Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

"Ruuuuus~"

Mutt smirked as he heard you calling to him from across the house. He certainly knew that tone of voice, and you hardly called him by his real name unless you wanted something.

"yes, darlin'?" He asked, hardly looking up from his book as your hands travelled across his clavicle from behind.

"I want your dick."

He snorted at your forwardness. You must have been getting yourself pretty bothered if you didn't even bother to try and seduce him. He finally marked the page in his book and looked up as you walked around to the front of the couch. His smile twitched in appreciation as he took in your ensemble--a tank top that is much too tight and his favorite lacy panties.

You took his attention as an invitation, and plopped down into his lap, leaning in to kiss him. He kissed you back, fingers teasing the lace of your panties before pulling back.

"no. sans isn't home yet."

You dropped your sweet, seductive smile almost immediately, and he bit back a laugh as you scowled at him. "That's the point! I wanna do something just us today. Don't worry, I'll do something with just him later, too."

"you tryna make me jealous?" He chuckled, leaning back. He jiggled his leg beneath you. "off. you know the rules."

Instead of obeying, you whined, leaning harder on him so that your body was flush to his. He could feel the gentle softness of your perfect breasts from underneath your shirt, pressing oh-so-sinfully against his ribs.

"Come on...just this once?" You fluttered your lashes sweetly, pouting your lower lip just slightly. "We don't have to tell."

What a bother. He didn't know where it had come from, but lately you had grown bolder in your attempts to upset the natural order of your relationship. Evrybody involved knows there is a certain way things get done: Black gets you the very first time of the day, at the very least, and then Mutt can fuck you silly the rest of the day as much as he wants. What you want is mostly irrelevant, barring safeword situations, but usually if the rules are met then he at least considers you when you want it.

But this morning had been a tight schedule, and you hadn't woken up early enough to get your usual routine with Black done. Therefore, the rules were not met, and he can't fuck you. Yet.

"not yet, so get off."

"Dammit, Rus, just fuck me!" You groaned in frustration, the pent up energy radiating off your words in thick clouds. You rocked your body against his, and his breath hitched as you shoved a hand up his shirt to stroke his ribs in just the right way. Fuck, he's weak for that and you know it.

In a flash, he had you by the hair, anchoring you down against his body for a hard kiss, your own fingers tightening on his coat as you moaned heatedly against his teeth.

He kissed and pawed at you until you were breathing heavily and whimpering under his touch, and then he used the hand in your hair to toss you down on the couch.

"i said 'no', slut. take a hint and follow the rules before i have to teach you a lesson."

He stood and lazily walked out, content to hear you groaning in frustration behind him.

This. Means. War.

You're so tired of him doing that to you! The teasing, the making you think he's going to do something but then...ugh! Stupid rules! Screw Black and his rules! You're dating both of them, so you should be able to have sex with both of them whenever you want, without any stupid rules!

So you amped up your game...or at least, you tried to.

You enticed him into the shower with you, and despite the lewd noises he made when you washed his bones, he still got out in the end with nothing but a pinch, a grope, and a kiss.

"water you doing, babe? there's still three hours 'til sans gets home."

You had started cooking dinner wearing nothing but an apron, knowing that he would come in for another bottle of barbeque sauce any minute. He had slapped your ass and trailed several tantalizing nips over your shoulder, but then moved right past you to the fridge.

“still not yet, an’ that’s the naked truth.”

It was still over an hour before Black was supposed to be home, and you were busy “massaging” his shoulders as you started to accept that you might just have to wait for your other better half to come home. Just as you thought it, Mutt got a notification that nearly sent you into a rage.

“hmm. seems m’lord is staying an extra few hours tonight. shame.”

“What?!”

“yeah, somethin’ about new security recruits needing training.” He smirked lazily as you whimpered in frustration behind him. Poor thing, he’s normally railed you at least five times by this time of day. “aw, c’mon, now, don’t be that way.”

“But...Papyrussss…”

“...alright, you can come give me a kiss. how about that?”

It was only a moment before you had once again planted your thighs atop his femurs, hands finding their mark on his ribs as you assaulted his clavicle with your tongue. He allowed it, but only because he was also starved for your touch, and he allowed himself a rare moment of self-indulgence as he gripped your hips, grinding up against your barely-clothed body so you could feel how hard he was.Your mouth was warm and your noises were intoxicating, but the way you were grinding back is a direct violation of the rules, and it’s getting annoying.

“i said, a kiss,” he growled, hand on your shoulder pushing you up off him roughly. “you’re playing a dangerous game, you brat.”

“Fine, fine. One more kiss. Please?” You looked up at him with a pout. “I’ll behave.”

He hummed and pulled you back down, and you immediately heated the kiss up with a swipe of your tongue, fingernails scratching at the spinous processes of his neck as you greedily pressed against him. He moaned, before grabbing a fistful of your hair and forcing you off.

“what happened to behaving?” He growled, sending vibrations of fire directly to your sex as he stared at you, eyes smoldering with anger.

“I said one kiss! You didn’t specify that it had to be chaste!” You moaned, wiggling in his grasp.

“you sure are a noisy, rebellious little brat,” he sighed, releasing your hair. Before you knew it, he had laid you across his lap and yanked down your panties. “guess you need that lesson after all.”

A certain level of fear rose up even in your arousal. Was he going to spank you?! Holy shit, you’d hardly ever driven him this far--usually it was Black’s job to punish you, even though everybody agreed that Mutt was the best at it. Excitement coursed through your veins even as you tried to wiggle out of his grasp. The sting of his phalanges across your rear was a feeling you remembered all too well from his last punishment, and on top of that you weren’t sure he’d fuck you after--not into breaking Black’s rules, especially if it’s what you want.

You yelped as the first smack stung across your bare ass, drawing you from your thoughts. “W-Wait! I’m sorry!”

“sorry doesn’t pay the bills, darlin’,” was his only response.

Smack! You whimpered beneath his next smack, trying to push your way out of his grip.

“Please, Rus, I’ll behave, I promise! I’ll wait for Black to get home!” Smack!

He watched you writhe and wiggle in pleasure, burying your face in the nearest throw pillow. He smirked, listening to your feeble attempts to convince him you didn’t want this. You looked so delicious, begging him to stop even as your toes curled and your face flushed a pretty pink.

“should have done it to begin with, because now i’ve been driven to this--” Smack! “--and now i’m gonna have to answer to sans when he gets home and asks why you’re good an’fucked when you should be on your knees, panting for him.”

With that, he plunged his fingers into your slick folds, feeling how wet his punishment had made you.

You gasped at the sudden intrusion, but it quickly turned into a moan as he pumped his fingers inside you slowly, his other hand rubbing your abused ass gently, soothingly. At his encouragement, you crawled to lay on the couch, face pressed into the armrest as he heaved your thighs up, putting your ass on display.

“what a lightweight, you’re already all purple, darlin’.” He mused, leaning over to press a kiss to the freshly-appearing bruises. “why do you gotta get me all worked up like this when you can’t take my punishments, babe?”

A moan was all you could muster in response as his magic coated his fingers momentarily inside you, pressing all the right places and making you shake.

“Please,” you begged softly, and his fingers slowed to a maddening pace. “Please, please, I promise I’ll behave if you just fuck me right now!”

“i don’t recall that being your decision,” he hissed, withdrawing his fingers with another sharp slap to your cheeks that made you yelp in pain. Then his fingers gently massaged the spot, the pain subsiding as you felt his generous member pressing against your entrance. “but i guess you haven’t been punished enough, and your ass can’t take much more of this, so my cock will have to do.”

You snapped up from the armrest in shock as he thrust into you in one go, sheathing his massive magic deep in your pussy before you could even count to prepare yourself.

“shit, sorry. too fast, but fuck you feel so good.” he praised, and you relaxed as his fingers squeezed your hips reassuringly. “gimme a color, baby.”

“Ye...yellow.”

Obediently, he pulled back slowly, thrusting gently this time and allowing you time to get used to his invasion. He gave a few experimental thrusts, and when you started moaning lewdly, he ground it deep and stopped. “no more until you’re ready for the punishment, babe.”

“Mmm….ahh….” You gasped, trying to gain a little friction. Unsuccessful, you had to pout and accept your fate. “...orange.”

Then he set a brutal pace, thrusting hard and fast until you were crying and moaning, the pain and pleasure lighting up your body in ways that made your head spin. You scrabbled for purchase on the couch, but eventually he just turned you in his grip, holding your hands against the couch as he dived to nip and lick at your neck, your legs wound around his waist to gain a better angle to wreck you.

“now i’m...gonna get in trouble,” he huffed, panting against your neck as you rolled upward to meet his pace. “because you’ll be too wrecked to be punished, and i wasn’t--supposed--to--fuck you.”

He punctuated each word with a thrust, moving to push your shirt up and suckle at your breasts. You felt your orgasm on the rise, the coil tightening in your gut, a pleasant heat below your stomach that exploded into white noise as he nipped at your breast.

“Pa...Papyyyyy~” you groaned, arching up into him as he finally slowed his pace, rolling his hips to fuck you softly through the waves of pleasure wracking your form.

He hummed at the cutesy nickname, one that was only ever used when you or Black were particularly happy with him. It meant he did his job, and he gripped your hips, ready to make you do yours. “not done yet, darlin’, don’t give out on me or i’ll have to punish you harder~”

You writhed on his cock, sensitive and overstimulated but more than happy to oblige as best you could, lifting your legs wider to allow him to bury himself deeper with a strangled moan, and you were so wet and tight that it wasn’t very long before he was filling you up with his own release, stuffing his cock as far as it would go and swearing softly as you moaned in delight, the feeling of his warm seed drawing another small climax from you.

He swooped down to kiss you, still buried to the hilt, praising you in murmured affection. You returned it, rubbing his skull as you panted, trying to catch your breath. You lay like that a long moment…

...until somebody cleared their throat, and he froze on top of you.

When you both got the nerve to look up, Black was standing beside the couch, arms crossed and a very, very displeased look on his face.

“CARE TO EXPLAIN THIS TO ME?”

Chapter Text

Maybe he’s overprotective.

Maybe he’s obsessive.

He can't help it. Thanks to who or whatever gave him the gaping wound in his skull, he doesn't have that little voice that tells him not to be that way. He doesn't have the same patience as he used to, so Sans finds himself pacing his living room instead of just sitting and enjoying SNL while he waits.

It's not too weird, he tries to convince himself as he triple-checked your facebook, Instagram, and text messages impulsively. You wouldn't care--you like that you can count on him to watch over you, you said, and that he worries for your sake.

And you're late. You're never late. At least not without a text message or something . Because you knew him. You understood him. You, who was so sweet, and quiet, and observant as to recognize his panic attacks before he had them. You, who had smiled and so softly forgiven him when he had broken down and confessed his sins, or most of them, unable to bring himself to lie to you as you lay beneath him.

You were so fragile at the time, so tiny and yet you weren't scared of him. You had offered him everything, despite knowing he could destroy you with a single touch, because you knew you had the same power. He had wanted to bond with you so badly, but had settled for a mark--a single string of fate, just enough to know you were his and to soothe his aches and worries.

You knew him so well, and as such you knew he'd be doing exactly this, pacing and freaking out and imagining scenarios that are probably 1000% worse than the truth.

The surface was dangerous, after all--way more dangerous than the underground had been, even barring psychotic, starving monsters. Since they came up, and food had been plentiful, monsters had mostly returned to their docile former selves--save for his crazy self and a couple of other monsters that had suffered traumatic head injuries down there. They were stuck in their ways, to a degree, although counseling helped.

In any case, humans were much more dangerous than monsters at this point. Humans had guns and knives and a drive to kill, maim, and terrify. Sans had done all of those things underground, but it was about survival down in the underground. He didn't do it now, for fun , like he'd seen these sickos do. And he had never raped . No, now he only killed and maimed when it was necessary.

A sick twist formed in his gut, and dread loomed over his shoulders. He felt a pain in his chest as only would happen if…

...you were calling his name desperately somewhere. Panic surged through his bones at the thought, and he tried to reach out with his magic to find you, the weak connection between your souls serving to be insufficient.

Dammit! He knew he should have bonded with you fully that night, but here he hadn't wanted to spook you and had held himself back from devouring your being and making you his and his alone .

He called you frantically, and you didn't answer. Again. Again. Voicemail. Voicemail. Voicemail .

“sweet pea, darlin’, i needya t’pick up,” he begged the robot on the other end. “please. i have a terrible feeling, i need to know you're okay, talk to me, text me, call me, something .”

He hung up, trying to calm himself. Working himself into a panic attack helps nobody.

He stared at his phone, hoping your name would pop up, calling to assure him you're okay.

But it didn't. Because you weren't. His soul lurched and sent him to the floor with a clatter and whimper, feeling you call for him more fervently.

He scrambled to retrieve his dropped phone, typing with shaky fingers. The Mama Bear app--he'd secretly installed it when you weren't looking, and it tracked your every move. Why didn't he think of it before?

He stared at his phone as it processed, and then the little bear emoji popped up to place your phone.

Corner of second and main. Right outside Grillby’s.

In an alleyway.

A growl ripped from his throat, eye flashing as he released a burst of magic, leaving the living room empty.

You had only stopped by Grillby’s for a moment, to surprise Sans with his favorite takeout as a reward for how well he’s been managing recently. He hadn't had a panic attack in two weeks, and he had even cut back on how much he obsessively texted to check on you...though that might be more due to the app that he thought you hadn't noticed.

You smiled as you clutched the bag closer to your chest, thinking about your skeletal boyfriend waiting for you at home. You loved him so much. After a lifetime of feeling worthless, it had been a shock to feel...loved. Sans practically worshipped you, looking at you like you were made of gold or diamonds or something of similar worth. He worried about you, making sure you ate no matter how difficult a day you had in terms of your disorder...he never let you slack on your self-care, encouraging you to eat and shower and rest and just...he loved you, and every day since you had met him the voice of your anorexia got quieter and quieter.

Ha. Suck on that, Mom!

True, you were still far too small. Even with the way Sans and Papyrus fed you, it would take a long time to get back to a healthy weight. But, you're getting there! You're heavier than you've been in years, maybe your whole life, and you feel stronger and more beautiful for it. Sans always purred words of praise in the mornings, and at breakfast he had stopped watching you like a hawk but you know he noticed when you cleared your plate.

You were good for each other. He was helping you eat, and you were helping him keep a clear head. He never let you skip a meal, and you never let him stay in bed all day...unless you were there with him.

Two broken people helping each other pick up the pieces.

And so it had become a little bit of a thing for you two to pick up tiny rewards like this.

As you turned down the alley to cut towards home, like you've done a million times before, you felt a chill crawl up your back.

You're being followed, you can feel it. There's a bad feeling in your chest, where the slight bit of Sans’ magic resides. It reacts, and you know something's wrong.

Your fears are confirmed when a hand clamps over your mouth, cutting off your scream as it dragged you back against someone's chest.

“Well, lookee here! You're pretty cute, huh, sweetheart?” The owner of the hand said.  “Funny how you didn't seem so amused when I said that this morning, isn't it?”

A couple of chuckles around you and the male voice confirmed the dread in your stomach--there were multiple of them, and if what they said meant anything, they were probably the gross dudes who had catcalled you as you exited this very alleyway on your way to work this morning. You had flipped them off and then very promptly forgotten about them--which is a shame, because if you had remembered, you might not be here.

There was noise as they all spoke lewdly at you, and you tried to fight them off as best as you could.

But you're weak. Years of malnourishing yourself and lack of proper exercise had made you feeble, and even though you were mostly healthy now, it doesn't make up for all the lost time. You tried to scream, but they always kept your mouth covered, holding you down while one of them ripped the buttons off your blouse. The bite mark that marked you as Sans’ mate was still healing, right underneath your bra strap. The guy saw it and laughed.

“Damn, sugartits, and here you tried to convince us you weren't a freak? If that's how it is, then I bet you'll enjoy what comes next.”

You stomped on the foot of the one holding you in response, and hard . He swore, his grip on your mouth fumbling for a moment.

“Sans!” You shrieked without hesitation, voice cracking in your desperation. It came out a loud wail, almost a sob. “ Sans please! Sa-aaans!”

He was nowhere near you, you knew that, but you felt the magic residing in your chest react anyway, and you sobbed in relief. He was coming. You knew he’d save you.

But you didn't know when, and the fear gripped you again as the main guy slapped you across the face to remind you where you were.

“Goddamn, you're a noisy little bitch,” he snarled. “Guess we better fuck quickly or else someone might call the cops.”

Your head was reeling from the slap, and you tasted copper in your mouth. He split your lip. You laughed.

He was trying to intimidate you, telling you to stop laughing, but you weren't afraid anymore. He left a mark. He made you bleed.

“You're already dead,” you giggled.

Before he could respond, there was a flash of blue, a blur of bones as the guy was smacked to the side, hitting the brick wall with such force that you heard a sickening snap!

The others clamored around you, but they were quick work for your boyfriend--child’s play.

You felt an iron-hot pain in your side just before the guy behind dropped like lead, and you found yourself in Sans’ arms, disoriented. You couldn't hear what he was trying to say at first.

Oh, God, you're bleeding.

It wasn't just your lip, though that was the injury he had seen first. It was the tiny mark on his perfect, most precious person that had sent him into a frenzy, along with the way your clothes were torn and your arms were bruised.

They were dead. All of them. How dare they lay a finger on his human ?! He couldn't have stopped even if you had begged him to. Nobody makes you bleed except for him, and that's only when he sinks his teeth into you per request or for things like his mark.

But he hadn't been fast enough. He hadn't caught the one behind you until the knife had made its mark, and now your ruby life was slowly trickling from the wound. His hand closed around the wound as he tried to coax you awake, keep you talking.

He can't heal anymore! He lost that ability when he lost a quarter of his skull! He was trying, so, so, so hard not to panic.

“c’mon sweet pea, just answer me. just a little bit, please , something i can go on, tell me you aren't dead, tell me i can save you!”

“You are such a drama queen,” you groaned, pulling yourself up in his grip. “Ah, it stings...but it’s not that deep, I think.”

His panic subsided immediately, and he let out a sigh of relief as the fuzziness in his head waned. Now that he was thinking more clearly, and you were up and talking, he could see you were right--it was just a little nick in your side, hardly anything to sneeze at. Butterfly bandages at best.

Good.

That means he doesn't have to wait.

You squealed as your back suddenly hit the mattress in his room, the jump making you slightly dizzy, but not as dizzy as you became when his teeth crashed down onto your lips.

You knew better than to ask questions when he got like this, so you simply kissed him back, a moan already building in the back of your throat.

“bonding. now.” He breathed, an urgent whisper. When you looked at him in surprise, his face morphed, showing pain and frustration. “i can't lose you.”

He'd explained bonding to you before, and you were absolutely elated that he wanted to do it--you'd been disappointed that he hadn't wanted to go all the way when he'd marked you, but that was just it--you were surprised by the sudden willingness.

“Yes,” you managed to say finally. “Yes. If you want it, then yes.”

“nah, doesn't work that way,” he grunted, adjusting above you slightly. “you have to really want it, too.”

“I do!” You rushed to reassure him. “I do, I really do, I was just...I thought you weren't ready.”

Disbelief crossed his face, and he twitched, reaching up to tug at his eyesocket as if reminding himself that he was indeed not dreaming. Then he let out a little bark of a laugh, which soon turned into a full-flown fit of chuckles.

You laughed along nervously, completely confused now. His fingers ran lightly over your knife wound, and you winced slightly.

“i’ve been ready to make you mine since that first day i saw you at the park,” he purred finally, making you blush. You remembered, he had helped you up when you had become dizzy from hunger. “so perfect, your eyes stared straight through me as if you could see everything i was scared to show you. and the moment you took my hand so i could help you up, i realized my entire life had been in black and white...because the first time i ever saw color was when i looked into your eyes.”

“Me, too,” you rushed to say, clutching him close. You were inches away from his face, and you could feel him pulling your soul gently from your chest.  “Your blue...is the first time I ever truly saw how beautiful the color could be.”

“you make all this...buzzing...in my head...you make it go away.” He breathed, the sight of your beautiful soul bringing clarity to his permanently rattled skull.

He couldn't help himself but to lean down and run his tongue over it, swirling over the little blue scars, where his mark had settled in the abscesses of your soul, making both of you shudder and sigh. It was such a radiant sight, how the hints of cyan sewed up the pieces of violet, like the kintsugi ceramics your grandmother collected.

Proof that he was good for something.

Then he pulled his own out, and you gasped. He supposed...this is the first time you had seen it. Didn't need to see it for the mark.

The second it appeared, he looked away, embarrassed to see his dim, broken soul next to your magnificent treasure.

“Oh, Sans...it’s…”

“s’ugly, i know,” he murmured. “seen a lot of shit.”

“No...it's gorgeous,” you breathed, cupping it gently to see it closer. It wasn't as vibrant as the blue that laced your own soul, but you supposed it was related to how much love gets poured into it. It had large cracks, and even as you spoke, you noticed a little line of pretty magic swirling between the two, and you experimentally pressed your lips against it.

He made a surprised, pleased noise, somewhere between a purr and a groan, and when you pulled away you could see the violet slowly sinking into the cracks, filling it up.

He had never felt so light, and he let out a choked sob as your forgiveness washed over him.

Without another word, he moved to press your souls together, hesitant...until he felt your body press against his, and then…

You both sighed, limbs as tangled as your souls.

Hours. It had been hours. Your clothes were still tattered, but your souls were still clutching each other as tightly as you were clutching each other’s bodies, and as you both returned to the surface, fresh and full of new memories, things you hadn't known…

...he held his breath, waiting for you to recoil. You knew now, after all...what he did.

“Sans…”

“ don't leave me ,” he begged quietly.

“No, no...I won't, of course I won't. Sans, look.”

He obeyed, and a disbelieving smile spread across his skull as your souls untangled, tiny, tiny little strings continuing to connect them even as they returned to their hosts.

You had fully accepted his bond.

“but...i…”

“Sans...you did what you had to do. And I'm glad you did, or you wouldn't be here...or I might not be here, either,” you cooed. “I know what it's like to starve...but you didn't have a choice. If anything, I'm lucky you bother to stay with a spoiled brat like--”

He kissed you, hard, and soon you were a tangle of limbs in a completely different way, your forgiveness and self-doubt alike both lost to the consummation of your union as he repeatedly whispered his affections for you, and you to him.

Sure, he's obsessive...compulsive...abrasive...but he's also caring...protective...loving…

...and perfect.

Chapter Text

There was a time when Sans would have killed to see the sun, to bask in it every day and live life on the surface. He might have once made something of himself, either helping Grillby or opening his own restaurant for him and Pap, or maybe getting his degree verified and spend his days studying the stars he had so fervently wished to see.

But that was before the resets. Before Frisk. Before starvation, survival, and that nasty hole in his skull, before he had lost all sense of self and motivation.

Now the sun could go fuck itself.

He liked it inside. Inside was safe. He could keep track of himself, and of Pap, inside. There was nobody inside his house that he didn't want there, ever, and it calmed him.

Outside was messy. It was loud, obnoxious, and worse--full of humans. They disgusted him, milling about as if everything was normal, accepting monsters into the fold and pretending it wasn't their fault they'd been down there.

He didn't want to eat them, no, that urge had waned after the first few months of a blessedly full belly, and he no longer saw them as food. No, now they were just annoying. They'd knock on his door and ask all sorts of questions about his electric bill, or his cable company, or if he had “found Jesus” yet. Normally he would growl and slam the door in their face, but he was lucky now--Papyrus had found some sort of sign that kept them away.

He'd never seen it, of course, because he hardly stepped onto the porch long enough to look, but it did the trick. The doorbell stopped ringing, humans stopped bugging him about lawn maintenance, and he was happy enough in his solitude to begrudgingly allow Papyrus to leave the house for short periods of time without him.

And yet…

...here he was, dragging his bony coccyx off the couch with a grumble to answer the door for the first time in months.

“what?” He snapped through the door. “ain't there a sign or somethin’?”

“Uhm…” The voice on the other side sounded female, roughly about his height if he was hearing correctly. Not like the businessmen who normally stopped by. “Well, yes? But it says you want me here?”

“what?”

“Yeah. ‘Unless you’re selling girl scout cookies, buzz off!’ And, uh, I am?”

Ah. So that's what the sign says. Well, when you put it that way, and also have food to offer? He can't exactly say no.

He swung the door open, frustration knocking at his temples as the sunlight poured in, burning his eyelights and causing him to blink a bit.

“Oh, yay! So it wasn't just for show!” You said happily as he tried to focus in on you.

When his vision returned, he found himself looking at a young adult human female, with bouncy curls and...generous curves. Well-fed...that made him really happy, for some reason. He doesn't think you're what humans consider “fat”, but you had an appropriate amount of meat on your bones--and a bit of chub that he honestly preferred. If he, uh, were to have a type, that is. Which he doesn't.

Because he hates humans.

*you wouldn't have lasted ten seconds underground

*you would have been prime prey

“...cookies?” He asked.

“Girl scout cookies,” you confirmed, eyes boring into his skull.

He looked you over again. Weren't girl scouts usually little kids? You're definitely not a kid. Not that you look old, just that you have several tattoos visible, plus he'd seen enough different human body types to know when someone was in their early twenties versus anything else.

“...little old, ain’tcha?”

Oof. He didn't mean for it to sound so harsh. Something just doesn't connect in the ‘polite' part of his brain anymore.

You don't seem to take it the wrong way, though.

“Oh, I know. It's not for me, it's for my sister, but she’s home sick so I thought I'd help her finish out her route so she's rested up when we go to the shops.” You explained flawlessly, flashing him a smile so dazzling that he almost thought it was the sun in his eyes again. “Uh, anyway...would you like to buy some cookies?”

He gave a noncommittal shrug, and you handed over a flyer so he could check out the flavors.

You watched the skeleton monster with rapt interest as he looked over the flyer. Were you being rude? Probably. But he was just so...interesting. You wanted to know how he worked--does he need to breathe? How does he move with no muscles? Does he have to brush all his bones with toothpaste or just his teeth? You supposed that was the engineer in you--always wanting to know the intricacies of how someone or something worked.

And besides the “mechanical” side, there were other questions.

For instance, you had no idea you lived three doors down from a skeleton monster, even though from the look of the place he had clearly been here a while. Monsters had been on the surface for roughly two years, and if the beautiful garden you had seen grow inch by inch in the yard was any indication, he had probably been here just as long.

Another intrigue was how he managed to look so grumpy and worn out despite being made of bones. You chalked it up to magic, but even with the differences between his and your physical bodies, you recognized a hermit when you saw one. His t-shirt was stained, despite having been washed, and there weren't any shoes laying near the door, only the dirty slippers on his feet, which means leaving the house is probably a very rare occasion.

That, and he had quite literally cursed the sun, out loud, when he'd opened the door, though you weren't sure he realized that.

“they all sound pretty good, honestly,” he shrugged, handing you back the flyer. “m’brother ain't here, either, so i don't know what he might want. six’ll be safe.”

“Six boxes, got it,” you said cheerfully, turning to your cart. “Uhm, what ki--”

“nah, nah. six boxes of each.” He corrected, causing you to turn and gape at him. He chuckled, but didn't amend his order.

“Uh...well...I don't have that much on me right now…”

“bummer.” He sighed, and suddenly you had a great idea.

You've never been one to let people be hermits without a fight.

“But when we're out at the supermarket later, I’ll have seven times that much,” you needled, and his red light contracted in what you felt was a happy way.

“...really?”

“Oh, yes, definitely. I can set aside your order for you, but only if you come pick them up. Mr…?”

“...sans. the skeleton.”

“Alright. Six boxes of each for Sans the Skeleton. We’ll be at the Safeway on third, at 4 o’clock.” You said, scribbling two notes: one with his order and one for him, which you handed over. His phalanges brushed your fingers as he took it, and you felt a chill down your spine...but not an unpleasant one.

You gripped the paper a little tighter so he couldn't quite take it, and he looked up at you in confusion.

You smiled. “I can't wait to see you. I hope you’ll make it.”

He seemed to lock up, giving a curt nod as you released the paper. There was a long moment of silence as he stared at you, a soft blue glow growing over his face...and then closed the door without another word.

You blinked, taken aback slightly. Was it something you said?

This was a terrible idea.

He should have just sent Papyrus. God above, why the fuck did he feel compelled to do this himself?? He was sweating, and the place was so loud it rang in his skull unpleasantly, and he found his fingers poking around his empty socket almost immediately.

It was all your fault, of course. He might have sent Papyrus, if you hadn't said that. If you hadn't made it clear that you wanted to see him, that you were excited to meet him again. He didn't know why, but that made him...so happy. There was a...light in your visage that he had seen when talking to you, and he had been more than content to bask in it momentarily--more comforting than the sun, healthier than the dim light of his room. But with that one sentence, he had tumbled head over heels into an obsession.

That's all he could think to call it. He wanted your light, the lilt of your voice. He hadn't even learned your fucking name, which was something he had beaten himself up plenty about the last few hours since you left his doorstep.

Name or not, he had already figured out plenty about you. For instance, you live three doors down, in the quaint purple house that Pap always talks about whenever holiday decorations start going up. This close to St. Patrick's Day, there's a large, friendly leprechaun….thing waving at passersby. He also knew that you were the gardener in the house, because there was a mess of tools outside too big for a child, and the size of the house indicated you didn't live with your parents--which brings him to the next thing he knows, which is that you're raising your sister on your own, just like he'd done with Pap.

He could have spent all day in your yard deciphering your life, but he hadn't wanted you to flip and call the cops. Besides, he knew he'd be seeing you later at the store…

...which brings him back to the present.

*get yer fingers out yer socket ya idiot, she’s gonna think you're crazy!

He forces his hand into the pocket of his (blessedly clean) basketball shorts, thankful that Papyrus had swiped his dirty laundry to wash yesterday. If he hadn't, he would still be wearing those gross, stained clothes, and not his favorite shirt: light blue, with a picture of a skeleton in a leather jacket and the phrase “bad to the bone”.

...oh, God, what if you don't like funny t-shirts? What if you think he’s an idiot?

No, no, calm down. You probably love puns. And the shirt you were wearing earlier had had a little cartoon face, so maybe you did like it.

...he's over thinking. His fists are clenched tight in his pockets to keep them from shaking, shoulders locked in an effort to do the same there. He knew he was walking too stiffly, but he couldn't help it. This Safeway is attached to a mall, and its crawling with humans and monsters alike. He hadn't been social in...months. Maybe over a year now.

He was about to consider turning around when he spotted you, and everything else melted away. You had pulled your curls into a messy bun, and you were chatting with a customer as you swiped their card through a little thing attached to your phone. Your smile was even more radiant when you weren't aware he was looking, and he stared for a long, loooong moment before he realized he could just...talk to you. That's a thing he can do.

Sure, Sans. Go talk to sunshine incarnate. No problem.

“Would you like to buy some girl scout cookies, Skele-dude?”

...or be totally caught staring by the cheeky looking teenager next to you. She had a knowing smirk on her face, her sash littered with badges of all kinds. It was beige, and he struggled to remember his hasty research earlier. Beige could be either Cadettes or Ambassadors, but...she had a pin near the top that marked a decade in scouts, so he supposed she must be an Ambassador. That was the highest rank, right?

...had you been a girl scout when you were younger? Did you still have the uniform somewhere?

….nope. Nope. That train needs to stop at the station, he's got a suspicious teen to derail.

“uhh...yeah. order. six of each.” He grunted out in response, and that's when you finished with your customer and turned to finally see him.

“Oh, Sans! You made it!” You said cheerfully. “Astrid, this is our neighbor I was telling you about, the one I met today.”

“Figured.” The teen said, flicking her hair back a little bit and coughing politely into her elbow. “Not every day you see a walking, talking skeleton.”

Ah. So this is the sister. Just his luck. That means he definitely can't do anything to scare her away, which is a shame because he hates that look she’s giving him--the ‘I see you’ face.

“Can you get his order, bug?” You prodded, and your sister finally broke her stare to comply as you thankfully glided in to fill his vision. “Hope it wasn't too much trouble coming out here.”

Hope it wasn't too much trouble coming out here.

There's a sincerity in your words that makes his soul flutter in his chest, and when he dares to look at your face as you take his card, he's shocked to see a sweet pink blush spreading over your face.

That's it. You're going to be his, he's decided--you would be his, and he would be yours, and he'll do anything for you, and that smile, and that blessed pink blush. Maybe it's an obsession, maybe it's love at first sight, maybe it's a fluke of a feeling...but his mind's made up.

He wants to bask in your light a while longer.

Huh....You have freckles. They're adorable.

“nah, it was alright ‘cause i got to see you.”

*holy stars thank the lord some part of my fucked up brain still knows how to flirt

Chapter Text

It was something that had been puzzling you for a long time--the way the world changed after you met your sweet skeleton boyfriend.

Sure, you absolutely expected a few changes when you agreed to date Sans. You expected monster haters to call bad names at you, you expected your mother to not approve. You expected that certain restaurants wouldn't serve you when you were together and that others would stare you down until you ordered it to go.

Less expected, however, was that nearly none of that even happened. Sure, you heard stories from your other friends in interspecies relationships about such things, but you and Sans seemed...untouchable.

Normally monsterphobic restaurants ushered you to VIP seats, and shopowners kept their mouth firmly shut and eyes down when Sans stopped to buy you flowers. A handful of people had tried to heckle you, but after the first few times it stopped--almost as if somebody had spread word to everyone on the street that bad things would happen if it continued.

The weirdest part was that your boyfriend wasn't any different than any other monster out there--he was completely unremarkable in every way (well, not to you, but to others) and owned a chain of hot dog stands around the city, which made more than decent money despite never seeming to sell anything. He took lots of naps, liked ketchup and bad jokes, and looked at you like you were the stars yourself.

You supposed he was fairly wealthy, since his chain of stands were so lucrative. He was able to buy you pretty much anything you wanted, so it wasn't unheard of that he could grease enough people’s palms to make life with him feel normal. Goodness knows he was insecure enough to do so--no matter how many times you tried to tell him he was everything you wanted and more, he still seemed paranoid that somebody would try to steal you away.

Maybe he thought you couldn't handle the harassment and would leave...maybe it wouldn't be the first time.

Whatever the case, you tried not to question it too much--his anxiety would only get worse if you started snooping around in his private business unprompted, so you decided just to wait it out until he felt secure enough in your relationship to come clean about whatever he was doing.

You did not, however, expect to find out he was a mob boss.

It started out with the nights he came home late, and later, and later...until there were nights that he didn't come home at all.

Despite his insistence otherwise, you waited up for him every time. Reading a book, listening to music, watching SNL reruns...sometimes you’d wake up as he carried you to the bedroom bridal style, allowing him to shush you back to sleep gently. Others you'd wake up in the morning, face pressed to the kitchen table or the arm of the couch, or moved to the bed by Papyrus (as evidenced by his signature glass of water and aspirin he always left--he seems to think it will cure anything), or sometimes on the floor where the dog was lazily licking your face.

When you finally got fed up, you went directly to him.

He told you sometimes he gets caught up in work, and can't make it home.

You told him that sounded like an excuse.

He told you it was the truth.

You gave him the silent treatment for exactly 3 days, and suddenly he was home every night at 8, whether or not he had to go back out. You supposed that was as good as it was going to get, so you never brought it up again.

Until the night he came home at 8, as usual...with terrible injuries all over his body.

“Sans!” You gasped, catching him as he buckled beneath his own weight. “Sans, what the hell happened to you?”

“8:03. sorry i’m late,” he joked as he sunk into his easy chair. “could you get pap for me, babydoll?”

You obeyed, knowing those wounds needed more than antiseptic and band-aids, and you hovered nervously as your best friend worked to heal him, chastising him in a low enough voice that you couldn't quite hear him from where Sans had banished you to the kitchen.

When all was said and done, you rushed back to his chair to gather his hands and demand answers.

“just cracked a bad joke at the wrong monsters, and they cracked my ribs in return. nothin’ you needta worry your pretty little head about, sweetheart.”

“Too late! I'm worried!” You scolded him, and he chuckled, swooping you up to straddle him in his seat.

“relax, beautiful. i ain't gonna die out there when i gotcha waiting on me here.” He purred, drawing you close and nuzzling your neck affectionately. You made a disapproving humming noise, but it was all for show--and within a few minutes he was getting your heart rate to dangerous levels in a completely different way, and you nearly forgot about it completely.

Then...well, then you got kidnapped, and things spiraled from there.

“what do you mean she's just gone ?!”

The bone whizzed just between Burgerpants’ ears, embedding itself half a foot deep in the drywall behind him. The cat could feel his tail fluffing involuntarily as he imagined what would have happened if Sans hadn't purposely missed.

Because Sans never missed if it wasn't on purpose.

“It, uh, it's like I said, man! She was shopping one second, and the next she wasn't there!”

“tell me, bp, exactly what is the point of havin’ a detail on ‘er if that person doesn't even notice when she disappears between the vegetables and the deli?!”

“I...I suppose there isn't one.”

Sans growled, summoning a sharp bone and clutching it tightly in his hand. “then you have about ten seconds to tell me why i shouldn't dust the detail guy responsible for losing track of my human ?”

BP could feel the magic draining from his face. That was him. He was your detail person. Sans was gonna kill him and probably stir his dust into his morning coffee. He was just saying his goodbyes when the phone rang. There was a tense moment as the phone continued to trill, and Sans narrowed his sockets...before sighing and releasing his magic in favor of picking up the line.

“talk to me.”

BP relaxed all over. He wasn't going to die today, which was a fucking miracle in itself, since Sans valued you over anything else--hell, it didn't matter what he was doing, he would still drop everything to be home at 8:00 every goddamn night to see you, even going so far as to leave heists hanging, or drop out in the middle of tough scrambles where he was covered in injuries. He didn't fuck around when it came to his human.

“...i see. so what's in it for me?”

BP watched in horror as his annoyance melted into full blown rage, gripping the phone so hard he heard it crack.

“w h a t ?” He enunciated slowly, eye flashing. The person on the other end barely got a chance to speak before Sans growled out a response. “listen here, you little fucknugget--if i get there, and there is so much as a single goddamned hair out of place on her pretty little head, so help me god i will make you suffer!”

There was a pause, and then he chuckled, a deep, terrifying laugh that made every hair on BP’s body stand on end.

“oh, buddy. that’s real cute. no, i won't kill ya--but i will sure as hell make you w i s h y o u w e r e d e a d. ”

“Speak, whore!”

A heavy hand struck your cheek unexpectedly, and you whimpered in response. The blindfold prevented you from seeing who it was that was striking you, and also from anticipating said strikes.

You had no idea who they were or why they had attacked you in the pasta aisle, but here you were, bound and blindfolded in who-knows-where with who-knows-who, and they keep asking you questions about Sans.

Questions you're finding you don't know the answers to.

“Where's he keeping the Daniels’ shipments?!”

“I don't know what you're talking about!” You sobbed, confused and disoriented from the slap.

“Bullshit!”

“You’ve been dating the asshole for two years, princess. We been countin’.” The second voice was smoother, but somehow more sinister as he brushed your hair back behind your ear. “Which means, there’s no way you don't know dick about his business.”

“...The hot dogs?” You squeaked in confusion.

“...The hot dogs?” The first voice repeated. “The fuck you mean, ‘the hot dogs’?”

“The...the hot dog stands…? Th-that’s Sans’ business?” You were shaking like a leaf. You aren't a fighter in the least--you can hardly handle it when people raise their voices at you, let alone slap you across the damn face. You know you should be strong, but...you're terrified.

“...Hey, uh, come over here a sec, man.”

They retreated a few steps, and their whispered exchange was too quiet for you to hear. All you could make out was “faking it” and “nobody’s that good of an actor”.

Fuck, your head hurts. They've been grilling you for hours about this stuff. Things like shipments, and debts, and missing persons. Things like...mobs, gangsters, and contraband. People turning up mutilated. People turning up dead. Horrible, horrible things you had only seen in gangster movies...

It can't be your Sans they're talking about. No, there's just no way! Sans is just a big, hard working goofball that...makes an awful lot of money for a hot dog vendor...and always stays out at weird hours of the night...and has two different cell phones, one of which he will never answer in front of you...and is surprisingly agile with the concealed pistol you weren't supposed to know he has…

“...Oh my God…” You muttered to yourself quietly as the realization hit you like a ton of bricks.

It makes sense now. The restaurants, the thugs in the street that avoid you like you’re made of barbed wire, the nice gifts and the thriving business despite never seeming to sell a single hot dog...you finally understand why nobody hassles you for dating a monster, why you’re always ushered to VIP or given something extra for free.

Why he came home that night looking like he fought a pack of dogs.

But...if it all makes sense, and what these guys are asking about is true…

...a knot forms in your stomach. Sans is dangerous . Extremely dangerous. He could probably kill you with his little toe in ten different ways, and dispose of your body so perfectly that nobody would even know you were gone. You have slept next to him nearly every night for two years now, and if he wanted to he could snap your neck with a twitch of his hand…

...well, he also hasn't done that. He's never been anything but sweet and adoring, and protective almost to a fault. His touch is gentle, and his kiss is needy, and the way he looks at you is as if you hold the entire universe in your eyes.

You took a deep breath and relaxed, your inner crisis fading as you remembered that no matter what you didn't know about him, you did know that Sans would never hurt you. Ever.

Something touched your lips and you squeaked, throwing your head back away from it.

“S’just water, princess,” the smooth voice informed you. “No funny business, just don't wantcha to be thirsty. Promise.”

You hesitated, but eventually dipped your head and sipped from the cup. The cool water relieved the burning in your throat from all your screaming.

“You have questions,” he said pointedly as you finished. You cocked your head to the side in question. There was a tug and the blindfold came away, and you were staring suddenly into a pair of baby blue eyes. The guy leaned back in his seat, placing the cup aside. “You didn't know you were dating a mob boss, right? You probably have a lot of questions.”

“...Yes. I do.” You said slowly. “But I would rather ask Sans about them, if you don't mind.”

“Hmph. If you ever see him again, sure.”

“...What?”

The guy chuckled, though it didn't hold any of the mirth that Sans’ laugh did. “Well, when we called ‘im for the info we want, he didn't seem too pleased. I wouldn't be all that surprised if he valued his business secrets over you--after all, he has been at this a lot longer than you think.”

“Sans doesn't value anything over me,” you said confidently...if a little too quick. “He tells me as much every day.”

“Yeah, but he’s also apparently lied to you about every aspect of his life so far. Can you trust what he says?” He raised a brow, arms crossed as you squirmed in your binds.

“I trust him with my life.” That much was easy to say. Maybe he withheld the truth, but he had showed you how much he loved you so many times--and even the best actor can't fake that kind of passion. “I trust him, and I love him. ”

“a horrible decision, really.”

The guy jumped up from his seat, cursing, as you felt your soul leap in ecstasy at your boyfriend’s gruff voice behind you.

“Sans!”

“hey, beautiful. sorry for making y’wait,” he purred, snapping his fingers. The ropes fell to the floor and you jumped up, whirling around to throw yourself into his arms. He squeezed you hard, before drawing back in surprise. You were confused until he grasped your chin gently, turning your head to inspect your tear-stained face and what you suspected were some pretty nasty bruises.

“Don't move, you bony asshole.”

It was the other voice, the one who hit you. He was taller than the one who gave you water, thicker in the arms. He had deep, dark eyes like ink, and a grimace set upon a scarred jaw. You could see the gun, trained steadily on your skeletal boyfriend’s skull.

“He's the one that hit me,” you murmured without prompting.

Sans growled, and it reverberated deep inside your own chest as he drew you protectively against him.

“ i suggest you put the gun down, buddy .”

“And I suggest you shut the fuck up, let the girl go and sit down so we can have a chat.”

“ain't nothin’ you could do to me that would convince me to let ‘er go, so save your breath.”

“I don't plan on doing anything to you , incidentally,” the big man said with a shrug. “I mean, why harm the information, when you have perfectly disposable monster-fucking trash right here ?”

The gun moved slowly, until it was trained on your forehead instead, and Sans froze so perfectly that you could swear he turned to stone.

“ d o n ‘ t y o u f u c k i n g d a r e. ” He straight up snarled , feral and deep and chilling , and you couldn't help but quiver against him. How in the world could that man look him in the eyesockets, unblinking, as he continued to point the gun at you?

“Well, then, let her go, and take a seat so we can talk.”

"better idea...i’ll just kill ya.”

Your eyes widened as the gun clattered to the ground, the guy shrieking as he rocketed upwards into the concrete warehouse ceiling with a sickening crack!

You buried your face in Sans’ shirt, trying not to hear the sound of bones snapping.

“what’s wrong, cap? don’t got the spine ?” Sans rumbled against you, arm bumping you as he used his magic to toss him back across the room again. “or maybe, you just didn't know what you was gettin’ yourself into when you fucked with my human !”

You blacked out.

It was weeks since the incident, and Sans hadn't said a word about it.

He had given BP another chance as your detail, but it didn't seem necessary since, for the most part, you stayed at home with Papyrus. His brother was very good about going out and getting anything you needed, so it made it easy for you to avoid the outside world. Eventually he supposed he would have to do something about the newfound hermitude, but for now it was for the best, and a relief.

You tried to act normal, and for the most part it worked--you still laughed at his jokes, you still made dinner for him every night, and you didn't make any move to leave him or even indicate that you wanted to. You tied his tie in the morning and accepted his kiss on your cheek with that cute giggle you always had.

But he wasn't delusional, nor was he blind--you were scared of him. He did his best to emphasize his harmlessness, but you still showed signs of being scared when your guard was down.

You still jumped whenever he materialized too fast, so he tried to teleport to the front door and walk in normally instead. It was a hassle, but worth it when you loosened up after several days of him not surprising you.

When he touched you, you flinched as if remembering the feel of his body against you as he killed them, and so he had stopped touching you completely. It killed him that the only contact he got was to kiss you on the cheek--but he knew you needed time to decide for yourself what you were comfortable with.

This is why he hadn't said anything. He hadn't wanted you to be scared of him--his beautiful, precious, innocent, kind human who would never approve of what he did every night. And yet, you ended up terrified anyway--and more than a little hurt due to his secrecy.

A hurt he was trying to heal little by little...one rose and kiss at a time.

“for you, sweetheart,” he purred softly, and you smiled as you accepted the single rose from his hand.

“Sans, it's beautiful,” you cooed, crossing the kitchen and settling it in the vase on the counter.

“ you’re beautiful,” he sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. He had gotten in the habit of doing that whenever he wanted to smooth them over your curves. Easier to keep from absently touching you when you didn't feel comfortable.

You sighed, shoulders drooping. Your purple robe bunched as you pulled it tight around you. “...Am I?”

He stared at you dumbly. “wha...of course you are!”

You shifted nervously, and he clicked his jaw shut. Don't tell him you don't even feel comfortable with compliments anymore!

“...Did you kill those men because I'm beautiful ?”

Huh. That's the first time you've mentioned it, and he doesn't know what he expected but he's nervous as all get out immediately.

“sweetheart...of course not,” he said carefully, moving quietly so as not to startle you. He leaned against the counter you were staring at, and you bit your lip a bit. “i killed them because they had a gun to your head.”

You were silent, but looked up at him with wide eyes. You needed him to say the right thing, but fuck if he knows what the right thing is.

“listen, i ain't gonna pretend i’m not scary, ‘cause i am. there’s a lot i haven't told ya, and i suspect you probably heard it elsewhere--but i only did it because i can't stand the thought of losing you.” He forced himself to maintain eye contact, even though your face was easily breaking his heart. “sweetheart...i’ll do whatever it takes, wait however long you need, for you to be alright with us again. but i will not apologize for killing the men who dared to hurt and continuously threaten the woman i love . that is one thing i refuse to do, because i’m not sorry for protecting you, and i never will be.”

He ventured to touch you, softly, tipping your face up to prevent you from looking away. To his surprise, you didn't recoil, but almost imperceptibly leaned into the touch, and your slightly parted lips looked so delicious...he kissed you, and you shuddered as you pressed back and, momentarily, the world was right again.

Then you pulled back and he was back where he started, only hungrier, thirstier, and silently begging you not to leave.

“i ain't gonna make you stay,” he said quietly. “that's entirely up to you. but i want you to know that this is not the first time i’ve killed, and it won't be the last. i do it to protect the things i love, and my business. i’m not sugarcoating anything anymore, babydoll--i’m a bad guy, but when i’m with you...i feel like a hero.”

Was it just him, or were you closer than you were a moment ago? It was subtle, a brush of the thigh, a soft chest pressing against his, the way your robe was falling slightly off your shoulder.

“You killed them because you love me?”

“more than anything, anything at all.”

“You’d do it again?”

“if i hafta, yeah.”

You were quiet for a long moment. “What if I want you to?”

“like if you had someone you needed dead?” You nodded, and he considered it for half a second. “in a heartbeat, beautiful.”

It wasn't his imagination--you were definitely pressing against him, and his hands were already ghosting over your hips naturally, your body acting like a siren’s call to his touch-starved bones.

“That's a pretty intense power to have all of a sudden,” you said, hands sliding up his front.

“it ain't sudden. you just didn't know you always had it.”

“I suppose that's true...Now, second order of business--” You leaned up and pressed your lips to his teeth, and he m e l t e d at the affection, pulling you close and groaning into the kiss. You pulled away and he followed with a low whine. “Sans...I'm sorry.”

He blinked, confused. “huh? what’re you sorry ‘bout?”

“For all of this. For flinching when you touched me, and turning away when I should have stood with you.”

“aw, no, baby...that's a natural reaction to the shit you saw. honestly, you took it so, so much better than i ever could have imagined,” he reassured you gently, caressing your cheek and pushing your hair back to look into your eyes. “i thought you’d pack your shit and leave the second we came home...and then i thought you'd leave the next day...or the next week. but you didn't.”

“I could never leave you, you dummy,” you laughed, shoving him playfully. “Aside from the deep wealth of attachment and love I have for you, and the amazing sex, and how well you treat me and my boundaries...Where else am I gonna find a guy that’ll literally kill for me?”

“damn, who’s this mystery amazing boyfriend you seem so hung up on?” He joked. “he sounds way too awesome to be this bag o’bones.”

“Shut up and kiss me, bonehead.”

“mmm...don't hafta tell me twice,” he purred, leaning down to pick you up under your ass.

You squealed as he swung you up onto the counter and then he was kissing you, hard, wanting, passionate...his love was present in every single kiss, he made sure of it, and every noise you made revitalized him a thousand times over.

It wasn't until later, after several hours of intense lovemaking and whispered promises, that he found that you actually did have somebody he needed to kill.

But that was a story for another time.

Chapter Text

Papyrus huffed out a breath, purple smoke curling around him as he sat with his back against the outer wall of your house, listening to the idle chatter between you and whoever it was you had been dating that night.

Mason? Jason? He doesn't remember. He doesn't care.

He's waiting for the good part.

Should he be sitting outside his best friend's window at 3 o’clock in the morning, waiting to see if you get frisky?

No. Probably not.

But he's known you since you both were barely walking, and you've never once been truly grossed out by anything he did. In fact, he's fairly certain you've listened in on his sessions before, with the girls he brings home--just another unspoken thing between the two of you, like the way you pretend not to notice the signs of a fight on him when one of your shitty exes goes missing, or the way he doesn't say anything when you stress-clean his entire room and organize his hentai collection.

It seems like it's always been that way. You bantered with his father like you were truly his own child, calling him “Dad” but mostly “Old Fart”, and you teased Sans relentlessly as if he were your own brother. You were lucky you were who you were--otherwise Sans might have murdered you the first time you called him “Blackberry”, instead of rolling his eyes and accepting his new nickname.

