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peasofgreeniguess · 2 months

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Hi, I saw you're request where open and I wanted to throw this in here.

Could I request classic bros, underswap, and underfell with reader who is there best friend and they have the biggest fucking crush on them but won't make a move since reader is with somone, so in this scenario, reader comes home, crying, turns out there now ex-boyfriend just dated them for a dare. Could you make a scenario of that please?

Thank you for reading this! I tried not to go against you're rules and if it did, then please ignore and I'm sorry! Stay safe Irl <3

You did fine! Dw I won’t hunt you down if you made a mistake lol <3 and thank you! You to.

These are LONG- because this was fun lol, so that's why it took so long. (and when i say long i mean LONG)

Classic Sans: sans jolts up from his nap at the sound of the door slamming. He quickly shuffles out of his sheets and out into the hallway, worried that papyrus was in trouble. Only instead of his brother, he sees you, his roommate. Standing in front of the door wet and sobbing, your nice clothes you wore for your date now soaking, dripping onto the carpet. You look up at him with those eyes he's grown to love and his soul breaks for you, holding his hands out as you walk up to him. Sans wraps his arms around you tightly and shortcuts you to your room,letting you go he moves his hands up to your face, gently guiding you to look at him.

"what happened Y/N?" he asks. Tears well up in your eyes and you let out a choked sob. “he he" you stutter "he left me! He said- t-that all i was to him, was a bet! And that I meant nothing to him and he left me! in the rain!!" you cry, tears falling down your face. sans pulls you into a hug again, pushing you head against his ribcage, hiding his face from view. He was livid.

How could anyone be so cruel, especially to you! I mean sure he’s biased. he’s head over heels for you but there’s no question of as to why!! You are so sweet, and pretty, and soft, and so considerate of his brother- you are amazing… but you are still soaking wet… and sobbing into him. Well at least that dick bag is out of the picture, and sans is the one who gets the privilege of taking care of you.

Gently he tells you to take of those clothes, you’ll get a cold, and he goes to grab some fresh clean ones from his room. Handing you one of his oversized shirts to wear. You put it on and sans leads you to bed, he’s about to cover you in blankets and get you some food when you grab him and pull him into bed with you- he overcomes the surprise and submits to you, pulling the blanket over both of you and petting your hair as you curl into him… stars, that jackass doesn’t deserve you, he will show you how a real monster treats their mate.

-----

Undertale Papyrus: papyrus is walking down the sidewalk, happily humming a tune as he carries his bags back home. It’s Saturday! His turn to make dinner for his brother and roommate! Or just his brother today… his roommate was on a date with their boyfriend. Papyrus doesn’t like him that much, he thinks you deserve better, you deserve greatness! Like the great Papyrus!! But alas, you have chosen your mate… but that doesn’t mean he can treat you to his excellent cooking. (One of his many amazing mate skills)

Speaking of his roommate, his phone buzzes in his pocket. He takes it out and looks at the contact, it’s you! Eagerly he answers with a smile, but stops before he says anything… you are crying, why are you crying? You see supposed to be on a date with your mate! Your mate should be drying your tears.

With a sniffle you start to speak, “p-papyrus” you say, your sweet voice filled with sadness- almost breaking his soul in two. “He- he left me!” You cry, sobbing harder over the receiver. “WHAT? WHO LEFT YOU?” Surly you aren’t talking about… “my boyfriend!! He left! He said it was a lie all of it was a lie!” You say, voice cracking on the phone. Papyrus immediately drops his bags on the ground, texting sans where he is so he can pick them up. “WHERE ARE YOU?” Papyrus says sternly, you answer with an address and a papyrus starts sprinting to you.

When he gets there he finds you sitting on the curb, your beautiful outfit you picked out now covered with tear stains and dirt. Papyrus slowly sits down next to you, pulling you into his lap, wrapping his arms around you protectively. He then picks you up causing you to squeak, he apologizes and explains he’s bringing you home. He will make you dinner and drying your tears, he will comfort you. He will be everything that human never could. He will heal your heart and the win it for himself!

-----

Underswap sans: Sans hates your mates guts, he’s an asshole. He treats you like trash, while his sweet little roommate gives everything and more. The first time you introduced your boyfriend to him and his brother, they both knew something was up. So when he found you curled up in his bed crying- he knew who did it. You look up at him from the blankets you wrapped around yourself, sniffling. Sans’ eyes soften as he sets his bag down on the floor, sitting down on the side of the bed. “What Happened?” He asks, you should be on a date right now…

Your eyes fill up with tears once more and you choke out “he left me… he only was with me for a bet…” you say, dropping your face into your hands. Blue coos at you, taking off his gloves and rubs circles on your back. He’s completely calm and empathetic on the outside- on the inside he can feel his magic bubbling with rage. He know that guy was bad news but this was low, his beautiful human all heartbroken…

But they came to him for comfort… they chose him- a he feels a small twinge of guilt at the fact that that makes him so happy. He could treat you millions of times better- he can cook, he can protect you, he’s great with kids! Look how his brother turned out- you deserve someone at magnificent as him, and he will prove that to you. right after he gives you snuggles.

