm, baby,” and just when you start to lose yourself in his warmth, he suddenly pulls away, leaving you gasping, eyes wide and filled with longing. You’re so lost. 

“What’s the matter, sugar? need more?"

He can’t help, he just adores that confused and needy face of yours, yeah, he’ll stop right when you’re aching for more. “Gonna beg for it?” he laughs, his smirk cocky, that asshole is so proud of himself and that makes you whine because he’s so fucking unfair. Stan knows exactly what he's doing, he just enjoys seeing how much you need him. And when you finally break, when you plead for his touch and kisses, nearly crying only to feel his hands and mouth on you again, he gives in, and it’s messy, tongue and teeth, like he’s starving.

Stan’s kisses are possessive, he claims the rights, which say that you are his and no one else will ever kiss you the way he does.

Ford — ocean

Ford is different. So different. Ford is a scientist and he kisses like a scientist. He doesn’t rush. No, Ford likes to study you, take his time like you’re an equation he’s solving. When Ford kisses you, it’s like he’s discovering something new. He’ll pause, looking into your eyes with that analytical smart gaze of his, as if he’s making sure you feel it too, making sure he’s not missing a detail. When he kisses you, he’s trying to memorize the taste of your lips, the curve of your smile, the way you breathe.

Ford loves to brush his thumb over your bottom lip, staring directly into your eyes. “Fascinating,” he’ll murmur. He watches the way your lips part, how your breathing stops when he leans in, eyes half-lidded, he can tell you’re nervous too. 

Ford kisses like a man who’s spent years alone, longing for connection but afraid to reach for it. 

Ford kisses you like you’re a secret only he’s allowed to uncover.

His kisses are slow. His lips linger, barely there, just a ghost of a touch before he pulls away, making you chase him, sometimes it makes you angry because you feel like his damn experiment, while you just want a normal kiss. But Ford is methodical, careful, like you’re something precious to explore. “You’re reacting just as I predicted.” 

And then, when he’s learned everything he can from those soft, little, slow kisses, his grip tightens. Ford becomes more insistent, as if the ocean’s current is pulling you under, deeper into him. His hands slide to the nape of your neck, fingers firm, holding you as his lips finally claim yours fully. The kiss feels like drowning, but in the most beautiful way, slow, consuming, the kind of kiss that leaves you weightless. 

Ford doesn’t leave you breathless the way Stan does. No, he leaves you calm, like waves crashing on the shore in the moonlight, powerful but never rushed. His kiss is something you think about hours after, lingering on your lips like the taste of saltwater after a swim in the ocean.

He’s wanted this for too long, and now that he’s finally allowed himself to have you, he’s going to savour every second, every shiver, every single breath of yours, every gasp of his name.

Stan Pines is the kind of man who can't just let you do anything without turning it into a compliment, like, every move you make, he's gotta say something. And it’s never normal. 

You could be bent over organising some random crap around the Mystery Shack and this man will make it sound like you’re posing for him. Because, yeah, you’re just trying to organize his disaster of a desk, sorting through all his crumpled receipts, ticket stubs, whatever the hell else he’s hoarded.

“Your doin’ god’s work, sugar,” and it’s not even subtle. You look over your shoulder, half expecting him to actually be paying attention to the pile of garbage you're dealing with, but no. He’s leaning against the counter, counting out cash from the register, but all you see is that smirk. The one that makes it very clear his mind ain’t on the paperwork.

“Sorting your trash is god’s work?” you quip back, rolling your eyes, but the way he’s watching you with that smirk of his, makes your cheeks flush a bit.

“You know what I mean,” Stan mutters and now he’s just full-on undressing you with his eyes, the cash in his hands forgotten. “ya ain’t gotta try so hard, baby, because ya could sit on your ass all day and I’d still think ya did somethin’ special.” and your face burns at that, but he sees it, of course, he does. Stan ain’t dumb, despite the act he puts on for tourists. He’s so much more clever than he looks, always has been. The moment he catches that excitement in your eyes, he’s grinning like he’s just won a damn lottery.

“You like that, huh? being told how good you are?”

You smirk back, trying to play it off, but your voice comes out a little breathier than you mean for it to. “all that for organizing receipts? maybe you should give me a raise.” 

Stan just laughs loudly. “yeah, sweetheart, you deserve the whole damn Shack.”

Or when, you’re just sitting at the counter, counting the cash from the register, going about your day and Stan? Well, Stan is “cleaning up,” which basically means he’s wiping the same spot for like five minutes straight while staring at you. You catch him, because he’s being too obvious with it. His eyes keep dipping to your lips every time you bite your pen and it’s distracting as hell.