Other than being close to his family, as neighbors are wont to do, there was the matter of the friendship between you and him . The windows to your respective rooms opened onto the overhang over the kitchen in each house, and the overhangs very nearly touched. From the moment you both could open your windows by yourselves, you had been crawling out on the roofs to talk, or to crawl into each other's windows in the dark of the night. You watched the stars together, and talked about everything--he talked about his shithead brother that he loved more than anything, and you talked about your own shithead brother that you loved more than anything, and he talked about the stars, the meaning of life, and you talked about the clouds, the meaning of love.

He knew everything about you.

He even knew when you were faking it.

And you were definitely faking it.

It wasn't twenty minutes before the curtain pulled back and the window unlatched. You plopped yourself down on the windowsill, raising an eyebrow at him as he swiveled around to avoid getting whacked with the window.

“Enjoy the show, gross boy?”

“eh. i give it a six.”

“Huh. I would have given it a three.” You plucked his cigarette from his fingertips, taking a deep drag and letting it curl from your lips in purple billows. You were still wearing your dress you wore out, dangerously short and tight in all the right places.

He noticed, and not for the first time, that somewhere along the line you had turned into quite the woman. He would definitely rail you right if you weren't like a sister to him...actually, he has done that, a couple of times.

It made him feel so good that he’d kill a man to have it again.

Your makeup was smudged and your hair had half-escaped your bobby pins, and quite frankly, you looked a hot mess.

But you're his hot mess.

“I feel like cheap vodka in a grey goose bottle,” you laughed, catching his stare.

“well, you look terrible,” he agreed playfully. “where's the dude? did he fall asleep? should i be whispering?”

He pointedly raised his voice, earning a tired laugh from you.

“Nah. Took off right after. Told ‘im my dad would shoot him if he caught him in the morning.”

“darlin’, it's already the mornin’. an’ you know your dad hung up the shotgun after prom night.”

Prom night being the night he had first taken it upon himself to fuck you senseless, since you were so concerned about your first time being with somebody who didn't love you. It had worked out for both of you, because he was pent up, and you did love each other--just platonically.

It's not like that at all.

“He did not, you ass!” You giggled, shoving him as you took another drag. You handed the cigarette back to him and sighed, the smoke curling into a playful dragon that twirled and barreled into the windowframe, disappearing in a puff.

“you're gettin’ good at that,” he remarked, blowing out his own, much bigger and more detailed dragon.

“You're a bad influence.” You remarked. “Anyway. Wanna come in?”

“your dad gonna chase me out with a shotgun?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. Are you gonna knock me up?”

“wasn't plannin’ on it, but we’ll see where the night goes,” he teased, gripping the window to swing inside and onto your bed as you laughed at him. “damn, darlin’, he didn't even wrinkle your sheets.”

“Hence the invitation, so stop talking, idiot.”

He chuckled and fell sideways onto your bed, and within seconds you were on him, bruising your lips against his teeth, unzipping his sweatshirt to run your hands over his bones, and he groaned as the familiar static filled his skull, the familiar throb of his aching magic suddenly pressing against your hand, against your lips, against your heat.

You always were a good lay, which is why he hates that these assholes you date can't keep it up long enough to please you. His best friend deserves nothing but the best, and damn, he wasn't sure he was the best but he was trying, cracking jokes as he buried himself deep inside you again, feeling as if the world stopped around him, as if everything was suddenly so right.

It could never feel this way with anyone else.

“knock knock.”

You giggled, hand mere centimeters away from knocking on your best friend’s window. How did he always know you were right there?

“Who's there?”

“breast.”

“Breast who?”

The window opened on it's own, and his amused face appeared as the curtains parted.

“it’s a tit bit nippley out, darlin’. i think it’s breast you cum inside .”

You laughed, clear as a bell, and wiggled through his window past him to land on his bed. “I think you've used that one before.”

He looked over your appearance momentarily. Your makeup was still intact, your hair still bouncy and smooth. A modest dress with leggings...a date, not a hookup.

He tried not to bother remembering the names of the guys you dated anymore. You were always dating someone new, fucking someone new...people used to call you a slut, but they stopped when they realized it was a one-way ticket to a really, really bad time with Papyrus.

He wondered what you were looking for.

“i think you've used that dress before, and yet, here we are.”

You stuck your tongue out at him, sliding off his bed and plopping down in his bean bag. “I know what you're thinking.”

“hmm… ‘am i getting laid tonight’?” He asked as you started up his PlayStation 4, kicking off your heels (how had you managed to get across your roof with those on?) and getting comfortable.

“You wish.”

He does.

He flopped down next to you, seizing the spare controller as you selected Injustice 2.

“so you finally struck it rich? found what you were looking for?”

“Nah. Taxi’d home and said I’d call.” You shook your head. “They're never what I'm looking for...because I already know who I want to be with.”

Game Pause

“Hey, just because I was kicking your ass--”

“no, no, you can't just glaze over that shit, darlin’,” he said, hand over your controller to stop you from unpausing. “back up. seems like there may be somethin’ i don't know about you?”

You shared everything . He told you his deepest, darkest fears, his nightmares, his dreams. You told him everything that made your skin crawl, and all your hopes for the future. There was nothing he didn't know about you, or you him, so this was a genuine thrill, watching you get all flustered for the first time in who knows how long.

Who was it? Your first boyfriend? Someone online he hadn't met? The foreign exchange student who had romanced you in senior year before tragically having to move back to Spain?

“Nope, I said nothing.”

“liar. come on, you can tell me.” He prodded. “i’m your mutt, ain't i?”

You giggled a little at the childish nickname you only used when you were angry.

“No, I don't wanna make things weird. You know?” You said. “I mean, I doubt he feels the same way, I've known him for like...forever. If he felt that way for me, I...I think I'd know. So it’d be weird to say something so I'm just gonna--”

“what? ‘weird' is hardly even in our vocabulary.” He snorted. “it would only be weird if, like, it was sans or somethin’.”

“Yeah. Or something.” You mumbled, looking down at your controller.

Oh.

Oh .

Uninvited images of you and Sans together filled his mind immediately--Sans kissing you breathless, you and Sans getting married, you and Sans having little babybones with violet eyes that called him Uncle and demanded he play with them...it made him so uncomfortable, for some reason.

“oh...darlin’, i…” He paused, trying to find the words. There really wasn't any easy way to tell you that his brother wasn't interested. Sans always staked his claims loud and clear, and he's never said anything to that effect about you. “i wish i could say somethin’ to make it better, but…”

“No, no, I...it's my fault, I...I already knew that...” you squeaked, dropping the controller and getting up suddenly, making your way to the window. “Uhm, I'm just tired, you...I'm gonna go to bed.”

And with that, you were crawling out the window and back into yours, and he was left alone...and he felt the walls go up around your soul and for the first time in his entire life he couldn't feel you.

He felt empty .

And that terrified him.

3:25am

Mutt: r u ok?

6:43am

Mutt: i’ve got tito’s and some choice monster smokes, if you wanna come over 2nite and cry it out?

2:45pm

Mutt: pls don't feel like you can't come over anymore. i won't tell anyone, and u know i don't think ur weird.

Mutt: c’mon, i’ve said weirder stuff before, right?

5:45pm

Mutt: r we okay? please just let me know you aren't in trouble somewhere?

5:52pm

BBQueen: I'm fine. Just busy. Ttyl, promise.

Mutt: whew. how bout that tito’s and smokes 2nite?

BBQueen: I’ll be out. Maybe next time.

Mutt: 2morrow?

7:15pm

Mutt: a'ight darlin. u know where 2 find me.

7:32pm

BBQueen: yea.

You were out that night.

And the next. And the next. And the next.

By the fifth night he was feeling restless. This had been the longest he had gone without seeing you, although his dad had sworn he'd seen you every day this week. Sans didn't seem interested in listening to his problem, stating simply that he's an idiot and as such idiotic things will happen to him.

And so when the light went on in your bedroom, he wasted no time hopping out onto the roof to bug you. After all, there was a certain amount of time where enough was enough--he was going to show you that he wasn't put off by you being in love with his brother, and dammit you are going to get through this together!

His train of thought stalled at the station when he heard you moaning lewdly on the other side of the window. He stopped, inches away from rapping on the glass.

He listened.

Uh. You definitely were having sex in there. He wasn't even sure if you were faking it this time. Either you found someone who knew how to screw, or you were servicing yourself. Either way it was clear that his usual pick-me-up service is...unnecessary.

He wanted to breakdown this window and stake his claim.

But maybe afterwards you'll be relaxed and want to talk. Yeah. He hopes it's that.

He parked himself outside his own window, close enough to hear your louder moans, but far enough that he couldn't quite hear the low voice talking to you. Easier to pretend you were just masturbating this way...not that it should matter.

But it does.

After approximately an hour, the window swung open, and you set your head upon your hand, propped your elbow on the windowsill, and looked out at him.

“...Hey, stranger.” You said shyly.

“hey, yourself,” he responded, crawling closer. You were in a nightgown, your hair perfectly mussed up, your face flushed. “...can i come in?”

"You gonna knock me up?"

"only if you ask nicely," he teased, his soul doing flips in his chest.

You giggled at his response, shaking your head and moving aside so he could hop in. "SNL’s on.”

He hopped through your window, settling on your bed. You turned the volume up, and after a long moment of awkward silence...you laid your head on his shoulder, and he happily wrapped that arm around you.

“missed you,” he mumbled quietly, and you sighed.

“Missed you, too.”

The days turned into months, and soon it was early fall. The leaves on the trees grew weary with age and fell to the ground, and your friendship healed.

The “confession” had been forgotten, and it wasn't long before you were back to normal, breaking in through his (unlocked) window to clean his room, making snacks for movie nights, sitting on the roof and just chatting like before.

Well, there was one strange thing.

You had been seeing someone. You didn't mention them or even that you were dating, but he knew there were nights when somebody else was with you in your bedroom. And it wasn't hookups like before--you never tapped his window afterward to invite him in, to take out your frustration on him in all the best ways. In fact, you hadn't slept together once in all these months since the incident.

He supposed he should be happy for you, that you found somebody who could satisfy you.

But it killed him that he wasn't the only one.

New beau or not, you still hung out with him like normal, and he tried to figure out what that familiar scent coming from you was.

It wasn't until Thanksgiving that he realized why the scent you often sported was so familiar.

You seemed legitimately embarrassed, trying to cover yourself as if he hadn't seen every inch of you already.

Sans, on the other hand, looked downright guilty for a moment...and then smug as he could be.

“FOR GOD’S SAKE, CAN'T YOU SEE I’M BUSY?” His brother scoffed, not making a single move to remove his cock from you. You were clearly mortified, though, and after a long moment of staring, Sans extricated himself and pulled the sheet over you. “GO AHEAD TO THE BATHROOM, DARLING.”

And off you sped, hurrying past Papyrus with your head down.

“WHAT? SPEECHLESS?” Sans laughed, zipping up his pants. “PLEASE. YOU SHOULD HAVE KNOWN I WOULD PICK UP YOUR SLA--”

“why are you doing this to her?”

Sans stopped, annoyed by the interruption. “WHAT?”

“she's your best friend, too, you know,” Papyrus stated, staring holes into Sans’ skull. “it isn't right to fuck with her like this.”

“OH, PLEASE. I KNOW FOR A FACT THAT YOU HAVE SLEPT WITH HER YOURSELF--”

“i don't mean sex!” He growled, catching the younger off guard.

Sans stared at his elder brother for a long moment, and it occurred to him that Papyrus didn't even know you were his soulmate. Truthfully, it wasn't as if anybody had told him , so he supposed it isn't too far-fetched that their asshole father wouldn't have bothered to tell Papyrus either.

But from the time he was but a babe he knew exactly what you were to his brother, and his father did, too--if he could remember that far, he could probably remember the sound of your souls as you set eyes on each other that first time, in the front yard the day they moved in. He's heard his dad talk about it--that you both began to sob uncontrollably, and wouldn't be pacified until they allowed you to hold each other.

Over the years Sans had tried to delicately (and not so delicately) push the two of you together, but there were some things that can't be done delicately.

Not only that, but his brother was right--you are his best friend, too. And so, when you came to him in tears, saying Papyrus had rejected you, he was angry--more than angry. But rather than ripping him a new one, he had cracked open a few drinks (something he hardly ever did) and let you cry it out on his shoulder at Alphys’ place. One thing had led to another, and pretty soon he had found himself banging his brothers soulmate in earnest, drawing gorgeous noises from your lips that clung to him as tight as your fingers and cunt did.

He had really meant for it to be a one time thing, expecting Papyrus to catch you both a lot sooner--but in the end, he was weak for your needs, and it took his brother months to catch on, even with how heavily he had been marking you with his scent. Some people can be so dense!

But the ball is in Papyrus’ court now...after all, if he doesn't realize how he feels in the next 20 seconds, Sans is going to have to do something drastic.

“sans?!”

“SORRY, I WASN'T LISTENING.” He said honestly, shrugging.

“i said, if you're messing with her head, knowing she has a crush on you…”

Oh my God, his brother is so goddamned stupid .

“RELAX, MUTT!” He scoffed, moving on to drastic measures. “I ASSURE YOU I AM ONE HUNDRED PERCENT SERIOUS ABOUT HER. AFTER ALL, SHE IS MY BEST FRIEND , AND I DO LOVE HER SO VERY MUCH. I WAS ABOUT TO SUGGEST TO HER THAT WE GO STEADY, ACTUALLY, BUT, WELL... YOU HAPPENED.”

Papyrus stared at him, sockets widening in disbelief as the anger died in his throat. He had no fuel for his anger now...Sans wondered how long it would take for him to figure out where his anger was really coming from.

It had been several weeks now. You were dating Sans, and you were happy, he could see it.

Your movie nights with him turned into dinner dates with Sans. Your late night talks turned into nights full of shoving a pillow over his head, blocking out the sounds of Sans railing you in either his room or your room. You hardly spoke anymore, and you felt...detached. Your soul had dulled, or you were blocking him, but either way...

It hurt.

It hurt so much, and he didn't know why. He was angry , so angry , and though he smiled every time he saw you and his brother being cute and happy…

...he hated himself. He hated himself because he fantasized about you breaking up. About you and Sans screaming at each other until you're crying, and you running to his room and throwing yourself into his arms and--

He groaned and buried his face in his hands. A few months ago, everything had made perfect sense. Now nothing made sense at all, and he was angry and miserable and he just didn't know why it all made him so mad.

You had dated plenty of people before, from middle school on, and you had never been shy about it. And his brother, too.

Maybe...maybe just the thought of you two together felt lonely. He felt...left behind. The both of you were happy, without him, and that sucked .

He wished it were as easy as getting over himself.

Instead he ended up wiping angry, confused tears from his eyes, and wondering why his soul felt like it might split in half.

“Don't they make a lovely couple?”

Papyrus grunted in response, slamming the refrigerator door shut as his father grinned at him over his morning paper.

Gaster watched his eldest son glance over at where you and his youngest were sitting in the living room, Sans’ arm draped over your shoulder casually.

A ruse, of course. Sans had been kind enough to tell Gaster his entire plan, and he wholeheartedly agreed with the idea.

Gaster had always been a little bit of a sadist, he thinks. And it was hilarious watching Papyrus and his soulmate dance around each other all these years. He had seen it immediately, of course, the way his hardly-yet-walking son’s sockets had gone wide and your own eyes had brimmed with tears, much too young to understand the magnitude of your feelings.

A human, much to Gaster’s amusement. Like father like son, he supposed.

Over the years you both had grown quite close, and though he teased both his children heavily, he did wish for their happiness. He had given his son berth to come into his emotions, but unfortunately he fears he may have given too much of it--the poor boy was emotionally stunted, a mistake he had not made with the second one. For all his confidence and need to please, Papyrus just didn't have the heart to see things ever going his way, and thus had tamped down any semblence of true feelings with video games and meaningless sex. Oh, and drugs. Lots of those.

...is he a bad father?

In any case, he was more than patient all these years, and it had paid off the first time he ever saw you look at Papyrus with different eyes--something he was waiting for his boneheaded idiot of a son to reciprocate.

But it did seem drastic measures were in order, and, under the guise of helping you get over Papyrus, Sans had asked you out to piss off Papyrus, hoping to spur him into action. Gaster was sure to drop little pieces of fatherly approval around just to edge the elder son along a little more, but so far, it seemed nothing was working, and as Papyrus pretended not to glare at Sans as he walked you out the front door…

...Gaster realized it would take a lot more than just this.

“Papyrus.”

“what, old man?” He snapped, a little more venom than intended. “i mean...yeah?”

“I have something for you.”

Gaster placed the little wooden box on the table, and Papyrus did a double take, looking up at his father in confusion.

“uh...huh. no offense, dad, but you're not really my type.” Papyrus joked, trying to slide the box back over to his father, who firmly slid it back once more. The purple sapphire on the ring was shining from where it lay nestled amongst black velvet, full of his father’s powerful protective magic and his mother’s love.

“No, I want you to have it. You are the eldest, so if you ever found someone you may want to marry…” Gaster trailed off pointedly, staring hard at him. When he only stared blankly in return, his father sighed. “Ghasts, never mind . Just take it…”

A perfectly wicked smile crossed his father’s face as he closed and pocketed the box obediently.

“...I was going to give it to Sans, you know, but...like I said, you are the eldest and, well, he seems to already have a ring picked out anyhow.”

Papyrus froze in the act of getting up to wash his plate, and Gaster could have laughed at the shocked look on his face, if it wasn't so heartbreaking.

“...a ring?” He asked quietly. “for...for what?”

“For proposing, of course! You know, I just knew that human would marry my son one day but to know that it's happening so soon...it makes me all the more excited, don't you think?” Gaster said, standing slowly from the table. “Of course we shall have to prepare our surprised faces, shan’t we? I'm not truly supposed to know .”

Papyrus only stared at him.

“Heavens, don't tell me he didn't tell you ?” Gaster gasped, feigning shock. “Well, then I suppose you don't know he's doing it tonight!”

“t...tonight?” He stuttered weakly, hand fluttering up to clutch at his chest. The dull throb he had been feeling for weeks had turned into a sharp stab, and his breath felt tight.

“Oh, yes. He's taking her for a surprise date on the pier. He wants to propose at the beach, and then walk downtown to look at houses.”

You hate the beach! You hate sand, you hate the smell of fish and low tide and seaweed. And you wouldn't live downtown for anything--your anxiety would flare any time a taxi drove by or the nightclubs were too loud.

“And of course we’ll need to fit you for a tux, to be the best man. The ring is just amazing, by the way, your brother has the most exquisite taste in diamonds.”

You hate diamonds. A ‘blood business’ and a ‘fat fucking rip-off’ you always said. Purple sapphire was perfect for you, how could Sans turn down Mom’s ring when it was everything you wanted?!

“i uh...we’ll talk more later, okay?” he mumbled, shuffling past his father, who cut off halfway through talking about decorations.

“Well, that's a bit rude, but whatever. I'll just be here. Planning your brother's wedding. His wedding with the neighbor gir--”

“yeah! i got it!”

He stared at the ring in the box, running his fingers over it lightly.

His mom had worn this ring, every day for nearly a decade, before dying when Sans was barely toddling. He remembered the way she smelled, still--like home. Sweet, like Starbursts or Skittles, with a hint of fresh pastries. She would hug him, and he would just get lost in that scent, and he's pretty sure that's where his sweet tooth comes from--the idea of his mother.

Sans didn't even know she was human. Gaster never mentioned her, and Papyrus knew better than to bring her up...that's why he'd been so shocked that his father had slipped him the ring at all.

...but only because there was talk of marriage in the house, and Sans had gone and bought a diamond for you.

It hurts! It hurts and he doesn't know why and...and you'll be terribly unhappy, he realizes, as he thinks about you and Sans.

Sans is moving ranks fast in the royal guard, and will often be away from home for days at a time. He dislikes most housepets, the exception being lizards, which you're terrified of. You would be home alone often, with no pets to keep you company, and he's certain that children aren't the first thing on Sans’s mind. He's always just said he'd be an awesome uncle instead.

No pets, no children, some house in a noisy city area...that's the opposite of what you need!

...he has to do something. He loves his brother, and you, but he can't sit idly by while you make mistakes like this!

He clicked the ring box shut and sighed, holding it to his chest.

He has to do something.

You dragged your hair over your shoulder, regarding your appearance in the mirror with a critical eye.

You looked pretty hot, you have to say. Your purple dress was longer than your club dresses, but with a swinging skirt that would give a little tease with every step. It fell nicely over your curves, and you knew Sans would appreciate the effort you put into your makeup…

...but you can't help but think you'd much rather wipe the thick lipstick off, throw on some sweats, and go play video games with Papyrus.

Sans is...amazing. And you really love him. It just...isn't the same way you love his brother. You suspect he knows that, of course, and that all of this is just his attempt to help you move past it and return to normal with them. Which you desperately want--you wanted life to be normal once more, you wanted to look at Papyrus and give him a genuine smile and--

You squeaked as your window flew open, and you watched in the mirror as Papyrus fell in a heap on your bed. You whirled around to chastise him but he was already up and crossing the room, backing you up against the mirror.

“P-Papyrus, wha-”

“you have to break up with sans.”

Silence. Silence so thick you could hear a pin drop as you stared at him dumbly.

“Excuse me?” You said finally, as his words sank in and anger flared in your chest.

“please,” he said, reaching out and gripping your shoulder. “i know you think this is what you want, but i know him, and i know you--if you marry him you’ll never be happy.”

“Who said anything about--”

“dammit, just listen!” You fell silent and his grip on your shoulder released, and he started to pace your room, practically talking to himself. “once he's in the guard, he'll be gone all the time, and he’ll want to live somewhere with lots of networking and people and connections! he won't want kids, or if he does he won't have time to help you with them, and you won't have any animals and-and--!”

He made a frustrated noise, turning away from your shocked face. Can't you see he just wants you to have the best? You deserved that much.

“if you marry him, there won't be any little cottage in the woods. you could have that! we could have the white picket fence, and three dogs and two kids and a whole entire army of fucking cats!”

His breathing had been tight for months, and he was only noticing now because being around you made him breathe easy.

“we could get married in the tea gardens, like you always wanted, and honeymoon at disneyworld and ride to the very tip top of the tower of terror and tell each other secrets that aren't true so it looks like we’re screaming about the stupid shit we came up with!”

You were staring at him, mouth agape, blushing, and he wanted to...to…

He wanted to kiss you until you were a panting mess, until you called his name as if he were the only other being alive.

“and we can fall asleep to the t.v. every night, and we can have kids and...and i’ll do the homework and you’ll do the bake sales,” he said, slowing his pacing until he was looking at you, and the way you were looking at him with stars in your eyes, only about a foot away, and he suddenly felt a little self-conscious, and more than a little stupid. “and...you weren't talking about sans when you said you knew who you wanted to be with...were you?”

You shook your head slowly, and he took a step back to sit on the edge of your bed, head in his hands as he took a deep breath.

“oh my god,” he breathed quietly.

“You...want to marry me?” You said softly.

“i’m an idiot.” He said, hardly registering what you said. “i’m a fucking idiot, holy hell.”

“Wait...you thought I was confessing about Sans ?!” You asked, drawing him from his hands to look up at you.

“well, excuse me for not understanding, little miss super-vague-confession! i said ‘it would only be weird if it was sans or something’ and you said ‘yeah, or something ’,” he said, exasperated. “what the fuck am i supposed to do with that?!”

“You're supposed to use your head and read the signs! We were literally fucking like, every other night!”

“yeah, as friends!”

“Pffft, hate to burst your bubble, Pap, but normal friends don't fuck.”

“well, then again, we ain't ever been normal, have we?”

Your gaze softened as his gentle tone, and you uncrossed your arms as he approached you again. “...No. I guess not. It's always just been you.”

“and you…” he breathed in return, fingertips ghosting over your bare shoulders. “fuck, i’m such a fucking idiot. i...it literally took me until just now but...i thought it was worry, worry that you'd be unhappy but it was jealousy because i know you can be happy with me .”

“Wow...you really are an idiot.”

He flinched at your flat tone, and sighed. “i...i know. and i have no right to ask anything of you but please...not him. i couldn't...any other guy i could begrudgingly accept and low-key hate but not sans.”

There was a long moment of silence...before your hand connected with his cheekbone and he moved with the impact, despite the fact that you both knew you hadn't hurt him at all.

“i probably deserved th--”

“You're a dumbass. Shut up and kiss me already.” You growled, grabbing his collar and dragging him down to crash your lips onto his teeth, and for a moment it was like everything was back to normal…

...but then it was so much better. You melted against him, and his firm grip supported your weak knees as he hiked you up into his arms, spinning around and falling onto the bed with you, where you gasped for breath for a second until he was kissing you again, and again, and he understood now, what that feeling was every time he had laid you down. It was this feeling, the feeling of something falling together and now it clicked into place so perfectly that he wondered how on earth he had ever missed it, how he could possibly have misread the way you leaned into him, the way you looked at him.

His hands had started to glide up under your dress but no...that wasn't right. There was something else, something he was forgetting.

You whined as he pulled away, confused and flushed with arousal. “Pap, what's--”

“this…” The smooth metal glided over your skin gently, purple stone glinting in the low light, almost winking. You could feel a great deal of love in this ring...someone else's, and now yours. “...was my mother’s ring. i know it's just me, just some idiot you've known all your life but...do you think you could put up with me for the rest of it, too?”

You giggled, pulling him close for another kiss. “Of course, numbskull. What's a lady to do without her tramp?”

“mmm...got me pegged.” He chuckled, and brushed your hair from your face. “it's weird, i...i’m shaking. I never thought i would ever be nervous around year and yet i’m like a fucking chihuahua over here. and…”

His hand ghosted over his chest and where his stomach should be.

“Butterflies,” you cooed softly, understanding.

“i was gonna say maggots, but yours is more romantic,” he joked, before leaning down and just barely brushing your lips with his teeth, the familiar feeling of his magic lips tingling in a whole new way.

“Me, too,” you said with a gasp, and when he kissed you it was slow, and it tingled from your lips to your toes, warming you from the inside out and…

“OH MY GOD, FUCKING FINALLY.”

The sound of a camera shutter and your technically-still-boyfriend’s voice broke you both from your stupor, and you looked up in shock.

Sans and Gaster were standing in the doorway, along with your brother and parents. The camera in question was undoubtedly Jake’s phone, because he was still grinning and holding it up.

“I THOUGHT HE’D NEVER GET THE HINT,” Sans sighed, pulling out his phone. He turned to leave, and you could hear him calling Alphys all the way down the stairs. “ALPHYS. TELL UNDYNE SHE WON THE POOL. WHAT? OF COURSE YOU'RE ON THE GROOMSMEN’S SIDE, WHAT WOULD YOU DO WITH THE BRIDESMAIDS? BENCH-PRESS THEM?”

“I’ll call the florist,” Gaster teased, before retreating with your parents to talk in low voices.

Jake clicked another picture of your faces.

“I'm gonna pretend I don't know what you two are doing in here,” he said, pulling the door shut behind him and leaving you both blissfully alone again.

You giggled, breaking the silence, and the deep violet glow from your best friend (boyfriend? FIANCE?) was more than enough to show his embarrassment.

“Papy…”

He snapped his attention back onto you, and his gaze went from mortified to soft adoration.

“i love you.”

“I love you, too,” you whispered, sliding your hands over his cheekbones delicately. “But if you knock me up tonight I'm gonna kick your ass.”

“ooohhh darlin’,” he purred, hands sliding gently up the skirt of your dress.

You sighed as he kissed you neck with a tenderness you had never felt from him, leaning into him as much as you could. His deep voice rumbled pleasantly against your throat as he growled his response.

“...no promises.”

Chapter Text

“Please, stop...I...I'll give you money, o-or sex, or whatever you want, just please stop….”

“Whatever I want?”

The human whimpered under the skeleton’s cold gaze, her captor’s soft gloved hands drawing her chin upward to meet his jaded smile, red scarf tucked neatly inside his shirt so as not to stain it deeper red with her blood.

“I just want you to go away. I want you to d i e .”

Sans was always a nervous wreck. A lifetime of trying to escape the clutches of Gaster, stunted growth from experiments trying to raise his HoPe artificially...even when they were free, it was as if Sans never relaxed, always casting glances over his shoulder as he clutched his brother’s tiny hand in his own.

“just us, pap,” he would drawl, accent close to what humans might call ‘australian'. “you n’me against the world.”

He repeated it like a mantra. You and me. Against the world. He knew Papyrus’ friendly nature would get him talking to all sorts of strangers...this was preventative measures, but the younger didn't know that. Papyrus believed it, he believed it with all his might. He idolized Sans’ strength, and later in life when they were teenagers, he would cradle his brother when he revealed he didn't have as much strength as he let on.

“IT’S ALRIGHT, BROTHER. I CAN BE YOUR STRENGTH.” He had said, still so young but ready to protect his older brother as he had protected him.

And he was, for a time. Panic attacks, depression, nausea caused by aftereffects of the magic poisoning that often wracked his bones...Papyrus held him tall through it all, caring for his delicate disposition.

Until the day Gaster found them, Papyrus 14 years old, Sans 20...and Papyrus fell.

...or so they all thought.

The day came when Gaster was finally apprehended, many years later as Sans had grown older and more capable.

There, in his lab...was Papyrus. Sleeping. He woke upon being shaken, but showed no recollection of the last seven years.

Sans tried not to think too hard on it, but Papyrus couldn't help himself. He thought about it often--mostly about how drastically his brother had changed, had adapted not to need him at all. Suave. Funny. Outgoing. Hardly a panic attack to be seen. Along the way he had lost an arm, but he was unflustered by its disappearance. Confident regardless.

He hated it. He hated that he hated it, but he did. His brother should be soft-spoken, and nervous, and sweet. This...this person was completely different.

Independent.

….Careless.

It started small.

It started with Papyrus staging little things to garner his brother’s attention. Surprise parties, gifts, special brotherly outings. There were mysterious accidents that caused Sans’ friends to cancel due to fallen trees in the road, but Papyrus was always there to hang out so it wasn’t so bad.

“JUST YOU AND ME AGAINST THE WORLD.”

“yea, you’re right.”

These things worked for a while. Even when the little human came and joined their adopted family, Papyrus remained his brother’s #1, and vice versa, which suited Papyrus just fine.

But then...then the surface. Then the women .

Despite Sans’ missing limb and monster-ness, he had no trouble finding a surplus of pretty human women (and occasionally men) to spend his time with. Redheads, blondes, brunettes, big, small, loud, quiet.

Papyrus didn't like them. They weren't at all serious, and the older skeleton went through them like candy sometimes. The ones that did stick, though...they were the real trouble.

They would t a k e h i m a w a y.

Usually all Papyrus had to do was look at them strangely, and they would go running to the hills. Bare his fangs while smiling a little too wide. Whisper slightly menacingly. They didn't deserve his brother, they didn't understand him. Papyrus understood him, he was the only one...and though friendly by nature he would do anything to maintain that. And each time they left, his brother would huff and puff and maybe be upset, but he would turn to Papyrus for comfort, just like the old days.

Just the two of them against the world.

“So which of these alibis do you think I should go with?” He mused, squinting at his paper. The gagged human made no response, only looking up at him with fear. “I suppose ‘practicing my bone attacks in the woods’ has always been a classic. Hey, I wouldn't even have to lie, since we are already in the woods!”

THUNK.

“...and see, I have practiced my bone attack.”

The first time had been...an accident. The new datemate wasn’t taking his hints, so he had spelled it out plainly.

“I won't,” they had huffed, crossing their arms. “You can't bully me into leaving. I'm not afraid of you.”

He had tried to physically remove them from the house but...they struggled. They struggled a lot. He fought back, and naturally he overpowered them easily but...humans should breathe, right? They need to breathe, and they shouldn't be that shade of blue.

Dead. They were dead. It was an accident, but he had killed them.

He was terrified. Of himself. Of Sans. Of what this meant for them.

But...Sans never blamed him. Never even entertained the thought that it had been him. He thought it was a group of anti-monster activists that had killed his beloved, and his rage was turned to hard sobbing as he clutched Papyrus’ scarf late at night, crying himself to sleep as Pap gently rocked him.

Like old times.

It felt...good. He felt bad about that, but it felt so good, to have his brother back.

The second time was...sort of an accident. Again, this datemate dug their heels in, struggled against him...but this time he merely tied them up, hid them, trying to get his bearings. When he gathered his wits, he went back to try and reason with them.

“YOU HAVE TO UNDERSTAND...MY BROTHER AND I HAVE AN UNBREAKABLE BOND. IF YOU DO NOT LEAVE, I CANNOT PROMISE YOUR SAFETY.”

“When I get out of here, I'll tell him what a fuckin’ nut you are,” they hissed. “Have everybody fooled, huh? Papyrus is so sweet and gentle, right?”

“I-I AM!”

“Then why am I in this chair? This basement?”

“BECAUSE...BECAUSE SOMEBODY HAS TO PROTECT HIM! YOU DON’T KNOW HIM LIKE I DO, YOU DON’T KNOW HOW TO CARE FOR HIM!”

“Well, neither do you!”

It went black. He was so angry. When he came to, he had already buried them in a far-off location, their blood staining his hands.

He panicked.

He scrubbed himself clean at a nearby restroom, hid their things, and returned to his brother’s side.

As it turns out, making people disappear is much easier than it seems. His brother was distraught, but Papyrus was once again his sole support as the “anti-monster groups” became the enemy once more.

The third time was sort of on purpose. Then the next time, it was definitely on purpose. He would let them date, for a time, until they showed themselves to be less than perfect partners and had to go. Usually leaving behind a flawlessly produced note bemoaning their imperfect nature and informing Sans of their swift and sudden exit from his life. Or sometimes they just disappeared, but that was more suspicious.

How many people had he killed? His LV was suspiciously high by now, but Sans didn't question it. Sometimes the Royal Guard had to do things, unsavory things, unspeakable things. He expressed that he was only happy his brother could remain his cheerful self through it all. He didn't realize it was because the killing made Papyrus happy. Sans needing him, that made him happy, but the killing...he was starting to enjoy it, starting to love how they begged for their lives before he silenced them forever. He supposed that should disturb him, but his relationship with Sans was the only thing that mattered. Sans was the only thing that ever mattered.

Sans never understood why his serious prospects never stuck around. His brother seemed more than happy to listen to him bitch about it, though, and in the end he always felt better.

Eventually he came to terms with the fact that nobody was going to stay. Grew comfortable with the idea. It was easier to mess around than to keep getting your heart broken. Honestly, he wasn’t even sure he ever wanted to love again.

It all changed, though, when he met you.

The sobbing was getting old. The room was getting dusty. He wondered vaguely how long he had to keep him here before Sans assumed him dead.

“You can’t even hold your head up to look me in the eye,” he scoffed, taking pity on the broken man.

“Please...I can't take it any longer…” the man groaned, head hanging shamefully as the skeleton drew his knife.

He didn't think, when he made his final kill here, that he would ever have to worry about this again.

Enchanted.

Every movement, every smile, every laugh. Sans was a sucker for you instantly, and everyone knew it. Undyne smiled proudly at his slack-jawed appearance, knowing she had done well to introduce you two. Papyrus’ own smile was strained, but nobody was looking at him.

“you have a name, there, gorgeous? or can i just call y’mine?”

You giggled and blushed, accepting his outstretched hand for a handshake, only to receive a toothy kiss instead. Papyrus wasn’t even aware humans could turn that color red while their blood was still on the inside.

He hated you instantly, almost as much as Sans loved you. And you were perfect, for a time. Polite. Friendly. Tried to be nice to Papyrus, who on the outside always took the compliments graciously but muttered under his breath when you walked away. He watched and waited, waiting to see if this was it. The one he couldn't justify removing from the picture.

Slowly, but surely, something strange happened. The time the eldest spent with you versus Papyrus began to even out. Sans spent long hours talking to him about everything, but mostly you--your laugh, the sparkle in your eyes, the way you accepted him for who he was. He heard a lot of good things about you, and suddenly he realized that comfort wasn't the only time his brother would need him.

“she’s th’one, bro. i can feel it.” Sans mused one day.

Yes, perhaps she was. Perhaps Papyrus could...deal with it. You made Sans happy, and happy Sans spends happy time with Papyrus, and Sans time makes Papyrus happy. And happy Papyruses just don’t kill people...right?

But you can’t be perfect. You can't. Nobody is that great. He came to the conclusion you must be hiding something terrible to be this great all the time.

And that was how it started.

“Alright, so this is all new to me,” you said slowly. “Forgive me for not following.”

Papyrus tied the knot securely, double checking the binds on your hands and ankles.

“IT'S JUST A PUZZLE, LIKE ALL THE OTHER ONES OF MINE YOU HAVE (UNFORTUNATELY) SURVIVED!” He mused proudly, landing a hand on your shoulder to swivel you around in the office chair you were bound to. “A GAME, EVEN! IT’S CALLED ‘COMING CLEAN’!”

“Okay...and I have to be tied up for this?” You asked incredulously, narrowing your eyes.

“OF COURSE!...OTHERWISE, YOU’D STRUGGLE, AND THAT WOULD NOT END WELL FOR YOU.”

“Pretty ominous over there, bro.”

“ DON’T CALL ME THAT. ”

You barely blinked as a knife plunged into the fabric of the chair next to your face, slicing a few hairs in half as it dug into the upholstery. Papyrus’ face was inches from yours, graver than you had ever seen.

“I am not your brother,” he hissed in a low voice that made your skin crawl. “Do not misconstrue your relationship with Sans--my brother and I are far more important to each other than you will ever be.”

Your shock didn't exactly go away, but what surprised you the most was your fear. You've seen worse...but the thrill of fear hit you like a sack of potatoes, leaving you speechless for a long moment.

You shook it off.

“Jeez, okay, you aren't my brother.” You backpedaled, trying to soothe him with low tones. “The hell kind of game are you trying to play here?”

“The kind of game where you fess up what's wrong with you,” he tsked, retracting the knife and leaning away. You gave him a questioning look, so he continued. “Please, little human, I may seem naive but I am not stupid. I know that everybody has their flaws. All of Sans’ datemates have had them--alcoholics, cheaters, sore losers, bad listeners...they simply didn't match up with my...ideals. You...you seem to have the whole package. SO WE PLAY COMING CLEAN AND YOU TELL ME WHAT THE CATCH IS.”

The way he fell so naturally into his cute, boisterous tone of voice and smiled so brightly at you, all while brandishing his kitchen knife...it sent an eerie chill down your spine.

“And if I scream, I suppose I'm dead?”

“SMART HUMAN.”

“But I'm dead anyway, right?” You asked, adjusting yourself to a more comfortable position in the chair. “I tell you what's wrong with me, you kill me. I tell you there's nothing wrong with me, you call me a liar and then kill me. I mean, that's what happened to all his exes, right? Unless I'm reading the subtext of this situation wrong?”

“...You are correct.” He said slowly, standing back up to his full height and crossing his arms. “What are you thinking? That you can distract me with your insight? Impress me?”

“Just observing.” You shrugged, nonchalant enough to apparently annoy him.

Despite himself, he let out a bark of laughter, a small “nyeh heh heh” that betrays a personality long corrupted.

“YOU KNOW, I WOULD SAY I'M SORRY ABOUT THIS,” he sighed finally, bringing the knife up to press the cold blade against your cheek. “BUT I MUST BE HONEST WITH YOU. I'm going to enjoy watching you bleed out. ”

“Hey, woah, we haven't even played yet, bucko,” you laughed, somewhat manic. “Don't you want to hear my flaws first?”

“Not really. I just want this over with.” He said, drawing a tiny drip of blood from your cheek with the tip of the knife as he tilted your chin upward. “BECAUSE ONCE YOU ARE GONE, SANS WILL BE VERY DISTRAUGHT. Now, I don't particularly enjoy his sadness, BUT he will then need his little brother in this tragic time . AND THEN IT WILL BE US AGAINST THE WORLD ONCE MORE, HOW IT SHOULD BE!”

“How romantic,” you gibbed. He scoffed, the knife edge digging into your neck just a tiny bit more. “Tell me, though, what if I am perfect? What if you kill me without knowing any of my flaws, and spend the rest of your life wondering if I even had any?”

“I know what your flaw is now,” he grumbled. “You talk far too much.”

~Spooky scary skeletons, send shivers down your spine~

He paused, knife leaving your throat as your phone jingled in your pocket. You sighed and dropped your chin, relieved for the brief interruption.

“That’d be Sans,” you pointed out. “Wondering where I am.”

“Then I'll have to make this quick.”

Sans had already looked all over the house for you and Paps, but you both seemed to have disappeared without a trace. Usually if you were gone from his side for more than fifteen minutes, you texted him a stupid meme from wherever you were, but so far, you had been gone nearly an hour and not so much as a peep.

Odd, to say the least.

Defeated, he had pulled out his phone to call you at the risk of being creepy and possessive, when he had heard your ringtone jingle out from below him. The basement? That’s strange, nobody really goes down there.

He trudged down the stairs, hearing voices getting clearer through the door as he went.

“...wondering where I am.”

“Then I'll have to make this quick.”

He shoved the door open and stopped dead in the doorway. You and Papyrus froze, looking over at him from where Papyrus was...brandishing a knife? And were you tied to a chair?

“...what the hell?”

Papyrus’ mind was racing immediately, but he didn't see a way out of this--caught red-handed, as they say, and he opened his mouth to stutter an excuse when--

“Papyrus saved me!”

Silence for a long moment as he stared at you.

“I went for groceries so I could make dinner tonight, but some guys jumped me in the alley.”

How do you lie so plainly and convincingly? And for that matter, why ?

“Papyrus happened to be following me because he forgot something for my list, and he saved me from them. The knots they tied were too tight, though, so he brought me back here to cut me loose.”

Papyrus stifled the urge to roll his eyelights.Sans would never fall for such an obvious--

“holy shit, babe, are you alright?”

Sans had crossed the room in seconds, waving his hand to untie the knots with his magic. He gripped your chin gently to look you over, thumbing the small cut on your cheek. Papyrus gaped at you both as his brother sighed, leaning his forehead to yours.

“I’m fine, thanks to Paps,” you said earnestly, shooting the taller skeleton a small smile.

“why didn’tcha come t’me when y’came back, love?” He drawled, concern lacing his words as his hand tangled in your hair, brushing it out delicately. You only hummed in response, bringing your now-free hands up to wrap him in a hug. “y’shoulda said somethin’ right away…”

“AH, UH...WE DIDN'T...WANT TO DISTURB YOU. SINCE YOU WERE WORKING ON YOUR...SCIENCE THING.” Papyrus stumbled over his addition to the lie, but for some reason Sans didn't even notice.

“d’you need anything? name it, it’s yours.” He pulled back to look you in the eyes again.

“Mmm...tea?” You smiled with just the right amount of tiredness in your eyes to really sell it. Sans agreed, planting a quick kiss on your forehead and disappearing up the steps.

Leaving you alone once more.

“Why did you lie?” Papyrus asked slowly, setting his knife on the small table beside him as you stood up to stretch. “And, furthermore, how did you do it so effectively? Sans is a walking lie detector.”

“Same way you managed to convince him all 30-something exes of his just up and left randomly, I suppose.” You shrugged. “Practice. I guess you could say my flaw is...I don’t feel things. Happiness, sadness, very rarely even fear. It’s been a long time since I felt any of that.”

“That is quite the flaw,” Papyrus chuckled dryly. He kept his true feelings to himself...that you had more in common than he thought.

“And as for why…” You sighed, folding your hands over your heart.

Sans didn't know about your parents and their dictatorship over your youth. The way they trained you like a dog to be a perfect little doll. The way they trained you to walk and talk and smile and pretend everything is alright.

“All my life I've been taught how to act happy, but with Sans...I've never had to act.” You looked at Papyrus, a serious expression on your face. “For the first time since I was small, I can truly smile without faking it. I love him, and by extension I guess I must love you, too. And I won't put any of that at risk just to get you in trouble, at least not for something as petty as trying to kill me. Ya dig?”

There was a long pause, before the both of you broke eye contact with some tense laughter.

Thanking you was on the tip of his tongue, he couldn't have maintained his relationship with his brother otherwise...but it seemed bad form to thank those you wish to see dead, so he held back.

“In any case, thanks for rescuing me from thugs I guess.”

“I’M STILL GOING TO KILL YOU.”

“Oh, I figured.”

“I DON'T HAVE A DATE, FOR I AM TERRIBLE WITH CALENDARS AND SUCH, BUT SHALL WE SAY SOMETIME NEXT WEEK WE PICK THIS UP WHERE WE LEFT OFF?”

“Hell, my schedule’s open.”

“WONDERFUL. GOOD NIGHT, HUMAN!”

Chapter Text

Sans hated humans.

Weak, pitiful creatures. Once upon a time he might have entertained the idea of living in harmony with them, but when the barrier broke and they saw how feeble these creatures were...how they looked down on monsters and spat at their very presence, despite being infinitely more delicate than even he had ever been…

Asgore had rallied for revenge. Revenge for being trapped under the mountain. Revenge for being treated like second-class denizens of this world that they should own. And Sans had picked up his bow and done what he did best.

He judged them. And they fell short.

It wasn't long before humans were on the run. For a while they had been thought nearly extinct...until the rebellion came about.

Hundreds of humans fighting desperately--knives, guns, fists, whatever they could use to fight back, and they were all led by you, the girl with the fire in her eyes.

Sans had seen many of his colleagues fall to their ambushes, seen that fire snuff out even the most seasoned warriors, but they didn't stand a chance against him. Not when he knew where they were hiding.

He stared down the length of his arrow as it pointed directly between your eyes. Even covered in the blood of everyone you knew and loved, even as the snow around you was painted crimson with their lives, even bound at the hands and forced to your knees as your brow spilt fresh blood...you still glared up at him, that fire burning brighter than ever.

He did what he did best, and he judged you.

...Tenacity.

He wasn't surprised.

“why don't you run?” He asked, his voice ringing against the quiet of the ravaged camp. “beg? ask me to spare you?”

He could just let go, and this would all be over. You'd be just as dead as the others around you. But you still glared at him, making no move to answer his question.

He didn't want this. He didn't want you thinking you had won. He wanted you to die knowing you did nothing, absolutely nothing to stop him. He wanted to snuff that fire out and make you pay, in tears and begging, for all the friends you'd dusted in your act of defiance.

“tch. this is stupid.”

His bow disappeared and he drew his knife, careful to watch your unflinching reaction. Your eyes still said “try me”.

He cut you free from the branch you'd been tied to and promptly threw you over his shoulder, taking delight in your startled yelp as he settled you there.

When you struggled, he “accidentally” whacked you on a nearby tree to knock you out.

This is stupid. But he wanted to break you.

You opened your eyes slowly, and the first thing you noticed was that your head hurt.

Hurt was an understatement, actually. Your head was pounding, beating in time with your heartbeat, which only quickened when you remembered--

...the camp is gone. The blood is gone but for what still clings to your clothes and skin. The snow is gone. You're on a bed of some sort, and it's relatively comfortable except that you're pretty sure your ankle is twisted...and there's heavy chains on it and your hands, holding you spread across the bed.

Your family. Your friends. You wish you had more tears to cry for them, but it isn't the first time. Your fault , your brain supplied. If only you had listened to the others, the older ones and the mothers and the pacifists who believed you all should just hide and survive...but you took their sons and daughters and you took their husbands and wives, and you got them all killed.

By that demon . The Hunter. Always decked out in snow camo and leather, his turquoise arrows had been the bane of your existence since the first day of your rebellion. You should have known that the skeleton would be your downfall…

...but why this? Why hadn't he just killed you? To die would have been an honor, but this...this is worse than death.

Your head hurts too much to try and puzzle out the actions of monsters.

You fall asleep.

You're woken again by movement nearby, and your chains rattle as you try to move away from the skeletal form if your captor--

But it isn't the hunter. This skeleton is dressed in a warm orange sweater, and his large sockets are full of worry as he sucks in a breath, looking you over in what almost resembles pity.

He's much taller than the hunter, and when he reaches out to brush your chains, you don't feel the urge to flinch.

“OH...LITTLE HUMAN, I…” He trailed off, searching your eyes for something. Whatever it is, he will not find it--there's nothing left but pure will. “I ONLY WANTED TO SEE WHAT IT WAS THAT MY BROTHER WAS HIDING IN HIS ROOM…”

Your head still hurts so much that his loud whisper feels like needles, and you suppress a shudder.

“YOU'RE HURT!” He cried, fingers brushing your split brow, and then his gaze dropped to your ankle. “AND HERE, TOO!”

Why does he even care?

He looks at you with sorrow in his eyelights, the closest thing to emotion you had ever seen on a monster.

“MY BROTHER CANNOT KNOW I WAS HERE...OR ELSE I WOULD HEAL YOU,” he said quietly. “IF HE KNOWS I CAME IN HERE, HE WOULD SURELY KILL YOU. PLEASE KEEP QUIET AND I WILL VISIT AGAIN...ALRIGHT?”

You nodded slowly, and he smiled...it was such a nice smile, full of forgiveness.

...maybe they aren't all bad.

You're woken a third time, and this time it's the hunter after all.

He drops a heavy bag gruffly on the floor and crosses over to you. You watch him as his eyelights scan over your blood-soaked skin and tattered clothes.

He grabs your injured ankle without warning, and you jerk in his grip but bite back any noise that might have erupted. His other hand finds your forehead and presses flat, your wound searing with pain…

...before relief floods both injuries, his hands casting a gentle aqua glow around the dark room.

He's...healing you? You look up with a question in your gaze, and as his hand leaves your forehead it grips your chin roughly to force you to really look at him.

“don't gimme that look, doe. i ain't doin’ this to be nice.” He growled. “jus’ don't see a point in killin’ somebody who’s hobbled.”

You spat in his face.

He blinked and leaned back, grin growing to almost manic portions as he chuckled, wiping the bloody spit off his mandible.

“y’see, that's exactly why you're still alive. the day that tenacious fire in your eyes goes out, i’ll snuff you out along with it.”

You only stared up at him. Like hell you'd give him the satisfaction of answering him.

“what? skeleton got your tongue?”

He waited.

When you didn't answer still, he growled and hit the pillow next to your face.

“ fine . don’t talk. your voice’d probably make me retch anyway.”

And you smiled smugly at him as he stomped out of the room.

Your life became that room.

He made it very clear. Leave the room, you die. Leave the house, you die. Hurt his brother, you die painfully.

He had unchained your wrists after that first night, leaving you bound to the bed by only your ankle. The chain was long enough to reach the bathroom for obvious reasons, and the heavy bag he had brought in that night had apparently been clothes and various soaps, shampoos, and other necessary human toiletries. If it weren't for who he was, you might have been touched at the amount of thought he had put into it all.

The brother’s name was Papyrus, and he came in every day after the hunter left to bring you extra food. He would talk to you about lots of things--how his brother was a very talented hunter, but he could hardly harm a fly, how the underground had been, about Frisk and the stars and talking flowers and...he had a lot of energy and even more stories, and you grew used to his presence. When the afternoons grew long he would step out to bring you fresh flowers for your prison, and it almost felt like a room...until the metal clanked against your chafed ankle and you remembered where you were.

Every day when the hunter came home, he checked on you. First the ankle, to heal the painful marks from the chains, and then he'd look into your eyes to see if you had given up on life yet.

He never did see what he wanted to see, but you...the visits started to feel routine, and you craved the contact of his hands on your ankle, on your chin. It had been months since you were held, and the small touches began to feel like heaven.