-----

Underswap papyrus: Papyrus is typing away on his computer without a thought in the world, his music on and his inspiration flowing- using it as a distracting from the fact his roommate is on a date with some one who is not him, attempting to curb his envy. After a while he stops, cracking his knuckles and turning his spiny chair away from his desk. Loudly papyrus shrieks, not expecting to see his roommate curled up on his bed with tear streaks on their face- you are supposed to be out! holding a hand to his chest he starts to calm down. "honey- what are you doin here?" he asks, rolling his chair towards the bed. you look up at him and mumble something under your breath. "sorry?" papyrus asks "he broke up with me..." you say louder, pushing your face into the pillows. papyrus pauses- your boyfriend... broke up with YOU! the amazing, beautiful, funny, smart, human in front of him... that guy left YOU???

"w-why?" papyrus says surprised, he truly cannot understand why he would do that. He leans closer to you as you answer, "it was a bet... his friends said if he could... 'tap that' they would get him a ps5" you say, tears falling down your face as you break into sobs. Papyrus's marrow boils, how dare he, and how long have you been in here? Shame and anger crawl up his spine as he thinks of what to do. Part of him wanting to kill that fucking guy and the other desperately wanting to comfort you. but when you lift up your blanket for him to crawl next to you, his choice had been decided for him. "i could really use my cuddle bee" you say, your sweet voice wobbling with every word... how on earth could he say no to that? He crawls into bed with you and holds you close to him, never wanting to let you go... He can go fuck that ex up another day, pulling out his phone he texts his brother to bring up some ice cream and blankets and only a few minutes later you are sitting in his lap, happily watching your favorite movie and sharing a dub of ice cream. ——-

Underfell sans:

Sans has hated your boyfriend guts since the moment you brought him to meet sans and his brother. That ballsack barely got away without half of his face being torn off. You were his mate-roommate… whatever. You are the only person next to papyrus who he’s all soft and mushy around, taking you to movies, buying you stuffed animals, cuddling you… so when he found you crying on the couch he had a idea of who caused it.

“I swear to god- what did he fuckin’ do this time” sans grumbles, grabbing a blanket and wrapping it around you. You sniffle, hiding your face from sans’s eyesight. “Doll-“ you interrupt him “I don’t need you- hic- going to jail” you say in between sobs. Sans sighs and sits next to you, pulling you into his lap like you were a small cat. “Dollface- i promise… I ain’t’ goin to do nuthin… just tell me wha’ happened” he coos, nuzzling his nose into your hair.

“He left me… he only dated me for a bet…” sans grips the blanket harder, almost ripping the fabric under his claws as he holds back a deep growl. “That fuckin bastard” he says, holding you closer. “You promised you wouldn’t-“ sans shushes you softly, “i know, I know, I won’t… doll I’m so sorry”

Sans moves his hand to your head, gently using his claws to massage your scalp and guiding you to lean on his chest as he starts purring. He knows you love listening to his purrs, the rhythmic rumble relaxing you. Sans knows it’s working as your crying slows until eventually stopping. He will hold you however long you need him to, after all, it’s not often a monster as tough as him falls for a human like you.

——-

Underfell papyrus:

Papyrus grumbles as he flicks the frying pan in his hand, hot flames of the stovetop and the bustling of the other chefs in the kitchen. The chaotic dance that is cooking, papyrus enjoys his work, it’s his safe space. No brother, no frustratingly cute roommate- just him and the food he cooks. And he’s a damn good cook. That is until his safe space is invaded.

“Chef! We have a quest requesting you!” A human server says, Papyrus looks up with a scowl and walks over, straightening his chefs whites. The server leads him to a table, and to his misfortune sits you. He curls his lip at you harshly, “WHAT DO YOU WANT?” He says. you look up at him with tear stained eyes, why were you crying? Shouldn’t you be with your mate if you are upset? That’s his job. Before he could ask anything you answer his questions.