“You’re too damn cute, y’know that?” he grumbles and it sounds like he’s mad about it, like you’ve done something wrong just by existing.

“You say that every day.” you shoot him a teasing smile, because yeah, this is the daily routine.

And Stan just sighs, smirking like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “Yeah, and I’ll keep sayin’ it, sorry, baby, couldn’t shut up about ya if I tried.” 

Then there’s when you’re fixing up one of the old displays, just tightening bolts or whatever and Stan’s “supervising.” Except by “supervising,” I mean, he’s leaning against the wall, arms crossed, watching you work with that wide grin on his face, satisfied and clearly enjoying the view.

“Goddamn, honey,” he mutters. “you makin’ this place look good just by bein’ in it. Hm, maybe I should start charging you for the view.” 

You glance over your shoulder, raising your eyebrow, but smirking, because you know exactly what game he’s playing.

“What? I’d pay whatever ya want, sweetheart. You’re worth every penny.” 

Or you’re just in the kitchen, cutting up vegetables for dinner. The radio’s on low, the sun setting through the windows. Stan’s sitting at the table, pretending to read the newspaper, but every once in a while you catch him glancing over the edge, just watching you move around the kitchen. It’s quiet until he breaks it.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, y’know that?” his voice is so soft, too sincere for Stanley Pines, but when you look over, he’s still got that damn smirk on his face.

You pause, knife in hand, and raise an eyebrow. “For chopping onions?”

He chuckles, leaning back in his chair, arms behind his head. “Nah, sugar, it’s just the way you’re movin’ around in there, i dunno how to explain it, but damn, you look good in my kitchen.”

You snort, shaking your head. “I’m literally cutting onions, Stan.”

“Yeah, still sexy. That’s all I’m sayin’.”

Then there’s the mornings. You’re in the bathroom, brushing your teeth, hair a mess, wearing one of Stan’s old shirts that hangs way too big on you and he's leaning in the doorway, watching you like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You catch his reflection in the mirror, raising an eyebrow at him, but he just shrugs with this lazy grin, continuing to admire to you.

“Can’t help it, sweetie, you look cute when you’re all domestic.”

you’re just brushing your teeth, but somehow, this man makes it sound like you’re doing the sexiest damn thing in the world

soooo I saw this absolutely adorable art of Stan Pines kissing someone's hand and I loved it so much, I just had to write something about it! hope you’ll like it ♡

Stan’s hand clasps yours, rough and warm, and it makes your pulse quickens at his touch. His grip is firm but careful, like he knows exactly how much pressure to use. He’s not the type to hold back, but there’s something so gentle and delicate about the way he lifts your hand toward his lips. 

You hold your breath, eyes wide, watching in stunned silence. And then, without a word, he presses a soft kiss to your knuckles.

Stan Pines just kissed your hand. 

You blink, heart practically jumping out of your chest, and it takes all your willpower not to squeak out loud. Did Stan Pines, the gruffest, toughest, most no-nonsense man you’ve ever met, just kiss your hand like some old-timey gentleman? What even is happening right now?

“Stan. . .” you manage to breathe out quietly. Inside, though, you’re screaming. You’re torn between laughing nervously and collapsing into a puddle of blushes and giggles at the unexpectedly tender gesture. “What— uh, what’re you doing?”

His eyes flicker up to yours for a second, and you swear there’s a little smirk on his face. He knows, he knows what he’s doing to you. “What? a guy can’t be a little smooth every now and then?” Stan’s just standing there like it’s the most casual thing in the world, like he hasn’t just flipped your entire reality upside down.

You’re frozen, staring at him, your heart pounding in your chest like you’ve just run a marathon, when all you did was stand there while this damn man stole every ounce of composure you’ve ever had with a single kiss to your hand. But he’s still holding your hand, his lips pressed to your knuckles. What the hell are you supposed to do? You’re so lost in your own thoughts. 

Oh god, he kissed your hand. Stanley Pines just kissed your damn hand. You try to say something, anything, but all that comes out is a nervous, shaky laugh.

“What’s the matter, sugar? cat got your tongue?” Stan raises a brow, lips quirking in that smirk he always gets when he knows he’s got the upper hand. He’s still holding you, still brushing his thumb over your knuckles like it’s no big deal, like this isn’t the most intimate thing he’s ever done. And you’re melting. 

“You— you kissed my hand,” your voice trembling and you swear you see his smirk grow just a little wider.