You felt disgusting, downright dirty for the way you longed for him, but you couldn't help it. Your own tenacity was reflected in him every time you challenged his stare, and though he said very little, you felt like there was more to him than your history suggested.

“you could probably kill me, you know,” he said one night, out of the blue. “i’m not that strong. plenty of things to attack with in this room. get the drop on me and you could walk outta here.”

You didn't respond, and you could see him shake his head, even in the dark of the room as he flicked off the lights.

After that he started talking more. Told you about underground, a place called Grillby’s, and old dreams of being an astronomer or owning his own restaurant. He talked about before, mostly. Before the New War, before humans were the enemy.

Before you.

But occasionally he talked about the future. He talked about death, and wondered idly if he'd die at your hands, or another human claiming revenge. He talked about wanting his brother to be himself, even if everyone wanted him to be a hunter like him.

When he talked like this, it was easy to fall into his voice, to see the man behind the monster.

You wound up giving up on breaking your chains. You would wait for him to come home, never a word spoken, and you would allow yourself the simple pleasure of being touched.

You're only human, after all.

He didn't understand it.

You weren't any closer to breaking than the day he brought you home. As the seasons passed, and the sunshine flooded the streets, and the leaves turned orange once again...he wondered what you were thinking.

You never spoke. Not even a small sound. No matter how many questions he asked, no matter how roughly he handled you, not a sound escaped your lungs.

He wanted to tie you up and torture you until you begged him to stop, or begged him for more. But he knew he'd enjoy that too much.

And you never once tried to harm him, as if a protest in itself. He had even experimented with leaving things about you could do real damage with--ropes, knives, steel pipes.

All untouched when he came home. Every time.

When he left his room to crash on the couch each night, he found himself wondering about you. Do you stay awake and stare at the stars outside his bedroom window? Do you mourn the deaths of your loved ones? Did you curse his name even as you smiled and nodded along to his stories?

...when it comes time to finally kill you...can he do it?

These thoughts drifted away with his consciousness, and in the morning his resolve was back.

And you continued to wait for him, sitting primly on the bed every evening as he came in.

Except tonight.

He was a little late, so the moon had already risen as he hurried home in the starlight. When he came in, you had fallen asleep for once.

His eyes roamed over your sparsely dressed body, the heat of the evening offering explanation to your thin nightgown that had ridden up to reveal your thighs. The moonlight streamed in through the window, and for a split second you looked...angelic.

He set about checking your ankle, like usual, but when he went to wake you and check your eyes…

...the tiny moan that escaped you in response to his touch made him bristle in surprise, and when you slowly blinked your eyes open, you had a soft, almost shy look on your face that he had never seen before.

His gaze flicked to your lips, and they quirked slightly in a sleepy smile and--

He forced himself to stand and turn away.

“uh, sorry...didn't mean to wake you. just checkin’ in.” He breathed. “go back to sleep, i’ll, uh...i’ll most likely kill you in the morning.”

He started to leave, but--

“Stay!”

He stopped, two long steps away from the bed, head reeling from the one small word as he turned to look at you.

You adjusted your nightgown and scooted over to make room, sheepishly patting the new space on the bed that was always too large for just one person. You didn't speak any further, so he wasn't sure if he had imagined it, but you continued to wait with the blanket held up for him to join you.

“...well, uh...i guess it is my room,” he offered lamely, shedding his huge overcoat and hanging it by the door. Next came his gloves, and you watched with interest as he removed them, sinking down into the mattress next to you...but not touching.

You gave no indication on whether or not you wanted that to change, but rather settled in, creating a small blanket barrier between you.

He had to admit, it was way better than the couch.

He slept in his own bed from then on.

He'd grown entirely too fond of you, he realized one day.

The way you were always waiting patiently for him when he came home, like some cheesy movie that Pap likes...how you listened to him grumble about his day while you are dinner together...the smell of you was all over that room, and your shampoo was in the shower, and your clothes, heh, they had joined his in the pile on the floor. Sometimes you cleaned, and then he can't find anything, and so you would point out everything he was looking for with a hint of a smile.

One night, after the dinner dishes were stacked on the desk for dealing with later, and the two of you were drifting off, he finally said it.

“...i know you’ve been hanging out with my brother when i’m gone.”

You stiffened beside him, worried suddenly about the conversation. He knew what you were thinking. Would he be angry? Would he hit you? Would he do something awful to Papyrus for catering to you?

“m’not mad. he’s...the light of my life.” He sighed, running a hand over his skull. “he likes ya. don’t think i’ve seen him this happy in a long time, y’know?”

You didn't respond, of course.

“he’s grown used to you, being here,” he continued, quieter. “ tibia- nest, so have i.”

You shifted slightly. Probably looking over your shoulder at him.

“not sure what that means, really.” He glanced over at you, and you looked away.

You didn't feel the same?

...He doesn't blame you. He had never had any delusions that you might. He lets you fall asleep, but he spent most of that night wondering why it felt so nice to lay here anyway.

He reasoned that it was easier to make sure you weren't trying to pull anything, but he knew better. There were less nightmares when he slept next to you. Less fitful sleep. More dreaming.

Sometimes, he dreamed that you had gotten used to him, too.

And it was...nice.

He sighed as he stepped into the house, pausing his retreat to the bedroom only long enough to turn off MTT and draw a blanket over Papyrus, who had fallen asleep watching it.

It was late. Much later than he'd ever gotten home, he was sure. The snow on his boots left wet spots on the carpet as he trudged across the house, expecting you to be asleep by now as he nudged the door open quietly.

“shit,” he swore, slightly startled by how close you were standing to the door when he came in. “...you waitin’ for me?”

You raised an eyebrow, arms crossed. He clicked the door closed behind him.

“ya didn't have to do that...i coulda slept on the couch.”

You huffed and spun on your heel, moving back to sit on the bed, back to him.

“what, are ya mad at me?” He scoffed, removing his jacket. You shook your head, and he almost rolled his eyelights. His buckles jingled as his coat hit the floor, and your head swiveled around so fast he thought your neck would snap.

He watched as your eyes flicked over his form quickly, and then you relaxed. Wait, were you... worried ?

You tapped your nose, and he chuckled.

“yeah...hard day.” He sighed and turned to plop down on the bed. “nothin’ i can't handle, just stockin’ up on stuff for winter so the hunts are extra heavy. had to take down a lot more de--”

He squeaked as suddenly your fingers were on the back of his neck, and for a split second he accepted his fate. This was it. This is how he dies. Neck snapped because he was foolish enough to turn his back on--

...except you didn't snap his neck. You were rubbing slow circles on the bones, and it was nice.

Are you trying to help him relax? It was working...almost too well.

“...sorry if i made ya worry. next time i’ll call and let pap know if I’ll be late,” he mumbled as your hands smoothed over his bones through his soft t-shirt. You hummed a little in assent, and his sockets slid shut as he tried not to focus on how good your hands felt.

But then they slipped down to slide over his ribs, and he shuddered in obvious pleasure before freezing...only for you to do it again, slower and more calculated, looking for that reaction.

He turned slowly, gathering your hands in one of his, the other grasping your chin.

The fire was there, a slow burn that threatened to consume his very being, but this time...he didn't want to snuff it out.

He wanted to stoke it.

Experimentally, he trailed his hand to cradle your neck, and your eyes fluttered closed as you leaned in expectantly.

The kiss was hesitant, and warm, and in that moment you both realized exactly how starved of affection you were as the feeling traveled down to warm every spot where his body met yours, from his hand on your nape to his knee pressed to your thigh.

Your hands gripped his shirt, pulling him closer with a tiny moan, and he was lost in your taste, pausing only to yank off his gloves so he could run his bare hands through your hair, and over your soft skin, and then he was shoving you back onto the bed, looming over you.

He really looked like a predator, in that moment, and you stared resolutely back at him as his jaw set.

“i’m not gonna be gentle.”

You shrugged. You hadn't expected him to.

“...your family?”

You only smiled. It didn't matter, as he descended upon you, bruising your lips against his teeth.

As fucked up as it was…

He was the one you waited up worried for. He was the one you looked forward to seeing. Less than a year ago you would have spat on yourself for thinking of him that way--but it was complicated. You couldn't write him off as a heartless murderer once you saw him talk about Papyrus. You couldn't hold him to be a careless monster when he told you how much he had hated being born as the Judge.

LV warped people, Papyrus said. Made it easier to kill, harder to love.

You wanted this. You wanted him.

And he wanted you, you could tell by the way he had been looking at you when he thought you couldn't see. By the way he stayed awake after he thought you were asleep, just watching you and thinking, thoughts you might never hear.

And you could tell now, by the way he took in your flushed face with something akin to awe or wonder. His hands pushed your nightdress up, sliding over your naked breasts and making you shiver as he kissed you until you both were breathless.

“shit...i don’t even know your name, doe,” he muttered, hands ghosting over the peaks of your breasts, the valley of your waist.

You glanced at the chain still firmly clamped around your ankle, and he followed your gaze. To your surprise, he chuckled and reached down, and with a small burst of magic it clattered to the floor.

You sat up, shocked breathless as you drew your ankle back, unhindered. You silently asked him, and he smirked.

“a caged songbird never sings.”

Right, he wanted you to speak.

“Doe.” You said quietly, voice rough and cracking from months of not using it.

“but that's just my nickname for ya,” he protested, and you shook your head.

“It’s my name now.” You insisted. “The other girl...she died a long time ago...when my reason to live changed.”

It was his turn to be shocked, but it didn't last long before you were kissing him fiercely, and dragging his shirt over his head. He returned the ferocity with a low growl, and you were quickly overpowered as he got to work claiming you as his. Everywhere he touched cried out in ecstasy, and every bite threatened to send you over. It had been so long, too long, since you had been touched like this--you think it was the same for him, if the shudders wracking his form was any indication.

You were probably one of the only humans left alive in the world, and you knew that...but you also knew that you had probably stopped being human the day you realized you craved his touch.

That's the fucked up thing about love, you thought later as you lay in his arms, bathed in moonlight and covered in the proof of your midnight tryst, as he held you tucked beneath his chin, limbs tangled and sweat still dripping…

Your reason to live was the very demon who had tried to kill you, and yet you could only bring yourself to feel safe in his arms.

Chapter Text

Sans had initially been delighted to find that you and his brother wanted to include him in your relationship. After all, hadn't he spent so many nights laying awake, wondering if it was wrong to covet you so fiercely? Hadn't he daydreamed, somewhat guiltily, of you sneaking into his room at night after his brother fell asleep?

It had started with that kiss, that sloppy, drunken kiss he had given you out of the blue when you were venting about some work thing, waiting for Papyrus to come home from Muffet’s for the evening. He had been halfway through a bottle of merlot by the time you showed up, annoyed and full of fire that only grew more passionate when he threw wine at it.

You hadn't reacted badly to the kiss. Well, you hadn't really reacted at all, you hadn't had the time--the very second he pulled away, his brother had waltzed in and captured you from his side, taking you upstairs like some prize to be won.

He and his brother had never been shy about sexuality. Incest wasn't as taboo in monster culture as it was in humans, since most monsters are made of such vastly different and unique magic signatures that there's no way to tell who’s related unless it's a direct parent/child line. So he knew what his brother liked, he knew that he was getting it from you, and damned if he wasn't curious after that initial kiss. You were so...reserved, shy, nerdy? He had a hard time imagining you giving in to his brother's dirtiest desires…

...at least at first. It became easier as the months wore on, imagining you in compromising positions, the shy moan you would make as he fucked you gently, as he worked you up to his wildest fantasies. The mutt must be doing something right, to keep such a satisfying image at his side--you followed him around like an obedient little puppy, doing everything in your power to make him happy even if it was over the top. Papyrus often mused about how lucky he was to have such an attentive girlfriend, and Sans had actually taken to wearing earplugs at times to block out the intensity of your mushy lovey-dovey talk.

But damn, if he wasn't looking forward to having that for himself, once his brother had off-handedly mentioned that you wanted him involved. The whole day until you came home, he had been a nervous wreck, excited to greet you as his datemate.

He was shocked to find that, instead of the loving, sweet little thing he had so often witnessed alongside his brother, you were decidedly irritable instead.

“So Pap talked to you, huh?” You asked, not so much as a hello as you dropped your bag to the floor. “You in?”

So...blunt.

“I AM INDEED INTERESTED, OF COURSE. BUT I AM NOT SO EASILY WON, AND I DO NOT--”

“Shut up and strip.”

He blinked, caught off guard as you followed your own command, even though it had clearly been meant for him. What does he say to that? What does he say to your hands on his shirt, pulling him close for a heated kiss that made his soul leap, not unlike the feeling he had felt fluttering about the last time he had kissed you? He could only think of a lame excuse.

“I HAVE DINNER IN THE--”

“Then I guess we’ll have to be quick, huh, stud?” You practically purred as you actually made him retreat several steps until his knees hit the couch and he fell backwards into the pillows. You wasted no time following, and before he knew it he was half-dressed, fingers digging into your hips as you rode him like a stallion, drawing bashful moans from his teeth, making his voice tremble and stammer.

He should have expected it, knowing how submissive and masochistic his brother was. He should have known it was all a cute little act, and that you were really a hardcore Dom.

But that doesn't fly in his house, not with him.

Dinner burned, for the first time in a while. He was too busy struggling for power against you to even notice the timer, and you weren't backing down. By the end of it, you both collapsed, exhausted, and called a truce. There was noise from the kitchen as Papyrus apparently dismantled the fire alarm and removed the burnt pot roast.

“THAT WAS...UNEXPECTED,” Sans huffed, bringing a hand up to draw through your hair. “YOU REALLY ARE A PERFECT MATCH FOR MY BROTHER.”

You snorted, as if he had said something funny, and shivered against his light touches and the cool breeze from the open window.

“i’m orderin’ pizza, if y’all are done...consummating?” Papyrus snickered as he walked in, phone in hand. You perked up immediately, vacating Sans’ side in favor of leaning your half-naked form over the arm of the couch to give his brother a hug. Sans huffed, shuffling a bit until he could pull his pants up again.

“Pizza sounds good~” You purred as Papyrus leaned down to kiss your forehead, muttering something Sans couldn't quite hear.

Hmph. He supposed it was a bit much to expect the same connection right off the bat.

Perhaps you will soften up over time?

You did not soften up over time.

Whereas you were placating and sickeningly sweet towards his brother, you always had a snarky thing to say to him, a prepared quip--it wasn't that he hated it, or even the fighting for dominance. On the contrary, it was rather exciting to have to tame you like a wild beast, and incredibly satisfying to see you come undone beneath him in response to his hard work.

But he...he wished, still, that he could figure out how his brother gets you to behave the way you do.

Is it because he rolls over for you instead of fighting for dominance? His brother is an insufferable sub, completely submissive in every way. Perhaps that was why you treated him so nicely? Perhaps...perhaps it was Sans who is the brat in this situation?

He tests his theory, swallowing his pride, and the ensuing pleasure you brought upon him was...too good for him to admit. And you were indeed delighted that he wasn't fighting you, and as such he felt like royalty during the act--he never knew he had a praise kink, but once you were whispering compliments against his neck, he was made very much aware.

But your behavior outside of sex, disappointingly, didn't change. You weren't cruel, or mean, but rather cheeky and witty, but it still wasn't the same as the sweet dreams he had about you. You never made him doubt that you really did love him, but you also didn't go out of your way to please him and show him that. He liked when you were... domestic .

But you saved all of that for Papyrus. Was it his personality? Papyrus had always seemed to have low self-esteem, so maybe you felt the need to overtly show it. Sans, on the other hand, had boundless confidence, so perhaps you felt he needed to be taken down a notch.

Your capacity to switch was...borderline terrifying.

"What’s your problem today, princess?” You snorted as he snubbed your kiss, feigning moving his attention to the soup he was stirring.

“I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU MEAN,” he huffed indignantly. “I'M THE SAME AS ALWAYS. SO ARE YOU, APPARENTLY.”

“What?” You frowned. “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

“I MEAN, THE MOMENT MY BROTHER LEAVES THE ROOM, YOU BECOME AN INSUFFERABLE BRAT. I CAN’T EVEN LIKEN YOU TO BEING HOT AND COLD, SINCE YOU ARE LITERALLY ALWAYS COLD TO ME!”

You laughed, drawing his attention. He finally shot you a grimace over his shoulder.

...dammit. You're so cute right now. Your laugh is adorable.

“Jesus, who pissed in your Cheerios this morning?”

Okay, moment over. He's scowling again.

“YOU!” He shrieks, throwing his hands up in exasperation. Soup splattered from his spoon and he cursed, grabbing a towel to wipe it up. “IT IS YOU THAT FRUSTRATES ME! YOU ARE COMPLETELY TWO-FACED!”

“I thought you like it?” You pouted, batting your eyelashes. “You said you like taming the wild beast. Are you saying you don't like me anymore?”

“NO!” He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose as he calms himself. “...No, that isn't what I'm saying. I just can't understand you!”

“Try asking, maybe?” You snickered. “This is the first I'm hearing of your frustration.”

He snapped his jaw shut, grinding it until it popped slightly. You were right, of course. He hadn't really thought of talking it out.

“...I had feelings for you before all this.”

“Yeah, I know,” you said, rolling your eyes. “You kinda kissed me.”

“I mean before that!” He scoffed, turning back to his soup. “You were...you were always so shy, and adorable. The way you fawn over my brother, I...well, I wanted that.”

He pinched your nose, and you squeaked, batting his hand away.

“I did not get it.” He added. “Instead you are petulant and rude, and while I will not pretend I do not enjoy your brattiness or taming it, I do find it incredibly annoying that you never do such things to the mutt. At least tell me--is it because you feel he needs more validation? I am happy for the vote of confidence, but I need that, too, sometimes.”

Your eyebrows all but disappeared into your hair.

“You think Papyrus needs validation?” You pursed your lips. “You think that's why I'm so nice to him?”

He furrowed his brow, looking up at you. “Yes, I realize he suffers from crippling depression. I thought if there was one factor that would explain it, it’s that you are reminding him of his worth.”

This time, your laugh was loud and sharp, shocked and almost reverent.

“What on earth is so funny?” He asked, annoyed. You weren't taking this seriously at all!

“Oh my God! You think I'm nice to him just because he's depressed? You think I'm only a brat to you?” You were practically convulsing with laughter. “Oh, oh my God, you're so stupid it huuuuuurts!”

“Excuse me?!” He smacks your forehead with the soup spoon, and you laugh in spite of it as you wave him away, indicating ‘one moment’ as you catch your breath.

“Okay, laughter aside, please don't ever mention any of this to him,” you said, still chuckling. “Shit, my ass is still raw from last night when he thought I was acting out.”

It was Sans’ turn to be surprised.

“He hit you?” His voice was calculated, eyes concerned, but you waved it away.

“No, no...well, yes, but I liked it. He spanked me.” You emphasized this by patting your ass and wincing slightly. “It was pretty brutal. He doesn't fuck around.”

Sans rolled his eyes. “Fine, be a brat if you like, but don't lie to me!”

“What? I'm not lying.”

“Yes, and potatoes grow on trees,” he scoffed. “Papyrus is far too gentle and submissive to venture to do anything remotely like that. You seem to forget that I know him better than you.”

“Gentle?” You asked, genuinely confused. “ Submissive? Dude, are we even talking about the same guy? Look, look--”

You pulled your shirt up to reveal the big purple bite mark on your ribs that he had noticed yesterday.

“Yes, he gets bitey, but-”

And then you turned and pulled your yoga pants down to reveal galaxy-like bruising across your cheeks, the telltale indent of his brother’s ring marking you in several places.

“What the fuck?” He muttered to himself, searching the marks even as you pulled your clothes back into place, trying to find any inconsistency in your story. “But...but he’s useless at dominating!”

“s’at so?”

You squeaked as your other boyfriend appeared behind you. “I didn't say that! He did!”

“You little--!” Sans huffed. “See, you can't even be bothered to be nice to me when we are in it together!”

“oh?” His brother’s voice was low, tantalizingly dangerous, and it made him blink. “she been misbehavin’ for you, m’lord?”

You shook your head.

“Yes, she’s always that way when you leave,” Sans responded, and you rolled your eyes and...starting unbuttoning your shirt?

“huh. an’ here i thought i had her trained pretty well.” His hand caressed your throat, making you shudder and blink, lust hazing your eyes already. “terribly sorry, m’lord. she was supposed to be a model citizen. not a fucking brat .”

And right before his eyes, he watched his brother grip your throat, a broken, pleasured moan escaping as his other hand snaked down to your ass. He pinched, and you yelped in pain as he caught what Sans knew was a bruise.

“but, he hasn't exactly been that nice to you, either, now has he, darlin’?” Papyrus observed, gently wiping the soup from your hair. You nodded. “i know, pet, i heard the whole argument...and since he thinks i’m so useless a dom, i suppose i’ll have t’teach you both a lesson."

Sans backed against the counter as his brother leaned over, eyes flashing. He reached past him and turned the stove off, and then with startling swiftness, Sans found himself falling through the void and onto Papyrus’ bed.

You could have laughed at Sans’ confusion, but you knew it wasn't the time. His sockets were furrowed as he tried to come to terms with the realization that his brother wasn't the self-conscious, submissive toy he thought he was.

“alright, brats, come here.” Papyrus patted his lap, and your hands subconsciously went to cover your ass as you hesitated. His brow raised, and you shuffled over quickly before he had to ask twice.

He had only asked twice once before, and he hadn't fucked you for over a month after.

“mmm...still pretty purple from last night,” he purred, pulling your yoga pants down as you straddled him, arms snaking around his neck as he caressed your abused butt gently. “you don't want another spanking, do you?”

“No!” You squeaked, perking your ass out into the palm of his hand anyway. He squeezed just enough to sting.

“then i think you owe my brother an apology, don’t you?”

You nodded, turning to look over your shoulder at Sans, who had apparently gotten over his internal crisis and was now watching with amusement dancing in his sockets.

“...I’m sorry, Sans,” you mumbled begrudgingly.

“damn, darlin’, that didn't sound very sincere. did that sound sincere, m’lord?”

“No, not really,” he said with a smirk. “It sounded like she didn't want to say it.”

Papyrus threaded one hand into your hair and effortlessly twirled you in his lap, bending you forward until your face was inches from his brother’s crotch. One gentle hand ran over your back, indicating he was worried about your comfort level.

“guess you’ll just have to show him how sorry you are instead. you use the same safewords with sans?”

“SAFEWORDS?” Sans asked.

“We haven't had to use any yet,” you admitted. Your sex with Sans had been surprisingly vanilla once the initial battle for dominance was over. Maybe he was too focused on getting to top to realize he could do practically whatever he wanted, but in any case you hadn't discussed safewords yet.

“oh, man, and he’s saying i’m shit at domming? tell me, how many times has he topped you?”

“Twice.”

“Four times!” Sans insisted. You snorted, and Papyrus responded by nudging your face closer to Sans’ prominent bulge.

“safewords are stoplight colors.” He explains shortly. “and i wouldn't laugh at the guy whose cock is about to be down your throat, darlin’. he can choose t’choke ya.”

You took the hint, and so did Sans, and the two of your worked to release his cock from the confines of his uniform pants. He let out a shuddering breath as you wasted no time running your tongue up his deep wine-colored member. He tasted like blackberries, and your mouth was already watering when Papyrus shoved you down, forcing you to take more of his brother’s magic. Both you and Sans made startled noises.

“color?”

“G-green,” Sans sputtered, blushing at the automatic response to a question that was clearly meant for you. You held up a thumbs up to signify your agreement, and he pulled you up off of Sans’ dick, much to yours and Sans’ combined displeasure.

“don’t get too comfortable,” he said to Sans. “you're being punished, too.”

“Punished? For what?!”

“bein’ a brat. now form a pussy so our beautiful human can eat you out.”

Sans’ jaw snapped shut, and you could see the apprehension in his eyes. He wasn't very comfortable with his female ecto-form, you knew.

You nudged him. “Color?”

“Green!” He insisted, unbuttoning his shirt and quickly removing his pants, as if your gentle inquiry had sparked a challenge.

You watched as his magic danced over his bones, and soon there was a soft ectobody fading into view. You struggled to place the color--eggplant? Wine? Burgundy? It wasn't the same deep purple as Papyrus, it had more red like mulberry wine.

He was blushing, but he didn't back down. You picked up your end of the challenge with the perfect, pretty pussy he had formed right in front of you, legs tentatively spreading. Papyrus released your hair, and the cold of the room stung against your legs as he ripped your yoga pants off to pay attention to your own dripping cunt, but he wouldn't do more than tease just yet.

Impatient, you pushed Sans’ undershirt up to reveal his newly formed breasts, and he squeaked and flinched. The switch inside you was delighted to see him so off-put, his usual assertive nature taking a backseat to his only area of insecurity being so blatantly on display.

A sharp slap to your cheeks startled you, pain and pleasure blossoming at the point of contact.

“go slow, darlin’, apologies shouldn't be rushed.”

“Sorry,” you huffed, propping yourself on your elbows to look Sans in the sockets. “...sorry, Sans.”

“see, now that apology sounded sincere. good girl,” Papyrus praised, and you let out a startled groan as he slid two fingers into your messy heat as a reward, pumping them slowly. “keep going. what does he need right now?”

You moved your hands under Sans’ thighs, settling between his legs and pressing slow kisses to his inner thighs, the light give of his ecto-body pleasing you. He gasped as you moved slowly closer to his entrance, spurred by Papyrus’ calculated, maddeningly slow ministrations.

“You look amazing, Sans,” you purred, and the small skeleton blushed deeper. You knew he enjoyed the praise, so you continued. “I mean it. You’re gorgeous, whether you have a cock or a pussy. I love them both. I love you .”

He bit back a moan, and you took the chance to press a kiss to his lower lips, gently, testing his sensitivity. It was like a shockwave surged through his body, and he almost bucked you off, but your hands anchored him in place by digging into his waist as you licked his dripping cunt, his startled moans only making you wetter and more needy.

As if he could read your mind, you could suddenly feel the head of Papyrus’ generous cock prodding your entrance, his fingers scissoring you open so he could slip the unusually large phallus past your tight lips.

You moaned heavily into Sans’ heat, and the vibration appeared to be too much for him, because you were surprised a moment later by him shouting “No!” and pushing you away, but not in time.

There was silence as he covered his face in embarrassment. Even Papyrus paused, only barely pressing into you as you reached up to wipe the cum off your face.

“Did you just...squirt?”

“NO! YES! SHUT UP!” Sans squeaked. “DON’T MAKE FUN OF ME!”

“Why would I make fun of you?” You asked, puzzled. “I mean, same thing happens with your dick--”

“THAT’S DIFFERENT!”

He looks so uncomfortable and embarrassed that you can't even pretend to still be in the haze of lust.

You exchange looks with Papyrus behind you, who shrugs and slides out of you, settling back against the pillows to let you do your thing.

Sans can't help but flinch when you touch him again, but your touch is so gentle that he's startled out of his embarrassment.

You’ve gathered him gently to move him next to you as you settle against the pillows. His brother gives him a knowing smirk from the other side of you as you draw the blankets up, just...holding him close, pressing kisses to his skull…

...being nice.

“For the record, I liked it,” you said as he began to relax, the anxiety in his chest subsiding with every tiny circle your fingers danced against his arm. “But you can dismiss your magic, now. You did so good, you don't have to keep going if you're not comfortable."

His magic dissipates slowly, face flushing as you continue to whisper sweet words of praise through chaste kisses. He hears Papyrus sigh, and sees him adjust, pushing his still-formed magic back into his sweats.

Did you stop just for him? Just because he wasn't comfortable? He was grateful, but...he felt bad that neither of you were getting off because of his own insecurities. He opened his mouth to protest, but Papyrus chuckled, cutting him off.

“don’t bother, we’re fine. she’s right, you did really good--i know you aren't good at givin’ up the reins.”

“Is that why you were always submissive before?” He asked, sudden clarity hitting as he realized his brother must have been looking out for his interests the whole time.

“i'm your older brother,” Papyrus sighed, reaching over to stroke his skull affectionately. “s’my job to make you happy.”

You hummed sleepily against his neck, fingers slowing as your eyelids began to flutter.

“Me, too,” you said sheepishly. “...I didn't know you wanted me to be nice. I thought you liked me sassy.”

“I do, I…” he sighs, finally relaxing and settling in your arms, which in turn is in Papyrus’ arms, draping around you both as he nuzzled your hair. “...Thank you. I'm...I’m also sorry.”

“shush. sleep now,” Papyrus yawned, squeezing his bundle of lovers gently. “we’ll talk more in the morning.”

Sans looked down at where you had fallen asleep pressed between them, smiling, and then to your arms so gently wound around him…

...he should have just asked you to be nice sooner, he knows that, but...he had been so stupidly jealous.

“I love you both,” he muttered, tucking your head beneath his chin and leaning into his brother’s embrace. Papyrus’ soft chuckle as he turned out the light was surprisingly soothing.

“love you, too, you brats.”

Chapter Text

It was maddening enough on a normal day, seeing you with his brother.

His soulmate. When Black had introduced you as his girlfriend, he experienced the most bittersweet feeling in his entire life--the overwhelmingly happy sensation of meeting his soulmate, his soulmate ...and then the crash, the startling realization that you weren't here for him. That you were holding his brother’s hand, not his, and looking at him with those gorgeous eyes...and not Mutt.

All because he hadn't met you first.

He wanted to laugh, or maybe cry, but he just shrugged and greeted you as nonchalant as possible. The day that Black had been born, Mutt had sworn that his happiness was more important than anything in the world--it got them through their childhood, through the underground, and through the waves of racism during the first few years on the surface.

And so it would get him through this, too, he supposed.

He avoided you at first, but you were like a magnet, and your personality was too charming to rebuff with even his rudest setting, and it wasn't long before you became friends.

And he was content with that, that was the best it would get, and he accepted that. He ignored the pain, the overwhelming melancholy that gripped him whenever he thought too hard about you. It was difficult, so difficult, but not impossible--

--on a normal day.

But now he was in heat, and as much as he wanted his brother to be happy, his entire body convulsed with pleasure at the mere thought of you, or whenever he caught a whiff of your scent on the couch.

He was glad that you didn't live with them.

“MUTT! WHAT ARE YOU DOING IN HERE? IT’S PAST NOON!”

He groaned, prying his fingers away from the sweatshirt he had discovered in the laundry basket. Yours, of course, and he was going to wash it after, but…

“COME ON! MY LOVELY DATEMATE IS COMING OVER FOR DINNER AND I WANT TO BE A GOOD HOST! BE DOWNSTAIRS IN FIVE MINUTES, AND DO NOT WEAR PAJAMAS!”

He groaned, leaning his head against the bed post. His brother knew he was in heat, so he had been hoping he could stay in his room and at least try not to wreck you. But he's calling him down to be in the same room as you? He always was a sadist.

He dragged his feet getting dressed, throwing on a simple tank top and jeans, unwilling to put more effort. He’d just sweat through anything heavier anyway.

Then he dragged his feet down the stairs, keeping a death grip on the banister to keep from just shooting down the stairs to find you.

“AND DO NOT FORGET TO--”

“Sans, I’ll be okay.” Your voice was like sweet music, making him shake. He took a deep breath, trying to control the adamant magic in his pelvis.

“I KNOW, YOU ARE CAPABLE OF TAKING THE ABUSE. BUT I STILL WORRY. HE IS...DIFFICULT AT THIS TIME.”

“I think I can handle him.”

“YES, WELL...CALL ME IF SOMETHING GOES WRONG.”

Mutt paused at the bottom of the stairs, confusion settling into his bones as the both of you turned to him, you with a sweet smile as always, and Black decked out in his guard uniform and a heavy coat.

“...are you going somewhere, m’lord?”

“YES. I GOT CALLED IN TO TAKE SOMEBODY’S NIGHT ROUNDS AT THE ROYAL ABODE, SO I WILL BE GONE ALL NIGHT. BUT I DIDN'T WANT TO LEAVE YOU ALONE, SO THE HUMAN CAME OVER TO WATCH YOU.”

You...came over to be with him?

Without Black?

His deer-in-the-headlights look was apparently hilarious to you, because you giggled, sweet and clear as a bell.

“pardon my insolence,” he said, through grinding teeth. “but i don't think that’s a good idea, m’lord.”

“OF COURSE IT IS! MY DARLING IS A MOST CAPABLE LOVER! SHE’LL HAVE YOU CALMED DOWN IN NO TIME.” Black turned to you as if his words weren't completely confusing. “TRY NOT TO BREAK HIM, DARLING.”

And with that, his brother gave you a quick kiss and turned to leave, clicking the lock in place behind him as he trudged through the snow outside.

...what the hell does any of this mean?! Was he giving him permission to use you for his heat? Or was he just being his usual oblivious self? What should he do?!

“Are you hungry?”

He snapped out of his thoughts to look at you in shock, sockets wide and owlish. “what?”

“Food?” You raised the bag in your hands. “From Muffet’s.”

He was hungry...just not for Muffet’s. No, no, with his brother’s scent dissipating with his exit, he was surrounded by you, you, the smell of you all around him, and his fingers were twitching, itching to wrap around your ponytail and--

“Or did you want to get straight to it?” Your voice was a purr as you set down the bag, and he took a half a step back instinctively, mind running wild, as you approached him, still on the stairs, running your hands over his chest.

He bit back a cry, every centimeter of his body exploding into pleasure where your hands touched him.

“no, it’s not funny,” he groaned, grabbing your hand. “don't joke while i’m like this unless you wanna lose that hand, darlin’.”

You looked...legitimately disappointed as you withdrew your touch. “You don't want me to help you with your heat? Sans said it was something only I could do.”

Wait...he had been serious? This was serious? Mutt took another step back, and when you followed, he rocketed forward, shoving you up against the opposite wall of the foyer desperately, his body begging for release.

“why?” He asked, cursing his hangup on his brother’s happiness. “why would he...want you to do that?”

“He said we have a connection? That we’re special, and he knows it hurts right now,” you explained vaguely. “He didn't really go into detail, but he wants me to help because it can only be me, and if it’s you it’s okay? Something like that...I...I don’t know.”

Your nails scraped against his bones as you gripped his shoulders, face turning a deep mauve as you slid down the wall just enough to rest on his fully-formed magic where it strained against his pants.

“...I only know that it hurts me, too, and that I couldn't wait to...to touch you.” You looked up at him through your eyelashes, eyes half-lidded and so very seductive and…

Shit. He'd ask more questions later.

He kissed you, fiercely, and it was as if time stopped, his soul bursting into fireworks inside his chest, your startled moan only spurring him on as he kissed and nipped and lapped at your flushed cheeks, the slight curl of your lips, your perfect neck.

You had never felt anything like it before, and the moment Mutt kissed you, you understood what Black had meant when he said your connection was special. It felt like fire everywhere he touched, a slow burn that drew noises from your lips that you had never heard yourself make before...and he was only kissing you.

You hardly registered the jump until he pressed you to the mattress, whining as he slid off you, achingly slowly, to remove his jeans. It was faster than you expected, but you weren't complaining, the sight of his cock making excitement well in your belly alongside a twinge of fear--he’s much bigger than Black is, and you have trouble with Black’s cock as it is.

But you believed in this connection you had--you knew you were made for each other, so it would be okay, right?

The deep purple of it was entrancing, and you couldn't help but rise to your knees on the bed, reaching out to grasp his iliac crests as you examined it closer. He was surprised, but not upset, and you ran one finger down the shaft, appreciating the cold metal studs along the bottom of his length, wondering how he tastes…

It wasn't long before you found out, his hand tangled in your hair as he thrusted into your mouth, his magic tingling and numbing your gag reflex so you could take him deeper. His taste was indescribable, but perfect and tantalizing.

He pulled back long enough to spurt thick ropes of cum over your face and neck, caressing your hair gently as you adjusted your shirt to allow it to dribble down over your breasts. What little landed in your mouth, you swallowed easily, and he was staring at you as you panted beneath him, covered in his seed...marked.

“holy fuck,” he breathed, swiftly removing his shirt and scooting to kneel with you on the bed, gently wiping the mess from your face. “fuck. fuck .”

“That’s one way to put it,” you said shyly, before he tossed the shirt aside and grapsed your face to pull you in for another kiss.

This one was different than the fireworks, and it didn’t feel like it was eating you alive. It felt...sincere and deep, like it transcended any ideas you might have had about kisses. You hummed quietly, reaching up to caress his skull in return.

His member twitched, reminding you both that he wasn’t even close to done, and he slowly drew away, pushing you down onto the bed. You landed with a soft poff on the pillows, and he slid his hands up your skirt without hesitation, and you yelped as magic tugged at you, yanking the rest of the buttons from your blouse and making quick work of the zipper on the front of your bra until your breasts popped out.

He shimmied your panties off, slinging them somewhere in his room so he could forget where they were--if this turned out to be a one-time thing, he wasn’t going to forget this happened. He would have a reminder.

You were surprised when he pushed your skirt up and dove right in, licking and kissing your dripping cunt until you were a writhing mess beneath him. You felt some of that magic tingling from before, stretching you as his long tongue wormed its way inside. Preparing you, you realized. It was overwhelming, but in a good way, and you were moaning so lewdly that he muttered “if you keep squealing i’m gonna cum again, darlin’.”

Then he drew away, drawing his tongue out slowly, laving over your sensitive clit before pressing the flat of it against it, magic popping and dancing over the little bundle of nerves until you were moaning breathlessly, pleasure hitting you in waves as he groaned, dipping his tongue back in to taste your release.

You tasted so good on his tongue, better than he could have dreamed, and he drew himself up to kiss your belly, your breasts, and then your sweet, perfect, poison lips once more, and you clung to him weakly. Your fingers felt like ice against his burning bones, and it made him shiver with pleasure as you explored his ribs and grasped his spine gently.

Your fingers brushed his soul and he gasped, body snapping to attention as electricity pounded through his magic, and he wasted no more time. You moaned as his magic rubbed over your folds, rocking slowly, piercings dragging over every sweet spot with a deliberate pace that drove both of you wild.

“Oh, fuck me,” you groaned, hips bucking of their own volition.

“i’ll get there, darlin’, don’t you worry,” he breathed back, sockets screwed shut and face flushed handsomely. “fuck, you feel sweet as sin...i’ve wanted this for so long, wanted you , needed you …”

You groan in unison as he finally sinks into you, setting a medium pace that's quick enough to make you pant heavily but slow enough to drive you mad. You can't keep your hands off of him, no matter how many times he changes the position, always roaming over his clavicle, his cervical vertebrae, over his ribs and spine and iliac crests. Everything about this just feels so right, so perfect , and your heart is hammering inside your chest, ready to break free of the prison of your ribs and leap directly into his, and it isn't long before his dripping soul has loosed from his chest, and you've gathered it up to kiss and lick and make him shiver and rattle…

It’s hours before the both of you finally collapse, exhausted, as his hot cum throbs and spills into your abused sex, relief waving over you as his magic healed your aches. He whimpered slightly as he finally pulled out of you, soul returning to his chest, instantly missing your warmth and comfort. He was propped up, just barely, on his elbows, hovering inches from your face as you panted in tandem.

He wouldn't pretend to understand his brother’s motives, or make sense of everything that just happened. He kissed you, soft and tender, and your tired little groan was like music in his soul as you kissed him back, sliding one hand behind his neck gently.

It felt so perfect.

So right.

“stay with me,” he muttered, before he can doubt himself. “you can still date sans, i don't care, just...don’t leave me here.”

“I don't want to leave,” you reassured him gently, as his slow kisses travelled over your cheeks and ghosted over your neck, gold incisors teasing your neck as you shivered beneath him. “I never want to leave…”

“WELL, IT’S ABOUT TIME.”

You both jumped, looking up hurriedly to see Black removing his jacket and scarf in the doorway. He raised a brow at your startled, guilty faces, and the way that Mutt moved to shield you as if worried he would spring.

“RELAX. THIS WAS MY PLAN FROM THE BEGINNING, YOU DOLT.”

Mutt blinked, confused but trying to relax as his brother strode across the room, leaning over the bed to capture your lips for a sweet kiss, looking remarkably proud of himself as he pulled away.

“What do you mean?” You said, confusion lacing your tone.

“WELL, YOUR CONNECTION TO MY BROTHER WAS EVIDENT THE MOMENT YOU MET HIM,” Black explained, shrugging as he sunk onto the mattress to run his fingers through your hair. “IMAGINE MY SURPRISE WHEN HE PRETENDED NOT TO FEEL IT, SO VERY CONCERNED ABOUT MY HAPPINESS THAT HE DIDN'T EVEN WANT TO PURSUE HIS OWN SOULMATE. HE WOULD HAVE DENIED IT, NATURALLY, SO I WAITED UNTIL HIS HEAT, TO LOWER HIS GUARD. TELL ME, DARLING, DID YOU ENJOY YOURSELF?”

You nodded sheepishly, a shy smile on your face as you laced your fingers with Mutt’s. “...I really did.”

“EXCELLENT. AND AS SUCH, IF THE TWO OF YOU ARE WILLING TO SHARE WITH ME, I WAS HOPING WE COULD ALL BE HAPPY TOGETHER.”

You both looked at him in shock, even though it seems right up his alley to share his girl with his brother.

“I...would like that. Very much.”

“...PAPYRUS?”

The sound of his real name snapped him from his stupor, and he tightened his grip on your hand with a startled laugh.

“...how could i say no?”

Chapter Text

“ANYTHING FOR YOU!”

Black scoffed as his peppier counterpart gave you a kiss. Blue was always so obedient and pliant when it came to you, their shared datemate, and he found it demeaning and disgusting.

“Aww...thank you, Blue, you're the best~” You replied sweetly, and Black stiffened at the praise.

Hmph. How does he get you to talk to him like that?

“What about you, Sugar Skull?” You sang, arms wrapping around his waist from behind to nuzzle his shoulder affectionately. “Feeling frisky?”

His annoyance waned fairly quickly with your touch, as always. He chuckled and paused his chopping. “AND ABANDON THESE TOMATOES TO CUT THEMSELVES?...I SUPPOSE~”

He did just that, abandoning the knife and veggies in favor of following your enticing form up the stairs, Blue leading the way to your shared bedroom.

Black wasted no time capturing your attention, as always, kissing you deeply the moment the door clicked shut behind him, hands trailing over your clothes to gently tug your buttons loose. Blue was at your back, supporting you as your knees became weak, making quick work of your jeans and kicking them to the side as soon as you stepped out of them, and Black practically purred as you sagged in his grip, leaning into his touch.

“Wait,” you moaned against his mouth, surprising him. He pulled back, two seconds shy of shoving you onto the bed, and Blue’s curious eyelights met his for a moment.

“YES, DARLING?” Black asked, brow quirked in interest.

“I, uhm...I want to try being in charge?”

Black snorted before he could stop himself. He never switched, and neither did Blue, and you knew that! You must be joking, knowing how the two of them--

“OKAY!” Blue chirped, and Black shot him a shocked expression. “IF THAT WILL MAKE YOU HAPPY!”

He could hear Black’s teeth grinding from here, but the pure delight in your eyes was absolutely worth it. Sure, he didn't switch often, but he wasn't lying when he said “anything for you”! He just wants to see that dazzling smile that you're giving him, and it’s only a few seconds before you're pressing that smile to his teeth, and your body against his, so soft and squishy and beautiful. It took everything not to throw you down right then and there.

“JUST TELL ME WHAT TO DO,” Blue purred, nuzzling your face.

“Uhm…” You wracked your brain for the kind of stuff they usually said to you when they topped. “Take off your clothes and lay down.”

He obliged, and you could practically hear Black rolling his eyelights behind you. It wasn't long before his shirt was off, and he paused.

“BODY? OR BONES?” He asked, and you hummed thoughtfully.

“Bones,” you said finally, remembering how delightfully sensitive his bones are without his ectobody to cover them. He seemed to follow your train of thought, stars in his eyes as he shivered with anticipation, slowly removing his pants to reveal bare bones and then sitting primly on the edge of the bed. You rewarded him with a kiss to the forehead, running your fingers over his sternum lightly until he shuddered. “There, you're so good to me~”

You turned to Black, who was watching with mild amusement mixed with irritation.

“You gonna get in on this?” You asked, suddenly confident due to Blue’s willingness.

Black chuckled, taking a seat on the lounge couch.”I THINK I’LL JUST WATCH UNTIL ALL OF THIS NONSENSE ABOUT SWITCHING IS SATIATED.”

You pouted and turned back to your more adventurous lover, making a show of leaning over him to kiss him tenderly. Blue hummed against your lips, and you could feel his magic sparking with excitement.

“Hold on, sweetie,” you cooed, your hand traveling down to caress his pubic symphysis, his efervescent magic churning and beginning to form. “No forming anything until I tell you.”

“MMmm...YES, MA’AM,” he gasped, attempting to tame the fire in his lap as you slowly dragged your fingers over sensitive bone and magic.

You kissed him again, pleased. “Look at you, you're doing so well. Shit, Baby Blue...you look like an angel.”

“L-Language,” Blue breathed, but his eyelights were tiny hearts, pulsing as you teased your fingers up his sensitive spine.

You cast a glance behind you to Black, who was busy pretending he isn't insanely jealous. You know how much he gets off to praise, like the kind of praise you're giving Blue. His purple pinpricks regarded you with a soft flicker of challenge, as if saying he wouldn't break.

You moved to sit behind Blue, drawing your hands gently over his ribs as you slid into place, and he shuddered, a little moan escaping as you went.

“You’re so handsome like this,” you whispered, one hand wrapping around his spine and pumping slowly, the other teasing his iliac crests, dipping into the swirling magic until his face and joints were glowing faint cerulean and his breath was heavy. “That’s good, ah, that’s perfect. You’re so good at this, sweetie, I love you so much.”

“I love y-you,” he stammered breathlessly, leaning desperately against your touch in an attempt to get some relief.

“You know what I need, right?” You purred, fingers dragging along the unformed magic. “Make it for me, Sans.”

Black twitched at the use of Blue’s real name, and whatever facade he was using to tune out your praise broke. He scowled as you wrapped your hand around Blue’s newly-formed shaft, kissing the back of his neck and his shoulder and muttering praises against his bones.

Finally, and with great trepidation, Black rose from his seat, arms crossed as he approached the absolute mess that was Blue and your smug grin.

“FINE. WHAT DO I HAVE TO DO?” He grumbled, teeth grinding. You and Blue both stifled a laugh at his predictable response, before you readjusted to let Blue sit to the side, giving his sensitive bones a break.

“Strip.”

Black obliged, slowly, so slowly that it felt like he was mocking you, and when he was finally stripped of his guard uniform, he started to form his cock, only for you to stop him.

“What now?” He asked, irritated.

“I wanna see something a little different,” you teased, running your finger over the curve of his iliac crests.

His sockets widened as he understood your request, and he hesitated for a short moment...before magic started sparking around his spine, and growing into a beautiful mulberry ecto body with soft, round breasts, aroused magic coalescing into an enticing pussy.

….he looks so nervous, poor baby. You know he has a hard time accepting his female ecto-body, as evidenced by the way he hesitantly crosses his arms to cover himself self-consciously.

“Good boy,” you purred, running your hands over his plush hips. Your praise strikes a chord, and he relaxed just a bit. You placed small kisses on the southernmost point of his stomach, just above his mound, and he shivered. “Oh, you're so beautiful like this, look at you~”

He blushed and smirked, a little bit of confidence coming back to his posture. “...THANK YOU.”

“Blue? Isn't he gorgeous?” You asked, and your other partner jumped slightly, as if not expecting to be addressed.

Blue and Black exchanged looks, and it was almost as if a switch flipped and they had an entire conversation in their heads.

“Oh, yes, quite beautiful,” Blue purred, crawling over to your side of the bed. Black met him halfway, and with a mischievous look in your direction, Black draped his arms over Blue’s shoulders.

“Yes, if only I had a good, submissive partner to play with,” the edgier of the two sighed dramatically as Blue slid his hands over his soft ecto flesh, giving his ass a playful pinch. “But it seems my human is intent on being the boss tonight...and I'm not very good at being told what to do.”

“Maybe I can help?” Blue offered, winking over at your shocked face as his fingers dipped down to tease Black’s sensitive slit. “I’ll be good.”

You blinked, taken aback and startlingly aroused as you watched your boyfriends kiss and moan, running their hands over each others’ secret sensitive spots and playing it up for your approval.

They almost never got physical with each other unless...those sneaky devils were trying to flip this on you!

But as Blue trailed kisses down Black's mauve form, spreading his thighs to lick languidly at his aroused cunt...you found that you were too turned on to care. You scooted closer as Blue groaned, muttering praises between Black’s legs as the other panted and struggled to give direction.

“Hmmm? What is it, darling?” Black panted, cracking one socket open to regard you as a shudder ran up his spine. “I thought you wanted to be in charge...but you know I only waste this much magic for good datemates.”

“Fine,” you whined, pouting as you squirmed, a desperate need growing in your heat. “Fine, you can be in charge, I'll be good, I just...please?”

“I don't know...you’ve been an awfully naughty baby,” Black mused, stroking Blue’s skull as he slowed his ministrations to observe the aftermath of their flawlessly executed plan. “Blue? Should we throw her a bone?”

Blue’s cock twitched, ignored, and he looked at you with a hungry look. “Well, I definitely have one that needs sharing.”

Black shrugged, releasing Blue, who tackled you, knocking you backward until you somehow landed against Black’s chest and pressing his cock against the flimsy fabric of your panties.

“You really are all bothered~” Blue groaned, rubbing his length against you through your underwear and feeling how slick you were, even through the fabric.

He wanted to tease you so bad, like you had teased him, but it turns out that you are much too good at teasing because he can't even bring himself to wait.

He pushed your panties aside, and you groaned as you felt him press against your entrance, moving slowly but surely until he was buried deep inside you all the way to the hilt, and you both let out a collective breath of relief.

You weren't surprised to feel Black’s cock pressing against your back--you knew he wouldn't keep the other form up for long, you had just wanted to play with him a bit. One of these days you'll have to eat him out so you can show him how good you can make it feel, but right now you were shuddering with pleasure as Black’s strong grip raised and lowered you into Blue’s thrusts.

Blue kissed you, muffling your moans against his teeth as he gutted against you, consistently pushing you back against the soft ecto-flesh Black had luckily kept, probably for your comfort.

“Ah, Blue~” You moaned as he thrusted one last time, holding you down on his cock as it twitched and spilled hot cum inside you, drawing a long orgasm from you as Black gently massaged your breasts, stimulating you through your release.

You were still in a haze from your orgasm, but the boys wasted no time turning you around, Blue’s fingers testing your entrance, slick with his cum, and Black grabbing your chin to look you in the face, searching for signs of pain or overstimulation. All they got was a broken moan and you thrusting back into his hand, and Black chuckled, using his grip on your chin to bring you in for a deep kiss, nicking your lip slightly in his excitement as Blue lined you up above Black’s cock.

“Are you ready, love?” Blue asked, and you nodded.

You groaned as Black pressed into you, lowering your abused cunt down gently, making it ache in a good way as he hilted himself, enjoying the view of you in his lap. You squirmed in their combined grip, trying to get some friction for your lust-hazed mind.

“Now, darling, don’t struggle,” he purred, leaning close to nip and lick at your exposed clavicle, where his and Blue’s twin marks gleamed like precious gems. He loved to run his tongue over them, the fill them so full with magic that you felt blinding pleasure. Blue saw the action and leaned in from behind you to bite and lick your shoulder, too, reaching around your front, two fingers sliding alongside Black’s thick cock to stimulate your soaked bundle of nerves.