“He broke up with me” you state, wiping a tear from your face. Papyrus stares at you in shock- why on earth would someone leave you willingly? He would be the last to actually admit it but- he likes you. A lot. You meet all his very high standards so the fact that a puny human would reject you was asinine. “WHY ON EARTH WOULD HE DO THAT?” He asks, pulling out a chair and sitting down, “AND WHY WOULD YOU BITCH TO ME ABOUT IT”

You look down at the table. “I didn’t know who else to talk to…” you take a shaky breath, “and he left me for a bet… the whole thing was because of a bet, he never loved me, he didn’t even like me” papyrus leans back in his chair, folding his arms. “I don’t know why I came here- you don’t like me either” you say, tears welling in your eyes. But as you turn to leave papyrus grabs your arm gently. “HE IS A FOOL”

“What?” You ask, shock clear on your face. “THAT MAN IS A FOOL, YOU ARE A AMAZING MATE. YOU MET ALL MY STANDARDS SO YOU WERE FAR TO GOOD FOR HIM ANYWAYS” he gets up, leading you out of the restaurant “COME, I WILL FIX YOU FOOD AT HOME” he says walking out. He may not be good with words, but papyrus is good with cooking, and besides, everyone knows LOVE is the most important ingredient, and he has a lot of that for you. Even if it takes a while for him to admit it.

#undertale #papyrus #sans x reader #papyrus x reader #headcannons #sans #underfell #underswap #underfell papyrus x reader #underfell sans x reader #underswap sans x reader #underswap papyrus x reader #ask #long post

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ithinkabouttzu · 9 months

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Ateez reaction to being big spoon ｡･:*˚:✧｡

genre: Romance; fluffy

warnings: kissing; a little suggestive on wooyoungs.

Description: The members of ateez reaction to being “big” spoon while cuddling you.

Hongjoong: He’s in his element when he’s holding you. It’s the best place to be. Best believe he is holding you while about to fall asleep or watching a movie. Really just anytime when he gets home and misses your touch. Soft kisses on your cheeks and neck, and the way his fingertips dance onto the side of your waist. He’s so soft and warm and gentle, he loves you so much and that’s one of his ways of showing it to you.

Seonghwa: He loves just wrapping his arms around you and finding a comfy spot in the crease of your neck. He’ll hold you on bad days, good days, warm nights, cold mornings, he can’t imagine what it would be like not to wake up or fall asleep with you in his arms. Kisses kisses kisses!!! He loves just kissing behind your ear or on the back of your neck, really just anywhere he can access, he is completely in love with you & ur cuddles!! :)

Yunho: Big spoon KINGGG, he lovessss just holding after having a bad day, the only better thing he has to do is hold onto you like you’re his favorite pillow until he’s fast asleep. I swear it’s the most comforting thing you’ll ever feel, his warm arms around your waist, feeling his soft breaths on your hair, it’s so calming and sweet. He’ll never let you go, not even if the house is almost on fire. Please never let this baby stop holding u

Yeosang: While he’s big spoon, he’s so fluffy and cute. Playing with your hair, and asking you how your day was. He’s probably the most positive when he’s cuddled up with you. Ughhh he just loves being that close with you, like he just feels complete. He’ll make sure over and over if you’re comfortable with your position and if you want to switch it up that you guys can, either way it’s so adorable.

San : He’ll be giggly and so excited every minute that he’s big spoon. Getting to be as close as possible to you is honestly a gift and he’s so thankful. Prepared to be soaked with his sloppy kisses all over your shoulder and back 😭 He’ll try and bring you closer and closer to him even though there is no physical way possible to do that LOL, he will not waste anytime just whispering in your ear how much he loves you.

Mingi: BEST CUDDLER EVERRR, sweet baby just loves holding you as tight as he can, you even have to tell him to loosen up a little bit just because he’s holding you so tight. He’s so soft and sweet holding you. And he almost ALWAYS falls asleep when he’s holding you, it’s just routine. That’s why you made a deal with him that you guys can spoon while watching a movie, bc he falls asleep before the movie barely even starts 😭

Wooyoung: He’s so flirty when he’s big spoon, whispering all kinds of things in your ear, like how cute you look under his touch, or how good he would look on top of you. He really has no chill. And when he’s really feeling spicy, he might even say some shit like, “Cmon baby, move on me, I wanna feel you” like OMGGG. But when he’s not like that he’s just so clingy and cute. Holding onto for dear life the whole time and never letting go.

Jongho: Please, PLEASE, let him serenade you while he’s big spoon. He loves just holding you close when he’s sleepy. It feels so completing to him after a long day. He usually takes that time to tell you how much he loves you. All that cute boyfriend stuff. He also catches himself just playing with your hair while being big spoon, either just swirling it, or twisting it around his finger. He’s your personal teddy bear when he’s big spoon.

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atinycafe · 10 months

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"hey pretty"

you offer no response, shutting the door behind you as you enter the room. tossing your bag carelessly to the floor, you kneel beside the countless sneakers belonging to san and mingi, scattered haphazardly around the room.

you reach down to untie your air forces, dropping the first shoe onto the ground. the movement catches your boyfriends' attention, but they remain silent, watching you intently.