“Yeah, so? It’s called bein’ a gentleman. You kids these days don’t know nothin’ ‘bout that,” he teases, acting all casual, like he didn’t just knock the air right out of your lungs. Actually he’s enjoying this, he’s definitely enjoying watching you lose your mind over something so simple.

“You’re unbelievable,” you murmur, still feeling the heat on your cheeks, your shocked gaze runs over his face.

Stan chuckles softly, finally letting your hand go but leaning in just a bit, his voice dropping to a lower, more serious tone. “Yeah, well, guess I’m just full of surprises, huh?” he pauses. “but between you and me, sweetie, you make it pretty easy to be a gentleman.”

Your breath catches, your stomach doing somersaults. Did he just—? 

Before you can respond, he straightens up, giving you one last wink. “Don’t let it go to your head. See ya around, sweetheart.”

➤𝗧𝗵𝗲𝗿𝗲 𝗴𝗼𝗲𝘀 𝗺𝘆 𝗹𝗶𝗳𝗲 || Stanley Pines ||

Song Inspo:

A/n: I loooove this song and I think it fits perfectly for Stan 🤭

Getting out of New Jersey...out of this dump town, far away was the first thing on his mind though of course that plan soon went out the window the moment you told him you were pregnant.

All he could think about was I'm too young for this.

Got my whole life ahead.Hell I'm just a kid myself.

How'm I gonna raise one.

Pressing his back against the locker he didn't even know how to tell his father. Running his hand down his face. Everything in his bones was telling him to go after you but he just felt numb, he could almost hear his father's voice yelling at him for being so careless.

All he could see were his dreams goin' up in smoke.

So much for ditchin' this town and hangin' out on the coast.

Oh well, those plans are long gone.

And he said

"There goes my life.There goes my future, my everything.Might as well kiss it all good-bye."Stan muttered hitting his head against the locker.

"There goes my life."

Taking a deep breath, he stood up then shook his head, he had to deal with this. He was going to be a father....with you with the woman he loved.

Smiling to himself, he rushed off to find you. He had to let you know he will always be with you.

Stan owed a lot to your parents for not kicking you out like his father did, for taking him in. Pressing his face to your belly a sigh escaped his lips as he glanced up at you with a nervous smile.

"You think I'll be a good dad?"

"Stan....you'll be a wonderful father...someone who is as sweet and loyal as their father."

Heat rose to Stan's cheeks, a mix of embarrassment and bashfulness.

"Oh stop it...don't start this now. You're gonna turn me all soft 'n sappy..." he muttered, looking up at you he let out a huff, his expression softening even more.

"I'm just...I'm blown away, princess. I never thought I'd ever get to do the whole family thing...let alone with a beautiful woman like you."

"Well let's just say we're both lucky Stan."

A couple years of up all night and a few thousand diapers later.

That mistake he thought he made covers up the refrigerator.

Oh yeah..........he loves that little girl.

Chasing after his little girl, Stan grasped her, lifting her in his arms. "Gotcha! It's bed time squirt! You can cause trouble at Uncle Ford's tomorrow."

Holding her tight, he did his best to not trip over her toy's that littered the ground. Glancing at the fridge his gaze softened seeing a her little drawings, a smile forming on his lips as he placed her down. His daughter eagerly crawling up the stairs to where you were waiting.

Momma's waiting to tuck her in,As she fumbles up those stairs.

She smiles back at him dragging that teddy bear.

Glancing back, the little girl gave her father a bright smile as she finally made it to your arms. Nuzzling into your chest, you gave Stan a smile of your own as you carried her off to her bedroom.

"Sleep tight, pretty eyes and bouncin' curls." He whispered brushing away a few tears.

He finally found his happiness, he finally felt whole thanks to you and his little girl.

He smiles.....

There goes my life.

There goes my future, my everything.

I love you, daddy good-night.There goes my life.

Packing the rest of her things in the car, she tucked a strand of her hair behind ear as she then watched her father to look the car over.

She had that Honda loaded down.

With Abercrombie clothes and 15 pairs of shoes and his American Express.

Rubbing the back of his neck, Stan cleared out his throat as he checked over the car one last time. His little girl wasn't so little anymore. She looked so much like you he wasn't so sure that he wanted to send her off on her own.

He then checked the oil and slammed the hood

"you're good to go princess"

Blinking back her tears, she rushed towards you and Stan, hugging you both goodbye. "I'll see you both in a few months." Stepping back she smiled then slipped into the car as she drove away.

Feeling tears prick his eyes, Stan let his arms wrap around your waist as he held you close

And he cried

"There goes my life.There goes my future, my everything.I love you.Baby good-bye."

There goes my life.

There goes my life.

Baby good-bye.