It was overwhelming, and you could hardly even think as you clutched Black's shoulders, a lengthy, languid moan escaping as you practically shook in their grasp. You didn't even realize Black had started moving until he had you flat against his chest, thrusting and slamming you down on his cock at breakneck speed while their combined magic and Blue’s fingers worked to throw you over the edge again and again, Black’s thick cum mixing with Blue’s inside you and making you shake violently with the feeling of being so very full…

The next thing you knew you were blinking your eyes open to find yourself staring at the ceiling, both boys wrapped around you gently, arguing in hushed voices on how best to care for you while you slept.

“The magic thing was too much. We should have gone easy on her.” Blue was muttering as he gently pushed a pillow beneath your neck.

“She didn't use the safeword,” Black countered. “And she didn't pass out until the very end. That's good...you worry too much.”

Black’s hands were rubbing your shoulder gently, reassuringly, and when they noticed your expression, they both dropped their argument and moved on to muttered praises as they snuggled into you. You drifted in and out of sleep for a bit before you heard voices and shuffling, and the door opened.

“aw, babe, you gonna snuggle pile without us?”

Black and Blue adjusted slightly sleepily, and the weight of your other two boyfriends weighed down on either side, large bony arms sliding over their brothers to rest on you as Stretch and Mutt curled gently around your little threesome. They were so big that they could easily curl to rest their head above their brothers on the pillows for a kiss.

“damn, darlin’, they played hardball with ya while we were at work.” Mutt cooed softly, caressing your bruised breasts gently as he nuzzled your face.

“Mmm….mhmmm,” you agreed, fingers wrapping gently between Stretch’s on your sternum. “My fault. Tried to top.”

Stretch and Mutt both chuckled a little as Mutt drew up the blanket.

“well, honey, you just rest. then you can have it your way tomorrow,” Stretch reassured you, kissing your temple gently.

You wanted to say you'd be too sore to do anything tomorrow, but it was a moot point--it would be worth it, and right now you're just too damn comfy and loved to care about how hard they'll wreck you in the morning.

Chapter Text

You loved having sex with Mutt.

You really, really loved having sex with him. You’re a very sex-positive person, despite your asexuality, and the way he made you feel was unlike anything else. His calculated touches, his heated kisses, the look in his eyes as he showed you how much he loved you…

When you had sex, it was as if there's this entire side of him that you never get to see, this lovestruck fool that desperately needs you to hold him. He's blushy and shy, even as he moves confidently against you, and he mutters sweet words in your ear that make you melt.

It didn't take long to notice a pattern.

Every time you kissed or snuggled him, he ate it up, touch-starved and always shocked that you wanted to show him affection. It always quickly turned into him rubbing up on you and touching you, which always turned into sex. There he could show you how much he appreciated you, and you felt it in every touch.

But it always ended in sex. Which, don't get you wrong, you definitely enjoy--just, when you came out and said you were Ace one day he kind of...broke. He respects you, of course, but he also started to really reserve his sexual side, which is not only bad for him but also deprived you of the affection you so desperately craved from him.

Which confused you, because you know that he very much needs that, too.

After two dry weeks of him holding back, you tried to initiate some sort of affection--just a little snuggle watching Netflix. He practically vibrated with relief and promptly pulled you into his lap, kissing and nipping at your neck--

And then it hit you.

The only reason he's so horny all the time is that he quite literally doesn't know any other way to show affection.

“Baby, wait,” you cooed softly, caressing the back of his skull gently.

He stiffened under the soft admonishment, leaning back quickly with a guilty look in his eyes. “shit, darlin’, i...i’m sorry, i thought you wanted it, shit.”

“Oh, no, I do, I mean, it’s fine,” you reassured him, grabbing his hands and drawing them back to your waist. “I just, uhm...you know that sex isn't the only way we can be affectionate, right?”

He looked at you in blank confusion, as if this was completely foreign territory. Honestly, what you've heard of their dad and seen of his relationship with Black, you aren't surprised he doesn't know this.

“Here, can I show you?” You asked softly, picking up his hand and giving it a soft kiss. His face immediately erupted into a violet blush.

“uh...yeah, yeah. will it...uh, sorry...will it hurt?” He asked timidly, and seeing you about to laugh he quickly backpedaled. “not that i can't take it, but, uh, if you wanna get kinky with this affection stuff then i'd like a warning.”

You laughed, and he frowned. That wasn't a joke, or if it was, it certainly wasn't a good one. Honestly he had no idea what you were talking about, so isn't it natural for him to be a little apprehensive?

“It’s not gonna hurt, unless you want it to,” you said, still giggling just a little bit as you scooted fully into his lap to straddle him.

...so far, he has no idea how this is supposed to be different from sex. He desperately wants to turn his thoughts off right now, like he usually does when he goes into this. The haze of sex is a good distraction from the daily hell of his life--granted, it had become so much better since he came above ground and met you, but it still stung, like fresh whip marks.

When you kissed him, he let out an embarrassing whimper, his hands gripping you tighter, pulling you closer. Holy fuck, he loves kissing you. Everything about you is just so soft and gentle and perfect, and for some reason you're with his lazy ass. He's so pent up, so touch-starved from holding back for fear of making you uncomfortable...hell, he can be honest. He's touch-starved from years and years of life without anyone to hold him. Before you, he hadn't been held since Black was still a child, comforting him about the loss of his teeth at his father’s stern hand.

And before that? He thinks his dad held him once. The day that Black was born.

Your fingers fluttered along his skull, pressing and smoothing along his temples, startling him from his thoughts. When had you stopped kissing him? And what were you doing now, and why did it feel so good just to have your fingers brush his bone? There was no sexual intent behind it, no, it felt almost better, like the part after the sex where you snuggle as he pretends to sleep, hoping to hold you just a little longer…

“what are you doin’, darlin’?” He purred softly, leaning into your touch as he felt his face heat up spectacularly. The purple in his blush danced in your eyes, and he couldn't bear to look at your sweet, adorable smirk.

“Showing you how to be affectionate,” you said firmly, planting another kiss on his forehead...and then his cheekbones, and temples, and nasal ridge, and teeth, and jaw--pretty soon you were completely covering his face with your kisses, and he could only squeak and try to meld with the couch as it happened. It felt so nice, so pure, and he was going to have a figurative heart attack if you don't quit it.

“don't...don’t tease,” he begged, hating how quiet and meek he sounded.

Suddenly your arms wrapped fully around him, and you tucked his head gently against your breast and fell sideways, trapping him in a soft snuggle between you and the couch.

You laughed as his hands dragged you closer in return. “Now we snuggle.”

“just snuggle?” He asked, confusion heavy in his tone even as he wrapped his arms around you and tucked his head in, winding his legs around yours.

“If that's alright.”

“...for how long?”

“As long as you want,” you stated, picking up that gentle rhythm on the back of his skull once more.

As long as he wants? You aren't going to kick him off, or yell at him? He knows that's a ridiculous thing to expect of you, but...affection...was hard won in his life, and before you it was never “as long as he likes”.

“can i get...some more kisses?” He asked hesitantly, and with that soft giggle he loved so much, you obliged, kissing him softly several times on the forehead until he fell asleep with a smile.

“darlin’?”

“Yeah?” you asked distractedly, typing away on your laptop. You were still in your pjs, even though it was noon, but you had been working furiously on this paper due Monday so you hardly cared. Hell, you hadn't even bothered to get out of bed.

Your skeletal boyfriend paused a long moment, and you looked up to see him watching you type as if second-guessing himself.

“nevermind, it’s...you’re busy, and it’s fine.” He mumbled, rubbing the back of his skull nervously.

“No, what's up? I can take a break.” You press save just in case, and beam up at him.

“i, uh, wanted to...uhhh….”

“Yeeeeeessss?” You urged, raising an eyebrow. He muttered something quickly under his breath that sounded like “snuggle” or “cuddle”. “You want cuddles and love?”

“nevermind, it’s dumb, forget it,” he said, all too quick. “you can't put everything down just to cuddle me, that's stupid.”

“I don't have to put everything down,” you shrugged, reaching back to adjust the pillows behind you. “See? There's room here. You can snuggle me while I work.”

He stands there for a long, silent moment, eyeing the bed behind you. “that won't be too distracting?”

“Nope, it’ll be nice.”

And it was. He climbed in behind you, stretching his legs out on either side, wrapping his arms around your middle, and then he rested his chin on your shoulder and simply observed you working. He didn't move, but before long there was a sort of soft purring rumbling against your back, and his sockets were drooping as he nuzzled against your neck.

It was slow, but sure.

It started with the snuggles and cuddles while you were working, or while watching TV. Then he started sneaking little kisses every now and then, and holding your hand, and running his fingers through your hair.

Each time he did it without prompting, he could see how happy it made you, and honestly...it made him happy, too.

He could touch you all he wanted, and it didn't have to be for any other reason than that he simply wanted to feel your skin or taste your lips. He could hold you as long as he wanted, and though Black had started to tease him for being clingy, you adored the attention as much as he did.

How had he never realized that he didn't need sex? It wasn't as if you never had it, but now it just...it felt better , just to know that those sweet things he says and does during sex can be said and done without it, too.

Your affection is like air to him, and he eats up every second--his hesitation melts away a little bit each time you flutter a small kiss to his cheek or every time he falls asleep to your light, loving touches.

He stayed awake some night, just watching you sleep and fearing that he might wake up any second, and that all of this was just a dream, or that it was reset. He couldn't bear it if that happened--he'd die. He couldn't go back to that hell underground unless he knew for a fact you'd be waiting for him here.

You, his perfect little datemate who makes him feels so weak and so strong at the same time.

You, the one he holds every day and night as long as he wants.

You, who graces his sensitive bones with soft touches denoting adoration, who makes him feel like maybe he isn't such a monster after all.

You, who taught him how to love.

“i love you,” he muttered softly as he kissed your temple, and you hummed and rolled over to pull him closer, making him melt immediately against you.

“Mmm...love you, too,” you sighed sleepily, plating a single kiss on his jaw that nearly made him sob.

He drew you as close as possible and buried his face in your hair, only one word playing on repeat in his head as it lulled him to sleep.

Lucky.

Chapter Text

The first few months on the surface were hell on earth.

With no proper king, they were left with the shut in ex-queen and the frightened child who freed them to negotiate their presence above ground, with the stipulation that nobody leaves the forest atop Mt. Ebott until all negotiations are finished.

Mistrust and violence overcame them at first, until they all grew used to the idea that food was plentiful up here. Sans watched as Papyrus stood firm in his morals, vowing never to taste human flesh again and going out of his way to hunt and provide deer, fish, rabbit, and other forest animals to feed not only the two of them, but everyone waiting in the woods.

As the days passed, not a peep was heard from the human government, and the aggressive hunting drove most animals farther and farther out. More content to have his brother stay with everyone else, Sans volunteered to hunt in the unexplored sections of the forest, which required more than 12 hours of hiking to properly reach and therefore meant he would be camping out until he caught what he needed, and then would be able to warp everything back to Ebott Peak River where the others stayed.

He'd spent plenty of time in darkened woods before, but something about the stars overhead was both relaxing and unnerving at the same time. The moonlight cast strange shadows around, and though he knew there was nobody out here but him…

...he swore he kept seeing a woman in white disappearing behind the trees.

He blamed the hole in his skull at first, and then the eerie feeling of the woods. Then he thought it was a trick of the moonlight, but even on return trips during the day he kept seeing her, floating through the trees and never emerging on the other side.

Maybe he's just crazy? Maybe she's a ghost?

Eventually he got used to catching flickers of her form, turning most of his attention to hunting instead…

...but in the back of his mind, in an unused, dusty bit of memory that made him vaguely think he used to be a scientist...he couldn't help but wonder about her.

And if she was lonely out here by herself.

You swear you were seeing things.

Whenever you went out to forage berries for jam, you saw what you can only explain as a harbinger of death--a hulking skeleton in blue, with a massive crack in his skull.

It wasn't until you heard on the radio that monsters had emerged from the mountain that you understood what you had been seeing--a skeleton monster hunting for food to provide for the patient monsters waiting in the forest.

You often wondered why he never called out or made conversation, and if you looked like you might approach he disappeared into the trees, like a frightened mouse.

You were thinking of the skeleton in passing a lot, wondering if he was getting enough to eat, wondering if he was making sure to care for himself on top of the others. For some reason he just struck you as the kind to starve to make sure others didn't, and you were usually pretty uncanny when it came to judging people. You decided if he ever stopped by your cabin, you'd be sure to send him off with some of your award-winning huckleberry jam, and maybe some Clif bars to keep him full on his journeys through the forest.

Your brother always said you were the motherly type.

It was late autumn when it finally happened.

Monsters had been around for several long months, and as some of them were allowed to venture out into the world as a sort of test run, the most volatile (read: Sans) were to stay back until humans were used to the idea of them. To appease him, Papyrus stayed behind as well, despite being Aliza’s first pick to bridge the gap. Everyone knew that Sans would never let him go that far away from him, where humans were, without him being able to follow. If he had gone, Sans would have followed regardless, and likely snapped the wrist of the first human that dared touch his brother.

With significantly less monsters to hunt for, Sans wandered into the far reaches of the forest a lot less, but he still went on occasion if the deer were shy enough. It was one such crisp autumn day that he found himself a little uneasy, a twist in his nonexistent stomach as he realized he hadn't eaten that morning.

Why was that? Oh, yeah, because Pap had looked so sad when he finished his, so he thought he might still be hungry and had given him his portion. Hunger didn't exactly bother him, though it wasn't pleasant, but even he couldn't resist moving towards whatever that amazing smell was.

He followed the scent of pie crust and apple spice through the trees, over a bridge, and under a fallen log, until he came upon a little cabin. If he didn't smell fresh baked goods, he might have thought the cabin to be abandoned--the vines on the outside crisscrossed even over the doors and windows, and the tools in the front yard were rusty and looked as if they hadn't been touched in decades.

But there was definitely a fresh pie on the windowsill, and he couldn't help but approach slowly, the hunger twisting in response to the spice in the air.

It looked like one of those old magazines, those perfect pies you'd see being held by some 50s American housewife with a string of pearls around her neck.

...he could probably slide it right off the windowsill no problem. Right? This person could always make more...right?

“Oh! The skeleton from the forest!”

He flinched and backed up too quickly at the voice, foot catching on a rock and sending him flying back into a wheelbarrow with a yelp and a clang.

He managed to look up...and saw, behind the pie in the window, the ghost he'd been seeing in the trees.

Except you weren't a ghost at all, but rather a human, wearing a white cotton dress and a red and white apron, looking very much like the housewife he had imagined had made the pie. You hastily removed your apron and...opened the wall.

No, wait, it was a ranch-style door with a ledge that led directly into your kitchen. You must use that instead of the front door--explains why the front door is overgrown. And carefully, without dropping the pie, you opened and closed it and rushed out to check on him.

“I'm sorry, did I scare you?” You asked, offering a hand to help him get out of the wheelbarrow.

He ignored it, heaving himself to his feet and backing up several feet. He doesn't like humans--he doesn't trust them. Least of all humans that live in a murdery cabin in the woods miles from civilization that don't even bat an eye at the appearance of a literal monster.

You bit your lip, furrowed your brow, cocked your head slightly...you’re thinking. Looking at him without an ounce of fear even though he's easily twice your size with a massive crack in his skull and one disgusting, dilated red eyelight. Shouldn't you be running away screaming? That's what Aliza had done.

Then again, Aliza wasn't a possible serial killer who lived alone in the woods.

“Are you hungry?”

He stared at you, unsure how to answer. You gestured to follow, opening the ranch door for him. His eyelight lingered on the pie on the sill, and you laughed.

“Sweetie, there's a lot more where that came from. Come on, don't be shy.”

Hunger demanded he answer your invitation. At least if you tried something funny, he could kill you and hide your body in the woods fairly easily.

But that thought was far from his mind when he walked in to find the kitchen counters, the table, and all the surfaces he could see just...covered in food. Pies, jams, casseroles...what in the world is one person doing with all this food?!

“I'm able to make my living by sending all this down once a month in a freezer truck. For the local stores,” you answered, cluing him into the fact that he had asked that out loud. “But I can spare some. What do you want to eat?”

He looked around for a long moment. He'd...eaten a lot of deer these last few months. And berries. He didn't fancy those again if he could really choose.

Eventually he pointed out his choice.

“Oohhh, a quiche! Good choice! Here, let me pop it in the oven to reheat it a bit. You get comfy.”

He obediently sat in one of your kitchen chairs, which had looked to be made of twigs but surprisingly didn't even creak beneath his massive bones. He watched as you bustled about, clearly happy for the company even though he wasn't much for conversation. He probably shouldn't be so relaxed, seeing as he doesn't know you or if you would poison him or something but...if you're nice, then once he taste tests this stuff he might be able to bring something new back for Pap. Something special.

You placed a generous slice of quiche in front of him, and damn, it just smelled so good. By the time you had returned with a fork, it was halfway in his mouth, crumbling in his fingers, and your cute giggle was almost as good as the quiche.

“Guess you don't need this,” you said, plopping down in the chair across from him and setting the fork down. “How is it?”

“...good,” he mumbled, setting it down and wiping his hands as best as he could before taking the fork, a little embarrassed but mostly not. He should probably say thank you, but the words won't come out.

“I'm glad!” You said sweetly, smiling up at him. You introduced yourself, and then offered your hand, which he ignored once more. “...and you are?”

“...sans.” He doesn't know why he gave you his real name. He had thought he'd come up with some weird nickname, but no, his real name just came out.

“Sans, huh? I has hoping you'd come say hi one day. Oh, before you go--” You raised a hand as he started to stand, having finished his quiche and become eager to leave the danger zone of social contact.

Again, for some reason he obediently paused, probably due to the sheer amount of food around and how much his instincts were telling him to keep on your good side.

You fiddled with your keys and opened a cabinet.

“Bears,” you explained idly, as if it were totally normal to worry about bears inside your house...but hey, maybe on the surface, it was?

You pulled out a box and lugged it over to him, plopping it into his arms and making his knees buckle in surprise. It wasn't near too heavy for him, but it was a lot heavier than he had thought you could carry. It was full of aluminum dishes that apparently held casseroles, eggs and other essentials their diets had been missing since they were hunting all their food.

Just who are you?

“I don't know how many monsters are still out there, but these should be good. Just leave them out in the morning and the sun will warm them up enough--or you can come use my oven, too. If you need a freezer, I have one, and this--” You held up a jar of jam, cute little plaid fabric tied to the top with a homemade label on it. “--is the best huckleberry jam this side of the county. You come back when you all finish this, okay?”

He couldn't turn you down--the quiche had been really good, and you had even tucked that on top for him. All this food would certainly last a good few days.

“...why?” He asked finally, as he hoisted the box a little higher.

“Because that's what good cooking is for--sharing!” You said, smiling that dazzling smile up at him once more. “And because it gets awfully lonely up in this cabin by myself, and you're good company.”

He's shit company, but it feels nice to hear you say he isn't.

He'll definitely have to think about coming back.

He came back every week at least once a week, sometimes two if you baited him with something special. His favorites appeared to be quiche, straight ketchup, burgers, and fries, though the day you made spaghetti his head swiveled around so fast you were afraid it might roll off his shoulders. He didn't eat any, only took it with him, so you suppose he must have somebody he cares dearly for that likes it.

When the snow came, his visits became more and more infrequent. He was never much for words, though he said more the less he came, as if making up for lost time.

“...payment.” He said once, slowly, as if afraid of offending you. He was offering monster gold, clearly unsure if it was worth anything to you, but wanting to do something. Little does he know that the mere presence of another being was more than enough, especially when he got into those strange moods where he would joke a bit, or talk about the stars.

It got lonely without him.

“Oh, Sans, just having you here is enough for me,” you said, hazarding to kiss his cheekbone softly. He seemed to blush, except it was a deep navy that dusted his cheeks, highlighting a smattering of freckles across his cracked skull, and for a moment he looked like a completely different person.

“i feel bad,” he mumbled, pocketing the gold. “taking from your stock, your payload.”

“Don't,” you soothed him, continuing to fill his crate. You held up a stack of blankets, placing them on top. “The only thing I need from you guys is to stay warm. Okay? And when you do get to go to town, maybe you can write me a good yelp review.”

You laughed, and a smile tugged at the corner of his mouth as he realized it was a joke.

“we’re warm. magic from the barrier...the ground is like spring.” He shrugged. You raised a brow.

“Yes, but with the snow you'll need to come by more often, right? So you at least...I wanna see a thicker coat on you next time, okay big guy?”

“...this is my coat.” He chuckled, gesturing to his stained sweatshirt. You grimaced, and it made him chuckle more. “...worry too much.”

“What, I'm not allowed to worry about you?” You huffed, pushing his box into his arms. “Come back again this week, you stubborn skeleton. I know deer are scarce with the snowfall.”

“...somethin’ special?” He asked cheekily, brow raising.

You giggled and started pushing him out the door. “Sure, sure. Something special, just for you.”

The blizzard hit unexpectedly, ushering you back into your house with urgency, away from the hunt for wild rhubarb you had been on since dawn.

Because your house was in a clearing, however well-covered, it piled up quickly as you stripped off your winter clothes in favor of your nightgown and stoked your wood stove in the living room/bedroom. You were already disappointed by Sans’ lack of presence these last few days, and as the next couple hours passed you began to feel sad that he wouldn't be coming today either.

Living in the woods all by yourself was wonderful, but lonely. Ever since you had met Sans it had been a little bit less so, with a warm tingle filling your chest every time he dropped by. He was reserved, but not without humor, especially once he was well-fed. He was secretive, and a bit wild, but so were you, so you aren't complaining.

As you shiver slightly at the breeze in your house, you can't help but wonder if his bones are warm, and if he would mind sharing that warmth with you…

...was that a knock? You paused and listened closely, and the knock is repeated, louder and more desperate, on the ranch door in your kitchen.

You practically sprint to it and throw it open, your fear confirmed--Sans, clearly half-frozen, falls to your feet, wet and shivering and clutching one of your Tupperware.

It was a whirlwind of movement getting him up and inside, bolting the door behind you and helping him to the couch.

“What were you thinking, out there in this weather?” You squeaked as you sat him as close to the stove as possible, prying the tupperware from his grasp and using a warm towel to wipe the snow from his skull. “Sans?!”

“...f...fine,” he insisted, smile twitching at you. “just cold.”

“Of course you are! Take off those wet clothes, I'll get a blanket.”

You rushed to get your warmest blanket, a quilt that you're certain your grandmother made with magic since it’s always perfect for any temperature. Then you grab the electric kettle still half-full with this morning’s water for your tea, and a hot water bottle.

You plugged it in near the table, and turned toward him to offer the blanket...only to stop in your tracks.

You didn't think it was possible for him to look bigger without his clothes, but as he stripped his sweatshirt and t-shirt, his ribs seemed to puff out more even as he shivered, each seemingly as thick as your wrist and marred with scratches, lacerations, bite marks...signs of a rough life indeed.

He sneezed suddenly, reminding you why you were standing there, and you quickly stood on your tiptoes to throw the blanket around his shoulders, hands and arms brushing over deathly cold bones. He shivered against your touch, unconsciously leaning closer, only catching himself when he had his chest pressed as close to you as he could without grabbing you.

“...sorry. warm,” he chattered, drawing the blanket around his shoulders and sitting rigidly on the couch. He was still shivering, a light dusting of blue on his cheekbones.

You looked at the tea kettle. It was old, and you know it can take a while to warm up…

He squeaked as you crawled into his lap, pressing back against the couch as far as he can go, panic evident on his skull as he stared at you while you wiggled your way underneath the blanket.

“I'm warm, you're cold,” you breathed, wrapping your arms around his neck and scooting in until you were sure that you were touching him as much as possible. He shuddered and nodded, wrapping his arms around you in return until you were enveloped by the blanket.

The chill in his bones and the roughness of the scars pressed tightly against you, and you shuddered in return, but for an entirely different reason--your long-neglected breasts were more than happy with the contact, and you subtly pressed closer with need you had ignored for far too long. You don't even know if skeletons can do that, but your body doesn't seem to care.

“...okay?” He asked, concern lacing his tone even as he drew his arms tighter.

You nodded, not trusting yourself to suppress the moan you were holding back. You're just keeping him warm, you shouldn't be making it weird.

...you wish you had been wearing a bra.

“You?” You asked finally, and he chuckled, surprising you with the deep vibration in his chest that tingled through your body.

“m’pretty okay,” he said, a slight lilt to his voice. Teasing. “...you’re all red, though.”

You felt your blush deepen and you turned to hide your face. “S...sorry. Sorry.”

“for what?”

“For, uhm…” you trailed off, conflicted. Sorry for being aroused? Sorry for wondering how monsters mate? “...it’s been a while since anybody’s held me.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “...me, too. nothin’ t’be sorry about...everyone else is missin’ out.”

“Yeah,” you giggled, slightly nervous. “I mean, you're pretty good at this.”

“...talking about you.”

“Me?” You look at him, and it dawns on you.

He's flirting.

It's subtle, and you might have missed it if you weren't so thirsty, but his eyelight was trained on you, not in the rigid, calculating, far-off look he usually wore, but rather something...soft. And hungry.

“...been a long time for a lot?” He observed, hands smoothing up your back. “lonely on the mountain…?”

“Yes…” You admit slowly, shivering slightly at the feeling of rough hands running firmly over your back.

“you said me being here...was payment enough, but…” he squeezed your hips, and you gasped softly as your arousal flared. “...i really been runnin’ up a tab, huh?”

“No, no, I...I never expected anything for the food,” you insisted, hands twisting in the fabric of the blanket around his shoulders. “Just wanted to help, I swear…I enjoy the...company.”

“...suppose i give ya a tip then?” He offered, voice a low growl. “you work hard...you deserve it.”

“Can't...exactly say no to that,” you relented, and he purred in response, closing the short distance between you to press his teeth to your mouth hard, his kiss as hungry and wild as you always thought him to be, and you moaned immediately, earning a groan in return as his hands dropped to grip your ass and grind up into you desperately.

He was clearly just as touch-starved as you were, but that wasn't it. There was something else behind his fierce pursuit of your affection.

“Why?” You gasped when he stood, blanket fluttering to the floor as he walked you past the wood stove toward your bed. “Why me?”

“trust you,” he said simply, and then your back hit the bed and knocked the wind out of you, followed by him stealing what little breath you had left with another kiss. He paused to let you catch your breath, looking at you, probably thinking about how small you are compared to him. “...might bite.”

“I like biting,” you admitted sheepishly, and he chuckled.

“hard?”

“Just don't take a chunk outta me.”

“...can’t promise.” His tone was teasing, but there was genuine worry in his eyes.

“It’ll be fine,” you said soothingly, and it had the disarming effect it always did, and he relaxed into you and met your kiss, slightly softer this time. Even as he kissed you with obvious longing, he punctuated each kiss with concerned warning.

“might be rough.”

“Good.”

“might hurt.”

“I'm pretty hard to break.”

“...you’re so small.”

“Sans.” You said sternly, holding his face. “I want this. Do you?”

"hell yes,” he said with startling swiftness, a flash of something in his good socket as he broke your grip to kiss you fiercely once more, dragging you into a near-sitting position in his lap as he kneeled on your bed, his fingertips likely leaving bruises as he shuddered against you.

His teeth were cushioned by a buzz of what you can only assume was magic, and while you can't say it feels like lips it also didn't... not feel like lips. Whatever it was, it took your breath away as he slid his hands up your nightgown, sliding it effortlessly up, halting every now and then as if trying not to rip it off you.

You were just about to breathlessly ask how monsters even do this when he tossed you back down, eyelight taking in your near-naked form...you shimmied out of your panties with a wink, and now you were entirely naked.

“So how…?” You started, but he shushed you.

“easier to show you…” he mumbled, and then his fingers were tracing your muscle gently, all the way down your torso until he reached your aching cunt. “...all new to me. humans.”

“Monsters for me, too,” you laughed, and you opened your legs wider so he could see. “Uhmm...how new? Do I...need to explain?”

He chuckled. “...not that new. we match up.”

“...Oh.” You're definitely embarrassed, but he seems to be amused so it's okay.

You gasp as something wet and warm presses against your slit suddenly, and you discover that he has a tongue that's as blue as his blush, and he's putting it to use on your sensitive lower lips. A bashful moan escapes you as he takes one thigh in each huge hand, pressing harder and wiggling the tentacle-like appendage past your tight entrance, a soft groan of appreciation escaping him as he watches your reactions closely.

You're so cute when you fall apart like that, so sensitive to every little touch, like when he runs his hand along your thighs like that. Or when he flicks his tongue inside you just a little and you jump and let out a broken moan. You must think this is the main event, seeing as you don't have any way of knowing about the extra bone pressing painfully against the mattress. But he has to prepare you for that, you're just so small…

...and tight. And sweet. And he moans again as your breathing gets heavier, your arousal tasting sweeter on his tongue every moment it prods that sweet, spongy button that keeps making you squeal so pleasantly.

It’s been bothering him the whole time he's known you, that you give and give and he never has anything to offer. The fact that you accepted his offer to assuage your loneliness isn't just thrilling for him, as embarrassingly attached to you as he is, but also to his ego, which had long since felt uncomfortable with the imbalance of power.

...he’d never have done this before. You asked him why, and he said he trusts you, but that's only the tip of the iceberg.

But those thoughts can be stored for later, if he remembers, because right now you're squeezing around his tongue, sitting practically upright as your heat throbs and loosens spectacularly, and the aftershocks have your cute, perfect little mouth making the lewdest noises as he removes his tongue to kiss your entrance, the taste of you intoxicating as he subconsciously ruts his hardened magic into your bed.

“Sans?” You panted, and he hummed in recognition, opening his good socket to look up at you.

Damn. You looked so good, like that, like you were waiting for him to tell you it was okay.

He'd never thought he'd find a human so beautiful, but he kinda likes the way you look when that perfect housewife mystique you always sport has dropped, leaving you sweaty and out of breath and so blissfully his, in this moment…

“...more where that came from,” he teased, mimicking one of the first things you had ever said to him.

You laughed, and it was so clear and sexy, voice rough from moaning. “Something special?”

“...sure. something special.”

“Just for me?”

“just for you.”

And with that, he pushed the top of his shorts down, and you gasped as his cock bounced out. It certainly gave new meaning to the phrase “monster cock”, with sheer length and girth you've never seen on your admittedly meager number of human lovers, along with a deep navy color and even darker ridges that almost looked sharp.

“...okay?” He asked, concern lacing his tone.

“Yeah, m’pretty okay,” you giggled nervously, and he chuckled in return.

You gasped as the head of his cock pressed against your soaked core, prodding and testing and finding a tiny bit of a give that allowed him to squeeze the tip into you. Instantly your body was aching for more and you groaned as he stopped, sockets slamming shut as he concentrated on the way you squeezed him.

“...tight…” he breathed, obviously not displeased, but his hands came up to press lightly into your hips. “relax.”

You obeyed, relaxing as much as you can, and even though it had been a long time since you'd been intimate, your body responded the way you wanted and pretty soon he was thrusting shallowly, deeper and deeper just a little bit each time.

He groaned as he finally hilted, allowing you a few moments to adjust.

“...okay?”

“Just...a moment,” you managed, every tiny twitch of your stuffed cunt sending mixed signals of pain and pleasure, making the rest of you shake. “...okay.”

“...might be rough,” he repeated, voice a low groan of concern, close to breaking.

“Okay--ahh!” You squealed as he started to thrust suddenly, picking your hips up off the mattress so he could properly plough you into it, and your shocked noises became moans and incoherent babbling as he used you, and you enjoyed it a lot more than he probably expected.

After a few minutes of struggling for it, you found a rhythm together, both taking out who-knows-how-many-months’ frustrations on each others’ bodies, and even in the desperation there was an intimacy that goes beyond payment or loneliness.

“trust you,” he repeated, voice a low groan, a sigh of relief and pleasure as he buried himself inside you again and again, stretching you almost to the breaking point every time and consequently slamming every sweet spot inside you as you mewled helplessly beneath him.

And he did bite, fuck, he bit your shoulder first, and then your breast, your neck, anything his mouth could reach, sometimes drawing blood but always drawing a deep, lewd moan from your lips as you clung to him, your abused core dripping from repeatedly cumming around his thick cock.

You were taking it all really well, actually, and he was pretty impressed. He'd been with monsters who'd have called it quits by now, but you were still begging him for more.

What a good little human he has.

His little human...right?

He'd been coming to you for months. You gave him food, you took care of him, you warmed him when he was cold and worried about him. Is that love? Or at least the start of it? He knew you were nice but he always felt he was special...but if you were as lonely up here as you seemed, could it have been any monster that wandered by?

Grillby? Burgerpants?...Papyrus?

“...mine?” he breathed, slowing down and moaning it in your ear, suddenly confused and needing validation. “you...you’re…”

“Yes, fuck, yes,” you moaned in return, and even though it might have been a heat of the moment response he still felt good about it.

“then i’m yours,” he grunted, pumping in and out of you slowly but surely, enjoying the tremors of pleasure coming from your body. “...all of...me…”

You gasped as his cock throbbed and spilled thick cum into you, regardless of there being nowhere to go with him pressing you down by the hips.

The rest of the night was a blur as you enjoyed the warmth of the cabin together, curled against his chest and a little lust-drunk as you mumbled a small explanation of how you ended up in this cabin.

You closed your eyes and fell asleep slowly, comforted by his weight at your back.

In the morning, the snow had stopped, and he was gone.

You hummed as you chopped apples, throwing the peeled slices in your cinnamon spice mix and tossing them into your pie crust, listening to the radio as it heralded the two-month-iversary for full monster integration.

Sans hadn't completely disappeared after your first time together that night. There were a few more nights of passion before the call came back for monsters to settle in completely, and he'd made it clear he'd be going. His brother, he said, and you understand.

But it was lonely again, and the early spring weather, while beautiful, did nothing to temper your loneliness.

Your phone pinged, and you dusted the cinnamon from your hands to check it, knowing who it was--you only had two contacts, and your brother was on deployment right now.

You smiled at the messages--Sans was much clearer and more concise when typing. You think that's why he prefers it.

Sans: [1 attached image]

Sans: look what we found at the local grocery store

(xxx): Hmmm well, it LOOKS like one of my frozen quiches

Sans: they had your pies and casseroles too

Sans: pap cleaned them out. might have to do a double order this month if he has anything to say about it.

(xxx): You guys don't need to buy up all my food. I don't feel bad about you leaving.

Sans: s’not that. it’s good memories, you know? u took care of us.

(xxx): Aww. Sap. So how was it anyway?

Sans: eh.

Then he stopped responding. You frowned, wondering what the hell that was supposed to mean. Eh? Does that mean he doesn't like your food anymore? Well, surely there's more options down there…

There was a knock on the ranch door, and you sighed, expecting the milkman. Nice of him to come up twice this week, knowing you were baking like crazy.

You were counting your dollars for the milk as you absently unlatched the top half of the door to swing open, wandering off with a mumbled “one minute” to find the other few dollars you had laying around.

“Alright, Frank, what do I--” You stopped short as you finally looked up, dollars in hand, and saw Sans leaning into the door with a chuckle. “Sans!”

“...nice to have your cooking so conveniently located at the store by our house,” he said slowly, looking down a little bashfully. “...better fresh, though.”

He heaved your milk order up and onto the counter.

“...new job. this my route.” He explained, one round, red eyelight soft with affection. “...last stop.”

Did he...get this job just so he could come see you? There were probably a hundred jobs in the city better suited, or better paying, or closer to home…

“...can i come in?” He asked, a hint of guilt in his voice, as if doubting his decision to surprise you with this.

“Oh, of course,” you stammered, unlatching the bottom half and taking the milk so he could step inside.

It wasn't sooner than the milk clicked against the counter that he had you sitting next to it, kissing you as softly as he could muster as your body responded fervently, arms wrapping around his shoulders.

“You did this for me?” You asked quietly, and he hummed and nodded.

“...can’t leave pap...no room for us here.” He mumbled. “...couldn’t leave you. somethin’ special.”

You giggled and kissed him again, sighing against his teeth. You can hardly believe this is happening still, but if it is...he’ll be here at least once a week with time to kill.

“...got fridays off,” he mentioned, raising a brow as if asking permission to stay with you every Thursday night...to stay tonight.

“Stay with me?”

He hummed contentedly at your response, and suddenly you were kissing again, his hands roaming gently over your apron and dress.

Something special, indeed.

Chapter Text

Mutt always felt high on life during performances. His bass beneath his fingers, his voice throughout the venue, the constant beat of the music whisking him away to a whole other place. It drowned out the noise of the world around him, the memories of the hell that had been underground life, the screams of those he'd killed, tortured, maimed...

The stage brought him peace.

...and women. And sometimes men.

He had what you would call Stage Presence...and what some might call Big Dick Energy.  It attracted certain...types. Groupies, mostly. Girls who liked a bad boy musician, college girls looking for an interesting lay and deadbeats looking for other deadbeats. It wasn’t unusual for him to have three or four a night on concert nights, and his phone had so many numbers that he’d taken to nicknaming them so he could remember who it was: things like “DD Redhead” and “Septum Piercing Beanpole”. It was easier than having five Heathers and six Jessicas.

He enjoyed it. He liked sex, he liked getting freaky, and these humans were usually pretty freaky. But the...notvelty of it all? It wore off after a while. He wanted more challenge, more wit, or at least somebody interesting.

No sooner than he thought that, did he get his wish.

“Hey, Mutt,” the backstage manager called suddenly, flagging him as he exited the green room, bass slung across his back. “Listen, there’s a very special birthday in the house tonight, alright? The big boss, that owns all the land from here to Central...his daughter turned 18 this mornin’, and she chose here to celebrate.”

Mutt raised a brow curiously. An heiress? In this dive bar? There was easily a thousand more suitable places in town for someone of that stature to celebrate something as monumental as an 18th birthday…

“barely legal, huh?” He chuckled, loosening his tie and fiddling with his bracelets. “well...guess i’d best make a good impression, then?”

The manager gave him a withering look and sighed. “Look, just sing her a song and wish her happy birthday. That’s all I need from you. All I need, got it?”

“yeah, yeah, jobs and bosses, i get it, frank. she’ll get a good show from me, okay?”

It wasn’t difficult to spot you in the crowd. All done up, bright pink and purple dress with frills, a literal tiara on your head, a sash that said “I’m Legal, Boys!” on it.

Fuck, you were practically begging for Mutt to pounce on you.

You were surrounded by several other well-known heiresses, celebrities, and political figures, all of whom were partying it up around you throughout the show.

At first he tried to tame the setlist, seeing as his grunge-trash-rock was difficult for some of the upper crust to handle, but the edgier and more tongue-in-cheek it got, the closer you came to the stage, until he finally took a chance and played one to catch your attention.

“she's a good girl

she's daddy's favorite

he's saved for harvard

he knows she'll make it

she's good at school

she's never truant

she can speak french

(i think she's fluent)

'cause every night she studies hard in her room

at least that's what her parents assume

but she sneaks out the window to meet with her boyfriend

here's what she told me the time that i caught 'em”

He slung his bass over his shoulder and grabbed the mic, allowing the band behind him to pick up the music in favor of focusing on charming you with his voice, winking at you.

“she said to me:

‘forget what you thought

'cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

so just turn around and forget what you saw

'cause good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught!’

whoa oh oh oh- oh whoa oh

good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught

whoa oh oh oh- oh whoa oh

good girls are bad girls that haven't been caught!”

You were right up next to the stage, so he reached down, crouching to offer you his hand, and you took it without hesitating, allowing him to heave you up onto the stage with him.

“you a good girl, darlin’?” he purred, twirling you and watching as your dress floated up around your petite form, flawless makeup highlighting the mischievous glint in your eyes. “or maybe...nobody’s caught you yet?”

You giggled. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

He chuckled and moved into the next verse as you started to dance next to him, eyes trained on each other as if the rest of the room faded away.

“she's a good girl

a straight-a student

she's really into all that self-improvement

i swear she lives in that library

but if you ask her she'll say

‘that's where you'll find me!’”

You giggled as he sang and occasionally twirled you, fluffing the frills on your dress and flipping them up playfully, much to yours and the crowd’s amusement.

“but if you look then you won't find her there

she may be clever but she just acts too square

'cause in the back of the room where nobody looks

she'll be with her boyfriend

she's not reading books!”

You stuck your tongue out at him playfully, moving just out of his reach until he was essentially chasing you across the stage, until he caught you and effortlessly tossed you over his shoulder, turning to the crowd over the other one.

“she's a good girl,

hasn't been caught

she's a good girl,

hasn't been caught…”

A saucy wink to top it off, and you laughing over his shoulder as he heaved you into the crowd, caught by the sea of hands that guided you gently back to the floor.

By the time you scrambled to your feet and made it back to the stage, he was onto the next song, his voice lighting a flame in your heart, fiery passion mixed with…

...rebellion.

Mutt sighed as he hopped off the stage and down the hall, beelining for the green room before any groupies could find him tonight. He couldn’t get your face out of his mind, that challenging glint in your eyes, the pristine, perfect facade of a good girl with a wild side. 

It was different, and breathtaking.

He wanted you. In every fibre of his being, your image was lingering, your touch, the teasing way you ran from him only to be caught.

A spoiled rich kid. He never thought he’d see the day that he wanted that kind of girl, but the thought of you was already summoning his magic, seizing his soul and making him want to chase after you…

“So this is a regular gig for you, then?”

His head snapped up at the sound of a foreign voice in his green room, the door closing behind him as he gaped at you, sitting on his vanity and looking thoughtfully at the picture frame he kept there.

“Is this your brother?” You asked, tapping the picture of Black as you raised a brow in challenge. “He’s a real cutie.”

“...how’d you get in here?” He asked, unable to think of any other subject at the moment as you crossed your legs, dress riding up subtly.

“Daddy owns the whole block, I can go anywhere I want,” you said, tossing your hair over your shoulder. “And I wanted to be here...I wanted you.”

“is that so?” he mused, setting his bass against the wall and sauntering over to place his hands on either side of where you sat, leaning down until he was inches from your face. “well, princess, you got me. what could a pretty little rich girl like you want with a sucker like me?”

“You have a certain...energy, for sure,” you said, hand catching his tie and wrapping it around your fingers like the leash normally attached to his collar. “I’d say I see...opportunity.”

“opportunity?” he asked, voice a low growl as you pulled gently on his tie, arousal flaring from the action.

“I’m a good girl, but it seems like you caught me,” you pouted. “I’d be concerned...But it’s better than being married off to some stuffy lawyer or politician. I want to show my parents that they don’t control me, and you are...the opposite of what they want. It’s just a bonus that I happen to find you sexy.”

“ah, the true motive revealed,” Mutt chuckled, one hand reaching up to fiddle absently with the bow on the back of your dress. “you’re pretty straightforward. i like that. what’s your plan, then, princess?”

“Take me home,” you insisted, and he chuckled.

“that’s cute, kid, but you ain’t exactly my type,” he purred unconvincingly.

“Then why…” Your foot slowly moved along his leg, rubbing over the lump of fully-formed magic that strained against his jeans. “...are you already ready to go?”

“you even been with a man before, darlin’?” he asked, cursing what little morality he still had.

“Does it matter?” You asked, fluttering your lashes and looking knuckle-bitingly innocent and perfect.

...no. It really doesn't. He's fucked plenty of virgins on the first date before, it wasn't something he had qualms with…

But you're just so small . Don't get him wrong, he loves a big size difference in his partners, you’re like catnip to him--but for a first time? He'd break you.

“i think i’m a little too rough for a pretty little thing like yourself,” he said finally. “go home.”

Before he could move away, you yanked on his tie and anchored him in place, making him groan.

“So if I prove I like it just as rough, you'll make me yours?”

“...i’ve got no status.”

“Don't care.”

“m’not rich.”

“I have credit.”

“got no manners.”

“I like a little bit of a beast.”

“i bite.”

“The harder, the better.”

“i’m a monster.”

“You don't say?” You giggled. “Face it, Tramp. This lady wants you, and all you represent.”

“...i could kill you right here,” he said, one hand ghosting over your neck, gripping your throat. “you’re so fragile…”

“Try me,” you gasped, face flushing as you fought back a moan in your voice. “I think you’ll...find you like me.”

“of course i like ya, darlin’,” he purred, releasing your throat and, in one swift motion, scooping you up off the vanity and into his arms so you were straddling his spine. “i’m just warnin’ ya, i won't letcha quit halfway.”

You laughed, and then leaned closer to place a kiss on his teeth, which he returned with a lustful moan, dying to rip this dress off of you.

You gasped as your back hit the mattress, a little dazed by the shortcut he'd taken without warning, but you apparently chalked it up to magic because you didn't question it, instead using the hand still wrapped around his tie to pull him roughly back down on top of you, grinding upward mercilessly against his magic through his jeans.

0 to 100. He can respect that.

You didn't let the size difference hold you back, and it took quite a bit of wrestling and self-control to push you down and separate so he could sit up.

“time to prove you can handle it rough, princess,” he purred, his hand sliding down to unbuckle his belt deftly, releasing his massive member for you to see.

Holy crap.

You've seen dicks. You've watched porn, and you've got some personal experience with blowjobs.

But you've never seen one like this . It was thick and long, with piercings dotting the underside...and it was vibrant, eggplant purple, like a dildo.

He chuckled at the uncontrollable expression of fear on your face. “s’what i thought. didja even think about what a literal monster might be packin’?”

You huffed, embarrassed to be caught in your virginity as you were. “It doesn't matter.”

“alright. get to it, then.”

He grabbed one of your hands and led it to stroke his shaft, and the magic buzzed beneath your fingertips. The buzz was pleasant and inviting, and after a few experimental pumps that made him hum, you leaned forward and took the tip into your mouth.

“mmm….that’s good, princess,” he sighed as you wrapped your lips around his girth with a groan. “watch the teeth now.”

There was a flash of something incredibly defiant in your eyes, and suddenly he felt rough molars scrape deliberately against his length, making him shudder and moan as the pain throbbed and converted to pleasure.

“i said...watch the teeth,” he huffed, one hand coming up to press your head down further, and the tingle of the magic numbed your throat slowly, giving you more leeway to swallow more of his impressive magic. “naughty girl, barely even legal and already sleeping around, and you can't even listen when somebody tells you not to bite.”

Another defiant squeeze of your molars and his sockets squeezed shut, fingers tightening in your hair as you coaxed an orgasm from him faster than he'd done in months.

There was a muffled, surprised noise as the cum splashed against your throat, and after a moment, you swallowed it down, pulling back…

...but his orgasm wasn't over, and you squeaked in surprise as more cum splashed across your face and neck, and he finished off with a growl.

You looked pretty good like that, he decided, all covered in his cum, flushed and confused. He stroked his cock, already at attention, as he beckoned for a face towel from the dresser, handing it to you to clean off.

“You came a lot,” you said, obviously surprised.

“and there's more where that came from, darlin’,” he purred. “i’m a monster. no limits.”

Your eyes glinted mischievously as you wiped your face, smudging some of your makeup off in the process. Oh, shit, those tear tracks down your cheeks were more than enough to get him going again, but there was no way he'll be able to dick you as good and hard as he wants tonight.

Besides, there was a definite apprehension in your eyes, despite the reaction of your body. He wasn't even sure you knew it was there.

He hardly had time to think of a game plan before you were pressed against him again, and he found himself lost in the taste of your tongue, the feeling of your hand on his cock, the small moans you made as his hands traveled over your body and left marks of his eagerness.

“you...are a naughty little girl…” he huffed, supporting your thighs as you wrapped your legs around him, his cock rubbing between your thighs, against the soft silk of your panties.

“And you, a ferocious monster,” you giggled nervously, voice a little gasp of air that made him want to hear more breathless moans.

“y’got me there, darlin’,” he chuckled, groaning slightly at the eager kisses you planted on his cervical vertebrae, and the way your hand ran over his skull. He could feel your slick through your panties, smell your arousal as you tried to grind down on him as he held you still.

Intoxicating . But somebody has to have morals here.

You yelped as he dropped you to the bed, your skirt pooling around your hips as you drew your legs up instinctively. He chuckled at your defensive stance, and you were...scared.

He's so big, you noticed now. He's huge, and his teeth are so sharp that they nicked your lip, and he's looking at you curiously...like he might eat you.

You know what you like, and shamefully you feel yourself getting warmer and more aroused as he stares...tucking his magic back into his pants.

“i’ll make you a deal, since you're so pushy...and beautiful, and incredibly naive.”

...huh? “A...what kind of deal?”

He flopped down on top of you, with one arm on either side of your head and a relaxed demeanor about him that disarmed any discomfort and fear, as if he had simply...turned it off.

“i’ll do whatever you want,” he said, fingers playing curiously with your hair, working your tiara comb free and tossing it aside. “i’ll be your punk rock beard to piss your parents off, i’ll spend your daddy’s money and i’ll turn you into a right scandal.”

“You will?” You asked, genuinely confused. You hadn't even actually copulated...shouldn’t he have waited for that? Were you unappealing? Did he not want you? A long buried sense of self-doubt rose up over your petite form, hands self-consciously clasping over your comparatively small breasts.

“sure.” He shrugged. “but i have a condition.”

“Condition?” You asked, skeptical. “What is it?”

“i don't play house, and i don't pretend. if you want me to be yours, i’ll be yours. i’m a very loyal dog, if you discipline me right~” His hand inched down and gently coaxed your legs apart, fingers running up your thigh and over your clothed heat, disappearing beneath your dress to run over your stomach. “but i expect the same from you. you’ll be mine, and i mean mine.”

His voice was a low growl that sent shivers down your spine as he leaned down to draw his teeth down your neck.

“...and when you're ready,” he purred, tongue darting out to taste the skin of your shoulder. “when you're ready, your innocence will be mine, too. mine to take. mine to own. mine.”

“It’s yours, I'm ready,” you insisted, doing your best to spread your legs wider beneath him.

“lies from such a pretty mouth. what a brat.” He deadpanned, fangs nipping your shoulder as he spoke.

“I am not a brat!” You huffed, smacking his shoulder and making him laugh a bit. “And I'm not lying!”

“oh?”

Suddenly his hand darted back down to your underwear, and you flinched in response, snapping your legs shut reflexively as apprehension welled inside your stomach. You felt yourself flush with embarrassment and hot tears threaten your eyes as he drew his arm back to rest beside your head again.

“see?” He said, one hand idly wiping a tear of shame away. “oral is a lot different than penetration, kid. it's fine to be okay with one but not the other."

You avoided his eye, absorbing his words quietly, and he sighed.

"look, darlin’. i don't know who taught you that your body is the only thing you have to offer, but they're wrong. i may be a monster, but m’not gonna take advantage of your insecurities just t’get my dick wet. probably break you in half anyway, and ironically enough, i’m not a necrophiliac.”

With that, he pushed up slightly and fell beside you with a groan, throwing one arm over his face and mumbling something about leaving his smokes backstage.

Confused, you sat up, frozen for a long moment, wondering what exactly you're supposed to do now, until he peeked over at you from underneath his arm.

“well? do we gotta deal, or what?”

“A deal?”

He sighed as if your mere presence was annoying. “yeah, princess. a deal. my services as a pawn in exchange for your loyalty...and exclusive rights, so to speak.”

You cursed your blush as it snuck across your cheeks again, looking away. “Y...yeah. Deal.”

“good,” he said, arm darting up to grab you and drag you down against him, throwing the other arm around you to take the big spoon position and tuck your head beneath his chin.

It felt...safe. It felt nice.

He stopped when you were uncomfortable. He didn't push you even though you insisted. That was more than anyone else had ever done for you. Of all the so-called gentlemen at your fancy rich private school who insisted you had to blow them because you turned them on so it was your fault...of all the heirs and politician’s sons and Harvard-bound lawyers’ kids who fed you sweet words in the hopes of gaining favor and possibly your fortune…

...of all the men in the world who could possibly respect you, it was this punk rock monster with gold teeth and a ridiculous accent that actually did.

You might love him.

“hell, if your pussy’s half as good as your loud mouth, then it’ll be well worth the wait."

...Nevermind.

“You're kind of an asshole,” you grumbled even as you leaned back into his arms.

He chuckled, and it vibrated pleasantly against your back as his arms tightened around you.

“yeah, and you’re kind of a brat. who knows, maybe we're a perfect match.”

Chapter Text

“PAPYRUS! WAKE UP!”

Mutt groaned into his pillow, burying his face deeper in the fabric and trying to block his brother’s shrill voice.

“PAPYRUS!”

No such luck, it seems. When he still didn't answer, Mutt felt the blankets ripped from his body, and then with a mighty heave from his brother, he hit the floor with a clatter and another groan.

“...yes, m’lord?” He mumbled from his new spot on the hardwood. It was surprisingly devoid of socks, so he guessed Black had been stress cleaning before he decided to wake him.

“THERE IS A HUMAN IN MY KITCHEN!”

...shit.

“...yes, m’lord.”

There's a pause as Black apparently waits for him to elaborate, but he doesn't, and he hears an annoyed huff from the surly skeleton.

“WELL, IT ISN'T CHARA!”

“m’aware.” Maybe if he played it cool enough, he could go back to sleep?

“I...SHE...YOU…” Black made another frustrated noise. “I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO KEEP YOUR FETISH ONE NIGHT STANDS ELSEWHERE?!”

Mutt groaned and dragged himself upward, recognizing that he wasn't getting let off the hook. He blinked and looked over the bed at his brother blearily.

“s’not a one night stand. s’my datemate.”

His brother’s surprise was quite obvious, catching his scolding before it could reach his teeth and making his sockets go wide. He looked as if he would say something, but shut his jaw, crossing his arms and tapping his mandible thoughtfully.

“A DATEMATE? YOU ACTUALLY DECIDED TO KEEP ONE?”

“in a manner’f speaking.” He shrugged, using the mattress as leverage to pull himself up from the floor. “we made a deal, at least.”

“A DEAL?” Black asked, brow knitting in confusion.

“yup. she wanted a scary monster boyfriend to piss off her folks, an’ i wanted her virginity. we both win, s’pose.”

Black made a face, obviously judging him harshly. “THAT'S...DISGUSTING. BUT...I SUPPOSE IF IT MAKES YOU STOP SLEEPING AROUND SO MUCH, I CAN'T EXACTLY COMPLAIN.”

“i mean...i didn't get my end yet, if it makes you feel better.”

“WAS DEFINITELY NOT LOOKING FOR DETAILS, THANK YOU,” he groaned, making a show of covering his ear holes. “ANYWAY, BETTER COME DOWN QUICK. SHE'S TRYING TO FIGURE OUT THE COFFEE MACHINE AND I'M AFRAID SHE'LL BREAK IT.”

“can’t you help?”

“DO I LOOK LIKE I KNOW HOW THE BLASTED THING WORKS?” He scoffed. “BESIDES, SHE'S YOUR FAKE DATEMATE, NOT MINE.”

And with that, his brother turned on his heel, leaving Mutt to rub the sleep out of his eyes and wonder exactly what he'd signed up for.

A beautiful mess.

That's what Mutt had signed up for.

It took all of three days to realize you were out of your goddamn mind. Or just invincible. He wasn't sure which.

Firstly, you looked nothing like your birthday look on a normal day.

Not that it wasn't a good look, but your barbie frills had been discarded in favor of violet lipstick and pink fishnets, your modest heels replaced with purple platforms. You even had several piercings you hadn't been wearing the night you met him: one in your eyebrow, one across the bridge of your nose, and one cute little gem on your upper lip. A Monroe, he thinks it’s called.

He definitely understands why you picked him, now. Honestly, it only served to make you a thousand percent more attractive to him, especially when you wore those cute pastel dresses with the stars on them...

Also, you really weren't kidding when you promised him your credit. Your first day out, you took him wherever he wanted to go, paying for meals and even some new clothes.

Restaurants and clubs bent over backwards to please you. Retailers dropped what they were doing to wait on you. Your father's influence appeared to reach everywhere, which made his job easy.

It wasn't long before word got around that you were running around with a monster. He'd been chased away from your estate more than once, only to meet you at the back fence and use blue magic to float you down into his arms.

There was a passionate fire beside your tenacity that guaranteed he fell for you immediately. Your kisses always left him wanting more, your recklessness igniting something inside him that hadn't stirred for years. Despite your spoiled brat exterior, a heart of gold beat within that chest, with you turning your funds to various monster support charities, earning you and your family a ton of praise along with scrutiny.

He only had to exist, it seemed, to piss off your family. And every scandalous adventure he landed in the tabloids only seemed to please you more.

Over time, the intimacy between the two of you...deepened. The kisses never lost their fire, only burned hotter as his touches slowed. He let you set the pace, only interjecting when he felt you weren't truly ready for that step. Every night with you was a night worth living, and he grew to love the way you wore full-face makeup every day--because at the end of each day, the way it ran down your face as you moaned and choked on his cock was more than worth it. Salirophilia, he discovered it was called, the way he liked watching you come undone for him.

What had begun as nothing more than a deal…

...had blossomed into something he wasn't quite ready to admit.

“how do i look?” He purred as you answered the door to your parent’s mansion, doing a little turn so you could see his formal punk look.

“Like a hot mess,” you giggled, pulling him inside. “You look perfect.”

“and you look good enough to eat,” he hummed in return, pulling you closer by the hips to run his fingers over the silky purple dress that hugged your petite frame. “if you think you're ready, i see a perfectly good coat closet i could devour you in.”

You snickered, placing a finger on his teeth to stop his advancing kiss. “Tonight. You can show me what that tongue can do...after dinner.”

Oh, hell yes.

Don't get him wrong, he loves receiving, but he's been dying to give back and show you what a cunning linguist he is.

But it has to wait until after he “impresses” your parents. Apparently your father was done trying to shout some sense into you, and was giving him a chance, which he was ready to mess up royally as you led him into the sitting room.

“Daddy, this is my boyfriend, Papyrus!”

Your dad is huge, and mean-looking. He looked like somebody fed the monopoly man like, twelve other monopoly men. And then killed his dog.

And he clearly did not like monsters, because if he wasn't stiff enough already, he locked up and grimaced visibly when shaking Mutt’s hand.

Your mother was better, or at least more polite. He sensed an air of mischief about her that denoted she might have been just as rebellious when she was young.

Dinner was tense, and Mutt liked to think he was pretty tame. Just being himself seemed to be enough to please you and displease your father.

“Are you of age?” Your father grunted as he poured a glass of whiskey for himself, the four of you having retired to the parlor after dinner for some games and light conversation.

“i’m 106. is that old enough?” He joked, though clearly your father took it literally. Technically he wasn't much older than you, but monsters can drink once they reach maturation, and he'd done that at about 16. “neat, please. sensitive teeth and all.”

Your father didn't laugh at the joke, if he got it at all, but handed him the whiskey regardless. The attempt at propriety was admirable, at least.

The man glanced over to where you were enjoying a game of rummy with your mother, and knocked back his drink with ease.

“I don't like you.”

“i noticed,” Mutt chuckled, sipping his drink.

Your father seemed caught off guard by the nonchalance in his tone.

“Listen, I don't know what my daughter sees in you, but I am prepared to pay you a great deal of money to leave her alone.”

“i see where she gets that straightforward attitude,” Mutt laughed, setting his drink down. “do you pay off all her boyfriends or only the monster ones?”

“I know your type, young man. You want the money this family has, you want to fund your band or your drug addiction or whatever it is monsters do.” He sniffed. “My daughter is my only child. She is smart, resourceful, and incredibly naive. She spent most of her adolescence in the hospital, fearing she would not live past 15 years of age, and so she thinks her new lease on life should be lived as recklessly as possible. All of this... goth stuff and monster obsession, it is but a phase she will outgrow--I do not want her to look back on her young adult life with regret, unable to find a suitable husband to perpetuate our family due to her branding as a rebellious monster harlot.”

“sounds like you really have her figured out, pops,” Mutt said casually, hiding his boiling marrow beneath a carefully crafted exterior of nonchalance.

If there's one thing he hates, it's parents who have their kid’s entire life planned out without taking their opinion into account. Been there, done that.

“Yes. And so, I suggest you subtly tell me how much you need to disappear, and leave as if this conversation never happened. I will have it paid out in cash, so there will be no trail or taxes--you leave, you get paid.” Your father said, pulling out a notepad. “Ten thousand? A hundred thousand?”

“it’s fine t’cut a check,” Mutt said casually, standing up from the comfy sitting chair. Your father nodded, pulling his checkbook out.

“How do you spell your name?”

Mutt spelled quickly, and your father jotted it down...only to pause at the end, anger clear on his face as he reread what he wrote.

Mutt chuckled as he leaned in.

“that’s right...your daughter calls me daddy, too.”

You were laughing uncontrollably as you hit his mattress, having shortcutted out of there with him the moment your father started swinging at him.

“You did not!” You giggled as Mutt landed on top of you, hands splayed on either side of your face.

“sure did, darlin’. i think he was properly pissed off. not much of a fighter, though.”

“Oh, my God, you're literally insane,” you wheezed, hands covering your face to try and contain your laughter. “Oh, fuck, he's gonna be so pissed that I took off!”

“fuck ‘im, i’m in way too good a mood, and you are lookin’ way too good t’care what he thinks.”

And with that he pinned your hands above your head, drawing a surprised gasp from you as he descended upon your sweet pastel lined lips, pressing in a hungry kiss that you returned fervently with a desperate sigh, almost a moan.

“damn, so sweet, these lips of yours. you sure there ain't any drugs in those lipsticks you use?” He said breathlessly as he pulled away momentarily.

“No promises,” you teased, legs hooking around his spine and pulling him down once more as best you could, sliding slightly down the bed until the skirt of your dress was bunched around your waist. This was the game you always played, getting hot and bothered and grinding and panting each other’s names until he had to have your lips on his cock…

...but not tonight.

“i know we already had dinner, but are ya still up to eatin’ out, darlin’?” He asked breathlessly, thumbs hooking into the flimsy material of your panties, ready to rip them off at the smallest word.

“Please,” you begged, fingers twisting in the lapel of his pinstriped suit jacket. “...and take off this ridiculous outfit.”

“your wish is my command,” he purred, quite literally ripping your panties off and shedding his coat, his tie, his shirt...your hands traveled to linger on his tank top, and he chuckled. “you don't get the whole show until i get the whole package, babygirl.”

You huffed, pulling the shirt up defiantly, only to find your hands bound with magic as he straightened the shirt once more.

“no means no, brat.” he growled, but there was no bite to it. You were beginning to think he liked it when you were defiant.

“Fine, then...you can't see me naked until then!”

He shrugged. “alright.”

You whined pitifully as your ploy backfired, and he chuckled, leaning down to capture your lips again, erasing your petulance with a slow burn of a kiss that left you arching into him, begging for his touch between breaths.

He answered your pleas by using his femurs to coax your thighs apart, pleased to find that you willingly obliged. One finger found its way to your lower lips as his teeth nipped at your neck and drew moans from the others.

You were so soft and wet, your arousal charging him up and riling him with desire. How badly he wanted to press his fingers inside, to fuck you mercilessly with his hand until you begged for his cock…

But you weren't ready for that, not yet.

You gasped as he slithered down your body, groping at your breasts and hips until he finally settled between your legs, hot breath fanning over your heat and making you shudder with anticipation.

His tongue and teeth pressed against your thigh and your need surged, making you throb as he trailed wet, sloppy kisses over both thighs, teasing…

“ready, babygirl?” He purred, hands settling on the other side of your thighs and tracing little circles on your hips.

“Yes, God, yes…” you pleaded, one hand reaching down to slide over his skull, straining against his grip to try and meet his mouth.

His tongue was smooth and warm as it pressed against your sensitive slit, drawing a surprised gasp from your lips as you hadn't known what to expect. Slowly, he traced your slit with a groan, prying your lips apart gently to lap at your arousal and bask in the sweet taste of you, and you immediately gasped once more and arched into his skull, allowing him to hold your lower back and draw you in, nuzzling until his nasal cavity was pressed against you, his teeth rubbing whatever his tongue didn't.

He hummed as you cried out, relaxing and tensing against the invasion at the same time, unsure and inexperienced. He slowed nearly to a stop, allowing you time to get used to his tongue and waiting for you to unclench your fingers from the sheets.

“doin’ alright there, beautiful?” He purred, pulling away to give you a break and check your status.

You were adorably pink and panting, desire pervading your half-lidded eyes as your breath stuttered with each release. You nodded, pulling a pillow up to your face as if embarrassed, and he chuckled, swooping back down to attack a little more deliberately, enjoying every twitch of your thighs and every muffled moan from behind the pillow. He pressed the flat of his tongue against your clit, channeling a little spark of magic directly to the sensitive bundle of nerves and suddenly you were stretching your legs out as one hand gripped his head, and he groaned as a certain sweetness dripped from your puffy, aroused cunt, signaling your release as your entire body relaxed with a shudder.

He pulled away reluctantly, wishing he could dive back in and overstimulate you until your toes curled and your voice was hoarse from begging.

You were shaking a bit when he gathered you gently in his arms, a blissful sense of sloth about you as you blinked slowly, fingers gently fisting in his shirt as he went to lay down with you.

“was that good, darlin’?”

You nodded, dopey smile as he flopped the both of you down. “W...wait, what about you?”

He paused, halfway through tucking you against his shoulder to fall asleep, more than satisfied just to have made you make those sweet noises.

“me?”

“You,” you breathed, one hand ghosting over the obvious bulge in his slacks. “You made me feel so good, I...I wanna do the same for you.”

You sounded shy, for the first time since he's known you. He must have really blown your mind.

“oh?” He chuckled. “and what'd you have in mind?”

“If it...uhm...you could just...rub it?” You offered, laying on your back again and spreading your legs, and he could hear your heartbeat, feel the throb of your aching pussy, smell the arousal he'd tasted only moments before...he’d lit a match and it had caught a forest on fire and now you wanted more, your eyes twinkling in the low light as he rolled on top, releasing the neglected magic from his pants and pushing your dress up farther, to your waist, as he leaned down to kiss you.

“your wish is my command,” he repeated with a hum, rubbing his length slowly against your slit, the wetness of his tongue and your climax gliding him up and down as he shuddered, struggling to control himself. “fuck, this is a bad idea. i wanna pound it inside you so fucking bad. i could hurt you.”

“I trust you,” you whispered, leaning up against him and offering your hand to squeeze the top of his shaft, making him groan. Several times he lingered at your entrance, hands digging into your hips as his head pressed pleasantly, digging in slightly before he finally let it slide back up, the tiny tease of your tight cunt so close proving to be enough to keep him from going ape.

Just a little more, just a little longer. You'll be ready soon, and he can stretch you out as much as he wants then. Be good, be a man, show that self-control here, where it actually matters--

With a gasping breath, he rocked forward, splattering your cute little tummy with cum as you twitched beneath him, stimulated into another small climax from the insistent throb of his length against you. Your bellybutton ring looked good surrounded by his seed, and he groaned, fighting the urge to bite you and force his magic into you, to mark you as his…

...he wanted more than just your virginity. He wanted everything. He wanted your sweet blush and your soft moans, he wanted your kiss, your bite, your small hand in his. He wanted your laughter and your scowl, your brattiness and the sickly sweetness you used to mock him. He wanted early mornings, and late nights, and lazy days, and brunch and all that other sappy stuff.

He wanted you to be his.

He wanted to be yours.

And he has until you're ready to give it all to him to convince you to want the same.

Chapter Text

“s’at what you’re wearin’ t’my concert tonight?” Mutt asked, taking advantage of your “cheeky” attire by slapping your ass and enjoying the way it jiggled beneath his hand as you yelped in surprise, dropping your magazine so that it fluttered over the edge of the bed.

“Papyrus!” You scolded, face burning a sweet pink as the realization dawned on the both of you.

“oh my god. you like being spanked.”

“Shut up! No I don’t!” You sputtered, pushing up into a criss-cross position quickly, crossing your arms to match your legs as your newly-dyed lavender locks tried and failed to cover your rapidly reddening face.

Mutt clasped his hands together as if to pray, taking a deep breath as he pointed the tips outward.

“dear lord, i know we never talk but let me take this moment to thank you for the absolutely perfect, filthy little heathen you sent me.”

“Oh, my God,” you giggled, turning further away and pretending not to hear his false prayers.

“please grant me the serenity to accept the kinks we do not share, the courage to partake in the many we do, and the wisdom to know the difference.”

“Pfft...stop.”

Mutt raised his hands, looking you dead in the eye with a solemn, serious face.

“and give me, o lord, the strength to resist the urge to royally wreck this virginal goddess you hath lain upon thine feet,” he continued, cupping your cheek and forcing you to meet his gaze. “tho she be thicc with two c’s, petite and perfect for riding my gigantic monster dong, may i not bespoil her before it is her time.”

By now you were outright laughing, covering your mouth with one hand to stifle the laughter. “You’re the most ridiculous person I’ve ever met.”

“and you’re the kinkiest virgin, so i think we may be even,” he purred, wrapping one arm around your waist to lift you off his bed and land another smack on the other cheek, making you squeak and moan a little, burning bright fuschia. “if i didn’t have a show to get to, those shorts would be putting you in a serious spot of trouble right now, darlin’.”

“Oh? Can’t be bothered to be a little late?” You purred, climbing easily into his lap and rocking forward into his half-formed magic, drawing a growl from his teeth.

“fuck, you are such a fuckin’ tease, sandra dee,” he grumbled, leaning in to bite at your neck, a need to mark you rising in his chest as he thought about how cute you were, and how you’d be out at a bar with all these strange men while he was on stage, unable to see past the lights…

He settled for a nasty hickey, which had you moaning with delight, despite how badly he’d wished to mark your perfect little magenta soul with his deep purple magic. It’s not like human men would notice the difference--the physical mark was much more likely to keep wandering hands away from you.

“Marking your territory?” You teased as he pulled away, inspecting the deep purple bite mark with satisfaction.

“y’look so good i wanted to take a bite,” he purred, picking you up effortlessly and allowing you to wind your legs around his spine for easy transport. “don’t think i’ll be the only one who thinks so, so i thought i’d make sure they know you’re loyal to someone else already.”

“Relax, boneboy, you already know who I belong to,” you reassured him, kissing the tiny bit of exposed clavicle in front of you and making him hum as he hiked your higher up in his arms to squeeze your ass.

“damn straight, that precious cherry is all mine,” he purred.

...and hopefully more than just that, he couldn’t help but wish.

You were thoroughly enjoying yourself, pleased not only with Mutt’s amazing performance and dirty little winks that had you counting the seconds until his break, but also with the way the bartender took one look at you and served you whatever you wanted, including the dirty Shirley Temple you were currently sipping on, feeling a slight little buzz that made the prospect of tonight even more exciting.

You wanted to give it to him tonight, you had decided. Something about the way he moved up there, or the way his voice floated over the crowd to make you wetter than a goddamn swimming pool.

“ beware, beware, be skeptical

of their smiles, their smiles of plated gold

deceit so natural

but a wolf in sheep's clothing is more than a warning!”

...Ugh. You recognized the guy walking towards you.

Reginald Worthington the 3rd, the snootiest of the stuffy pricks from your stuffy prick-filled private high school. What in the world was he even doing here? This definitely wasn’t his scene, if his sweater-vest and golf shorts had anything to say about it. He stuck out like a sore thumb.

“bla-bla-black sheep, have you any soul?

no sir, by the way, what the hell are morals

jack, be nimble, jack, be quick

jill's a little whore and her alibis are dirty tricks…”

“Well, fancy meeting you at my father’s club,” Reggie practically purred, and you quickly leaned away from him, wrinkling your nose in obvious distaste. “I had a feeling you’d be here tonight. Story goes that you’re a fan of the...entertainment.”

“He’s my boyfriend,” you said without hesitation. “And he’s pretty territorial, so you might wanna fuck off, Reginald.”

“But I invited him here to play special, it’d be rude to leave before the show’s over…” Reggie said, trailing off as his blue eyes glanced over at you.

“aware, aware, you stalk your prey

with criminal mentality

you sink your teeth into the people you depend on

infecting everyone, you're quite the problem.”

“...unless maybe you wanna get out of here with me? For old times’ sake?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You sighed, glancing at your watch. Twenty minutes until Mutt’s break. You only have to make it twenty minutes.

“There are no old times for us,” you said, gingerly grasping his fingers and removing his hand as if it were a bug. “You coerced me into giving you head in the boys’ bathroom in senior year, that doesn’t mean we ever had anything.”

“Aw, c’mon, don’t lie. I mean, you’re with a monster, for christ’s sake--you’ve always been pretty wild, can’t you take a chance and do something crazy?”

“Have to admit, you’re pretty crazy if you think I’ll do you.”

“feefifofum, you better run and hide

i smell the blood of a petty little coward

jack, be lethal, jack, be slick

jill will leave you lonely dying in a filthy ditch”

He sighed, seemingly defeated. “Fine. Fine. At least let me buy you another drink?”

You shrugged, so he flagged the bartender.

“This is a new look for you. The purple thing.”

“You can say goth. And it isn’t new, we had uniforms in school is all.”

“Sorry, wasn’t sure if you were sensitive to labels or something,” he chuckled.

“No, but I’m allergic to fuckboys, so go flutter somewhere else.” You said, accepting the drink from the bartender and taking a sip, flipping Reginald off to punctuate your feelings on the subject.

“maybe you'll change

abandon all your wicked ways

make amends and start anew again

maybe you'll see

all the wrongs you did to me

and start all over, start all over again”

“Nah, sweetheart, I’m right where I wanna be. And I think you’ll find you misjudged how much you missed me.”

Mutt paused singing on stage, speaking the next part with a laugh in his voice--

“who am I kidding

now, let's not get overzealous here

you've always been a huge piece of shit

if i could kill you i would

but it's frowned upon in all fifty states

having said that, burn in hell!”

You blinked, confused as your vision suddenly went blurry on the edges, the vision of Mutt rocking out of the stage going out of focus as Reginald’s concerned face appeared before you.

“Oh, dear. Seems you drank a little too much. Maybe we should get you somewhere safe.”

You attempted to protest, but your brain felt foggy, sluggish...you leaned into Reginald as he helped you stumble away towards the door to the upstairs area, barely noticing him slip a wad of cash into the hand of the staff members near the stairway.

As the door closed behind you, Mutt’s voice grew more distant, and you felt yourself release a sob as you realized what was going to happen to you.

“so tell me how you're sleeping easy

how you're only thinking of yourself

show me how you justify

telling all your lies like second nature

listen, mark my words, one day

you will pay, you will pay

karma's gonna come collect your debt.

karma's gonna come collect your debt.

karma's gonna come collect your debt!”

Mutt glanced around the backstage area, poking his head into the hallway, the green room, even wandering out to look across the room at the bar…

...you were nowhere. You'd said you'd be waiting for him on his break, so maybe you only went to the bathroom? Still, something felt...off. Wrong.

He made a beeline for the bar where you had been sitting last he saw you, taking note of a three-quarters full drink on the bartop with a purple lipstick mark on the edge.

They let you drink? He supposed you had pull in a way others didn't, but it corroborated his bathroom theory. He looked around for the bartender, but not seeing him, he shrugged and grabbed your drink, ready to throw it back just to piss you off--

He froze as soon as the drink hit his tongue, anger and fear bubbling inside his chest as he slammed the glass down.

He knew the taste of rohypnol. The doctors had tried to force it down his throat to "cure" his insomnia during the first few months on the surface, and it was salty and always made him grimace.

And had absolutely no effect on monsters.

But tiny human girls...it would only take one little sip for it to course through your small body, a tiny sip he knows you've taken.

Somebody drugged you, and they took you.

He growled and whirled around, eyelights searching frantically for any sign of where you’d gone.

“hey,” he grunted, grabbing the shoulder of someone at a nearby table. “y’seen a really drunk girl here in the last half hour? Lots of purple and black, about yay high?”

He mimicked your height, and the drunkard furrowed his brow, thinking.

“Yeah, uh...looked a little dead on her feet. Left thataway with the owner’s son about ten minutes ago. Think he said somethin’ about bringin’ her somewhere safe since she looked about t’pass out.”

“somewhere safe for him, more like it,” Mutt growled, stalking away from the table in the direction indicated.

He should have fucking marked you when he had the chance, he thought as he made a swift, short phone call to summon his brother. Without somebody to hold him back, this rich asshole was about to fucking die.

Nobody fucking touches you but him.

It seems he was too late.

Black surveyed the room with a critical eye as he dropped the unconscious body in his arms to the floor, closing the door behind him. The staff member who had been guarding the door...well, at least Mutt had only knocked him out, less cleanup.

He flicked on the light and immediately regretted it, groaning in frustration as he observed the mess he now had to clean up.

He knelt to check the pulse of what he assumed was your attacker, nearly unrecognizable as human through bruises and generous amounts of blood, and though feeble, it was undoubtedly there. Black spit on him in distaste.

There was sobbing to his left, and that was what he wasn't looking forward to seeing. He took a deep breath and turned to where his brother held you, sockets empty and cold as you sobbed against his chest. You were wearing nothing but Mutt’s coat at the moment, along with your torn fishnets, and honestly...he feared the worst.

“Papy,” he said quietly, and Mutt’s eyelights faded back into view and he blinked, looking up at him in a mixture of horror and confusion.

"i couldn't stop myself."

"He isn't dead. Don't worry."

“i saw red.”

“I understand.”

“he was touching her. he was gonna...maybe he did…” Mutt trailed off, clutching you closer, and Black gathered how heavily drugged you were by the limp way you reacted. Not awake enough to know for sure yourself, it seemed.

Black sucked in a breath. “...It's no matter. I can check.”

Mutt pulled you back slightly as Black approached, and the smaller skeleton held up his hands as if to remind him who he was dealing with. Slowly, with a soft, reassuring murmur in your ear, he adjusted you to sit up limply in his arms.

God you looked awful. Your makeup was impeccable, somehow, save for a little smudging from your tears, but your body was littered with bruises. He could assume you put up a bit of a fight, even drugged as you were. You looked so small in his brother’s arms.

He can't heal you, not yet. He knows the human police are going to want as much evidence as they can get if you wish to press charges against this despicable excuse for a human bleeding out a few feet away. You're going to have to live with the reminders until then, a fate he wouldn't wish upon anyone.

Still, he can use his green magic to do what a rape kit might, and even log the results--check for signs of forced penetration, semen, other unpleasant things like that, and as he drew his slightly glowing hand down the length of your body, hovering half a foot away…

He sighed. This was awful regardless, but at the very least, your virginity was intact. No sign that he had gotten the chance to actually do what he had been obviously planning.

But...the traces of things present in your mouth and on your chest...virginity being intact is but a consolation prize when somebody has used you in such ways. Awake enough to remember, but not enough to prevent it. He almost wanted to turn around and finish the job.

Black put you to sleep with a tiny bit of green magic. It's time for this to be over for you.

“I wouldn't say he didn't touch her,” Black said carefully. “But the damage seems concentrated to here...didn’t get a chance to go farther south.”

Mutt gripped you tighter, and Black subconsciously moved between him and the motionless form of the attacker. He wanted him to serve the time, but...they needed the evidence to persecute.

“I'm going to look around. Gather evidence. She needs you--do not move.”

Mutt never disobeyed a direct order, and he wasn't about to start with that one, it seemed, hefting you up on his shoulder a bit more and curling around you protectively, murmuring soft apologies to your sleeping form.

Time to get to work.

Stretching upward as he stood, Black surveyed the room. A detective first and foremost, he scrutinized the area with his keen sockets.

Subtract the blood, and it was a lavish room. It appeared to be some sort of getaway room, and the personal effects showed it certainly belonged to the person who had attacked you.

There was a nicely decorated bed with a curtain, where Mutt had no doubt rescued you from, and it would be normal if not for one fact. If the bed were for, say, sleeping, or even romantic rendezvous, it would likely be against the wall either lengthwise or vertically, but this bed was in the very middle of the room, on a raised platform--almost like a stage. As if it needs to be seen from all angles.

His eye was drawn immediately to the fan above the bed, and he found his mark when he climbed up to inspect it closer--a tiny black camera.

“Sick fuck,” he mumbled, following the tiny line that left the fan and trailed across the room to a wall with a painting of a meadow.

Sure enough, when he pulled at the edge of the painting, it swung open to reveal an A/V recording system with eyes on six cameras placed around the room...and when he rewound the tape currently in there, he saw a lot more than he wanted to see of the situation. A bit of magical persuasion and all that remained was the incriminating evidence, with not even a second’s worth of his brother’s rampage, and he popped the tape out, checking the other compartments…

...there’s at least a dozen other tapes in here, dated and marked in neat handwriting. He turned over the one in his hand--your name, in the same neat handwriting. Premeditated. Planned. And he's done this before.

He should have let Mutt kill him.

Instead, he grabbed the rest of the tapes, grabbing a nearby cloth and using it to wrap them like a hobo bag. He'd present these to the precinct later when he reported for work, along with you and the positive rape test results he had logged, but right now he needed to get the two of you out of here and get this place cleaned up. He'd heal the asshole back to the damage he might have received from you, and then that would be that--no evidence of his brother except for the word of a rapist.

“YOU'RE GOING AWAY FOR A LONG TIME YOU SICK BASTARD,” Black growled, kicking the guy for good measure. “AND EVERYONE YOU PAID TO TURN A BLIND EYE. ENJOY JAIL.”

Mutt stood at the bathroom door, his hand hovering over the handle as he listened to the water run.

It would be like this for a while, they had said. The people at the group you went to after meeting with the cops. You'll feel unclean, you'll feel used, you'll feel unloved. It'll pass, power through.

But it hasn't passed. Months have passed, but your hazy memories still haunt you, from the dubiously consensual moment in the boys’ bathroom at school all the way until the drugs and the way he used your mouth for his pleasure again. His face showed up in your nightmares, nonchalant and polite with that wicked grin.

You showered so much that your lavender washed out in three days. You brushed your teeth so much that you'd gone through two toothbrushes.

Your father had decided he like Mutt after the incident, after seeing the evidence that Mutt saved you. He had gone against a long-time business partner, making sure his son was persecuted to the fullest extent. Yours was the first case tried, with about a dozen waiting--the other six girls in the tapes either didn't want to press charges or else had already killed themselves or gone missing.

What is he supposed to do now? You practically live here, unable to feel safe without him, which pleases him, but…

He announced himself quietly and placed a small pile of Black’s clothes on the counter. Much closer to your size than his, anyway.

“fresh clothes. so you don't have to wear the same stuff you wore to the courthouse.” He murmured, before retreating and heading to his room before he made you uncomfortable.

He'd made it clear that he was here for you. He supposed all he had to do was wait, even if it was torture.

The good news is, daddy’s money couldn't make the tapes disappear. It also wasn't enough to pay off the bartender and the staff at the club, not when Black and Mutt had made it very clear their lives were on the line if they lied. With so much evidence, they couldn't even pay off the judge. Reginald was in for many, many years for what he's done--12 for you, with a chance of parole after 6 , but with the rest of the cases he's looking at 30-life. Good riddance. The world is fucked up enough without him.

“Papy?”

He looked up quickly, seeing you in the doorway wrapped in a towel, Black’s clothes clutched in one hand as you stared at him with an indiscernible look, closing the door gently.

“yeah, what is it?” He asked, starting to stand, but thinking better of it--he didn't want to be bigger than you at this moment.

You set the clothes on the bed and climbed into his lap, his arms settling around you carefully as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Thank you.”

“for what?” He asked, running his fingers through your damp hair.

“For saving me. And for sticking around even though…”

You trailed off but he knew what you were thinking, and it made him want to growl and rampage the streets.

People talked.

People who don't even know you, that upper crust you grew up with, some people in your own goddamned extended family had choice opinions that proved their shit personalities. People saying you asked for it with those shorts, your idiot “friends” saying you pretty much cheated, people saying you’re so wild that how do they know you weren't just sleeping around?

They didn't see the tapes, they didn't care to ask questions. They just judge.

He hates them.

“don't even finish that thought, that's ridiculous. you didn't do anything wrong.” He reassured you.

Slowly, you sat back and let the towel fall around your waist, showing the smooth, perfect skin that Black had healed the moment the police had gotten what they needed. The only scars left were the ones on your abdomen where they removed your cancer when you were young.

“At least I...didn’t ruin our deal,” you said slowly, one hand trailing up his chest. He grabbed it, breathing deeply as he gripped the towel, ready to pull it back up.

“darlin’...you just forget all about that deal, okay?” He said firmly. “you don't owe me anything, especially not your body. understand?”

He pulled the towel up gently, hoping you got the message, but surprised to see tears in your eyes.

“what?”

“...you don't want me?”  You squeaked, trying to blink away the tears.

Shit.

“no, no no, that isn't what i meant,” he said quickly. His fingers ghosted over your bare shoulders, tipping your chin up gently. “i want you, hell, i’ve never stopped wanting you since the moment i first saw you...but it’s like i said when we met, okay? you have so much more to offer than your body. and i’m not letting all that fear and guilt trick you into thinking you hafta fuck me t’make me happy.”

“Liar,” you huffed.

“not lyin’, brat,” he teased, hands squeezing your hips for a moment.

You were quiet, but he saw a tiny hint of a smile. “Promise?”

“cross my nonexistent heart and hope to die,” he chuckled, making a movement as if crossing his heart, and then offering his pinky to you. “pinky swear, even.”

You giggled and slapped his hand away. “I trust you.”

Then you leaned in and wrapped your arms around his neck, kissing him softly, so softly, on the teeth and making him groan as he pulled you closer.

With today’s court date and everything it had entailed, it was finally over for you. With time, all things heal, and with him on your side, it was just a little bit easier.

“But if you don't want my virginity--”

“oh, wait, now, i didn't say that,” he chuckled, flopping sideways onto the bed and pulling you in to curl against his chest. “i still want it. i just said you don't hafta give it to me. you tryna pull one over on me, shortstack?”

You giggled as he nuzzled your hair, feeling fuzzy and safe and protected in his arms. “No, I just meant...if I don't have to do that part of the deal, then what do I do? You still gotta get something out of all this hassle, otherwise it’s bad business.”

He hummed thoughtfully for a moment, and then you felt him smirk against your hair.

“i got you, didn't i? i’d like to keep you, if i might be so bold.” He said sweetly, dropping to a bit of a mumble as he confessed. “y’know...mine for real?”

You seemed caught off guard, and he could feel your heartbeat quicken as you stuttered.

“R...really? Like, uh, forever?”

“if that's in the stars for us, then yeah,” he cooed, kissing your forehead. “if you want.”

“I definitely want,” you said firmly, leaning up to kiss him harder, pulling his t-shirt for leverage against him.

“promise?” He breathed, squeezing you tight, wishing he never has to let you go...afraid he'll wake up and it will all be reset.

“Cross my cold, black heart and hope to die,v you giggled, holding up your pinky. "Pinky swear."

He chuckled, lacing his fingers with yours and kissing the back of your hand with a wink.

"nah, i trust ya."

Chapter Text

Papyrus shivered, drawing his coat closer around his bones, happy he had thought to bring his big fluffy jacket and mittens today. It pays to be prepared, like he always said, and though Sans lost the ability to feel cold sometime around the time he received that nasty head wound, Papyrus had only grown more sensitive to the elements over time.

In any case, the jacket was a boon. He certainly didn't want to turn down backstage passes to MTT’s Surface Anniversary Music Festival just because of a little chill! And it covered up all the sharp, knobby bones just like his old ectobody might have, and it made him feel just a tiny bit more normal seeing as he can't summon one properly anymore.

...self-image aside, backstage was buzzing with activity, and he caught glimpses of Sans lugging heavy equipment left and right, working hard to afford them the lovely little house they had as well as to provide Papyrus with opportunities like these. He made sure to offer encouragement whenever he came near, feeling a little silly that he was just standing around when his brother and others worked so hard around him.

He sat with a sigh, twiddling his gloved thumbs idly as he waited for music to start.

And then you sat right next to him, seemingly completely unperturbed by his terrifying face and...well, largely unaware of his presence at all. You pulled out an electric guitar that he recognized as one of Mettaton's most famous pieces, and began tuning with a focused expression.

“hey, roadie, i’m puttin’ th’amps right next t’ya.” Sans said, appearing from behind a curtain with two large amps beneath his arms. “maybe do a practice song before y’hand it over. need me to plug it in for ya?”

Then Sans winked at Papyrus, which only served to confuse him as the human answered him.

“I'm blind, not stupid, Sans,” you answered with a chuckle, reaching down to pat the amp where he placed it, drawing a hand along the length of the cord to plug in both ends. “See? Perfectly capable.”

Oh. Well that explains the lack of Screaming Bloody Murder™ when you first sat next to him. Goodness, you don't even know he's there! Was it rude of him to stay quiet? Or would it be ruder to interrupt?

“a’ight, a’ight, jus’ checkin’,” he laughed in return, knuckling the top of your head until you batted his hand away impatiently, and then Papyrus watched his brother gesture and mouth something he didn't quite catch before disappearing into the curtains.

...what?

You began to pick at the strings, checking the tune, and then you began to play in earnest, and it was actually really impressive...were you a performer or really just some helping hand wasting your talent backstage? If this is you testing the tune then he would love to see you play in earnest...but again, it might be rude to interrupt, so he remains quiet, listening to the riffs as he slowly recognized the song.

You were singing softly, almost imperceptibly, and he smiled as you went along. He loved this song, as unconventional as it was, and your combined talents certainly did it justice.

He couldn't help but raise his voice along with yours when you got to the chorus.

“Over the hills and far away, for ten long years he'll count the days--”
“OVER THE MOUNTAINS AND THE SEAS, A PRISONER’S LIFE FOR HIM THERE’LL BE--OH, GOODNESS, ARE YOU ALRIGHT?!”

You had startled at the sound of his voice and fumbled the guitar, creating a sour feedback loop that blared in your ear. Papyrus caught the dropped guitar at just the right moment before it hit the ground, your hands clamped over your ears with a groan.

Slowly, you reached over and turned the amp off, sitting back up with a sigh. “Sans, I swear if you're fucking with me again I'm gonna get HR up here.”

“OH, GOODNESS NO--” He watched you physically blanch at his volume so close to your ear, and sheepishly lowered his voice. “Oh, eh, sorry, no, I didn't mean to startle you, and I'm not my brother messing around. You came and sat here with me and I only thought I would join in because I knew the song.”

“Sans is your brother?” You asked, straightening up and cocking an ear in his direction.

“Yes, he gave me backstage passes to be here tonight. Ah, here is the guitar--” he handed it to you firmly and you flipped your hair back over one shoulder with a giggle.

“You're sitting down, yeah?” You asked.

“Ah...yes?”

“Well, you're a lot taller than Sans, then. Bet that really gets his goat.” You snickered. “Oh, man, I'll have to make fun of him. What's your name?”

“OH, PAPYRUS!”

You blanched much less noticeably this time, smiling. “Well, Papyrus, if you're up for it, I need a singer to test this guitar against. Think you can do it? You have a wonderful voice.”

He could feel himself blushing as you flicked the amp back on and scooted closer, your thigh just barely brushing his femur.

“I-I’D LIKE THAT VERY MUCH, THANK YOU.”

Sans was pretty proud of himself.

His plan had pretty much executed flawlessly, but then again, why wouldn't it? From the moment he met you, he knew you were perfect for his brother, and the fact that you were literally blind was just a bonus to help him relax and be himself. He knew Pap had self-esteem issues with his new appearance, and his lack of controllable magic was a cause for discouragement as well, so it helped that you couldn't see the things he worried so fervently about.

What Sans hadn't calculated for, however, was just how deeply ingrained that self-consciousness was.

“pap. take the jacket off.”

Papyrus huffed and ignored him, stirring the soup on the stove casually, as if he weren't wearing a gigantic winter coat. All day. Every day. Since the moment he met you.

“listen, she lives with us now, how long d’ya think you can keep this up?” Sans asked, gripping his brother’s arm to make him acknowledge him. “she already knows yer a skeleton, so what’s the point of this?”

“THE POINT IS--” He stopped himself abruptly, and sighed, lowering his voice. “The point is that she likes it when I am soft, and my pointy bones are just uncomfortable to hug and snuggle! Perhaps she cannot see me, but she can feel me, and I want her to love me for my feelings and not in spite of my inhospitable form.”

“pap, there is literally nothing about you that’s inhospitable,” Sans snorted, but he sensed this conversation wasn't getting anywhere today. He'd tried a bunch of times already...perhaps one day he'd wear him down, but he feared the lie was made all the more worse the longer he waited.

“I simply want her to like me. I am already so tall and so loud, I just don't think I should add pokey and painful to the list.” Papyrus muttered, before smiling up at his brother. “EVERYTHING IS FINE! WE HAVE A WONDERFUL RELATIONSHIP!”

He never doubted that much, at least.

You wondered one night, while listening to another MTT rerun and snuggling up to your favorite skeleton, if he would ever feel comfortable just being himself.

You're blind, not dumb. You know he constantly wears his winter coat and gloves, and at first you had thought he was just cold...but months had gone by and now you lived together, it was clear it was something else. He wore them even when you slept, and you assumed he only took them off to wash them or to shower.

You're also not deaf, and had often overheard Sans try to convince him to take them off. You know he's insecure, and at some level it annoys you that he thinks you so shallow--but on some level you understand, because you often pretend things are easier than they are for fear that they would get annoyed with your disability.

And so you give him time, knowing that one day, if you convince him enough that you like him as is, he'll eventually come clean. It isn't like you're on a time limit here.

At least, until it came to the two of you and intimacy.

About seven months in, you began to feel a little restless. His kisses were sweet, until the day they were fire against your skin, his Intention clear as day. You loved every second of it, of course, returning them with spicy kisses of your own, carefully against his braces and rougher on his jaw as if to make your own Intent clear.

But as lovely as these sessions were, they always ended with him pushing you away, and you knew it had to do with the coat, and the way he felt about his body.

It was frustrating, and honestly it made you want to kiss him less. You didn't want to make him uncomfortable, but although he obviously wanted you as much as you wanted him, he always left you hot and bothered. You were less interested in his heated kisses if he was going to deny himself.

“Did I do something wrong?” He asked, confused when you pushed him away one evening in your shared room. “If I...made you uncomfortable, I…”

“No, I just…” you sighed, running your hand over your hair, graciously styled by Sans in a way Papyrus clearly enjoyed. You supposed he was only trying to lead things along as well. You're reaching the end of your patience...it’s time to come clean. “I don't want to get all excited right now. I love you, and I love everything about you, but...you hold back so much and honestly I'm not sure I can take it anymore.”

You felt him shift so that he was sitting up, silently contemplating, and you huffed in annoyance, unable to see his expression or feel his body language.

“You know I can't read you like that,” you mumbled, drawing your legs to your chest and resting your chin on your knees. “I've tried to give you space to come into it yourself, but with the way we've been getting heavy lately I don't think I have enough patience. Do you want me?”

“Of course I do,” he said softly, and the bed shifted as he fidgeted. “I don't push you away for lack of...feelings.”

“Then what? Are you just not ready? Because if that's it then that's fine, but you have to tell me.”

“No, I...I very much would like to be with you in that way,” he stammered. “Gods, it takes me hours to control myself. You are everything I want and need, I…”

“Then is it the coat thing?” You asked, and the bed went eerily still. “Because if it helps, I know all about that. You aren't exactly sneaky, lovebug.”

You put a twist of a chuckle on the words to lift the mood, but it seemed to have little effect.

“You...you know about the coat, yes, I often wear it.” He tried, stuttering slightly. You patted the bed until you found his hand, and covered it gently with yours.

“And the gloves, and more than often. You know I love you, right?”

“...Of course. As I love you.”

“So forget about all this subterfuge and pretending to be all soft. You have bones, there's nothing to be ashamed of.”

You turned and ran your hands over the coat, grasping the collar and bringing him close for a kiss. His hands tentatively found your waist, long fingers wrapping gently around the curve of your back to pull you closer as he sighed.

“...take it off?” You asked quietly, one hand running gently over the grooves of his skull, mapping out his kind eyesockets and his strained smile in your mind's eye. “You're such a beautiful person. How could your body be anything but beautiful, too?”

He made a dejected little noise, and you felt his shoulders slump. “BUT I'M SO POKEY AND SHARP. WHAT IF I HURT YOU?”

You winced at his volume, knowing that he can't control it when he gets upset.

“Papy, you couldn't hurt me if you tried. There isn't a mean bone in your body, and you know that.”

“I...am not great at making an ectobody anymore,” he muttered. “There won't be a cushion.”

“Don't care,” you stated, fingers finding the zipper of his jacket and waiting for the go ahead. There was shuffling, and then his ungloved hand covered yours.

“My bones are rough.”

You hummed, releasing his zipper to run your fingertips over his hand, bringing the long, graceful fingers up to cup your cheek.

“Your bones are perfect.” You insisted.

He hesitated for a moment, and then slowly, you felt him get up.

You heard a few zipper noises, and you cocked your head to listen to the flutter of other fabrics as well.

Then he grasped your hand as he sat next to you once more, guiding it to feel his newly exposed bones. You gasped in delight, immediately bringing your other hand up to finally, finally “see” your boyfriend for who he really is. The bones were big, and chipped in places, strong and supportive. The ribs ended in sharp points or fused to his sternum, and you hummed in delight at the buzz of magic preventing you from cutting yourself on them. Why was he so worried?

He shuddered and groaned as you ran your hands along his ribs, up his sternum, gently caressing historical vertebrae. You were dying to put your lips on him as you inched closer until you were practically in his lap.

“You’re handsome,” you said finally, a wondrous vision of him in your head, the shy look on his face carved into your mind's eye as you ran your fingers gently over his skull once more.

“...I feel as though I am the stuff of nightmares,” he mumbled, almost so quietly that you nearly didn't hear. “When you...when we...when I get excited around you...things happen. My magic, it...I cannot make it do normal things.”

“Normal is overrated,” you chuckled, pulling him gently to lean down so you could kiss his forehead. “I'm not normal.”

“...That is true.” He said softly, hesitantly running ungloved hands over your nightdress. “And you are the most beautiful creature I have ever laid eyes on.”

“You're the most beautiful creature I've ever laid hands on,” you giggled, wiggling your fingers, and drawing a chuckle from him as he leaned against the wall.

“You're only saying that.”

“Believe what you want, boneboy, but if you don't kiss me soon I think I'm gonna explode.”

“Ah, goodness, well, here's to not mopping up pieces of my beautiful human, then,” he laughed, and though it was nervous it was genuine, and you sighed as he kissed you softly, his hands still hesitant as they pulled you in. You helped him, pressing against him as you deepened the kiss, tongue running gently over braces until he parted his teeth, soft magic meeting your tongue eagerly.

He'd only done this once or twice before, and it had you melting immediately. His tongue was more talented than one might think, and before you knew it you were fully in his lap, your heat aching as you gently pressed down on his pelvis, curious as to what exactly skeletons have down there. If it’s anything like his tongue, you know you're ready for it.

He gasped at your curious grinding, hands stilling your hips with a strangled noise of pleasure.

“Do you want to stop?” You asked, allowing him to rest his forehead to yours.

“...No...no, I don't, and that scares me,” he said quietly, a hint of a growl in his voice, a bit of hunger to it. “When I lose control, I…”

“You won't hurt me,” you cooed soothingly, backing up and running your hands over his huge bones until you found his pants. He let out a small “NYEH” but didn't stop you as you undid the button and pulled the pajamas down, your hand wandering over smooth pelvis to find…

...huh.

“There's three of them!” You said, surprised, and he made an embarrassed noise.

“I'm sorry, I tried to warn you, it’s so weird--”

“No! It’s alright!” You insisted, a little giddy with anticipation. “Nobody should expect a monster to have the same equipment as a normal human.”

As you spoke, he gasped as your hand explored the thickest one, in the middle, humming as you drew to the very tip to map out it’s tentacle-esque shape. He shuddered pleasantly, and it swelled slightly beneath your touch as the other two moved on their own to rub against your gently moving hand, as if trying to snare you and keep you there. It was only inches from the hem of your nightgown, and his hands drew it up, panting as one wriggled over to press against your panties as his leg twitched beneath your weight.

“I...I know they are strange. I can make it behave, for a little bit, to be more...normal…”

“It’s perfect like this,” you sighed, scooting forward slightly and leaning back to expose the meat of your cunt, the tentacle not grasped in your hand happily pressing against the fabric of your panties as his hands gripped your hips.

“Then I...can I have you?” He squeaked, his voice heavy with lust as he unconsciously dragged you closer.

“All of me,” you confirmed breathlessly.

His kiss was fire, burning slowly, crackling with magic that made your lips buzz and pop pleasantly. The excited tentacle that had been making you soak your panties was quick to push them aside and run languidly between your lips.

He found himself grateful that you are blind, because he must look terrifying at that moment. There was a hunger in his kiss, an urgency in his form as he bent down to kiss and nip at your neck, and he was certain it made him bend at funny angles. But at the same time, he wished you could see him, because he wanted to share himself with you, and he grasped your hand gently to encourage you to touch his magic once more. Your grip on his middle cock was gratifying, and the soft moans and sweet scent rolling off of you as the bottom one teased you was more than pleasant.

It was downright intoxicating.

Your hand was tugging on him gently, your body angling favorably, and before he could properly respond, his cocks were doing the work for him, the biggest ripping from your grip to plunge between your lips, his hands dragging you closer as you both gasped and clutched each other.

It wasn't like anything you'd ever felt before. It was impossibly thick, and only thicker at the base, stretching you as it wriggled deep inside, drawing shocked squeaks and languid moans as he learned what your body liked.

“SORRY, NGHA….S-sorry,” he groaned, hoping to get across that he was sorry for how sudden it was. When he had imagined this, he had imagined more foreplay--kissing and touching and impressing you with his vast knowledge of the human female erogenous zones...but he hadn't expected you to be so forward, or your touch to feel so good, or his cocks to have a mind of their own.

“No, don't...don’t be,” you whimpered, arms wrapped around his neck as he began to thrust up into you. The third tentacle, still slick from teasing you, rubbed sensually at the base of the other, where the top one dove in to explore your clit as the biggest one fucked you mercilessly.

You cried out, and Papyrus gasped, forcing his magic to calm down enough to lay you down, withdrawing and kissing your face.

“I want to...do this right,” he muttered, and you huffed in amusement.

“Everything feels right so far,” you giggled, returning his kisses with ones of your own, pressed against his temples and jaw.

“I just need…” he sighed and bowed his head against your shoulder, his cocks straining to touch you once more beneath him, writhing. He focused for a moment, and they calmed to a dull throb, and his mind cleared. “I JUST NEED A MOMENT.”

“Take your time, it’s alright,” you cooed softly, fingers dancing over the back of his skull, his rough vertebrae, the bones of his shoulders, his ribs…

...cementing the idea that you truly, truly love him like this.

“I AM SORRY I LIED!” He said, his voice a near-sob. “I AM SORRY I THOUGHT SO LITTLE AS TO THINK YOU WOULDN'T ACCEPT ME AS I DO NOT ACCEPT MYSELF. I AM SORRY I DIDN'T TRUST YOU, OR IN OUR CONNECTION.”

“The demons inside us make us do strange things,” you said softly. “Like pretend to know exactly where the last step is going to be, or that I totally knew that I was holding a garden spade instead of a whisk.”

A small chuckle rumbled against your shoulder.

“...I knew it wasn't a joke,” he accused gently. “So you are...embarrassed, too? By the things that make you different?”

“Sometimes, sure,” you shrugged, and his head moved off your shoulder in response. Your hands ran gently over his face to memorize the shape of it, the look he was giving you now. “But I also know that you love me for the very things that embarrass me, and for so much more. There's nothing wrong with having sharp bones, or being blind, or having three tentacles in place of a dick...or being extremely turned on by the fact that your boyfriend has three tentacles for a dick…”

“...YOU LIKE THAT?” He asked, sounding a little relieved, a little disbelieving.

“Let's just say that there was a time, before the blindness fully set in, where I would watch a lot of adult movies that involved...tentacles.” You admitted softly, feeling your face grow warm. “So, uh, you don't have to worry about trying to be ‘normal', because if we're honest, there's nothing normal about either of us.”

He made a sound between laughter and a snort. “I SUPPOSE YOU ARE CORRECT, AS ALWAYS, SINCE YOU ARE SO VERY, VERY SMART. I SHOULD HAVE GUESSED THAT YOU WOULD KNOW OF MY LITTLE WHITE LIE.”

“It wasn't that hard to puzzle out, dingus, every time we hugged I felt the seams of your coat.”

“...IN RETROSPECT, IT WASN'T ONE OF MY BEST PLANS TO BEGIN WITH.” He said thoughtfully. “ALRIGHT! MOMENT OVER!”

And with that, he dove back down to crash his mouth against yours, his hands deftly pushing up your nightgown as you squealed and wiggled beneath him, doing your best to help remove the clothing.

The moment your breasts popped free, he was squeezing them appreciatively, a deep rumble of a purr escaping him as he explored your body for the first time. You responded by running your fingers lightly over his ribs and making him shudder, neglected, sensitive bones heating up with every tiny touch.

This was the right way. This was how he had imagined it. He kissed your neck, then your clavicle, then each breast tenderly. He hooked his fingers into the elastic of your panties and you lifted your butt so he could slide them down your perfect legs, pausing at times to press his fingers gently into you and enjoy how soft you were.

“Are you ready, my love?” He asked, his voice shaking with anticipation as he positioned himself once more, the sweet scent of your arousal making his cocks twitch and throb

“So ready,” you gasped, feeling the malleable, pointed tips begin to caress your folds, lubricating themselves with your slick arousal in preparation for what you both wanted.

You gasped as the biggest one excitedly pressed inside you, stretching you pleasantly and making lewd squelching noises as he pulled your hips closer, before making an unsatisfied noise and surprising you by dragging you up into his arms so he could hold and kiss you and press you down farther on his thickness, your legs wrapping around his spine naturally as you shuddered and moaned lewdly. He sighed in relief, clearly more comfortable with you wrapped around him this way, kneeling on the sheets as his first cock pressed against your clit and rubbed slowly, the third pressing you wider in an attempt to move alongside the biggest.

His tongue demanded yours, and though you would have guessed him for the submissive type, it did seem that he was firmly in charge tonight. But the whimpers and groans of pleasure escaping him proved, beyond doubt, that you were clearly in charge of him as well.

You gasped and moaned as the third cock finally squeezed in alongside the already impossibly huge one, both squirming and moving alongside each other as the one attacking your clit took a moment to press gently, increasing pressure as your legs tightened around him.

Suddenly an uncharacteristic growl ripped from his chest, and you shuddered all over, your climax rushing over you and drawing a broken moan of pleasure from you as you tightened around him, squeezing the two malleable tentacles in such a way that made him gasp and fall back on his heels, fingertips digging into your hips as he came all at once, the two inside you pumping rhythmically while the last one spilled on your tummy and mound, effectively coating you inside and out with his luminescent seed, still a sweet clementine color despite all he'd been through.

Oh, man, he really did wish you could see right now, so you could see how gorgeous you looked, flushed and panting in his arms, his cum dripping from around his cocks and from your stomach. With a groan he let his magic disperse, and for a moment your heat felt so empty as the rest of the cum came spilling out and onto his sheets.

With a sigh you collapsed against his ribs, your tiny body completely exhausted. He fell back until he was sitting against the wall again, cradling you and kissing your hair, muttering small praises.

“I told you it was fine to be yourself,” you panted, fingers grasping at his ribs to drag yourself up further into his embrace. He hummed in assent, nuzzling you sweetly.

What had he ever been worried about? You loved him and his body just the way it was.

“I still am sorry I can no longer create a soft ectobody for you to rest upon,” he lamented, one hand smoothing the tangles in your hair. “Like you saw, my magic can be...unpredictable nowadays…”

“You mean you can do that tentacle thing with your whole body?” You gasped, smile widening against his chest.

“Er...well, yes, I suppose that is what happens.” He chuckled. “Next time, my sweet. I...I don't think I have the stamina to take you again tonight.”

“Well, you know, you don't have to do anything next time. I'm blind, not incapable--I could do the work,” you purred, running your hands over his arms as they held you, memorizing the bumps and grooves and points and smooth spots. Memorizing him. “Especially if you growl like that again, man, I think I have a weakness for your voice when you do that.”

He chuckled, drawing you closer, the same growl building in his chest.

“Darling...I knew that much the night we met.”

Chapter Text

Mutt glanced offstage neurotically once more, smirking and giving you a nonchalant wave as his nerves settled to see you with his brother in the wings.

It had been months, but this was his first show since the incident, and the first big thing you'd left the house for yourself.

Everything was going extremely well. That Reginald asshole had gotten max sentencing due to the sheer number of cases and amount of evidence, and in the process of the full investigation, Black had dug up several other scumbags related to the crimes and put them behind bars, resulting in a huge promotion that nobody saw going to the rookie monster cop in a million years. As a full-blown detective now, he made his own hours, as well as more than enough money for Mutt to quit his side jobs and focus on you and his music.

And you, you weren't idle, not in the least. You became the spearhead of a self-started business campaign to create cute and fashionable self-defense accessories for women, the most popular being a keychain that looked like a leaf but unfolded into knife knuckles and a magic ring that glows purple if within 1 foot of a drink laced with Rohypnol. Mutt was pretty fucking proud of that, and because you don't need the money you even did it only enough to break even, resulting in the charms and accessories being half the price of anything else like it.

He slipped off the stage quickly, despite curtain being mere seconds away.

“kiss for luck?” He purred, tapping his cheekbone. You smirked knowingly at him and planted one where he indicated, giggling as you left a lavender lipstick mark on smooth bone. He chuckled and tapped the other one. “luck comes in twos, darlin’.”

You moved to kiss his other cheekbone, but at the last second he turned to steal a kiss from your lips in earnest, resulting in you shoving him away with a giggle.

“Greedy,” you teased.

“brat,” he laughed right back, grabbing your nose and squeezing it for a moment. “...stay with sans tonight, okay?”

“FOR TORIEL’S SAKE, BROTHER, GET YOUR MISERABLE COCCYX ON THE STAGE BEFORE THE BAND GETS ANTSY!” Black scoffed, shoving him back towards the sound of the crowd. “I HAVE HER, SO GO ENJOY YOURSELF BEFORE I KICK YOUR--”

“Break a leg, boneboy,” you interrupted as Mutt walked off onto stage, waving slightly over his shoulder.

Black sighed and plopped back onto the stool he'd previously been sitting in, eyes scanning for any signs of danger...and finding none, of course, because he had already secured the area.

Tentatively, he turned his attention to you, finding his hardened exterior melting a little bit as he watched you lean forward in your seat, kicking your feet and bobbing your head along to the music, looking carefree as can be. The tenacity of your soul was admirable indeed, your perseverance and determination proving to be the better of the battle when it came to overcoming your anxieties. Perhaps it helped to have the two of them fawning over you, but how quickly you had re-adapted your style and attitude had been startling. He was sort of...proud.

Sure, you aren't his datemate. And you never talked that much before the incident that sadly made him a local celebrity. However, there was an air of nobility and generosity behind that harsh, bratty mask you wore, and he could certainly appreciate that. And the way his brother looked at you as if you were the stars yourself, and how he had never seen him work so hard for any relationship or deal in his life...there is something special about you.

Something….maybe a little bit attractive.

The items on the vanity clattered as Mutt practically threw you up there, bodies entwined as he kissed you fiercely, whatever the monster equivalent of Adrenaline was clearly running high after a successful performance. You giggled as he swore, having caught his hand between your ass and the corner of the desk, lifting you effortlessly with one arm while he shook it out, reluctant to stop kissing you for something as trivial as a stubbed finger.

“color?” he purred, tangling one hand in your hair to anchor you against his teeth, tongue running over your bottom lip gently.

“Green,” you sighed, arms wrapping around his shoulders as your tongue met his in the middle teasingly. “Mmm...very green. Greener than grass.”

He chuckled at your eagerness, pleased to see you settling into the provided safe word system. He wanted to ravish you as best he could, but at the same time he wanted you to know an easy way to say no if he was triggering anything unwanted. He was a lot of things, but a rapist he was not, and he especially never wanted to remind you of yours.

“you're such a fucking tease, flashin’ me your tits from the side of the stage,” he purred, hands smoothing over your bared belly and sliding up underneath your crop top to palm your breasts. “no bra, either, fuck, whaddya want from me, you brat?”

“I want you horny,” you giggled. “Obviously.”

“yeah, well, mission fuckin’ accomplished, darlin’.” He growled, leading one of your hands to press against the significant bulge in his jeans. “and what're y’gonna do about it?”

You hummed as you kissed him, enjoying the way his hands slid over your skin, the way they dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts.

“I'm going to suck it, of course,” you mused, and his hands stopped. He leaned back with a raised brow.

“really? you’re sure?” He asked tentatively. The most you'd done together since the incident was just this--fool around. He’d never in a million years ask for more after what you’d been through, and certainly not less than a year later.

“Green,” you said, leaning back teasingly with a wink as you tapped your nose. “Been thinking about it the whole time you were up there tonight. Figured, you know, you’re hot and you deserve it...”

“really?” he chuckled, leaning in once more, slower, masking his hesitancy with calculated movement. “so it had nothing to do with the cute groupies in the front row that were throwing their panties on stage?”

He had to laugh at the unamused scowl you gave him. Seems like he hit a little too close for comfort.

“darlin’, you got nothin’ to prove to anyone, least of all me. i ain’t goin’ nowhere.”

“And how do I know that?” You mumbled, crossing your arms and looking away. “I know how much of a horndog you are, you know. I know you jerk it in the bathroom after you think I fall asleep. I know you’re frustrated, and as loyal as I know you to be I’ve known sex to drive men to do crazy things.”

He was quiet, letting you rant your piece as he studied your face. So stubborn, as always. You keep these bullheaded ideas of what men are like...but knowing the kind you’ve been in contact with throughout your adolescence he supposed he couldn’t fault you.

“i don’t need it. despite the nickname, i’m not actually a mindless beast,” he scoffed, a little irritated. “i’m not only with you because i wanna plough you, you know...tch. brat.”

“...but even so,” you continued slowly, face lighting up in a blush. “I don’t want to do it just because I think you need it from me.”

“or because of your raging jealousy?” He teased, and you huffed in annoyance even as you blushed a little deeper.

“I’m not jealous!” You grumbled as he leaned in to kiss your exposed neck gently, coaxing your arms apart so that he could lace the fingers of his hands with yours as you hummed, pretending you were mad. “...I’m not jealous. I just...you said that...you’re mine, you know?”

“m’a very loyal pet,” he agreed with a chuckle. “doesn’t mean you gotta give me a treat if you don’t want to.”

“But I do want to…” you sighed, releasing his hands to cup his cheekbones and look him in the sockets. “This isn’t a duty thing, or a mark, or a sense of claiming you...I just...I don’t want my most recent memory of...intimacy...to be him anymore. I want it to be you.”

Ah.

Well, he kind of feels like an ass for fighting you about it, now, but it does make sense. The nightmares are...frequent. It’s as if you relive it nearly every night, and though it moves farther away it’s still fresh on everyone’s mind. He wanted to give you the space to deal, he wanted you to ease back into it at your own pace…

But he hasn’t really helped make any more positive sexual memories, either. What’s the best way to calm down after a horror movie? Watch a sappy romance or a Disney flick, right? Same concept.

“that wasn’t intimacy, babygirl,” he cooed softly, pushing a stray lock of your hair from your face. “don’t you ever think you have to look at it that way. but if you want it, and you want me to...i’ll replace those memories as often as y’need.”

“Well, I definitely need it,” you all but whimpered, and for a small moment he saw the weakness in your shell, a tiny crack in your mask revealing how scared and disconnected you still felt. “...I need you.”

“as you wish, darlin’,” he said quietly, picking you up in his arms easily, allowing you to wrap around him. So small, so easily broken...and yet he wanted to do everything he could to fix it.

“Thank you,” you breathed, and he shushed you softly.

“let’s find sans and get home, alright?”

You wanted the lights on, which was weird for him, but he didn’t truly mind. You’d seen his scars enough times by now--and he knows the nightmarish flashbacks get stronger in the dark. Been there himself.

You insisted on the hard part first, “Pun intended,” you had giggled.

So he was ready to let you, holding his cock in one hand as he ran the other through your hair.

“take your time,” he reminded you. “there’s no need to ru--sshhhh~”

He drew out the last syllable as a long hiss as you eagerly licked the underside of his shaft, teasing the bars of his Jacob’s Ladder, and fuck, it had been so long since you truly touched him that he immediately groaned, straining to keep from bucking into your mouth. All at your pace, he had decided, even as his hand came to tighten around a fistful of your hair.

Oh, fuck. You actually like the way he pulled your hair like that, he could see it in your face. Self-control? Definitely slipping.

You gasped as he tugged a little, and you squeezed your eyes shut for a moment. He reacted, stopping all movement but for his already heavy breathing. Before he could be the asshole that he was and ask for a color, you licked it again, enjoying the way it twitched beneath your touch, the slight taste of his musk and syrup, so familiar and comforting, like the buzz of his magic against your tongue. It numbed you, but not like the drugs, no, it was a good numb, the kind that made you brave instead of helpless. You’re in control, and everything is alright...because it’s Papyrus who’s here with you.

You’d already established a way to tap out against his femur, so there’s nothing but safety in this room.

He groaned as you bravely took a few inches, slowly letting himself relax enough to truly enjoy the view. You were flushed, your brow concentrated, the sleeve of your shirt sliding down your shoulder ever-so-teasingly as you began to bob up and down on the top half of his cock, putting one talented hand to work at the base to replace his.

Fuck. Fuuuuuuuuck.

He had missed this. Before all this, you’d practiced this together an awful lot, and you’d become pretty damn good at giving head. He loves knowing that he’s the only one who knows what a proper BJ from you feels like, that nobody else can claim to have taught you the tricks you were currently pulling out to turn him into a puddle beneath your lips. You were confident, if a bit more hesitant than you used to be, but twice as determined, and hell, if you kept it up he wasn’t going to last very long.

Nothing really embarrassed him about sex, except for one thing. He fights it every time, but with a really good orgasm comes an incredibly needy and busted Mutt. He falls apart at the seams, he’ll beg, he’ll whine, he’ll obey everything you said if it meant you’d give him this orgasm he was chasing right now. He’d hid it well until now, determined not to be a complete mess for you until he finally got to sink into that beautiful, delicious pussy of yours.

But then you did that thing with your tongue, and he yanked involuntarily on your hair with a strangled noise, and you gagged a little and giggled around his length as he threw one arm over his face to cover the violet flush overtaking it.

“fuck... fuuu-huuuck, darlin’, you are somethin’ else,” He groaned, trying to cover up his momentary slip.

Teeth grazed his shaft, and he made a noise between a hiss, a groan, and a laugh, and peered down at you with a positively hungry look on his face. “don’t start with that, you fuckin’ brat, i’m far too close to go easy on you.”

You withdrew with a pop! and looked up at him through your lashes, teasing his head with the tip of your manicured fingernail.

“Maybe I don’t want you to.”

He raised a brow at you, and you climbed up him as best you could to land a kiss on his jaw, whispering right next to his skull.

“Maybe...if it’s you...I want to be treated badly.” You purred, your hand coming up and caressing the side of his skull, tracing the crack that led from the apex to his left socket, all the way down to trace one of his golden fangs. “Perhaps I’m...tired of being treated so considerately. Like glass.”

He shuddered slightly, rough hands grasping and dragging you upward into his lap so he could press toothy kisses to your neck, rocking his length against your shorts.

“yeah? that what you really want?” He breathed, nipping at your neck as you hummed and clutched his shirt. “wanna be treated like a brat? the naughty girl you are? like you’re dirty?”

He caught the last words as they left his teeth. Shit, he got too into it. That was too far. You already felt you had been soiled, you still took extra-long showers and washed your hands three times before meals.

He felt you shift and he moved back accommodatingly.

“shit, darlin’, i didn’t mean…”

He trailed off as you crossed your arms and slowly pulled your shirt over your head, your soft breasts bouncing free, practically in his face with the way you were straddling him.

When your face reappeared, as you flung the shirt away, you were smirking seductively as you squished your breasts against his ribs, wrapping your arms slowly around his neck as his hands settled on your hips, itching to pull you closer.

“Pardon the pun, but it’s not a dirty word,” you said slowly. “I was soiled the moment you touched me, in all the right ways--I was only worried his stench would never come off. But you...your scent marks every piece of clothing I own. I smell barbeque and syrup on my hair, in my skin. I may be a dirty, filthy, naughty little brat…”

Your hand wandered down his chest as you leaned in to kiss him, harder than expected, grasping a rib firmly beneath his tank top, and the moment he opened his mouth your tongue was dancing with his, leaving him as breathless as he gets, fingers tightening on your hips as he strained to get some friction.

“...but I’m your dirty, filthy, naughty little brat...aren’t I, Daddy?” You said as you broke away, batting those big, innocent eyelashes at him as the word rolled lewdly from your perfect lips, and damn, if he was holding back before there was none of that now, his cock perking straight up as he realized exactly how much he fucking loved hearing you say that.

“...you naughty thing,” he growled. “say it again.”

“I’m yours?” You asked, finger coming up to tap on your cheek as you cocked your head in mock innocence.

“you know what i mean, you fucking brat,” he rumbled, eyelights flashing with impatience as you clearly reveled in riling him up.

“I’m sure I don’t…” You frowned, cocking your head the other way and raising a brow. “Sorry, Daddy.”

His sockets slammed shut for a moment as he took stock of the way his magic swirled in his chest. If he wasn’t careful, he’d throw you down and take you right now, and though it went without saying, he didn’t want to do that.

“m’not gonna go easy on you,” he muttered, his only warning before he leaned forward and pinned you to the bed, tongue lolling out to taste the sweat beading on your chest, to roll around your pert nipples as you groaned and squeaked pleasantly underneath him. You’re just so small when he looms over you like this, and a growl rumbles in his chest, pleased at the way you lay yourself submissive beneath him, done playing at dominance and ready to take what he was going to dish out.

He swiftly unbuttoned your shorts, dragging them down your legs slowly and peppering them with kisses that felt like fire against your skin.

“ready?” he asked. One word. No context. But you knew what he meant.

“Red,” you said. “Green for everything else we’ve already done...thank you, Daddy.”

“darlin’, i’m only gonna warn ya once,” he breathed, violet eyelights morphing to hearts and back. “you better stop callin’ me daddy unless you wanna baby in there.”

Something in the look on his face was serious, but part of it also read as a joke. His way of telling you to proceed at your own risk, not that he’d make good on the actual threat of impregnating you…

...wow. You’ll have to file that flash of arousal away for later.

“Not tonight,” you lamented as he pulled your panties off, making a show of deeply inhaling your scent from them. “But I won’t lie...that’s pretty hot.”

He tossed your panties behind him with a chuckle. “you’re tellin’ me.”

And with that he was buried between your legs, and you gasped sharply as his tongue delved between your lips, teasing the tight ring just beyond, one thumb coated in magic gently pressing circles on your clit. He hummed and licked and pressed toothy kisses to it until you were thoroughly wet with both your own slick and his thick saliva, and then he was pressing his thick member against you lengthwise.

“i don’t want you to do anything but focus on how we feel,” he purred, moving agonizingly slowly. “breathe, and focus on my touch.”

“No problem,” you breathed obediently, eyes fluttering closed as he drew his fingers down your small form.

He kissed every inch of you that he could reach, and you have no idea how long it went on. Gentle caresses, purrs and growls and the teasing press of his length against you. He moved you several times, sometimes in his lap so he could run his hands over your back and your ass, squeezing and appreciating your body.

And you kissed him, lips fluttering over every bone, taking joy in the way his breathing hitched and how he tensed when you found a particularly sensitive spot.

“This is hardly a punishment,” you groaned, his soft touches driving you wild as he ghosted over your body for the sixtieth time. “I said I wanted to be treated...badly…”

“have i let you cum yet?” He asked, his breath warm on your ear as his thumbs twitched closer to your dripping, needy core, and you tried to move against him but to no avail. You only whimpered in response, and he chuckled, the laugh reverberating against your chest and sending a pleasant buzz through you. “you only get to cum if you beg for it, babygirl.”

“Please?” You said quickly, legs spreading wider and form more open than ever, more submissive. You cocked your head and showed your throat, and slowly, carefully, he wrapped one large hand around it, not even daring to squeeze, but gauging your reaction.

A deep gasp and your hands fluttered to his arm, but they didn’t push him away. He smelled a new rush of arousal, and his cock throbbed as he slowly grinded its length against your slit.

...fuck.

“you’re so gorgeous when you’re like this,” he said softly. “makes it all that much sweeter when i know i got you here.”

“Please, Daddy,” you moaned, running your hand gently between his radius and ulna, and he shivered, sending a calculated spark of magic from his fingertips through your throat, warming your body momentarily before it settled on the bundle of nerves pressed against his shaft.

“please, what?”

“I want...I want you to cum.”

...huh. That caught him off-guard, and he stared at you a moment. Flushed, panting, an absolute mess beneath him. He’d been teasing you for hours at this point, and all you wanted was for him to cum?

...fuck.

“heaven help you because i’m going to absolutely ruin you one day,” he groaned, leaning over to kiss you gently...then harder, then harder, then he moved to your neck and kissed and nipped and bit and pressed even harder against you, his resolve slipping as he moved, cock slick with your arousal as he used you to get off, drawing a shuddering orgasm from you mere moments before his own spurted over your cute tummy, coating you in several layers of pent-up frustration in the form of his lavender seed. You arched into him as your orgasm continued through his, your mouth going slack as your eyelids fluttered, and for a brief moment he pressed the head to your lower lips, taking a deep breath…

...before slowly, slowly pulling back and resisting the urge to thrust into you with reckless abandon.

It was several moments before either of you moved, and even then all you did was crawl into each other’s arms, him pulling off his tank top to wipe up the mess he made as he held you close.

“you look really good in purple,” he chuckled in your ear as he tossed it aside. “i want pictures next time.”

“Why do you think I wear purple with every outfit?” you mused. “Must’ve been fate, your magic and my fashion taste.”

He wrapped his arms around you and cradled you gently to his side, hand running softly over the many love nips that were starting to bruise a little from your neck to your abdomen. Marks from his fingers dug purple spots in your hips...but your face was pure bliss as you drew tiny circles on his sternum with the tip of your finger.

“you’d tell me if it was too much, right, darlin'?” he asked, returning the soft touch to trace circles on your hip.

“It wasn’t,” you sighed, snuggling closer to his chest. “It was...amazing.”

“good,” he chuckled, kissing the top of your head. “also, can i just ask...about the daddy thing?”

You looked up at him sheepishly. “...sorry. Was that too weird?”

“oh, totally,” he said seriously. “an’ i absolutely loved it.”

You giggled. “Oh, good, because the rest of the list wasn’t as impressive. You really didn’t strike me as a ‘captain’ or a ‘sir’ type.”

“nah, that’s all sans,” he said with a snort. “rank play, whips, and chains. don’t get me wrong, i like all that stuff, just not nearly as much as what we did here tonight.”

“Yeah, like, what do you even call that?” You asked. “Because I’m definitely gonna have to look it up.”

“that, my dirty, filthy, naughty little brat...was tantric sex.”

“But...we didn’t even…”

“babygirl, there is so much more to sex than penetration,” he chuckled, tucking your head gently beneath his chin. He yawned as you pulled the blanket up a bit to snuggle against him. “don’t worry, i’ll teach y’everything. eventually.”

You hummed in assent, eyelids heavy with exhaustion from the hours of edging and teasing, body a little sore in a good way.

You drifted off curled against him, and your dreams were hot and heavy and romantic, filled with his sexy chuckle and the glow of his shaft between your teeth.

And not a single nightmare.

Chapter Text

Mutt tossed back another drink, signaling for the bartender to pour him one more. The music picked up again, and the crowd cheered as you walked back on stage.

He hates how good you look up there. He can see all the eyes on you, can feel the burn of their lecherous looks. You're too fucking cute, but it isn't like you don't know that.

Your band wasn't bad looking either, but you...you took the cake. He let himself devour you with his eyes, remembering how you look beneath him, the curl of your lips as you called his name, how shy you are when he kisses your virginal body. The way you look when you suck his dick. The way you buzz beneath his fingertips.

So perfect. So independent. So...talented.

I haven't seen my ex since we broke up
Probably 'cause he didn't wanna grow up
Now I'm out and wearing something low-cut
'Bout to get attention from a grownup

'Cause you hold me like a woman
In a way I've never felt before
And it makes me wanna hold on
And it makes me wanna be all yours

He smiled in spite of himself, head buzzing as the next drink slid into his hand. Making your own band was a good move. It was easy to watch over you when you were the one on stage.

He could swear your eyes were burning holes in his skull from the stage.

Guys my age don't know how to treat me
Don't know how to treat me, don't know how to treat me
Guys my age don't know how to touch me
Don't know how to love me good
Guys my age don't know how to keep me
Don't know how to keep me, don't know how to keep me
Guys my age don't know how to touch me
Don't know how to love me good

Damn straight they don't. Was this song directed at him?

“Hey, P-man! Don't see you around here often.”

“i suggest y'shut the fuck up when the show's on, dogamy.”

Dogamy isn't good at listening. He keeps talking.

All Mutt wanted to do was watch your show, get smashed, maybe sneak backstage to fool around if you're down. But no, he has to pretend a fucking conversation with one of the underground's biggest gossips.

“That's that human that was in the papers with ya, innit?”

“mmm.”

Told him, "good luck with the next one"
Maybe she'll be just as immature
Gotta thank him, he's the reason
That I'll find out what I'm looking for

Dogamy looked up at you as you caressed the crowd with your vocals, your eyes flickering flames of passion and tenacity.

Fire he burns for in turn.

He loves you so much.

...he shouldn't drink so much.

“Damn shame, that breakup.” Dogamy sighed. Mutt twitched, but doesn't respond. “But I gotta say you turned that human into quite the monster enthusiast.”

“shut up.”

Either he didn't hear the warning, or he unwisely ignored it.

“Heard she's been around the block, y'know? Lots of monsters stepping up to claim a night with her,” he chuckled. “You must have banged her real good, made her crave magic somethin’ fierce. Considered trying my hand myself. Heh, maybe it's a good thing you broke up, she's too much of a slu--”

It wasn't long before he was paying his tab while Dogamy howled in pain, clutching his eye and the shot glass buried in it.

The show ends early that night and he follows you home.

“Ugh, he's here again.”

You looked up at your bandmate, and then to where she was glancing.

Of course it was Mutt, you didn't know what you expected. He's at all your shows.

“Do you need me to get security?” She asked, always so concerned about the wrong things. “At this point it's creepy.”

“No, he's fine.” You insisted, returning to your compact mirror to check your eye makeup.

“Yeah, until he starts following you home...creepy,” she mutters, but turns to tune her guitar. You smiled into your compact mirror, knowing full well he already does that.

He promised to protect you no matter what, and you haven't seen him break a promise yet.

You just wish he was as thoughtful as he was loyal. A little more empathy and you may not have broken up.

...and yet you still miss him.

You pull on your skirt a little bit, hiking it up so that the skeletal pelvis print lines up with your real pelvis and shows your ripped tights. You smirk at yourself in the mirror, tousling your hair. You're gonna drive him crazy one of these nights--he can't play the stoic guardian forever. Eventually he'll break and realize the error of his ways.

You pushed away the thought that he might never think that way and strutted on stage to your mic stand--glittering purple and silver, just like your lips tonight.

You still want him. So you avoided his eye as you sang.

I'll tell you a story before it tells itself
I'll lay out all my reasons, you'll say that I need help
We all got expectations, and sometimes they go wrong
But no one listens to me, so I put it in this song

They tell me think with my head, not that thing in my chest
They got their hands at my neck this time
But you're the one that I want, if that's really so wrong
Then they don't know what this feeling is like

You watched him chuckle to himself from the corner of your eye, and your chest tightened a bit. You missed hearing that chuckle, that throaty laugh beside you in the early morning.

What an asshole, being attractive.

I'll tell them a story, they'll sit and nod their heads
I tell you all my secrets, and you tell all your friends
Hold on to your opinions, and stand by what you said (stand by what you said)
In the end, it's my decision, so it's my fault when it ends

They tell me think with my head, not that thing in my chest
They got their hands at my neck this time
But you're the one that I want, if that's really so wrong
Then they don't know what this feeling is like

Your bandmate is staring daggers at Mutt. The others are distracted by the music, but security is tight on either side of the doors to the stage.

Whispers are running through the crowd and you know they're also running through the town.

You wonder if Papyrus believes his virgin princess could do the things they say.

The days are growing shorter and Mutt was growing more distant. Black often commented he wasn't himself, and he knew he knew why but he also knew his brother wouldn't do anything about it without prompting.

Maybe he should tuck his heart away and forget about you...but he can't do that when you still have a huge target painted on your back. He reads the papers and magazines, he sees the hate you get on the internet...you've even recently come to Black with concern over anonymous letters, and he's taken the case. His office looks like a shrine to people that want to hurt you, starting with your rapist and working all the way down to the people in your own family who might want you out of the way for your inheritance. He knows his brother does his best to keep him out of there but there’s no resisting his curiosity so of course he’s in there when he isn’t home.

Seeing your face and the conspiracy theories and all the information laid out...it terrified him. That web haunts him until he can’t rest, and every night since he’d seen it he’d found himself in the tree outside your parents’ house at least once a night to be sure you were sleeping safely. He wondered if you noticed him out there, or in the crowd at your shows, or at your back when you walk home at night.

He wondered if you had ever thought about inviting him in.

He kicked the branch in front of him with a soft curse, lighting another treat as he ruminated on his apparent mistakes.

“ eighteen, crazy

pulled up in your daddy's car

you wanna move in with me

guess we're off to a heavy start.”

Muffet’s was beyond dolled up for the event, but so were you, and in his opinion you outshined every light in the place. You're in your element here, the Halloween decorations making your pastels pop. The ruffles on your dress complimented your petite form as you watched from the front table with Muffet, Undyne, and Alphys.

He winked at you, knowing you knew to expect a song about you tonight. It’s a little tongue-in-cheek, but he worked hard to write something that encompassed the dynamics of your relationship, all of them--even the bad ones.

“you know I'm broke

so you pulled out your daddy's card

i drink, i smoke

you ate it up from the very start

should've seen this coming from a mile away

i'll play your game

i know what you want from me

i know what you want from me

so if you wanna piss off your parents

date me to scare them

show them you're all grown up

if monsters with tattoos are what attract you

baby then you're in luck

and i know it's just a phase

you're not in love with me

you wanna piss off your parents, baby

piss off your parents

that's alright with me~”

He thought it was cheeky and funny, at the very least. When the whispers arose at the front table he ignored them-- ‘Dyne and Al were probably just teasing you. The rest of the set was short, and he was buzzing to get to his break so he could drag you off behind the giant pumpkin and kiss you until you couldn’t breathe and laugh about how dumb you both were when you met.

God, he loved you.

He jumped down from the stage, looking around the crowd of patrons flocking to the bar--but when he spotted you with ‘Dyne, you...well, you looked upset. When you caught his eye you swiftly turned away and wiped at your face, but he didn’t miss the glistening tears on your manicured nails. You said something he couldn’t quite hear, and Undyne about-faced and skittered off as she does when her awkward-sensor goes off.

“what’s wrong, darlin’?” He unslung his bass and leaned it against the stage, concern in his sockets as he approached you.

“I asked if that’s what you really think?” You repeated, flexing your hands as you turned to face him. There was a fury in your eyes, and for a moment he was worried something awful had happened during the set. “You think I'm only in it to piss my parents off? You think I just want some bad thing to rub in their faces?”

What? Is that what this was about? His worry faded into irritation immediately.

“well, that was the deal, wasn't it?” He asked, leaning back nonchalantly against the stage. “you saw my tattoos and my bones and my leather pants, and you smiled and said i was perfect for the job.”

He watched you blush and look away, and the gears in your head seemed to move a bit. You opened your mouth to say something, and then the fury kindled new.

“Papyrus…” you managed, tears choking your words. You stomped your foot and made a frustrated noise. “You IDIOT! ”

“yeah, well, you're a brat .” He scoffed. Did you really wanna do this here and now? He had been so excited to see you, and you were just pissing him off.

“Fuck you!” You flipped him off, and he laughed.

“cute. you think i care what you think of me,” he teased. He knew this game. Now you’d tell him he’s a little shit, and he’d laugh it off, and then you’d make out in the broom closet.

...But you didn’t do that. Instead, he watched your shoulders drop and your face fall, and for a long, silent moment he thought maybe he’d gone too far.

But then you made a frustrated noise, and suddenly your hand connected with his cheekbone--quite the feat for such a small lady. He humoured you and moved, because he didn’t want you to hurt your hand.

He turned to make a joke about saving it for the bedroom, but you were already stalking away through the crowd.

He chuckled bitterly and shook his head, calling after you.

“alright, see you at home, then!”

He scoffed and turned to collect his bass to get ready for the second set--with a small flash of worry that you might actually leave without him, all by yourself.

When he finished out for the night and found you waiting by the coat closet, he relaxed. Clearly it was in his head. Everything was alright. Even if you looked like an angry cat, arms crossed and hip popped out defiantly.

You even snubbed his kiss the moment he leaned in.

“wow, i can't believe you’re still so worked up about this,” he growled. “why’d you even stay if you were gonna be a stubborn brat when i got off?”

“Don't call me a brat!” You hissed, shoving his face away from you. “I only stayed because Sans would kill us both if I walked home alone.”

He chuckled even as you shoved him. You had a point. “well, since we’re stuck together we might as well enjoy it, right?”

He picked you up effortlessly, waited half a beat for any sort of safeword, and upon hearing none, he kicked the door open and unceremoniously shoved you into the coat closet. You let out a surprised noise, but even as he closed the door behind him, you were faintly smiling through your scowl.

“I don't want to have sex with you right now,” you protested, and he chuckled. That wasn't your safeword and you knew it.

Part of all your healing had been you insisting he not treat you like glass--you wanted him to keep going until he heard the safeword, unless he thought you were too far gone to think. But you're clearly in your right mind, so he has no worries.

“c’mon, we both know that isn't true, babe.”

You blushed a deep crimson, squeezing your thighs as he obviously caught you. He hooked your foot with his, pulling it swiftly so that you would topple over prone with a squeak, the ruffled skirt of your cute little dress riding up to your hips.

“I...I’m still mad!” You squeaked as he dropped to his knees in front of you, coaxing your legs apart with a gentle touch that made you flush.

“i know, darlin’.”

“This doesn't change anything!”

“mm...mm-hmm.” He hummed, kneeling and running his hands up your legs to pull your panties away. He couldn't stand all this waiting--he longed to feel your sweet cunt around his cock but for now he would just have to settle for tasting you. Until you're ready. “now, i think it’s time somebody reminded you of your place, brat .”

“ You're a brat!” You stuttered against his shirt. After a moment's pause, your blush deepened. "...well? Are you gonna kiss me or not?"

He laughed, leaning in to kiss you…

Ah, the good times.

You were so fucking stubborn! But so is he, he supposed. He knows he should probably have bit the bullet and apologized to you, but he honestly thought it wasn’t that big of a deal until a few weeks later when you just...up and left. Took your things fom your drawer and told him he could fuck off.

Is he oblivious or just cocky? You had brought up the song a few times, he supposed, but those conversations never lasted. You seemed fine. A little brattier than usual, but fine.

Black didn't talk about it but he knows you discussed it with him, maybe multiple times--he knew, because when Black came home that night from the precinct he didn't say a word about you leaving but to clear the pictures of you off the mantle, knowing Mutt had been staring at them all evening since you walked out.

Sure, maybe he's stubborn, but the song was just a joke. Something meant to make you laugh so he could open up with how much has changed. But you took it so seriously , which is weird because your humour had always lined up with his.

He saw the light flick on in your room and skillfully climbed up one more ledge to where there was tree cover, watching as you opened the doors to your veranda and walked out onto the balcony.

You looked awfully cute in that nightgown. He wished he could wake up to you like that again.

With a quick scan of the area, he shortcutted home. But just before he did, he could swear he had heard you call his name...and call him an idiot.

Or maybe he just wanted to hear that.

He collapsed on the bed and reached into the pillowcase to pull out your scarf, pressing it to his face to take in the comforting scent of you.

Christmas was fast approaching and your parents’ house was always full of noise. Servants prepped the mansion for the holiday and, consequently, the holiday party that always accompanied it.

Attendance might be lower than usual due to the scandal of your rape case--nobody wants to have that awkward conversation about how they had been on the wrong side of that case, and plenty of your father's high-brow friends had been on the wrong side of that case. The good ol’ boys type mindset was unfortunately a big factor of the rich and pretentious, and you supposed your attacker had to learn it somewhere, so your willingness to rub elbows with the very people who had made him feel like it was okay to do what he did was incredibly low.

As such you steered away from all the Christmas stuff and spent more nights out than not, hoping to avoid guests as they trickled through for “catching up over tea” or whatever other Old Money thing they wanted to do.

Your boots clicked a steady pace down the familiar sidewalk, your heart beating at least double the steps as you grew closer to their house.

Sans had insisted you come over so he could discuss your case in a place you felt safe, and you had to agree it was better than public or the station. Even as a detective you didn't need all the staring when dealing with a creeptastic stalker.

But the case wasn't what was bothering you. It wasn't the reason your heart was in your throat.

Mutt was never not home this time of day, which means it might be the first time you actually interacted since the breakup, and you aren't sure where you stand, even with his protective shadow normally at your back.

You know his song was supposed to be funny, you know that. But...it wasn't funny to you. It hurt, thinking that he might just see nothing but that 18-year-old brat even after all you've been through together, after the trauma you've experienced and the nightmares he's soothed, after all of the support you've given and received…

You had thought that maybe, perhaps, there might have been something deeper between you. You had felt it, you'd been so sure...but even when you tried to open up about why it bothered you, he just brushed it off and laughed about it, and it felt like he just...didn't care.

So maybe you hadn't really intended to break up. You had hoped he would at least try to chase you down and talk it out, but when you'd left…

“what is this, spring cleaning?” He chuckled, picking through the mess you'd made of his room while digging around for your things. “it's only november.”

“It's something like that,” you said blandly, tossing another skirt into the bag at your feet. “Have you seen my sparkly scarf?”

“i think sans put it in the wash. why, need it that bad?”

“Yeah, kinda,” you mumbled, heart pounding in your ears as you tried to hold back the tears threatening to pour. You didn't want to pull this. “Uhm, uh, you know, you can keep it. I have to go.”

“what, with all your stuff?” He asked, his voice and face growing concerned as you slung the bag over your shoulder. He stopped you easily before you could pass him. “i know i joke about all your girly stuff getting in the way but you know i don't mean it.”

“This isn't about the stuff, Papyrus,” you sighed, backing up a step so his hand wasn't on you anymore. “I'm just...I think I need some space.”

He looked honestly surprised, and it made you sad and angry--as if he had no idea what this was about. His face stayed like stone as he apparently thought of a response, and you sincerely hoped he knew what to say.

“is this about the sex?” He asked, scratching his jaw, his brow knit in thought. “cuz we been over this, darlin’, y'don't owe me anything, the least of all your body.”

“Oh my God,” you scoffed, shaking your head in disbelief. “I...no, Papyrus, this isn't about the sex.”

“then what the fuck is this? y'off your meds or somethin’?” He asked, slight concern melting into irritation as you pushed past him and stalked off. “hey, wait, back the fuck up, i'm talkin’ t'ya--”

“Nah, I got an Uber picking me up right now so I really can't sit here and feel worse about myself than I already have these last two weeks,” you spat, picking up your pace towards the door. His long legs had no trouble catching up, and he grabbed your arm gently as you stepped out onto the porch.

“is this for real? you're just gonna leave after all we've been through, and i don't even get an explanation?” He asked, his tone eerily calm and steady as something burned brightly in his sockets.

“Really? It's a question?” You laughed, actually amused for a second there. “How about, uh, implying that I don't give a shit about you? And how, after everything, you still seem to believe I'm only in it for the rebellion?”

“we've had this con--”

“No, Papyrus, we haven't,” you hissed, tugging at your arm, but his grip was sure. “I have tried, oh, yeah, but every fucking time I get the same shrug and dismissal. If you would pull your head out of your coccyx for ten fucking minutes you might have actually noticed--it upset me. But it doesn't matter if it was supposed to be funny, right?”

You could see him shutting down. There's a chance that he might see how much he hurt you...just a chance.

“so you're just gonna give up?” He asked softly.

You shrugged, suddenly very tired as the tears overwhelmed you and your voice shook. “I just...I care a lot about this and about you and you just...don't. And I think that I should probably fuck off before I get hurt any worse.”

He stared at you for a long moment, and for a split second you thought he might kiss you or something, anything--

...but instead he let your arm go, struck up a magic cig in one fluid motion, his other hand going in his pocket as he leaned back, no longer hindering your retreat.

Smoke billowed from his mouth as his sockets went colder than you had ever seen them, and you would never forget that face or those words that followed.

“fine. fuck off, then.”

You had tried really hard not to care about seeing him.

You had tried not to look over your closet a thousand times for just the perfect outfit. Tried not to meticulously judge your make up until you eventually redid it completely. Tried not to spend an hour in front of the mirror making sure it was perfect…

...but you had failed miserably. You'd even curled your hair all nicely and pulled out your new makeup tricks, and as you stood on his doorstep all dolled up you wondered if there was any way he'd even care.

You rapped on the door before you could doubt yourself, resisting the urge to knock in your secret pattern. You're just here to talk to Black about your case, that's it.

You weren't prepared when the door swung open to reveal Mutt, whose face immediately fell into horrified surprise. He was in his favorite old sweats and no shirt, looking ragged and lazy and like he didn't give a fuck, and there was a moment of silence before he moved like he was going to slam the door, locking up and deliberating his next move before robotically moving aside and jerking his head slightly, inviting you in.

You took the invitation before he could change his mind, and before you could say anything to him he had disappeared, leaving you to close the front door and remove your winter wear in the foyer. You tried to listen for Black, but heard nothing from the kitchen or living room. It's possible he's in his office, but more likely, since you didn't see his car, he wasn't home from the precinct yet.

More surprising was the boxes piled high all over the place, Black's neat handwriting scrawled on the sides and the bare walls and minimal furniture.

“bought a new place, moving next week.”

You turned to find Mutt against the wall of the stairwell, a lollipop rolling between his teeth and a loose sweatshirt zipped over his bare bones. He had changed his sweats out for some jeans but otherwise didn't seem to exude any tell on if he cared about your presence.

“That makes sense. Sans always said this place was too small.”

“too small for three, yeah,” he snorted, and you resisted the urge to smack his shoulder, knowing he was right to rib you for it. “think he just wants somethin’ nicer. he's got a lot goin’ on career-wise. coffee?”

“Yes, please,” you accepted, and he peeled off the wall with an air of nonchalance that might have annoyed you if you didn't know him. He was closed off right now--unreadable. You followed a few paces behind as he sifted through the boxes to reveal the coffee pot still set up like usual. It makes sense that the last thing packed away would be coffee, seeing as Black practically lived off the stuff.

He punched the button to brew, pulling two mugs out of a bare cupboard and setting them on the counter.

“goin’ on a date or somethin’?”

“What?”

He looked at you, giving a quick glance over your outfit. “y'look dressed up. don't tell me you're datin’ my brother now?”

“No, no,” you said, a little too quickly, gaining a raised brow from him as he poured two cups and handed you one. “I was just...experimenting. With a new, uh...look. For my next concert. I have a band now, did I tell you?”

“oh, do you?” He asked, taking a sip and playing dumb. You know he knows you have a band--obviously. “y'any good?”

“Hot trash, really, but we're cute so we get by.” You turned a little bit, trying to hold back a little smile at the banter. You missed this. “Is, uh, is Sans here? We're supposed to talk about an investigation he's working on for me.”

He hummed in understanding. “mmm. nope.”

“Do you...do you know when he'll be home?”

He shrugged.

“Okay.”

There was silence as the both of you drank your coffee, and you felt the disappointment in your chest as you realized it was over--he was never going to be sorry, or at least he would never tell you he was.

A damn shame.

“Actually I have a song I could use a little help on,” you said suddenly, your heart speaking on its own without permission from your brain. What are you doing, idiot?! Shut your mouth! “I can't seem to get the bass line nailed down, and my bassist is pretty much useless at writing music. It's been a real pain.”

“i can help with that, i guess. got it on hand?”

“Yeah, actually!” You dug around in your bag for a moment with one hand, and as you were turned away Mutt felt himself screaming in his head.

What is he doing? You showed up at his house unannounced and he isn't even going to attempt to talk to you? Is he that stubborn?

...but he knows you've moved on. He's heard all about it from the monsters around town, from your number scrawled in bathroom stalls, from the way you carried yourself.

A different woman. Not his anymore. Did you dress up so cute just to rub it in his face? All lace and pastel and ripped tights, just the way he likes it?

You automatically moved to the table with the papers you pulled out, and he brushed aside a few stray boxes to clear a space. With a snap he had his bass, sitting down to look over the music you've finished so far.

He used to wake up to notes on his mirror scrawled in that handwriting. And now all he got was notes in the margins.

“The music falls flat at about here,” you said, drawing one manicured nail along the notes to about four measures in. “And the rest isn't dynamic anyhow. I want it to be really powerful, you know?”

“no lyrics?” He observed, and you looked away a bit.

“Uh...yeah, there are, but…” You trailed off and smiled weakly at him. “I don't think you'd wanna hear. My songs are trash.”

“can't write the bass without the rest, though.”

You hesitated, and sighed, pulling out your phone. “Can you wing the bass while we go?”

“prob'ly, m'pretty alright with music, if y'hadn't noticed.”

You shook your head and took a deep breath, pressing play as Mutt returned attention to the basic bassline you had outlined on the paper, and the other guitar parts playing from your phone definitely helped.

Your little brother never tells you but he loves you so
I said my mother only smiled on her tv show
You're only happy when your sorry head is filled with dope
I hope you make it to the day you're twenty-eight years old
You're dripping like a saturated sunrise
You're spilling like an overflowing sink
You're ripped at every edge but you're a masterpiece
And now I'm tearing through the pages and the ink

His fingers picked up a quick and easy bassline, and he tried not to think too hard about your lyrics but...who else might it be about?

Everything is blue
His pills, his hands, his jeans
And now I'm covered in the colors, pulled apart at the seams
And it's blue
And it's blue

Everything is grey
His eyes, his smoke, his dreams
And now he's so devoid of color
He don't know what it means
And he's blue
And he's blue

He glanced up at you and your blue eyes were half-lidded, almost trance-like, scratching notes in the margins of your lyrics as if he wasn't even there. He'd seen you do this before, and there was a serene sense of honesty about you at that moment.

You were a vision in the morning when the light came through
I know I've only felt religion when I've lied with you
You said you'll never be forgiven till your boys are too
And I'm still waking every morning but it's not with you

The music petered out, slowly, even as you continued to sing the chorus. The lilac flecks in your eyes denoted the magic running through you.

These trances had happened before when writing music, and he held his breath as he waited for the insight you had to grant. He doesn't know if you see the future or what, but besides harmless illusory effects this was all your blossoming magic seemed to do.

“You were red, and you liked me because I was blue. But you touched me, and suddenly I was a lilac sky…Then you decided purple just wasn't for you.”

You trailed off and he stopped, staring with a furrowed brow at the sheet music in front of him. You started out of your trance next to him.

What the fuck is he supposed to do with that?

You took the sheet music with slightly shaky hands, uncapping a sparkly purple pen and filling in some of the notes he'd played.

“The rest of the song is pretty much the same,” you said with a nervous laugh. “What...uh, what chord did you use here?”

“...a minor, e, f, a...and uh, b here. pretty simple, your bassist should be able to follow.” He watched you mark the notes and mirror them as tabs on the lyrics, and every part of him wanted to grab you and kiss you fiercely until neither of you could take it anymore. “your lyrics, uh...they're really good. and you're a good singer. m'sure you took all sorts of voice lessons but...it's natural, too.”

You snorted as you gathered the papers, a tinge of pink dashed across your cheeks.

“Yeah well...it came from the heart.” The two of you stared at each other for a long time, and then you moved a tiny bit toward him--

And before he could process that you were leaning in for a kiss, he had flinched away by reflex.

You made a squeak and pretended to be reaching past him for a loose paper, face burning as you moved to get up. “I...I'd better just go wait for Sans in his office...s-sorry to bother you.”

He should let you go, especially after accidentally snubbing you like that...but he found himself stopping you quickly in the archway to the kitchen. What to say, he had no idea, but…

“mistletoe,” he said lamely, pointing at the mistletoe his brother had insisted upon hanging in the archway. “traditions and all that.”

You looked so cute, eyes wide in surprise and an armful of papers. The christmas lights still up in the den twinkled in your eyes as he leaned down, and you rose to your tiptoes to meet him in the middle.

His soul leapt and twisted in his chest as his fingers slid across your cheek, the familiar feeling of your soft skin beneath his fingertips sending a chill down his spine.

His teeth grazed your cheek just barely, and there was a small pause, before he moved to kiss you in--

“SORRY I'M LATE! IDIOTS AT THE PRECINCT DON'T KNOW HOW TO FILE A REPORT TO SAVE THEIR LIVES. I HAD SIX ROBBERIES OF HOUSES ON VACATIONS TODAY AND THANKFULLY ONLY ONE GRUESOME MURDER CASE.”

Your heart was beating loudly in your ears as you crouched in the archway, Mutt busying himself with something in the kitchen having pulled away from you before the kiss was planted, the tension snapping like a twig. Black looked at you, then his brother, and then back at you as you rose on wobbly legs.

“O...office?” You squeaked, face as red as a fire truck as he extended an arm to steady you.

He glanced over his shoulder once more at Mutt, now leaning over the sink as if in deep thought.

“...YES. THAT'S A GOOD PLACE. SORRY YOU WERE WAITING, I REALLY DID TRY TO GET HERE SOONE”

Christmas came and went, and so did New Year's.

You didn't see Mutt at any more of your shows, but something told you he was still there for you.

You did a photo shoot and started working on an album in January. Your bassist quit and you filled the space, even though you were better at lead guitar.

Your mother began asking about dating. She has a friend with a lovely son with a big trust fund, you know. Or your aunt has a foreign exchange student from Sweden you might like.

You told her no, but she kept asking.

Mutt got a new job at one of the only clubs not owned by your father, and he made the most of it. He was a handyman, a bartender, a security guard, and occasionally the entertainment.

He still went to your shows, but he waited outside now. He cased the exits, took note of every face against who he knew to be suspects from his brother's web, and watched the place until you left, following your driver down the streets from the rooftops and waiting for your lights to come on before porting home to lie awake.

Undyne and Alphys knew better than to ask about you, but his brother had no such qualms. He often remarked on things he bought for the house that you would love, or idly mentioned how he saw you at work today, or how you went for coffee. Maybe he was trying to push him to do something out of jealousy.

By the time Valentine's Day came around, you both were thoroughly jaded by love, or even the idea of it.

You wanted him still.

And he wanted to forget you but he couldn't make it happen.

Dogamy's eye had healed, but he was still nervous to say anything to Mutt about you. Still, it didn't stop Mutt from hearing that you'd be at the club he worked at for their Valentine's Day performance.

And that's how he came to this night, glaring at his reflection and how he still felt the need to dress up, even if it was just a bit. He couldn't find the sweatshirt he'd been thinking of, but the purple one would do. Somehow, he'd even donned a tie and slacks, and a cheesy black button-up covered in hearts. He looked like a tool but for some reason he was okay with it.

There were three bands performing tonight, and he didn't know which room was which but he knew you were in one of them, and as he worked on sound check for all three performances he felt his soul jittering inside his chest at the thought of seeing you.

What would you say to him if he kissed you that day? What if he kissed you tonight?

“Is there any news on that stalker?”

You rolled your eyes as you put a last layer of powder on. “Mmhm. Sans is...Detective Aster is working on it personally, so I'm not worried.”

Jenna made a face. “You know he's probably just covering for his brother, right? It's totally him.”

“Yeah, girl, you gotta face the facts,” Emily said, placing her hand over yours and making you pause. “He obviously follows you around. He knows all your phone numbers, your house, the things that make you shiver--he's the only one it could be.”

“Papyrus would never send me the stuff I've gotten,” you said firmly, snapping your compact closed. “Besides, I know his handwriting. Honestly he's only hovering because he wants to protect me. Call me crazy, but it is actually possible to care about each other after a breakup.”

“Oh my God, you still like him,” Jenna gasped, throwing her auburn tresses over her shoulder. “Sweetie, he doesn't care about you! You have to remember what drove you away in the first place, you know?”

“Besides, you'll get better sex if there's an actual dick involved,” Emily chimed in.

“Suck my dick, Emily,” you laughed, flipping her off.

“well, that'd be quite the feat, seein’ as y'don't have one.” You all whirled around to see Mutt in the open doorway, and he raised his hand to rap his knuckles on the door. “knock, knock. time for sound check.”

“Papyrus! What are you doing here?” You asked, subconsciously leaning toward him as your bandmates exchanged looks.

“work here. sometimes perform here…” He looked over your outfit with a flick of his eyelights, almost imperceptible if you didn't know him. You knew you looked good, but the small suppressed smirk on his teeth made you 1000x more confident. “anyway, uh. sound check.”

The show was two sets each, one set cycling through for each band, a break, and then another cycle of sets. Sets were only two songs long since there were long interludes between bands to allow for games and raffles and spotlight dances and such.

Your first set went incredibly well, and you like to think the lights were slightly more on point for you than anyone else with Mutt in the rafters. When it came to the last song for the first set, you kicked open a box with your secret weapon in it, a smile and a wink to the crowd as you pulled one of Mutt's sweatshirts over your shoulders, a look that you knew drove him wild, and to your pleasure the spotlight dropped and you heard a curse as he glared at you through the beam, centering it on you again as you passed the bass off to a stagehand.

Your heartbeat seemed to stop in that spotlight and you brought the microphone to your lips.

You won't apologize, and neither will he. You're both stubborn beyond relief but at the very least there may be a chance you can be together--your chest hurts every morning you wake up without him, and if there's even a chance he feels the same then this is your last-ditch effort to prove this thing can work.

If this didn't kick him in the ass, then you would move on. You know it.

You'd probably think I was psychotic (if you knew)
What I still got in my closet (sad but true)
Slip it on over my shoulders
Something I'll never get over
It makes me feel a little bit closer to you

I can't keep your love
I can't keep your kiss
Gave you everything and all I got was this

Your fingers danced over the fabric, the missing zipper teeth and barbeque sauce stains, the hole in the left sleeve, the soft hood and the smell of him, of oak trees and mochas and something spicy you had never been able to place.

I'm still rocking your hoodie
And chewing on the strings
It makes me think about you
So I wear it when I sleep
I kept the broken zipper
And cigarette burns
Still rocking your hoodie
Baby, even though it hurts
Still rocking your

I used to put my hand in your pockets (holding on)
The smell of your cologne is still on it (but you're still gone)
Slip it on over my shoulders
Someone I'll never get over
Makes me feel a little bit closer to you

You let your eyes wander up before you closed them, feeling the buzz of magic at your fingertips, the way he used to make you feel from head to toe, the sparks and the fire in your heart that still crackled for him.

The audience oohed and ahhed as the illusions settled, probably assuming it was a trick of the light or a projection, but it wasn't either--this was your love and pain, swirling around you and pulling at your skirt, caressing your face, blowing your hair slightly as you drew yourself tightly into the sweatshirt.

Look at me, Papyrus. Don't look away.

You wanted him to see your magic at work.

If you want it back
If you want it back
I'm here waiting
Come take it back
Come take it back
If you want it back
If you want it back
I'm here waiting
Come take it back
Come take it back

I'm still rocking your hoodie
And chewing on the strings
It makes me think about you
So I wear it when I sleep
I kept the broken zipper
And cigarette burns
Still rocking your hoodie
Baby, even though it hurts

As you echoed the chorus a couple more times, and applause filled the auditorium, you hoped the message reached him.

Please, you don't want him to make you give up.

Mutt slammed the bathroom door shut, wedging it with part of the broken paper towel dispenser, cursing as he turned to the sink and struggled to control himself.

He had gone all this time without crying, but there's something so heavy about the way you look in his clothes, something so emotional about the way you sang. It resonated with him so much, and he felt it in that moment--the hurt, the pain, the doubt...wondering if he loved you, wondering if he would ever understand how you felt, and before he knew it…

He was in your green room, staring at you as the other two made lame excuses to scamper out the door.

You stared back, eyes wide as he stood there, completely still for a long moment.

“mine,” he said finally, reaching out to gently run his fingers over the material of his sweatshirt, still dwarfing your form so nicely.

“Oh.” Your face fell, and your hands came up to the zipper. “Uh...yeah. You can take it, it's yours.”

“i will,” he said. “take what's mine, that is.”

He moved, batting your hands away to grab you, pulling you up and into his arms and into a kiss that surprised you both as he pushed you onto the counter, makeup and other things skittering to the floor as you gasped against his teeth.

You gripped the front of the sweatshirt he was currently wearing, pulling away just slightly. “Papyrus--”

“no. i mean yes. i mean…” He sighed and leaned his forehead to yours as his hands desperately fought with the many fabrics of your outfit to cradle your face as yours came to rest, one on the back of his neck and the other tangled in his lapel. “just a minute, fuck, let me think you're mine for one…”

You shushed him quietly, your hand a comforting weight on his neck as you both sat there for a moment, a lilac glow seeping through his shirt. He opened his sockets and looks into your eyes, wide and sparkling and clear as crystal, blue as the ocean with amythest flecks of magic from your awakened latent powers.

“i'm…” His voice caught, unable to decide how or what to say. Does he say has sorry? Is he sorry? Is missing you and loving you enough? Is that too much to say? How is he supposed to phrase the feeling of everything clicking back into place so perfectly that he actually cried?

“Me, too,” you said quickly, before kissing him slowly, testing the boundaries.

He sighed in relief, pressing his teeth to your lips and tangling his hands in your hair, breathing deep as that old feeling of euphoria washed over him, that sense of everything finally being right again, the sound of your tiny moans as he pulled you close, desperate to have as much of you touching him as possible.

“i followed you a lot.”

“I know,” you giggled. “It was actually...nice. You keeping me safe.”

He hummed and kissed you again, and you shuddered and melted in his grip.

“is this weird?” He mumbled against your lips.

“Yeah, but that's fine with me,” you breathed. “When have we ever been normal?”

“see, now you're getting it,” he chuckled.

“You're still an asshole.”

“i can accept that. you're still a brat.”

“I will never accept that, asshole,” you laughed, smacking his chest playfully.

He caught your hand and held it there, and you could feel the pulse of his magic going haywire beneath your touch. “it only does that for you. i tried to be mad, i tried to forget, i honestly did, but i never should have let you walk out that day.”

“Yeah, you shouldn't have!” You teased, but your smile was strained and fell a little bit. “...why did you?”

“because i’m half as stubborn as you are, and that's a lot,” he muttered, teeth grazing your lips again as his mind grew hazy with joy. “and i...i thought you'd come back in an hour so we could make up.”

“Dumbass,” you scolded, moving your head slightly so he could trail kisses down your neck and jaw. “Mmm...you thought I'd come back and I thought you'd chase me. Guess we're both idiots.”

“the dumbest,” he said. “and i don't care about all the shit that happened in between, i don't care who you slept with or what you may have done, you're mine now...right?”

“Papyrus,” you sighed, rolling your eyes. “Those are just rumors. I never stopped being yours. Everything I have to offer is still yours.”

He winced, clearly a little guilty for believing the rumors. “...never should have listened to dogamy. i shoulda known you were better than that.”

“Well now you do,” you huffed. “...as if I'd ever be comfortable with anyone but you. Idiot.”

“good,” he breathed, pulling you into a hug and squeezing, feeling you return the fervor as he took in your scent. “cause i think i actually need you to function.”

“I noticed you showered with Axe body spray,” you laughed, muffled against his shirt.

“old spice, actually,” he laughed. “and surprisingly i did shower today--all of like, 6 showers i've had since you've been gone.”

“Gross, you gremlin,” you giggled, squeezing your head up slightly so you could kiss him lightly on the jaw. “...let's not fight again. This sucked fat dick and I can't believe I made it this long.”

“language, princess,” he joked, reaching up to run his fingers through your hair. “lesbi-honest, we're gonna fight.”

“True. I'm kind of a bitch.”

“and i'm a bit of a tool.”

“But that's why we're perfect together,” you said firmly, pulling on his sweatshirt until he leaned down and kissing him gently. “Missed you.”

“missed you, too, brat.”

It was only later in the wee hours of the morning that he spoke his true feelings, holding your sleeping form close and refusing to fall asleep in case it was a dream.

“i like me better when i'm with you.”

Chapter Text

“Do you think she'll be angry?” You asked quietly.

Sans hummed, one socket creeping open to look at you. His violet eyelight was heart-shaped and fuzzy with sleep and affection, his arms tightening and dragging you parallel to his chest with a sigh.

“toldja i'd take care of it, sugar,” he purred, kissing your forehead. “you don't have anything to worry about.”

“But I made a...a deal…”

“so did we,” he reminded you, nudging your shoulder with his. His magic tingled and popped and fizzed on your skin, reminding you of the brilliant lilac heart that marked you now, along with the fresh pricks of his canines in your shoulder that had created that mark. “don't worry so much.”

You hummed and buried your sleepy face against his sternum, unconvinced but willing to trust him. You owed the queen everything--she had provided work and shelter when nobody else would glance your way. But Sans had saved you, too, in his own way, and there's no way to compare the two monumental acts of compassion.

As you drift off, you dream that you have wings.

The Queen's gaze is full of understanding, her smile kind and soft as Sans stated his case.

“there was a time when i truly believed i'd never feel this way,” you mate said proudly, holding his partial bow as he addressed her. “and that she's suffered so much, and continues to suffer, through no fault of her own, is a grief i can’t endure. if i need to replace her in the harem, or find someone to do so, i--”

He stopped short as Asgore held up his hand to stop him. At his gesture, he stood up straight, and in turn you stood with him.

Toriel stood from her throne and descended to you both, her huge but gentle paw brushing the slip of your dress aside to examine the mark that was already so deeply ingrained in your very being. And…

She smiled, pulling you both in for a hug. It felt so safe, and so warm...you wondered if this was what a mother's embrace felt like, and it brought tears to your eyes.

“Sans, my dear friend,” Toriel sighed, her voice wavering slightly. “We have wondered for years if anything in this planet could move you in the way so much used to. We have watched you grow closed off and cold, sarcastic and uninterested, and have often begged the stars to bring you the happiness you so rightly deserve…”

She released you, and between her large paws she took your hands and joined them, tears in her eyes as she smiled at you both.

“And now, you've found exactly that,” she exclaimed, squeezing your joined hands. “I could not be more proud, nor any happier, to approve this leave from the harem.”

You watched Sans, feeling...afloat. Like you were watching from outside, as if through a dream--good things like this, they just don't happen to you. But the look on Sans’ face...the way his fixed smile grew and became genuine, and the way his eyelights pulsed and his magic buzzed.

Intoxicating.

“you won't regret this.”

You weren't sure if he was talking to you or the queen.

Papyrus had really outdone himself in preparing the house for you, and Sans appreciated it. There were no toys left out, but rather blankets and pillows and candles, and the smell of something delicious cooking as you followed Sans through the door.

Your mate watched you carefully as you entered, holding your bag to your chest. He'd go back for more of your things later, but right now it was important you felt safe.

He suppressed the urge to frown as he thought about how little of your life was a safe place until now. His hand curled and cracked quietly as he imagined ramming his knuckles through the face of the asshole who left that brand on the back of your neck.

...but that wasn't helping.

“WELCOME HOME, SISTER!” Papyrus said excitedly, peeking out from the kitchen and catching your attention. He padded over quickly, his smile widening as he spotted your mark for the first time. “I'M SO GLAD YOU ACCEPTED MY BROTHER'S OFFER. HE'S BEEN SO MADLY IN LOVE WITH YOU, SWEETNESS, IT'S QUITE ADORABLE.”

“Thank you, Papyrus, I...think this is a good change for me,” you said softly, and though the note of doubt didn't escape Papyrus’ notice, he didn't mention it. Instead he took your arm gently and chattered away about dinner as he led you into the kitchen, and Sans locked the door, clicking the three new locks beside the original with a strained smile.

Bringing a sexually traumatized human with a soul of passion into the middle of New Snowdin…and one that until this morning was a member of the royal harem...

He hoped his Mark and reputation was enough to keep you safe.

You paced the room in contemplation, feeling...conflicted.

It was perfect. A room to yourself, and no pressure to join anyone's bed. Lilac curtains and more pillows than you can count--stuffed animals to snuggle, your favorite chocolates on the dresser, and other things you've confessed your love of to Sans in the past.

But it felt just like the palace. It felt just like any room you've been given to perform in. And worse--you were alone, only you, yourself, and your thoughts.

You paused in front of the mirror, staring at your unmade face and frowning. You looked old, and tired. There were bags beneath your eyes, and your lips were pale and uninviting. Your hair was blessedly naturally curly, but it lacked the usual finesse.

You pulled open the drawers of the dresser curiously…

Underwear. You pulled out a pretty purple pair and set it aside. You pulled open the next, and the next--shirts, pants, sweats.

No makeup. No hair spray.

Hesitation...and then you pulled one of the drawers out and dumped it on the floor.

You left the drawers open and pulled back the covers of the bed. Impulse told you to fix it quickly--but you resisted, instead staring at the mess.

Anxiety welled inside your chest, but all you could do was laugh. You turned and threw the curtains wide open, staring out over the twinkling lights of the small district Sans and Papyrus lived in. There were no railroad tracks, no secluded woods, no big brick buildings obscuring your view. There was nothing to stop people from seeing you in the window, and you smiled because there was no reason they shouldn't. There's neighbors, likely with children, and they'll know your name and they'll know your face and they won't turn away 'politely’ to avoid trouble.

The laughter bubbled up through your chest as you spun happily, only to stutter in your movements.

...what if they don't like you?

You paused and looked at the mess on your floor.

“Disgusting. How will anyone like to spend the time with you if you cannot clean your space?”

What if they thought you were ugly?

“You look like sick old woman. You are young and worth much when pretty, there is no reason to present as such. Fix it.”

You turned to look in the mirror again, and Slavi's voice continued to echo in your head. You heard him criticize your posture, your frizzy hair, your weak knees. You felt him pinch your newfound chub, his voice harsh and his hands harsher.

Your breath caught-- you don't want to be punished again.

Sans rapped on your door gently, curious and a little worried. He hadn't heard a peep from you since he showed you your room over an hour ago, and there was a deep sorrow resonating in his mark that worried him.

“sugar? can i come in? i brought dinner~”

No response. He hesitated...he didn't want to just barge in there if you didn't want him, but then again, it felt like you might need him.

He adjusted the tray in his hands and the door swung open slightly with his magic. He poked his head in, and almost dropped the entire tray.

“Come in, Sans~” you cooed, opening the door further to reveal more of your scantily clad body. The lavender robe he bought you graced your shoulders, open to reveal a sweet bra and panty set that he hadn't expected you to wear for at least a few weeks.

Your hand gripped the hem of his vest, urging him to obey the teasing command, and you shut the door for him and took the tray, setting it on the dresser.

“sugar…” He sighed as you turned to run your hands over his chest. His magic flared and curled around his ribs, coalescing in his pelvis, aching for more of that touch...but something didn't feel right. “chastity. stop.”

You stopped, your smile freezing in place.

“Is...something wrong?” Your voice was quiet, carefully measured, but he could smell your fear and feel the twinge of your discomfort through your Mark. “Am I...it's the makeup, right? The hair? Tell me what isn't working and I'll fix it right away, it won't happen again.”

He studied your face, the subtle hints of worry and anxiety in your brow, the way you looked as if you would drop to your knees and start begging any moment. His gaze flicked to the room, and he noticed it had been hastily cleaned, as if you had deliberately messed it up but then cleaned it up again. The curtains were drawn tight, the bed made in an inviting manner.

Just like your room at the harem.

He sighed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders and pulled you in, pressing his face to your hair and breathing you in.

“you're perfect, so relax,” he mumbled soothingly. “you don't have to impress me, you don't owe me anything.”

“You're wrong,” you snorted, arms sliding around him, fingers tangling in his vest as you rested your cheek on his chest. “I owe you everything.”

“love doesn't call in favors,” he reminded you gently, a whisper against your hair. “your body is a gift to be given, and i won't be mad if you aren't ready to give it. there's nothin’ wrong with taking time to heal.”

“But I need it,” you sobbed, voice trembling. “Sans, I need it. I need you . I need…”

He stroked your hair gently, shushing you. He knew what you needed.

Validation. A gentle touch. Something that would ground you, prove this was real...and for you, what had always been real was sex. It was the harsh reality so unjustly placed upon your shoulders far too young, the only view of humanity you had ever been allowed.

And it was his job to re-teach you how it was supposed to feel. One step at a time.

“dinner first,” he insisted softly, his magic whining in protest, begging to consummate the mark shimmering on your clavicle.

You nodded against his sternum, and when he released you you went straight to the little tea table where you had set the tray, sitting at one of the chairs and patting the other expectantly. He grinned mischievously at you as he walked over, cocking his head quickly. One of the drawers opened and the clothes burst from it as it shot from a cannon, littering the floor and dresser.

You let out a startled laugh as he plopped down next to you.

“there, now it feels lived-in,” he teased, reaching over to grab a plate from the tray and snag a dinner roll. As he did so, he snuck a kiss to your shoulder. “relax, the only one who hates mess here is pap, an’ he knows it's your room, not his.”

“...It's really messy,” you giggled.

“so's this sauce. boop!” He booped your nose, leaving a dot of spaghetti sauce on it before licking it off his finger with a chuckle. “a little mess is good, don't you think, sugar?”

“You know, I really do,” you snorted, reaching to pour yourself a glass of milk from the pitcher as Sans nudged some spaghetti on your plate. “...sorry.”

“what'd i say 'bout sorry?”

“Pfft. Uhhh, that it's a replacement word for when you feel bad about yourself?” You recited dutifully. “I know, I know...it's just...this is all very, very new.”

“no, it isn't,” he cooed, placing one hand over yours and leaning over to kiss your forehead sweetly. “you always had this, as long as we both have lived this day was coming and i could never believe otherwise.”

You stared at him, face a mixture of contemplation and genuine heartfelt joy, and then you turned your attention on your spaghetti with a smile.

With your attention where it should properly be, he let his own wander just slightly, over your hips and the curve of your back, the satin robe and how it fell across your thighs…

When you had started in the harem you had had what appeared to be boundless confidence. You were slimmer, almost dishearteningly so, but Toriel's cooking had seemingly brought a quick end to that. You had talked a bit about how much better it was at the harem than before, as if forcing yourself to perform sexually was somehow better because of a few safewords...funny, how such a twisted upbringing can twist anything into a positive.

But he had to say, you impressed him. Your soul was battered and bruised and scarred, but it was still so vibrant and gorgeous a pink. Most humans have their main trait dull considerably by the time they're your age, but somehow, through all you've been through, you had retained your passion--passion for life, and passion you happily shared with him.

He loved that about you. The curl of your hair, the scent of your skin, the touch of your lips...those were all well and good, but the thing that truly entranced him about you was your smile. Your generosity. You were so kind and thoughtful, so ready to make others feel good.

“Sans?”

“hmm?”

“You've been staring at me over your dinner plate for five minutes straight,” you teased, and he blinked, dropping his untouched forkful of spaghetti.

“can't help myself, you're just so entrancing,” he purred right back, delighted when you leaned into the way he brushed your hair behind your ear.

mine.

He blinked and smiled at you, pushing back the possessive thought. It's just the mark settling, he can control himself, he's had so much practice.

The feeling of your lips on his teeth startled him and he let out an involuntary groan, pressing back immediately with a steady press of impatience. His magic throbbed and formed instantly, pressing against his tight pants and providing a friction that was downright dirty as his fingers barely grazed your skin.

“what're ya doin’ to me, sugar?” He purred, the wave of magic coursing through him in a sinful shudder and settling on your skin, tingling and making you shiver as well.

“Good things, I hope,” you giggled, moving slowly from your seat to hover over him, kissing him again, and again, slow and sensual and everything his body so desperately wanted.

“great things,” he reassured you breathlessly, feeling his mind teeter on cloudy and heat-glazed, trying to shake it off. “but i...you…”

“I want you,” you said softly, whispering against his skull as you slowly swung one leg over his lap, and then the other, and settled in place with your soft, plump cheeks.

So tender and plump. Perfect for breeding.

Sans groaned, dropping his forehead to your shoulder as you nibbled on his cervical vertebrae ever-so-gently.

“not fair,” he sighed, hands gripping your hips and rocking you slowly against him through his clothes. “m'tryna be good for you.”

“You already are,” you cooed, planting kisses up his neck as his fingers pressed into your backside. “Everything about you, everything you have done or continue to do...every moment with you is good for me, the best I've ever had.”

“you don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable with,” he mumbled, pressing his teeth to your shoulder and inhaling your sweet scent.

“You know where the lines are, don't you? You can feel it with this Mark you gave me?” You asked, leaning back slightly and cupping his skull in your hands. “Then take care of me like you always do?”

He nodded, his hands sliding up your back, his Mark pulsing and fluttering, magic tingling from the Mark to your toes.

“always. for the rest of our lives,” he promised, voice a low purr as the hearts in his sockets pulsed and went fuzzy.

He kissed your neck, and your collarbone, taking in your scent as you melted beneath his touch, as you gave yourself to him.

He slid his arm beneath your butt and hiked you up, standing gracefully as you clung to him so he could topple you both onto the bed, a breathy giggle from you all the encouragement he needed to keep going. Experienced fingers untied your robe and smoothed over your naked stomach, over the lace of your bra and panties, deep amethyst like his own magic.

“you are beyond gorgeous,” he said softly. “there's nothing in this world i wouldn't give in order to keep you.”

Your blush was so cute, caught off-guard by the praise. He wondered how many times in your life you had been beaten down, berated...how often you had wished for someone to hold you and tell you it would be okay, and that you did well.

He wanted to grant those wishes.

“everything will be alright,” he assured you gently, whispering the prayer against your jaw as he kissed it, and against your neck. “i'll take care of you, so just let go...relax…”

You hummed and sighed, obeying his command. He felt you relax beneath him, opening up as you leaned into him receptively, and he touched you with teasing fingers, gentle and soft and safe. You sighed beneath him as he pressed lightly through your panties, the pressure hitting your clit perfectly and using the soft material and your own damp heat to quicken your breath and make you moan.

His fingers slid over your mound, thumb applying steady pressure as he explored you through the thin fabric, as he repeated praise against your shoulder.

He could feel, through your mark, that you didn't want him to go much farther than this. Over the panties, reassuring kisses and heated moans--it gratified him to know that you wanted him at all. He could control himself for you, but it does take a pressure off both your shoulders.

“would you like to cum, sugar? i can make that happen,” he breathed into your kiss, and was rewarded with a little whimper and a slight nod.

You gasped and arched as his magic warmed you on contact, and his love and affection poured through you as he kissed the little heart on your shoulder. You could feel the pulse shudder through you both, a shared intimacy that you had never felt before he marked you, and though you’d only been his for a matter of hours it felt like you it had been years.

He moved his hand slightly, and suddenly it was overwhelming, but before you could even say anything he jerked his hand away, feeling your distress.

“it’s alright, sugar,” he cooed softly, moving slowly to envelop you in a warm embrace, and you relaxed into it with a sigh. “i’m here, and i will always protect you. alright?”

You nodded and snuggled close to him as he tugged the blanket over you both, a happy hum tingling all over originating from your shared connection. His magic was warm and gentle, protective but not overbearing.

For the first time in your life, you actually felt safe.

Chapter Text

Mutt had woken up many times in his life. He’d woken up with hangovers, he’d woken to his brother shouting, he’d woken groggy and confused from a nap far too long…

...but he had to say, his favorite way to wake up was to you.

Sometimes you were still in bed with him, soft skin and tiny snores as you pressed your face to his collarbone. Sometimes you had coffee waiting and you pet his head gently as he woke slowly, his face pressed to your thighs.

Sometimes you woke him with your lips wrapped around his cock, and he was gasping for air before his tired brain could even catch up, thanking the merciful gods above for allowing him such a cute, sweet, naughty little datemate.

But today he woke up to the sweet melodic sound of you singing softly, and his sleepy body refused to move for fear of making that noise stop.

He cracked one eye open, greeted by the lovely sight of your sparsely dressed form, seated at your vanity and singing softly along to your phone as you put on your face for the day. He’ll never understand why you insist on so much makeup, but he’d be lying if he didn’t enjoy watching it get ruined when he makes you scream his name.

Besides, you were god-tier with makeup. You never ceased to impress him.

And if you didn’t wear it, he’d never see the beautiful sight of your flimsy panties and your plump rump planted just at eye level so early in the morning.

He smiled as you did a little bouncing dance in your seat, setting down whatever makeup you’d been using and grabbing the lipstick. He internally thanked his brother for insisting that he buy you a proper vanity, “fit for the princess you are”, as you rose from your seat to lean closer and apply your lipstick perfectly, giving him a front-row seat to that perfect ass and peeking peach, teasingly hidden beneath your panties like the massive flirt you are. He wished you’d forgone panties so he could slide over there and take a taste while you did your thing.

He settled for rising slowly and silently sliding onto the stool you’d vacated, forcing you to sit on his lap when you returned to your seat.

You giggled as his arms slid over your soft skin and wrapped around your waist, and you wiggled your ass to get comfortable on your new seat as he bowed his head to kiss your shoulder.

“Good morning,” you teased, grinding back on his obvious morning wood. “Should have woken up earlier. Now you’d just ruin all my hard work, you know.”

“mmm...mornin’.” He mumbled against your neck, inhaling your scent deeply and slowly. “...don’t mind a tease. you should see how fuckin’ sexy you are when you bend over your table like that...makes me wanna bend you over it again.”

“Down boy,” you purred, turning your head and running a hand over his cheekbone as you kissed his temple, leaving a violet lipstick mark he’d proudly wear all day.

Wait, that gave him an idea.

“wait. re-apply.”

You gave him a perfectly filled raised eyebrow in the mirror, but you obliged, taking your time to re-do the wine-to-lavendar ombre inside your lined lips. “Okay?”

“kiss this,” he insisted, holding up a piece of paper he’d snagged from the bedside table.

“And ruin my lipstick a second time?”

“just do it, you brat,” he rumbled, pinching your ass gently and making you laugh as you took the paper. You made a show of it, half-lidded eyes and moan included, and he was left with a perfect purple lipstick mark. You handed it back to him and he grabbed your clear nail polish, carefully painting over it.

“Alright, I’ll bite. What’s that for?” You asked, already working on your third application as he shook the paper to dry it.

“i’m getting your kiss permanently tattooed on my ass,” he tease, turning and kissing your nape.

“You don’t have an ass,” you snorted. “Wouldn’t it disappear as soon as you summoned new ecto?”

“alright, ya nag. where should i get it, then?”

You turned in his lap, swinging your leg up gracefully until you were straddling him and removing your hair clip, letting your soft blonde curls tumble down around your perfect makeup. “You’re really tattooing that on you?”

“abso-fuckin-lutely, princess,” he purred, setting the paper down to grip your ass in both hands and pull you in. “the day we finally do it, i’ll march right down to dyne’s shop and make her put it on me forever. i’d do it sooner, but i like teasin’ ya.”

You hummed, smirking slightly at his little dig at your virginitiy. He wished he knew what was going on behind that smirk. “Deal. When it happens, I want it...right... here…”

You leaned in and kissed his neck, right next to his collarbone. In a few minutes his collar would cover it but right now it was yours to claim, and he shuddered as you moaned against his bone, pressing more insistently against his lap...before drawing away and sliding off his lap, shoving him off your stool. He chuckled as he fell, half his body on the mattress and his tailbone sliding to the floor as you resumed your spot on the stool to re-apply your lipstick once more.

“Now get up and get ready, you know Sans is gonna be in here any moment to scream at us about making the flight.”

“it’s a private plane, it waits for us,” he groaned, gathering himself. You only smirked, spritzing your magic makeup fixative on your face and fluttering your long, ebony lashes at him. “fine, i’ll put pants on.”

“Awww,” you mused jokingly.

He resisted the urge to throw you on the mattress.

Is there a word for how thoroughly fucked up you have him?

Because he’s pretty sure there is, but he can’t think of it as he lets his eyelights roam over your perfect body, the swimsuit modestly covering his favorite parts as you relax next to him in the sun, one arm daintily covering your eyes.

“thanks for the vacation, bro,” he repeated, for likely the fourth time since they’d been at the beach. Black only chuckled in response from his beach chair, turning to the next page in his book.

They were celebrating another closed case, as well as laying low for a bit. The case of your stalker was still wide open, so of course there was no way they would leave you behind, but there’s a huge target of Black's back right now due to the underground fighting ring he busted and that meant a forced vacation, but a vacation nonetheless.

Spain was nice, but not as nice as getting to openly stare at you all day.

A camera flashed nearby, and his smile fell into a scowl as he looked up at the culprit, a seedy-looking man with a huge camera and a poorly hidden press pass.

Paparazzi.

He had really grown to hate them, but there was no avoiding them. Not only were you already a famous heiress, but a rock star and successful businesswoman as well. Your case had made you more than famous and you’d breathed life into that fame by distributing affordable and cute anti-assault accessories and poignant punk rock music...he understands the appeal but with the delicate situation they were avoiding it made him extra angry.

“I’LL HANDLE IT,” Black said, standing gracefully from his chair.

And handle it he did, with a flash of his badge and the written legal forms he’d brought along promising not to release any of the photos until after the police had cleared it.

Can’t stop them from taking or having the pictures, but they can obstruct the publication. He wished he’d handled it, because then there’d be no camera to worry about, but he supposed that was more press they didn’t need.

“darlin’, the pap is here, we should probably head back to the hotel,” he said softly. You sighed, flopping your arm to the side.

“Ugh. Do we have to?” You pouted at him, and he was tempted to give the paparazzi something really scandalous to record. Your eyes and playful smile told him you were thinking the same, and he gladly leaned down to kiss you, the sun beating down on the back of his skull as you curled your fingers into the fabric of his t-shirt.

Another click of a camera, and Black groaned, smacking Mutt on the back of the head with his book.

“KNOCK IT OFF! LET’S GO! WE HAVE DINNER RESERVATIONS ANYHOW.”

Mutt sipped his drink at the bar, scanning the room. He was on duty, making sure that none of the patrons were eyeballing his brother too much.

He hated leaving you alone upstairs, but you’d claimed a stomachache and kissed him goodbye when he’d headed down, and he knows you’ll call him if you need him. He couldn’t wait for Black to be done down here so he could slip into bed with you and cuddle.

What a soft monster you’d made of him.

Finally, Black gestured to him and got up, and Mutt watched him leave. He waited another ten minutes, and when nobody moved he followed, checking first at his brother’s door with two knocks, answered in a pattern of three knocks that meant “All is well”.

With a smirk on his face, he continued down the hall to your shared room, ready to snuggle in with his princess.

He swiped the key and fixed the deadbolt and chain behind him when he entered, taking extra precaution and peering from the peephole for a minute. With nothing out of place he hummed and removed his stifling tie, turning to see if you were blankets on or off.

…

“princess?” He asked, fingers pausing on his tie when he found the bed empty. He leaned over and turned the light on, fearing the worst.

Rose petals littered the bed, in your signature lavendar, and...well, color him confused.

The lights flicked off and he whirled around, only to find it was just you, holding up a lit candle.

“Wanna see something amazing?” You asked softly.

You blew gently on the candle and it went out...only for dozens more around the room to light, soft violet flames dancing and casting a romantic glow across the room.

“that’s some trick, darlin’,” he hummed as you set the candle down. When you stepped into the candlelight he took a sharp breath, seeing your demure posture and gentle white nightgown. Over the chemise you had some floaty robe with fluff on the sleeves, like something straight out of vintage playboy. It looked soft, so soft, and innocent, your eyes reflecting the violet flames with overwhelming love and passion.

He took a seat at the edge of the bed as you approached, and it was so natural, the way you leaned into each other, the way you kissed him without any fear or restraint, the way your body fit against his like a puzzle piece. His head was swimming, and you didn’t give him any time to recover before your hands were working his buttons undone, pushing his vest and button-up off his shoulders.

He groaned in appreciation as his hands smoothed over the soft white chemise. “what's all this about?”

“I wanted it to be romantic,” you whispered, your voice sending a pleasant shudder down his spine as you accepted his movements and allowed him to lay you back across the silken sheets, framed in rose petals with that shy smile on your lips.

“romantic?” He asked dumbly, his brain deep into primal pleasure mode and not picking up the subtlety you were laying down.

You spread your legs slowly, pulling your nightgown up just a bit to reveal the garter and stockings you were wearing...and the lack of panties. You raised your brow a moment, waiting for him to understand.

It took him a good few moments before he lit up with recognition, embarrassed by his slowness.

“you mean…” He trailed off, his hungry eyelights drinking in everything about the way you dressed up and lay back for him, his fingers itching to touch you.

“Green light, Daddy,” you said softly, fluttering those long lashes at him as the fluff from your sleeves framed your face. He couldn't resist kissing you, and when he did your hand cradled the back of his head so gently he might have melted. “Voulez-vous coucher avec moi ce soir?”

“fuuuck, no fair, pulling out the french,” he groaned against your lips, feeling them curl into an amused smile. “i don't even know what you said but it got me excited.”

“I asked if you want to sleep with me tonight,” you translated, fingertips gently tracing over the crack on his face to his teeth. “Are you ready to take what's yours?”

“am i ready, she says,” he chuckled. “are you ?”

“Clearly?” You giggled. “I'll keep my colors in mind, just please...I want to be with you, fully, completely. I want you inside of me, Papyrus.”

He breathed out shakily, leaning his forehead to yours as he took it all in. The gown, the robe, the petals and candles, the way you'd been looking at him all day...you'd obviously spent a lot of time planning this, which meant you'd thought long and hard about it. He didn't have to question it, despite the lingering worry that you still thought you owed him your body…

“Nervous?”

He chuckled, opening his eyes to stare deeply into yours. Oceans of baby blue, forever and ever...and he was lost at sea.

“i should be asking you that.”

You shrugged, a little smirk on your face. “I trust you, Papy. I know you won't hurt me or go too far.”

And then, while he was still melting at the sincerity of that statement, you kissed him again, wrapping those legs around his waist and your arms around his neck, giving your whole body to him as he tried not to worry. His hands were shaking as he reached down to fumble with his pants, finally just giving up and 'porting them across the room, making you giggle.

“i love that sound,” he groaned, trailing kisses down your jaw, your neck, leaving your mouth free to continue to giggle as his breath tickled against you. “i love every goddamn sound that comes outta that cute, filthy mouth of yours.”

His magic was swirling, and he was in no hurry to form it into anything, more focused on making your breath quicken, your legs quiver, your breast rise sharply as he dragged his sharp teeth over your shoulder, seriously considering marking you for good.

His fingers travelled down, down, down, brushing over your cute tummy and the crease of your thighs, running lightly over your lips--he groaned against your collarbone at how wet you already were.

“Please,” you begged softly. “Please, touch me harder, I need you.”

“nah, darlin’, m’sorry, i’m takin’ my time with this,” he purred, sliding down your body and settling between your legs, brushing his thumbs over your entrance and breathing deeply, the scent of your arousal threatening to send him into a frenzy...he held on, but just barely, and the exhale of warm breath fanning over your cunt made you shudder.

You made the tiniest little moan as he pressed his tongue to your slit, taking care of you exactly how he always does, making your toes curl as he slowly, lazily lathered your slick lips. He pulled back momentarily to warn you.

“i’m gonna go deeper than before,” he said smoothly, rubbing gentle circles into your hips.

“With your tongue?” You tried not to frown, but failed, and he chuckled, kissing the inside of your thigh.

“hate to burst your bubble, darlin’, but my dick can’t be the very first thing to penetrate you. you’d probably pass out.”

You hummed, accepting it, albeit huffily, but the moment he started kissing your thighs again you seemed to forget being upset, panting as he spread your lips to make good on his promises.

You shuddered and froze at the foreign feeling of something inside of you, and he froze with you, letting you adjust. You’d used tampons and fingered yourself before, but not controlling it was an odd feeling.

“Green,” you managed, and he hummed, sending a jolt of pleasure through you as his tongue pressed inside you, reaching where your fingers never could. You could feel his grin pressed to your thighs as you arched and moaned.

He worked you gently for a few minutes, your climax approaching faster than expected and tasting sweet on his tongue as he lapped it up eagerly, excited magic forming and pressing insistently against the bed.

You were relaxed, elastic and pliant beneath him as he pulled away, pressing two slick, magic-coated fingers into your entrance and watching with hungry eyes as your hand fluttered to your mouth to cover your startled moan. He was slow and methodical as he tested the give of your cunt, pressing all those sweet spots that made you so adorably bashful. Your eyes were glazed over with pleasure as he slowly inserted a third finger, keeping an eye out for any sign of pain or discomfort.

“is that alright, princess?” He hummed, bending his fingers slightly as if beckoning an answer.

“Y-yes,” you gasped, cracking those beautiful blue eyes open to gaze up at him in adoration that caught him a little off-guard. “More, please?”

“holy fuck, you are perfect ,” he breathed, leaning down to kiss your heavenly lips as he quickened the pace with his fingers, expertly priming and stretching you for the monumental task you were about to take on. You accepted his kiss, spreading your legs as wide as you could as you trembled beneath him, squeaks of pleasure shooting straight to his heat and making him growl deep in his chest.

He pulled back just in time to watch you tip over the edge, quivering thighs clamping around his hand and arm, your cunt clamping his fingers in the same way as he pulsed magic from his fingertips to help your release.

God, you were so beautiful.

He loves you so much.

“Papyrus,” you moaned, shaky and overstimulated as he continued to rub circles on your clit with his thumb. He hummed, enjoying the way your makeup ran down your face just a tiny bit from your sweat.

“yes, princess?” He used his free hand to caress your face, and the good little slut you were, you turned to kiss and suck on his thumb, making him imagine shoving his cock down your throat like usual.

Not tonight, he reminded himself.

“Mo-more,” you stuttered, whining in protest when he slowly retracted his fingers, making a show of licking them clean. “Please, please, I need it, please.”

“shhh….don’t you worry, darlin’, i’m takin' good care of ya. you need this work-up, trust me.” he adjusted and pulled your pelvis flush with his, dwarfing your tiny form as he bent over you, resting his cock against your twitching heat and waiting for you to come down from your high, humming in your ear as he twirled a blonde curl around his finger. “relax, babygirl, you need to relax. i know it’s all new and exciting, but it’s not going to be fun unless you relax.”

His gentle, deep baritone in your ear helped to calm you from the excited, confusing experience, and soon he was kissing your neck and jaw again, and you found the strength to return the kisses, clumsy and hurried and pining, but full of love. His fingertips, ghosted over your skin, over the soft chemise, and you melted into a puddle as always.

“color?”

You hummed, straining weakly to gain friction against his cock, and he gently moved farther away.

“color.” He demanded it more firmly this time, and you blinked up at him, not realizing you hadn’t answered, sudden clarity hitting you.

“Green,” you said confidently, smiling apologetically. “...big yes.”

“good,” he breathed, violet eyelights trained on your face, sharp and aware but also gentle and reassuring.

The sensation of being stretched by his fingers was much different than his cock, and you gasped as he pressed inside, finally sinking inside just a little bit as he’d teetered on the edge of doing for so long. He grunted as he struggled to fit, fear in his gaze as he checked on you, wondering if he was hurting you.

You kissed him, erasing both of your doubts, and no more thought was given to logistics as he wrapped one arm around you, lifting you from the mattress and pressing into you slowly, each inch accompanied by increasingly breathless kisses and combined moans and grunts.

“y’feel so fuckin’ good, babygirl,” he groaned, feeling the weight of months of tension roll off his shoulders as he thrusted shallowly, supporting your weight as you clung to him and cried out in pleasure at the tiny movements.

“Ah, Papy~” you gasped as he thrusted bravely, pleasure dulling every sense but the feeling of him inside of you. So right and so perfect, like a puzzle piece falling into place.

There wasn’t much talking after that, and he kept his pace slow. You weren’t naive enough to think he was pressing his whole length into you, but it certainly felt like he was, filling you so completely as he murmured praise and pleasured moans in your ear. And indeed he wasn’t able to hilt completely, but that was something you could work on when he wasn’t so focused on how perfectly your hips molded to his hands, how tight and wet your cunt was as you came on his cock again and again, how perfect his name sounded when falling from your gorgeous lips.

At some point he had fallen back on his back against the sheets, allowing you to take control of the pace, and your brave thrusts had his head spinning.

“doin’ okay, darlin’?” He purred as he supported you against his chest, helping you ride him as your shaking limbs refused to obey you.

“Y-yes,” you insisted, and he admired your tenacity once more. He tipped your chin up, memorizing every aspect of your lovestruck, pleasured face.

“slow down, take it easy,” he offered, kissing your forehead as you obediently slowed your pace, immediately relaxing at the slow drag of his cock inside of you. “you’re so good, so soft and warm, fuck…”

He jumped when you kissed his neck, his weak spot, the spot you’d claimed for his tattoo a few days ago, and he cursed ever allowing you to find that spot as he quickly came undone beneath you.

You squealed as he grabbed your hips, grinding harder into your abused pussy, and though he feared it would hurt, you only moaned in pleasure, and pretty soon you were seated firmly on his lap, all fourteen inches of his fat cock inside of you, pressing insistently against your cervix.

“ooohhhh….fuck,” he sighed simply, his head lolling to your shoulder. He pressed kisses to your bare shoulder, your robe falling off as he sat up and hooked his arms beneath your knees. “i’m not gonna last much longer, darlin’.”

“Please,” you moaned, rolling your hips as best you could. “I want you to cum, I want it inside me, I want--”

“shhh, shhh, you’ll get everything you want, princess,” he promised, breathless, starting in on a faster pace, lifting and pulling you down on his cock over and over, kissing you and chasing that release he wanted so badly. He couldn’t wait to see his cum dripping from your pussy, couldn’t wait to see you full and leaking with his purple magic, always so gorgeous in purple. “ fuck, so tight. so good, ah, fuck, fuck, fuck , princess--”

He cried out as you came unexpectedly, milking his release from him as he gripped you hard, holding you down as he stifled his noises and yours with a kiss, a kiss that went beyond passionate, and for a moment, everything was perfect and right with the world.

You whimpered as he gently laid you down, pulling out and leaving you gaping wide, his violet seed spilling from between your lower lips, and you were struck with a profound emptiness, uncomfortable but a slight bit relieving as your sore muscles were allowed to relax. You vaguely felt his hands massaging you, his low voice reverberating in your tingly body as he praised you, littering your body with kisses.

It was hours before you stirred in his arms, having passed out pretty quickly at the end. He would be worried, but a quick CHECK showed him there was nothing to worry about--you were just blissfully exhausted.

So he'd cleaned you up gently, careful not to wake you, and settled in to hold you close, watching your angelic face as you slept peacefully, makeup and hair an utter mess but happy. And when you finally did blink awake, sapphires shining in your eyes, he was sure he lost his mind.

“That was…”

The pause made him uneasy, but the little chuckle and head shake told him it wasn't bad.

“Tell me why I waited so long to let you do that?” You asked with a yawn.

He laughed a little, playing with your hair. “beats me.” A long pause. “...i didn't hurt you?”

“I'm a little sore...but that's normal, right?” You mumbled against his ribs. “I don't think you could ever bring yourself to hurt me.”

He'd never forgive himself if he did.

“i'll never hurt you. that's a promise.” He held up his pinky, wiggling it. “pinky promise.”

You giggled, grabbing his hand and kissing his knuckles, scarred and crooked from years of violence.

“Nah. I trust you. You always keep your promises.” You said, groping for a blanket. He helped you heave the soft comforter over the both of you. “Which reminds me, you need to call Undyne.”

“hm? oh,” he chuckled, remembering what you meant. “the tattoo. as soon as we get home, absolutely.”

“I don't have to wait until you have it to do it again, right?” You asked, suspicious.

He laughed and pulled you close, tucking you beneath his chin gently, thanking his lucky stars one more time.

“darlin’, if you weren't so exhausted, i'd fuck ya again right now. anytime, anywhere, you just say the word.”

He was a little worried about how sore you might be tomorrow, but that was something for tomorrow-Papyrus to worry about.

Tonight-Papyrus had other things weighing on his mind.

“...i love you.”

You smiled softly at him, still groggy from sleep, as he reeled from his own admission, and for a horrible moment he worried you wouldn't say it back.

You tipped your face up in expectation, and he was eager to meet you for a kiss. You moaned a tiny, sleepy moan, and flopped your head against his shoulder when he pulled away, your voice so quiet but sending warmth through every bone in his body.

“I love you, too.”

Chapter Text

T'was the Night Before a Wedding

You don’t really do this sort of thing.

Meeting a stranger, going home with them? That’s not you, that’s never been you. But something about tonight, with the way the work week had been hanging over you, the upcoming wedding, something about the jokes that skeleton monster had been making all night, the way his bony fingers drummed against your knee…

…you said fuck it. Or more importantly, you said “Fuck me.”

And he seemed perfectly happy to oblige you, practically dragging you back to his apartment, pausing only to steal your breath away with another impossible kiss against a postbox or someone’s car. He’d kicked his own door open with reckless abandon and very soon you’d found yourself pinned to a wall, his knee between your legs as he kissed you senseless, sharp teeth dragging across your lips, your jaw, your neck as you both struggled out of your clothes.

He pushed your skirt up, you pushed the shoulders of his sweatshirt down. He popped the buttons on your blouse and you yanked it off. He shed his coat and pulled his shirt over his head, and you unhooked your bra to fling amongst the mess of his room.

A mattress met your back, and the question of “how” was heavy on your tongue, but when an obvious something in his jeans pressed against your leg you didn’t bother asking. If he had one, he had one, and you’d be happy to shut the fuck up if it meant you got it.

“i’m gonna nail y'to this mattress, darlin’.” he groaned into your ear, and your hands were already exploring his bones as you moaned and arched against him, his sharp fingertips dragging lightly over your bare back as a long purple tongue worshipped your breast.

He was much taller than you but it made no difference, the only hiccup being his sheer size when he finally loosed his cock from his sweats. He prepped you this way and that, from his fingers and tongue to gentle magic coursing through you and it still felt like an uphill battle to get him inside you. He held the back of your knees as he thrusted shallowly, those deep violet eyelights burning with desire as you whimpered and moaned beneath him.

“such a good girl,” he groaned as he thrusted deeper each time, driving you wild as he filled you, leaning over you to mutter the praise in your ear. “relax, that’s it, fuck, fuck, that’s perfect.”

It wasn’t long before he showed he could keep his word, flipping you over and pushing your face to the pillows, chest flush to your back as clawed fingertips raked you in at the hips to meet his beastly thrusts, and you cried out in pleasure over and over as he let out a slew of profanity even a sailor would blush at.

You easily got lost in the carnal desire of it all–some nobody, just a guy you don’t even know who’s giving you the best sex of your life. The lack of order in his apartment and the way he avoided saying anything about his personal life pointed to that being well understood by him.

This was a one time thing. If it was good enough, he might even get breakfast before you leave.

And fuck…it was more than good enough. You were vaguely aware of the scratches and bruises he was leaving on you, and though you would the next day, you currently couldn’t find a reason to care.

He finished on your back, but a sultry whisper in your ear promised you he wasn’t done if you weren’t.

And that’s how you were wrangled into staying up all night the day before your sister’s wedding.

And why you looked like you’d been attacked like a wild beast in your bridesmaid dress.

A Warm Body

You served Black his coffee every morning at promptly 6am, or every afternoon at 3pm if you had the evening shift. He asked for you by name and insisted you were the only one that made his order right (how anyone could mess up black coffee was beyond you) but almost never said more than two or three words to you.

Until the morning after you broke up with your boyfriend after three years of floundering about and hoping for a ring. Yeah, you showed up looking less than perfect that morning.

He came in right on time and you opened the second register because you knew he would be quick. You went to grab his card as usual…

…but found he was holding it firmly, forcing you to look up at him with a question in your eyes.

“ARE YOU QUITE ALRIGHT TODAY?” He asked, his brow furrowed in a rare display of concern. “YOU LOOK LIKE YOU’VE BEEN THROUGH HELL.”

And so started the rollercoaster.

He invited you to lunch and picked you up at the end of the shift, no more than a concerned friend. He didn’t press you to talk about it and so you ultimately kept quiet, instead enjoying the park and the sun and some idle chatter.

You had no way of knowing he was watching for any tiny little tell, to see what you needed. Right now, an ear, a hug, and the next day…

“I WOULD LIKE TO INFORM YOU THAT I AM OPEN TO CASUAL SEX.”

You spit out your smoothie, coughing and hacking up the part that you accidentally inhaled, before looking up at him in horror. “E-excuse me?!”

“IT DOESN’T ESCAPE ME THAT THE SOURCE OF YOUR DISTRESS IS EMOTIONAL,” he said, words carefully measured as he turned those vivid mauve eyelights on you, smoldering and burning pleasantly. “YOU HAVE NOT TOLD ME WHY, BUT THAT IS ALRIGHT. THE SIGNS ARE THERE. A BRACELET MISSING ON YOUR LEFT WRIST, THAT YOU HAD PREVIOUSLY WORN EVERY DAY, IS PROOF ENOUGH THAT SOMEONE YOU CONSIDERED SPECIAL HAS ABANDONED YOUR SIDE. THE DETAILS MATTER NOT TO ME, BUT YOUR HAPPINESS DOES. IF YOU NEED SOMEONE TO EASE THE PAIN, I WOULD LIKE IT TO BE ME, SHOULD YOU BE SO INCLINED.”

“Oh. God,” you breathed, face beet red as you brushed your frizzing hair from your face. “Uhm. Are you offering to be my rebound?”

“I CAN BUY YOU DINNER AND PROPERLY COURT YOU AS WELL, IF A REBOUND IS WHAT YOU WANT,” he said, and something about how seriously he was taking this is quite funny. “BUT IF YOU ONLY NEED A WARM BODY WITH NO STRINGS, I CAN DO THAT AS WELL.”

“Do I have to answer now?” You asked, unsure how to react.

He smirked. “OF COURSE NOT. THIS IS TECHNICALLY ONLY THE SECOND DATE.”

And that is how you ended up letting him buy you a proper drink, and also how you ended up taking him home and enthusiastically rebounding all over him. He was happy to wine and dine you, and also happy to be a booty call, and it wasn’t long before you both had found a comfortable routine of Netflix and Chill.

His arm around your shoulder. His side pressed to yours. He was so warm, and you couldn’t stop thinking about his magic buzzing against your lips, against your cunt, the glow of his eyelights in the dark, the methodical way he had mapped every pleasurable spot on and inside of your body.

And that mouth of his, that could take your breath away, he was wasting it on critiquing some cooking show, wasting his breath, and the heat of his body next to yours was making it hard to accept that.

Finally you huffed and turned to him, swinging over into his lap and trapping him between hands planted on either side of him.

“Shut up already, would you?” You said, hoping your voice was reading as lightly miffed and turned on instead of bitchy.

That earned you a smirk, one you’d grown to know and begrudgingly adore. His gloved hands traced up your thighs where they were planted on either side of him, and with a hum he cocked his head, watching your eyes flick to his teeth.

“HMM…MAKE ME.”

Oh, fuck, if that wasn’t a challenge you were eager to take. You pressed your mouth to his feverishly, and in return his hands slid to cup your ass and pull you in, grinding you down on his rapidly coalescing magic.

Mission accomplished, because he wasn’t able to complain or critique between moans as your fingertips found sensitive vertebrae. He may be a bit on the petite side, but he was deceptively strong, and he loved showing it off like he was right now, picking you up and standing from the couch, striding across your studio apartment to drop you both to the bed, and like that the tables were turned and his mouth was busy with an entirely different task.

You often wondered what may have happened if he hadn’t noticed your distress that day. If he hadn’t lent his shoulder for you to cry on, if he’d just continued to come in for two black coffees a day and nothing else.

Even if it was a rebound, even if it was never meant to last…the way he lit up your every nerve and praised you sweetly, the way his eyelights watched your flushed face in the dark as you came, the way he held you close afterward, pushing sweaty strands of hair away from your face and neck so he could kiss your jaw…

…it was worth it.

Chapter Text

"Captain! Captain!
I will do your chores
I will warm your cot at night
And mop your cabin floors
Scold me, hold me
I'll be yours to keep
The only thing I beg of you
Don't make me go to sleep"

Being a diplomat in these times was incredibly difficult for someone terrified of the ocean.

After the calamity that was the war between humans and monsters, monsoons and hurricanes left most lands flooded and destroyed. Getting from your country to the closest country of Mujal was a three-day sail on a fast boat, a week on a slow one.

Naturally, being terrified of drowning to the point of near-hydrophobia, you had sought only the fastest ship with the best, most capable captain.

And that search had given you Captain Papyrus. A skeleton monster, and a pirate no less. You would think that would deter you, like some sort of reference to Davy Jones, but he worked his ship with finesse and iron control, his sharp teeth in a jagged scowl and scars on his left socket. A monster, sure, but his credentials and low turnover of crew spoke for themselves--it was a mutually beneficial arrangement, in the end. You got the fastest, safest trip possible, and he got paid handsomely and diplomatic immunity whilst under your protection.

A pirate's dream.

The first two trips had been utterly silent, with little more than announcing your arrival being spoken between the two of you. Trip three he brought you your meals in your cabin, noticing you were absent from the table.

“I can hardly bring myself to move, let alone all the way to the mess,” you explained, and he didn't pry as to why, an annoyed look on his face. It seemed permanently affixed there, but you noticed the next time you came aboard that he had moved your quarters directly next to his, right next to the mess.

He was more attentive than you gave him credit for. He took note of things you liked to eat, and made more of them to encourage you to put something into your nervous stomach. He sent his first and second mates to check on you when he couldn't, especially when the seas were rough, and eventually, on the twelfth trip across the ocean...he invited you to his quarters.

Rich red curtains and a large plush bed were all that separated his room's decor from yours, that and a small table nailed down by a large window.

“Tell me, ambassador,” he said over a glass of red wine as you approached slowly. “Why is it that y’never sleep on my ship?”

“Pardon?” You asked, gripping your night gown. “I'm in bed every night at last light, Captain, as per your request.”

“In bed, aye, but not asleep,” he said simply, gesturing to the seat across from him. You slowly moved towards the seat, perching on it nervously as he poured you a glass of wine. You accepted it. “Your eyes are almost as hollowed as mine at the end of th’journey. Are your accommodations not comfortable?”

“They are more than comfortable, Captain,” you said swiftly. “You've done a great deal for me each trip. I've wanted for nothing.”

“And yet, when I turn you over to the other politicians, y’look dead on yer feet as if I sucked the soul out of you, which I know they fear I do.” His fierce red eyelights bored into your eyes, searching for an answer. “You must rest sometime, lest they decide to stop allowing our tentative agreement.”

“I'm perfectly content with watching the stars, Captain,” you said quickly. “Please. I'll do extra chores if I must, I'll even clean your quarters--do not make me sleep, for if I sleep I fear I may never wake.”

He regarded you for a long moment, likely deciding if maybe extra chores would tire you out enough to rest...and decided it was acceptable, it seemed.

“Aye, lass, more chores you shall have. On one condition--y'take my quarters from this night on. Skeletons don't need sleep, but humans do--my bed is comfier than the others, perhaps it can entice you t'close your eyes.”

You almost protested, but you didn't. Your truce with this monster was, as he had put it, was tentative, and if it kept you from having to dream of drowning, you would accept his terms.

The ship, it swayed, heave ho, heave ho
On the dark and stormy blue

The Captain grew quite accustomed to having you in his quarters. Over the next few trips you moved your things straight in there, causing more than a few raised eyebrows from his crew, his brother included.

One lascivious comment, though, and he put the talk to bed by doubling everyone's work.
He constantly tried to catch you sleeping, changing his shifts around each night so you couldn't try to trick him. Each night he ended up in deep conversation, answering starry-eyed questions with his grand knowledge of the sea.

He taught you to read his maps. To read the stars. The clouds. He taught you how to watch for gulls to see when land was near, and eventually he had nothing more to teach you, and your eyes still did not close. Each night, on each trip, they stayed wide open, looking up at him in a pleading manner.

Don't make me go to sleep.

And he had grown so fond of those pleading eyes. Of you, in general, and the way you looked sprawled upon his bed.

And I held tight to the Captain's might
As he pulled up his trews

Many nights together led to inevitable infatuation, and you both used it as best you could--him to get you in bed and relieve some stress, and you to distract him, with kisses and soft moans. You tired him out most nights, and sleep claimed him before you more often than not.

Tonight he wondered what would happen if those diplomats waiting ashore ever tried to take you from him.

They surely would wind up dead, he thought, as lightning flashed and caused you to whimper for more than just his cock. He soothed you with a fiery kiss and distracted you with a mighty thrust, causing you to cry out against his teeth as you arched up against him, giving him a better angle to drill even deeper until he finally felt you tighten all over--and then relax with a sweet moan as he emptied inside you, his vision blurred for the briefest of moments as he held you there, still as he could, through the rocking movements of the sea.

As he did up his trousers, lightning flashed, and you grabbed him again to bury your face in his shirt.

He turned to hold you one more moment, his phalanges threading through your hair with obvious affection before he turned your face up, observing the dark circles beneath your eyes.

"You haven't slept," he said, the crew shouting heave-ho! upon the deck above them. "In many suns and moons."

"I will sleep when we reach shore," you sighed, fiddling with the crucifix on your necklace. "...and pray we get there soon."

"Now, hush, love, here's your gown," he said softly, sliding the silken robe over your naked shoulders. His hands lingered on you, before he moved to lay you back down. "There's the bed."

You sighed and sunk into the plush mattress as he turned the lanterns down and set his small record player to play something quiet.

"I don't want to go to sleep," you pleaded as he retrieved his vest and then his coat, buttoning them quickly and lacing his boots. “In all my dreams I drown.”

Dressed and ready to return above-deck, likely to shout orders and try to survive this oncoming storm, he returned to your side momentarily, looping his signature scarf around your neck and using it to pull you closer for a kiss that said more than either of you ever could.

“The sea bends to me, love,” he reassured you. “I will always protect you.”

You reluctantly let go of his hand and he tucked you in, the sheets so tight around you you wondered if he was tying you down.

“A storm is brewing in the South,” he said. “It is time you go to sleep.”

You had no choice but to obey, as his magic tingled inside you and you squirmed against the sheets. The boat rocked heavy, and he was gone from your side.

You heard him howling against the wind as you closed your eyes.

“Heave-ho!”

His berth, it rocks, heave ho, heave ho
The ocean gnashed and moaned
Like Jonah we'll be swallowed whole
And spat back teeth and bones

“cap’n! the storm be too great, thar be no choice but t’descend,” his brother insisted as another heavy wave rocked the ship. The wind howled all around, nearly shipping his captain’s hat right off.

“‘Tis not an option,” he insisted. “Sails at half-mast, we’re riding this storm to shore!”

“land be more’n a day away still, cap’n,” Sans growled. “we’ll ne’er make th’ trip without damagin’ the ship beyond fixin’.”

He cursed and slammed the wheel, turning sharply against a large wave. Water sloshed aboard and took out the feet of several crewmen.

“Take the wheel and begin descent!” He shouted, turning to the steps. “I will secure the cargo.”

“think ye’ve already secured th’cargo once this eve, cap’n,” his brother chuckled, though he did as he was told and took the wheel.

Magic and water rushed to meet the Captain’s feet before he even hit the deck, and he felt panic rise in his chest as he threw his weight against his cabin doors. He had no fear of the sea, for it was his home and affected him none--but though it would harm you not, you were so afeared of it that you would let it destroy you. If he didn’t get to you fast enough, you’d be nothing more than a corpse in Davy Jones’ locker.

The sky it flashed, heave ho, heave ho
His pillow toed to the brink
The curtains ran between my legs as we began to sink
I closed my eyes, heave ho, heave ho
As the ship was rent and fell
Eddies in the water headed to the mouth of Hell

He could hardly see for the floating linens, pillows, pens and anything not nailed down swirling with the sudden current, but he maneuvered easily through.

For a moment, you looked so beautiful he couldn’t move. The moonlight framed you, the curtains curling between your legs as a stark contrast to your white gown and pale visage.

His fingers alighted on your face, gentle, and he could feel your terror and the water sloshing around in your lungs.

He pulled you close, kissing you as he floated amongst the wrecked linens, magic filling you and changing you, gifting you with the ability to survive as he does. The water in your lungs no longer choked you, and you took a heaving, confused breath as your eyes opened swiftly.

You gripped him and breathed another wheezing breath, before you realized…

"I'm begging you please wake me up
In all my dreams I...."

...you weren’t drowning.

“I told you, ambassador,” he muttered in your ear, the water warbling his words only slightly. “The sea bends to me. Not the other way around.”

You knew you were crying, but it did not matter, surrounded by seawater as you were.

“Am I dead, Captain?” You asked, watching with confusion as your visage flickered in the moonlight. Slender bones replaced your flesh, rounder and softer than human bones, and glittering green magic filled the shape of your body, though your gown remained the same.

He leaned in, kissing you softly with a clack of teeth. You were certain the answer was “Yes” but for some reason it didn’t bother you.

“Nay, love,” he whispered against your mouth. “You are home.”

Chapter Text

Love Without Compromise

Life in the mountains was lonely, but satisfying. You enjoyed the quiet, and your trip into town to cater Sugar's wedding had only cemented that idea.

Despite your distaste for city life, and how little you enjoyed the bustling streets, it hadn't been all bad. The wedding had been beautiful, no doubt, and watching Sugar care for his blind bride had been the most heartwarming thing you'd seen in a long time. Plus you got to cook buckets of good food and feed lots of people, so it was a win-win in your book.

Or a win-win-win if you count the extra evening with your lover. Axe made a point to come to your cabin every week with your milk order, and stay the night when he did, but something about being a normal couple, for just a day, had been so nice. The rest of the guests had expressed surprise when Axe kissed you warmly, some of them even sheepishly telling you later they had assumed Axe had made you up completely. You suppose a hermit mountain woman lover they had never met might be pretty difficult to believe.

But at the moment, it wasn't the food or the wedding or the other guests you cared about.

You only cared about him as he kissed you softly, his bowtie still hanging from his collar and one suspender hanging off his shoulder. His pants were unzipped and his cock buried deep inside you, shirt only half-untucked in his haste to get you horizontal. You aren't even sure where your dress is, but you don't care, focusing instead on the way he was nipping at your neck, your fingers curled around the back of his as you quivered beneath him.

“...tight,” he huffed, one hand moving down to cup the meat of your ass, rolling his hips and succeeding in sheathing a few more inches inside your tight heat. “so tight, babygirl.”

“Well, if somebody came by more than once a week to stretch me out…” you teased, and he chuckled against your neck.

“don’t be a brat,” he purred, thrusting hard enough to make the bed rock. You yelped as he stretched you again, with a few more inches of his thick member, and the yelp became a moan as he rubbed your hip soothingly, letting you adjust to the intrusion. “...should move closer to the foot of the mountain. meet in the middle.”

“Mmm...this isn’t a fair conversation with your cock inside me like that.”

“table it. but we’ll talk about it.” He began a slow pace, and talking was a thing of the past as you pressed your lips to his teeth, his mouth so warm and inviting as he gently and gradually filled you over and over until he was hilted completely. “mmm...ahh...so good…”

You moaned in response, wiggling a little to get used to his size. Every movement was blissful, he felt so good and warm inside you and you wanted nothing more than to sleep next to him every night.

It was hours before the two of you were done making love, nearly 2am by the time he carried you to the bathroom and cleaned you gently, kissing you soft in the steamy bath. He couldn’t resist wiggling two fingers inside your sore heat, watching with half-lidded eyes as you threw your head back in ecstasy once more. Slow, purposeful strokes brought you to the edge once more, and he wished desperately that this could be every night.

But with you so far up the mountain, and Sugar and his new wife in the city, he didn’t know how to reconcile the two stark opposites. Can’t leave you, can’t leave Pap, same problem as before.

He toweled you off and carried you back to bed, and you let him care for you, exhausted by the sex and the events of the day, too tired to protest much of anything.

He wanted to ask you to move down here, but you were happy up there. In your little Disney princess cottage, with all your plants, your business, your entire life. Your stress levels went up 200% inside the city, and forcing you to come down here would only drain you of every bit of happiness you had. You’d do it, for him, he knows that--but he doesn’t want an ultimatum, or even a compromise. He wants a happy ending.

“Move Pap and his wife to the bottom of the mountain,” you mumbled sleepily. “She’s been talking about getting out of the city, yeah? Then you can live with me, and we’ll all have our own space and be happy?”

He paused his movements, only now realizing he’d been drawing worried circles on your hip beneath the blankets. He hadn’t even thought of that! Of course he could do that! For some reason he was so focused on you or them that he’d overlooked the changes happening in Sugar’s life as well. With the new focus hopefully moving to kids soon, Sugar wanted out of the city, his wife even more so--being blind was a lot less fun in a noisy, smelly city.

“...genius,” he chuckled, nuzzling the back of your neck and pulling you closer to his bare bones. So warm, always so warm.

“I know,” you yawned, making him smile against your skin.

“...love you,” he said softly.

“I know,” you teased, threading his fingers with yours and kissing his bones softly. “Love you, too, big guy.”

Overprotective

“Papy, sweetie…I can walk.”

You heard the clicking of his finger bones as he wrung his hands nervously.

“I know!” He insisted, but even so, he didn’t move from where he knelt at the edge of the bed, preventing you from getting up and grabbing your walking stick. “But…there are stairs! And…”

“And I’ve navigated those stairs a thousand times?” You pressed, groping for his hands to stop the chattering.

“Yes, but…last time you fell.” He squeaked, and you sighed.

You were afraid this might happen. You may be blind but you aren’t dumb–getting up in your own head and tripping down the stairs now meant that your big, gentle, beau was going to worry every single time you had to go anywhere.

“I’ll be okay. I didn’t even get hurt.”

“Because Sans caught you with his blue magic! You know that’s difficult for him to manage, especially so quickly…especially as he no longer lives with us. You’re lucky he was there and having a lucid moment.”

You huffed and crossed your arms, irritated. You’d let him fuss over you for a few days now, but you were itching to get up and do something. “I’m not a child! I may be blind but I’m not useless!”

“I DIDN’T MEAN THAT!” Oh, great, now he’s getting hysterically nervous, you can tell by how loud he is. “I’M ONLY WORRIED ABOUT YOU! IF YOU FALL, THE WAY YOU ARE NOW, YOU COULD…IT COULD…”

“What? What do you mean ‘the way I am now’?” You asked, cocking your head to the side curiously. He withdrew his hands like you bit him, and you felt him hop up from the bed. “Papyrus?”

A small whine caught your attention, alerting you to the fact that he hadn’t left the room, but was rather just hovering a couple feet away.

“I…DON’T BE MAD AT ME!”

“What? Mad about what?” You threw up your hands in exasperation. “Papyrus, I love you, but you aren’t making sense.”

“I SHOULD HAVE TOLD YOU WEEKS AGO! I’VE KNOWN AND…I COULD HAVE SAID SOMETHING BUT I DIDN’T AND NOW I’M TERRIFIED.”

His brutal honesty and his fear-laced tone had you pausing, the anger waning from you completely. As confusing as he was, it wasn’t any worse than trying to talk to Sans on one of his spacier days. And clearly this was something to be approached with a gentle hand if you wanted to avoid a full-blown panic.

“Papy…come back to bed.” You patted the blankets beside you, and after a moment’s pause you felt him approach.

You opened your arms as he sat beside you, and before long you were laying back against the pillows with the gigantic skeleton curled against you, his skull resting against your chest. He took a moment to put a pillow between him and your side and belly, still so self-conscious about his boney self and your comfort.

“Now, tell me what’s wrong. Why can’t I go down the steps?”

He whimpered, squeezing closer. “…You might fall.”

“And?”

“And falling is bad. You could get hurt. You could…it could…” He hummed, displeased with his inability to word his thoughts and feelings.

“I get hurt and fall a lot. I’m blind. But it’s fine, you can always heal me, right?”

“Not fast enough!” He insisted, phalanges squeezing your arm gently. “I can’t heal…can’t heal death.”

“Death?” You chuckled, patting his head softly. “Honey, a little tumble down the stairs isn’t going to kill me.”

“No…” He mumbled sheepishly. His hand moved deliberately, his Intent almost guilty, to rest on your stomach. “…Not you.”

There was a long pause as you realized what he was implying. You didn’t know what to say, and your silence seemed to confirm his fear that you might be mad.

“…I’m…Pregnant?” You asked, looking to confirm with him before you rightfully started freaking out.

“I’M SORRY!” He quickly piped down when you flinched away from his sudden outburst. “I’m sorry…I knew, I’ve known since the moment of and I…I thought…”

You stayed quiet through the pause, both in shock and to make him spit out his true feelings. He sighed heavily, and buried his crooked, cracked face in his huge hands against your chest.

“I thought you wouldn’t want to keep it! I am so s-scared, that it might be…that it might be broken because of me.” He sobbed, catching you off guard.

“Papyrus…”

“My m-magic, i-it’s awful, it’s unstable! Who knows what it’s doing to them??”

“Papyrus.”

“How can I, I’m so big, so ugly, I’ll terrify my own child right out of its skin, if it has any–”

“Papyrus!” He jumped in your grip, seemingly remembering himself as you squeezed his shoulders reassuringly. “Papy, honey…I…this is all very sudden, but of course I want to keep it, so let’s just get that out there right away. We are keeping this baby and we will be the best parents.”

God, you aren’t sure about that best parents thing, but your own insecurities will definitely have to wait because your husband needs to know at least one of you has confidence in this. If you’re honest, this is the single most terrifying thing to ever happen to you, and you’ve been brutalized by his tentacle-dicks near-nightly for years. In a good way, but still.

“We’ll be okay and so will this baby, because we’re strong, right?”

“…Yes. Yes we are.”

You could hear the smile in his voice and it relieved you to know you were avoiding a full-flown episode in such a delicate situation.

“Okay. So.” You sighed, leaning your cheek on the top of his skull as he wrapped around you, and you took note of the way his hand glided over your tummy pudge, something he had actually been doing a lot of lately, now that you thought about it. “How did you…know? Like, should I take a test?”

“Monsters just…know,” he explained softly. “We give up a part of our soul to make the new soul, so naturally one must know.”

You hummed, concerned through your happiness. It’s already so hard to express his magic, is it really okay to give a whole piece of it away? But he hadn’t been complaining about it, clearly…

“Oh my God, we’re having a kid,” you breathed, letting it wash over you. “I’m literally blind. This kid is gonna learn to be the sneakiest little shit.”

“Language,” he scolded, a small tittering laugh as his long fingers curl into your hair, effortlessly slipping you into his embrace. “...you are…certain you want this? With me?”

“You sure you want it with me?” You countered, gesturing to your useless eyes. “I mean, if anyone won’t be dragging their weight in literally watching the little sucker it’ll be me.”

“Sweet pea, don’t you dare!” He gasped, offended. “I wouldn’t want it with anyone else, ever! And you…you are more than capable of fending for yourself, and others.”

“Even when it comes to stairs?” You asked, raising a brow.

He hummed and pulled you closer. “…Ask again tomorrow, nyeheh.”

Nightly Routine

Sugar was meticulous about consent.

He asked you not once, but three or four times before, during, and even after sex, if you were okay, and if you wanted to keep going. Despite the fact that you’d been together for a few years now, he seemed to only get more nervous about if you wanted him or not.

You were blind, which wasn’t a problem, but now you’re blind and pregnant, and his protectiveness knew no bounds. You were surprised at how satiated you seemed to be most of the time, actually, seeing as he had a hard time getting physical for fear of hurting the baby with unstable magic.

You had no idea he spent every night bringing you both to orgasm in your sleep, nor would you believe anyone if they told you.

His hands caressed your budding baby bump, gentle and slow as he felt the tiny pulse of life beneath the surface. His lovely wife. His child. You were both here, with him, and he loved every second of it.

When you were asleep, it was easier to control himself. To focus and make sure he didn’t hurt you. Without you driving him crazy in return he had no reason to worry, and he got to watch that beautiful, peaceful face contort in pleasure.

Just a little touching, soft and slow, careful not to wake you. He had to take care of you, even if you didn’t know. Keeping you pleased was part of good gynecological health, which is good for the baby.

The fact that his other hand was also stroking an engorged tentacle at his pelvis was…irrelevant.

You shifted and moaned, and he pressed two long fingers inside you slowly, coated with buzzing magic. Your breathing quickened and he paused, waiting to see the telltale movements of you waking. It was difficult to tell, seeing as you generally don’t open your eyes because it doesn’t make a difference.

You settled and your head lolled to the side, and he returned to his rhythm, stroking his thick, slick cock as he fingered you to completion.

“Oh, Papy,” you sighed sleepily, your hand covering the one on your tummy. “Oh, honey, don’t stop.”

A green light if he ever heard one, and he couldn’t hold back, withdrawing his fingers and letting his cock wriggle inside you. Both hands cradled your swollen belly as his magic writhed inside you, and you, half-asleep and fully bathed in ecstasy, you looked more beautiful than any sunrise had ever appeared.

“Mine,” he sighed into your ear as he bent over you, thrusting slowly despite his cock moving completely on its own. “And mine. My love, my child, and me. My family.”

You whimpered and moaned, clinging to him weakly, and he kissed you as you both reached climax at once.

It was nice, loving you while you teetered on the edge of sleep.

It was even nicer when your grip grew firm, and you rolled him over to ride him like your life depended on it.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Mutt was a patient monster.

He could play the long game. He’d done so before, with other potentials, and he’d been doing it with you for going on two years now. Sure, when he’d started out it was nothing more than childish lust--you were beautiful and sweet, and he’d wanted nothing more than to tear your clothes off and make you beg for him. But, as he’d learned, you had a boyfriend, and that’s when it became a game. Can he win you over? Is he that smooth? To wrest a lovely vision such as yourself from her mate’s side would be a feat indeed.

Unfortunately for him, he hadn’t counted on falling for you for real, nor had he counted on you being almost impossible to seduce into cheating. Spending every day flirting with you nearly nonstop had quickly earned him a heaping helping of feelings, and it only tripled in potency when he found out exactly how much of a shitbag your boyfriend was. The first time you’d come to him crying over a fight you’d had with him, he found himself on your doorstep, glaring down at the asshole and very, very calmly explaining what he would do to him if he ever made you cry again.

This, of course, made your boyfriend hate him, very much, and he did everything he could to keep you from seeing Mutt. But Mutt had skills, earned through survival in the underground, and he always knew when you were out and about, always knew when you were alone and could be whisked away to a coffee date or for lunch.

Today he had managed to convince you back to his place for coffee, after he’d found you crying on a bench in the park where you’d first met, wearing only your pajamas and socks.

“here you go, darlin’, sweeter’n a snickers,” he said softly, sliding the coffee mug over to you as you sat at his kitchen table, looking completely miserable. He dragged his chair over so that he could sit right next to you. “now, wanna tell me why i found ya on a park bench like this?”

You sniffled, wiping your face with the back of your hand. His sweatshirt was draped over your shoulders because it had been cold as fuck in the park and he doesn’t think your pajamas were cutting  it for keeping hypothermia at bay.

“It’s the only way I knew you would find me,” you admitted. “I don’t have your number, Kevin made me delete it. And just, every time I’m at the park you’re there, too, and I really, really need a friend right now.”

“okay, alright, relax,” he cooed softly, scooting closer and throwing his arm around you. “you’ve got one, just take a deep breath and tell me what happened.”

You did, and as you spoke he grew angrier and angrier, oh, he hates your boyfriend, he’s always been an insensitive dick that made you feel bad for anything that mildly inconvenienced him. This sounded like any other fight, really, you did something inane, like ask him how his day was, and he’d gotten mad and yelled at you for not being able to “plainly see it wasn’t good” and when you’d tried to defend yourself, he’d accused you of cheating on him with Mutt.

Which, well, had been the point of this friendship in Mutt’s mind to begin with, but it hurt to hear anyone call you on it because you weren’t a cheater, had never given into his many charms despite how much he can see you want to sometimes.

“And then he dumped me and told me he’s been fucking the neighbor girl for three months!” You sobbed, burying your face in your hands. “And I wanna say good riddance, that I’m relieved, that I’m better off, because I know it’s true, but I can’t help but be upset!”

You squeaked with surprise as Mutt kissed you suddenly, his hands tentatively cupping your cheeks, and you wavered a moment before practically jumping on him, all the pent up feelings you’d been suppressing for the last two years surfacing at once.

You really, really liked Mutt. Maybe Kevin was right to call you a cheater and a whore, because you’d been pushing aside feelings for the tall skeleton for the better part of a year now. It was more than the fact that he flirts relentlessly, that version of him never struck you as true--it was when he stood up for you, that first night you’d come to him raw from a fight, that really made you question what you were doing with Kevin. Even when Kevin had expressly forbade you from seeing him anymore and deleted your number, Mutt still managed to find you around town, still brought a smile to your face. After a while his relentless flirting had evolved into something softer, more sincere, and you found yourself imagining him whenever you coupled with your boyfriend, thinking about Mutt’s hands on you, his teasingly magic tongue, his smooth voice in your ear.

That has to count as cheating in some form, and maybe that’s why you’d doubled down so hard on your relationship with Kevin, you’d hoped to maybe make up for your thoughts.

But fuck it. He dumped you, and he’d actually cheated on you, so you know what? You don’t give a shit if you’re emotional, you’re going to enjoy this.

The kitchen chair creaked beneath you combined weight as you straddled him, his arms wrapping around you tightly as he kissed you with the force of a man possessed.

“oh, oh, wait,” he huffed, breaking the kiss slightly.

“I want this, I’ve wanted it forever,” you said swiftly. “I don’t care if I’m emotional, he treated me like shit and I don’t wanna be his anymore. I want to be yours.”

“oh, darlin’,” he groaned. “you’re already mine, been mine since the moment i laid eyes on ya. just wanna know how far you wanna go.”

“I wanna be yours,” you stressed. “All of me. Make the pain go away.”

“trust me,” he purred, hands sliding beneath your butt so he could pick you up, standing gracefully and hastening through his small studio apartment to his bed. He tossed you down, delighting in your yelp of surprise as he followed quickly, already tugging at the buttons of your pajama shirt. “i’m gonna fuck you so hard you forget you ever met him.”

It was a rush of rustling clothes, both of you undressing at a speed that baffled both of you, and when you were naked, he pulled his sweatshirt back around your shoulders, and you shuddered at the intimacy. His fingertips were so gentle, his eyelights roving over you appreciatively.

“fuckin’ beautiful,” he hummed, and before you knew it you were on your back again, his fingers entwining with yours and pinning you to the bed, easing between your legs. You moaned as he kissed and nipped at your neck, opening your thighs so he could come closer. Sharp fingertips poked and prodded at your entrance, coated in slick, buzzing magic, testing you, stretching you wide.

He watched you with hungry eyelights, taking in every tiny breath, every pleasured gasp, oh, it was so much better than he had ever imagined, even with the remnants of tears still clinging to your lashes. You looked so goddamn good, he couldn’t wait any longer, taking his magic in hand and lining himself up. You gasped as he pressed in, and he groaned in appreciation, oh, you were so tight, and yet you were greedily begging him for more, more he was happy to give you.

The desperation waned, then, the both of you sighing as he bottomed out inside you, tension leaving your shoulders. It felt so good, so right, he wanted to live inside your sweet cunt.

“mine,” he growled, leaning down and kissing you. But despite the possessiveness, his touch was soft, his kiss needy, and you arched into him as he set a slow, gentle pace. “mine. mine to take care of. mine to love. mine to spoil. mine .”

“Yes!” You cried, fingertips scrabbling for purchase on bony shoulders as you came suddenly, the first time in years that you’d come by any other source than your own hand. Your head was spinning like a top, it felt so good and so right. “I’m yours, oh, all yours! That’s all I want!”

“you’ll get it,” he promised you. “everything you want, i’ll take care of you, darlin’, i’ll give you everythin’ you need, i’ll never make you cry.”

You nodded, moaning in surprise ecstasy as he felt you cum again, and this time he came with you, unable to last any longer with all the pent up frustration and need and want he had for you. He gripped your hip, hilting deep as he emptied inside you, a long curse escaping his mouth. Instinctively he held your hips up, staying stock still as he filled you, as though trying to ensure he bred you, although he knew it was the farthest thing from either of your minds. He kissed you sweetly, your lips, your forehead, your cheeks, your jaw, as he held you there anyway.

You were panting, sweaty, and he loved it, oh, he loved you , it had been that way for a while, who was he to fight it? He still can’t believe any of this happened, his little human project, his challenge to himself, had turned into something so much more important.

“Thank you,” you said softly, returning his kisses clumsily as best you could. “Thank you, thank you, thank y--”

“stop thanking me,” he chuckled. “i should be thanking you, that was...wow.”

You giggled, covering your face, and he nudged your hands away with his face, kissing you where he could. Finally you asked: “I know this seems like an awkward time to ask, but can I stay for dinner?”

“would you like to stay forever?” He offered, 100% serious, and you giggled and nodded, making his soul do backflips.

More kissing, more whispered affection. Eventually he’ll have to pull out, eventually he’ll have to confess why he started hanging out with you and the feelings it became, but for now, it was just the two of you, basking in post-coital bliss, and he couldn’t be happier.

...and eventually you’d have to have a serious talk about what you really wanted, what you really need. If you needed to be single for a while, needed to find yourself, needed to sleep with a few other people or go on some dates before he could snatch you back up proper, he could wait for you. 

After all, Mutt was a patient monster.

Chapter Text

Mutt looked up at you dubiously over your application, giving you the once-over.

You didn’t exactly scream “Daddy Issues” like every other girl who came through his doors. But you’d made it past Black’s initial selection process, so you must be serious about the job.

“you’ve got quite the pedigree,” he mentioned, flipping to the second page. “went to all the right schools. minor successes in the stage circuit.”

“Thank you, I’ve really enjoyed it,” you said sweetly, adjusting your skirt so the fabric flowed teasingly over your lap.

His eyelights lingered on your modest skirt, the thin fabric clinging to your legs. Then he looked back at the paper, tapping his pen.

“what made y’want to take this jump? you’re going from my fair lady to making porn, you realize.”

“I’m aware,” you said confidently. He raised a brow and you only smiled. “I need to make a lot of money fast, if I’m honest. All I’ve got going for me is my looks and my acting, and I figure if I can fake it convincingly for my one night stands then porn can’t be so bad.”

He chuckled, caught off-guard with your honesty as he walked around to sit on the desk.

“well, that’s one way to look at it. d’ya have questions fer me before we continue with the interview process?”

“Yes, actually.” You produced a notepad from your clutch and he resisted the urge to laugh at how seriously you were taking this interview. “First question, this is monster on monster or monster on human productions only, correct?”

“it is,” he confirmed, and you circled something.

“Monsters cannot get me pregnant or transfer STDs to me, correct?”

“nope. not the way we do things here, anyhow. we don’t do soul stuff.”

“And will I have veto power over the scripts, scenarios, kinks, and partners I perform with?”

“of course, we’re monsters, not psychos.”

“You’d be surprised what human pornmakers do to their actresses,” you mumbled, circling something. You flipped the page. “Do I get paid a flat rate or based on the revenue of the porn I create?”

“both.” He eyed you curiously as you circled something else. “you came prepared.”

“I did a lot of research for this after I saw your ad.” You returned your notebook to your clutch, placing it on the table next to the couch. “I’m ready to continue the interview.”

“well, quite frankly you’re overqualified,” he said, scratching his chin. “and you’re young yet. m’not tellin’ ya what to do, but surely if you moved to a bigger city you could get more paid roles?”

“I don’t want to move. I have things keeping me here.”

He hummed thoughtfully, looking you over once more. You were very prim and proper, not a hair out of place, but you’d widened your legs just slightly since you noticed his eyelights wander the first time. You’re subtly seductive, with an innocent look about you that they could really sell hard. Must have been what made Black pick you for an audition with him. Mutt only interviewed those his brother considered very special, potential stars, people he thought could go far and make them a lot of money.

His eyes drifted to your chest, a crisp ruched blouse wrapping your perfect breasts and the top three buttons loosed to give a subtle, classy view of the cleavage. Not too big, not too small. Very versatile.

Well, time to see how serious you are.

“alright. i think we can skip the qualifying questions since y’already passed the first selection.” His eyelights met yours and held your gaze as he loosened his tie (horrible things, he was glad he didn’t do this often) and waited to see if you understood what he was up to.

You seemed to get it quickly, because you took your glasses off and removed a clip, letting your hair tumble down to your shoulders. But you didn’t do anything beyond that, waiting for him to move ahead. Smart.

“an audition doesn’t mean you’re hired,” he said, leaning back and hitting the record button, pointing to the webcam on his computer monitor. “and we’re recording. if you aren’t hired, we sign a release that we can’t use the footage.”

“Sounds fair,” you said, running a few fingers through your hair.

“good.” He snapped, and the lights dimmed. “now. seduce me.”

It only took you a moment to read his type. It was clear from the moment you walked in that your interviewer (was Mutt his real name? Seems a silly name for a skeleton) was into a very specific type of girl.

So you knew exactly how to play when he asked you to seduce him.

You looked up at him with pleading eyes, pulling your skirt up to reveal you had no panties on.

“Please. I really, really need this job,” you said, your voice wavering. “I’ll do anything.”

He smirked, pushing off from the desk. “a little obvious, but well done. can i get a little more smouldering temptress?”

You unbuttoned your blouse slowly, fluttering your lashes at him with a coquettish grin.

“very good. shy virgin?” He observed the way you curled in on yourself, a nervous laugh escaping you as he stopped in front of you, being sure to give the webcam a good view. “beautiful, darlin’. now let’s see what that mouth of yours can do, huh?”

To your credit, you showed the correct amount of surprise when he pulled his cock from his slacks, enough to seem excited if a bit frightened, and he couldn’t tell if it was an act or not. Probably not, his cock was huge for humans, but you kept your cool, which was a plus. Least you didn’t run screaming like some.

But the moment you gripped his cock and went to work, all of his calculated, observant tendencies quit and vacated his head. Holy fucking shit, you’re good at that, and he couldn’t help the noises he let loose as you licked and sucked and throated his impressive member. He’d been in a lot of his brother’s productions and fucked a lot of human women, but none of them knew how to hoover a hose like that. You didn’t even hesitate to explore the intricacies of his curious skeletal body, not a single stutter when you went to fondle balls and found none, instead sliding your hand further and gently brushing his pubic symphasis. The broken noise he released at that clued you in on the sensitivity of the area, and you hooked your fingers into the magic, and his knees wobbled, making him brace himself against the couch,one hand finding your hair.

You withdrew with a lewd pop! and the coy smile on your face was alluring and tempting.

You’d pegged him for a brat tamer, and you’d been right.

“Something wrong?” You asked sweetly.

“hands and knees over the armrest,” he commanded, and you hummed, pouting.

“So soon?” You whined, your fingers tracing his pelvic bone and making him shudder. The way his eyelights flashed was a warning, and you wisely took it, sighing heavily and turning to get in position.

Before he could even touch your skirt, you were pulling it up and showing him that glistening peach, and he felt a growl building in his chest.

“Fuck me,” you moaned, gripping the armrest in preparation. “Please, fuck, fill me up with that cock, I can’t stand to wait!”

“shut up,” he hissed, grabbing your hips and sliding his cock across your slit. “good sluts only beg when asked.”

Long, agile fingers prodded your entrance, pushing past your puffy lips. He smirked as he felt how slick you were, can’t fake that, this turns you on. He prepped you dutifully, stretching you with his fingers, not stopping until he heard you squeak in surprise and felt your cunt squeeze around his fingers, another rush of wetness lubing you up.

His cock came next, and you took his impressive length with ease, impressing him more and more with every passing moment as he took you for the test ride of his life. He’d never had another recruit who felt this good, who sounded so good, looked so good–the casting couch was normally an awkward encounter but you were something on a whole other level, and if you were faking it or not didn’t matter because either way this footage would be gold.

“ready for my cum?” He purred into your ear, after a good twenty minutes of relentlessly driving into you. He had you facing him now, and you knew how to cheat toward the camera, showing the real money of his cock impaling you with every thrust.

“Yes, please, I need it,” you gasped, your upstage hand gripping the back of his neck.

He pulled you into his lap, pressing your hips down and cumming, hard, inside you as you moaned and came once more.

There was silence but for the panting filling the small office, before you felt him move you, pulling you off his cock with a wet noise and settling you in his lap again, your back to his chest as he spread your legs, pulling your skirt further up as nimble fingers spread your folds to show your dripping, cum-filled pussy to the camera.

“smile, baby, you just made your first video with us,” he purred into your ear, eyeing the lavender cum dripping from your pussy with satisfaction. “the first of many.”

You laughed and did as you were told.

Chapter Text

Fog.

That’s what it usually felt like.

His head was so foggy. It made him tired to think too hard too fast, and his stamina was already undesirably low. He took forever to answer a question, and sometimes he forgot the question and his answer made no sense.

Frustration.

A constant emotion. Why does it take so long to process what he wants for dinner? He can’t go to restaurants because he can’t stand the waiter standing around waiting for his decision. He can’t stand the shops because it takes 5 whole minutes to answer “Cash or Credit”. On a good day, he at the most makes it out to the garden to lounge in the sun as Sugar tends the garden.

So why he was here, he didn’t even know. But he couldn’t help himself, he had sensed you and somehow his feet had followed before he could think.

…Sunshine.

It’s what he’s taken to calling you in his mind. He’s bad with names, so even though you’d introduced yourself at least three times now, he could only remember that you felt like sunshine: warm and inviting and relaxing. Even in this crowded coffee shop, when you took the moment to smile at him from behind the counter, it’s like the fog lifts and he can think again, he can breathe again, even surrounded by strange faces.

So against his better judgement, if that’s even a thing he has anymore, he’s taken to…following you about. Just things like going to the same store at the same time, so he can focus while he shops, or like walking a few paces behind you to work every day to make sure nobody bothers you, or passing by to check on you from afar throughout the day and clear his head. He can’t think when you’re too far. Can’t do anything.

…Sugar thinks he just suddenly got amped about exercise.

A coffee clicked against the table in front of him and he smiled, feeling the fog wane as he looked up at you.

“What’re you doin’ here, stranger?” You teased, sitting across from him with a coffee of your own, nails a quirky seafoam against the deep brown travel mug.

“y’know, bean here and there. needed a pick-me-up,” he chuckled, taking a sip. It’s sickeningly sweet, compared to his usual black coffee, but the longer order was easy to autopilot at the counter. “saw you workin’ so i thought the line was worth it.”

Damn. If only you knew he was only this quick around you. How do you do that?

“Mmhmm. Nothing to do with how you followed me to work today? Or how you walked by the shop at least 45 times before walking in?”

You watched his one good eyelight constrict in panic, and you were quick to reach out and cover his hand with yours in reassurance. He looked at the joined hands and then back at you, clearly lost, scared, and curious all at the same time, close to overwhelmed.

“Relax, boneboy, I’m not mad. I mean, I’m not blind–you’ve been doing it since you bought all those cookies from me, and it isn’t easy to miss the way you’re always there when I need you.“

The look on his skull said it all to you–he’s so easy to read. Is he scary? Do you think he’s a weirdo stalker? Why are you so calm? When does the bad part happen?

“…not a stalker.”

“Didn’t say you were,” you giggled. “But, if you were my stalker, I wouldn’t mind so much.”

“…don’t get it.”

“Nothing to get,” you chuckled. “…I think it’s cute.”

“…cute?”

“Of course,” your eyes glinted, and for a moment he saw himself reflected there, and it was glorious–his visage through your eyes.

When you leaned over to kiss him gently, all he could do was lean into you, using every ounce of self-control he had left to not throw you down right then and there, in the middle of your workplace in front of all these people.

He’d missed something, hadn’t he? The fog was so hard to keep up with–did you say why you wanted this or were you intentionally doing this with no explanation?

Hell, he doesn’t care. The fog takes over, and mixed with your sunshine it’s…it’s colors in his head, and it’s beautiful, and he doesn’t know what happened next but he knows one thing.

He knows he picked the right human to fall in love with, however accidentally.

Chapter Text

It isn’t often that you doubt yourself in your relationship with Axe.

You’re bright and bubbly and you help him keep track of his life. You’re smart and successful and patient and kind, everything he’s pretty sure he’s never been, even before the injury. He often counts his lucky stars that you decided you enjoyed his presence enough to become his datemate, let alone move in with him. So for him, doubt was totally normal–he doubted himself nearly every day, and he wondered when you’d finally see he was a mess that was never getting better. He’s at 100% already, in both function and mental health, and he regrets how much of a struggle everything is for him and how much stress it must put on you.

He had a tendency to elevate you to some pedestal, and you’d mentioned it before…it’s just hard not to when you deal with so much bullshit day in and day out, patiently repeating his favorite orders to him so he can order for himself, talking to most people for him so he doesn’t have to, cooking when it needs to be done fast but he’s scared of burning it. It’s easy to think you’re inflappable, and though he does have a modicum of confidence from time to time, it’s easy to forget that you have times where you aren’t that confident.

And he’s ashamed of how long it takes him to notice.

“…you ok?” He asked gently at dinner one night, slowly piecing together how little you’d been talking today. Normally you’re a chatterbox, and he loves it, storing away all your little facts and bits of news and opinions to ruminate on later and keep him quick.

You shrugged. “Fine. Why?”

He glanced down at your plate, frowning at the way you were pushing your food around it. He’d seen your decreased appetite the last few days, and though he’d always managed to make sure you finish your food, your reluctance didn’t sit well with him. This was the one thing he excelled at–keeping you fed. Why were you doing this?

“not eating,” he said simply, pushing your plate closer to you. “you only ate your vegetables. don’t you love chicken?”

You hummed and turned away slightly. “I don’t feel so well, I think I’ll go to bed early. I promise I’ll eat extra at breakfast, okay?”

You kissed his cheekbone, and his head filled with pleasant white noise, wiping away his worries immediately. He rushed to pack up the leftovers and join you in bed.

You did eat breakfast. And you sent him pictures of your lunch at work, and your mid-afternoon snack with your sister after you picked her up from school. He asked you to pick Sugar up a doughnut, and thought nothing more of the issue.

Then you came home with Sugar’s doughnut. And one for him, his favorite, with the lemon curd inside.

But…none for you.

He looked at you quizically, but didn’t ask. He knew you’d had frozen yogurt with your sister, so maybe you weren’t craving sweets…but doughnuts were literally your favorite snack, so it was odd.

Dinner was fine, and he even got a little action before bed. You left him buzzing all over, tingling in a happy way as he snuggled close to you.

Little bits of confusion sprinkled over a few days, wiped clean with reassuring kisses and compliments.

It wasn’t until you actively refused a slice of chocolate cake that everything snapped into place.

“you aren’t eating.”

“What?” You looked up at him…annoyed. “Sans, I just don’t want cake right now. I don’t need to eat everything, we can save it.”

“no. i want you to eat,” he insisted, sliding it over to you. “i wanna see it.”

“You just watched me eat dinner twenty minutes ago!”

“i watched you eat broccoli and chicken and subtly avoid serving yourself mashed potatoes,” he said pointedly. “and i saw your bank statement. you ain’t been buyin’ lunch every day, so whoever’s food you been sendin’ pictures of ain’t yours. maybe i’m slow but i’m not actually dumb.”

Guilt flooded your features, and he instantly felt bad for using such a tone with you–he never wanted to see you look so hurt and upset.

“It isn’t like that,” you said softly. “I was just afraid of…using the ‘d’ word around you two.”

“what? you mean diet?” He frowned, trying very hard not to immediately recoil at the suggestion. “…why?”

You shrugged, tugging your cardigan tighter around your shoulders. “Doesn’t matter.”

“it does. doctor?” He cursed his mind for not always letting him form important sentences, especially when upset.

“No…the doctor says I’m pretty healthy, I guess,” you sighed. “I dunno…I just…”

Another shrug. You’re holding back. He can see it in your eyes and posture.

“say it.”

You rolled your eyes, shrugging once more, at a loss. “I don’t know! We had Amanda over the other night, and she was talking about her fitness and weight and…you talked so long about healthy diets and balanced nutrition, and she kept touching your shoulder, and…I thought, you know, she looks so good, like a model, and…”

You trailed off, and though he was piecing it together, he stayed silent, waiting for you to finish.

You sighed and gestured to yourself, those gorgeous curves and the comfy chub he absolutely adored. Yes, your coworker Amanda was thin and pretty, and healthy and fit. But you were curvy and pretty and healthy and fit, and he preferred that, he loved the way looked, as long as you were healthy and felt good.

“I thought, if I looked like that, you know…I thought you might look at me like you looked at her.”

He didn’t mean to, but he laughed. A short, disbelieving laugh. You shrank a bit into yourself, and he turned, touching his aching temples and trying to power through his disabilities.

“i…not funny, but funny. you know?”

His code for “give me a moment to rephrase that, it came out wrong” and you nodded.

He took a breath and tapped his fingers. “wasn’t lookin’ at ‘er like nothin’. just admiring her knowledge and…dedication. i look at you…so much better.”

He frowned, tapping his fingers louder, and then tried again.

“you’re like sunshine. i love every moment i’m around you. i don’t just admire you, i adore you, idolize you. i want to keep you happy. healthy. don’t give a shit about amanda.”

You blushed and smirked as his brain finally kicked into gear–complimenting you was easily the simplest thing to do. He leaned closer and took your hand.

“tell me what you want, and i’ll build a menu around it, but you don’t need to lose a single pound for me,” he said firmly. “early bed?”

“Early bed,” you said, finally smiling a little bit.

He left the cake with Sugar in the living room, bidding him good night, and took you upstairs and pulled you close, fingers wandering and producing that tingling buzz you both enjoyed so much about being together. He whispered praises against your skin and moaned his appreciation for every inch of you, and by the time you fell asleep, you were grinning from ear to ear.

You guess you’ll quit your diet tomorrow. You didn’t really need it, anyway.

Chapter Text

“that one.” Mutt said, his entire face lighting up as he nodded across the cafe. “right there. her.”

Black began to turn, but his brother’s grip on his shoulder stopped him, mostly because attempting to hinder him in any way was such a rare thing that Black could only raise an brow bone at him.

“don’t look. too obvious.” Mutt mumbled, obscuring his words with his coffee cup. “she’ll come over here.”

“HOW DO YOU KNOW?” Black scoffed, tapping the handle of his mug full of an unnecessarily complicated coffee order.

His brother was, above all, an information gatherer. He looked harmless enough, to an extent–a cheerful demeanor, a relaxed posture. Despite being nearly 7 feet tall he had an uncanny ability to blend in, to follow unseen and to know things he shouldn’t.

As such generally Black trusted in his instinct, or in his knowledge. But to be dragged all the way down here on the pretense that Mutt had found the perfect datemate for him? It was wild enough to ask questions.

“just do.” Mutt hummed, eyes looking over Black’s shoulder with a hungry spark before turning to focus on his crossword.

“Hi!”

Black jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion, eyelights swiveling up to see a human standing next to them. He glanced at Mutt, seeing his smug smile, and realized this must be them.

You were cute enough, certainly. And from what he could see, shorter than him which is a rare plus. Other than that you seemed rather plain, even for a human.

“Do you mind if I run this underneath you?” You asked, holding up a charging cord for something. “You must be, like, the only table that has an outlet in here, and my computer is too old to function without it.”

Sneaky Mutt. Black will never understand how he always knows these things. And if he knew that, he had no choice but to trust he was right about the rest.

“OF COURSE! BETTER YET, PULL UP A CHAIR.”

It’s odd.

Since that first day in the cafe, Black had had…mixed feelings about you.

He is absolutely head over heels, of course–thanks in no small part to his brother’s encouragement. He often wonders what life would even be like if Mutt hadn’t introduced the two of you. If he hadn’t subtly slipped Black’s number in your handbag, if you hadn’t called it in curiosity the next day, if you hadn’t somehow ended up at the same place as his brother and him coincidentally nigh on a dozen times.

Everything was perfect, all the way down to the ambient music that had played with suspiciously good timing for your first kiss. He was wary by nature but something about you was enough to make him forget those worries and boil it down to fate.

“SHE’S PERFECT, ISN’T SHE?”

“yep.”

“ALMOST TOO PERFECT.”

“almost. not quite.”

Mutt was a mysterious creature, that much Black already knew as he hummed and leaned back in his chair, wondering if he should look closer or not. You seemed to think Mutt hated you–but he could see something else in his sockets that you couldn’t.

Love.

No, not love.

Obsession.

The same way he had looked at Black since he could remember. A hunger, a sense of ownership, a resolution to protect and keep.