"bad day?" san asks softly from his spot on the couch, seated next to mingi. their eyes fixate on you, concern etched in their gazes.

"bad day." you mumble in confirmation, proceeding to untie your other black shoe. however, the lace gets snagged, and your fingers fumble clumsily. you pull harder, but instead of loosening, the knot tightens even more. it becomes the breaking point for you.

a sob escapes your lips, and you bury your face in your hands, too weary to do anything else. your body quakes on the floor as tears stream down your face. you want the crying to stop, to take a breath, but you find yourself caught in a strange battle of attempting both and choking in the process.

the crying intensifies, and you feel your nails digging into your eyebrows, a feeble attempt to hide away momentarily. you're tired, utterly exhausted, and all you crave is sleep. yet, with your shoe trapped on your foot, you can't retreat to the solace of your sheets.

taking another shaky breath, you sense a shadow falling across your face, momentarily shielding you from the light. you don't budge from your position, continuing to cry. a cold hand gently rests upon your own, and you flinch softly, caught off guard. the thumb begins to rub tenderly against your skin.

you recognize the touch as san's. he coos softly, coaxing your hands away from your face. initially, you resist, not wanting him to witness the streaked mascara and runny nose. however, he manages to gently coax you out of your shell.

when your eyes meet his, you're met with a gentle gaze, his eyes locked with yours as he squats in front of you. his smile is soft, and the tears flow even harder, his tenderness overwhelming you in this moment. he chuckles softly, bringing his large hands up to wipe away your tears, pinching your cheeks gently.

"my big girl what's wrong mmh?" he croons, his voice filled with affection. "what's got you like this huh my strong girl?" the endearing nicknames tug at your heart, causing you to cry even more.

"awnn, it's okay baby, big girls cry when it gets too hard," he nods understandingly, validating your emotions. you reciprocate with a nod of your own, sniffling. he brings his thumb to your cheekbone.

"i'll go make you hot cocoa, want that?" you nod again, the sobs calming slightly at his soothing whispers.

"your words baby, can you use them for me?" he encourages you softly, and you manage a meek "yes please," stuttering through your soft sobs. he presses a tender kiss to your lips and smiles, placing his hands on his knees as he stands up. it's then that you finally notice mingi's tall figure behind him.

mingi, too, crouches down in front of you, silently taking your foot clad in a shoe into his large hands. he deftly works on untying the shoelace, his long fingers effortlessly undoing the knot you struggled with. once untied, he removes the sneaker from your foot, placing it neatly aside, a stark contrast to his own untidy ones beside the black pair.

he grasps both of your feet and begins tickling them, eliciting tired giggles from you. finally, a smile breaks across his face as he witnesses your own. he pulls you closer, tugging at your legs and sliding his hands beneath your thighs. lifting you effortlessly, the two of you rise to your feet, and you simply rest your head against his solid chest, briefly closing your eyes as he carries you to the couch. the paused episode of "law & order" flickers on the television. he settles down, you still cradled in his arms, and he gently eases you off him so that you're sitting upright. he helps you remove your bomber jacket, tossing it onto the nearby couch. tapping your thigh, he signals for you to stand up so he can remove your denim skirt, but you shake your head.

"please no, wanna stay close to you please," your voice cracks on the second "please," and he sighs.

"okay tiny," his deep voice emerges softly from his lips as he pulls you closer, his forehead gently touching yours. "you've got a fever pretty."

"makes sense, head hurts like a bitch," you close your eyes, inhaling the minty scent that wafts from his laughter.

"san, bring me some ibuprofen," mingi calls out to san, who responds with a sweet "okay!" you flinch at the loud sound, the throbbing in your head intensifying. mingi notices and places his large hands over your ears, the pressure offering some relief. "sorry baby, didn't mean to be loud."

"'s okay princess." he smiles at the cute nickname and kisses your forehead.

he assists you in removing your black turtleneck, and then proceeds to remove his own t-shirt. moving closer, he goes to unclasp your bra, seeking your consent with a fingertip poised on the clasp. you give a soft nod, your eyes growing heavy with exhaustion. he removes your bra, joining it with the rest of your discarded clothes. finally, he pulls you back into his embrace, handling you delicately until your chests align. the coolness of his skin instantly soothes you, and you release a sigh of relief. he snakes his hands around your waist, tracing star patterns along your spine, whispering compliments into your ear.

san returns to the room, placing a large brown mug and two blue translucent pills on the glass table in front of you. he quickly exits but reappears with micellar solution and a handful of cotton pads.

taking a seat beside you, he lifts your face from its place in the crook of mingi's neck, causing you to emit a soft moan of protest. he hushes you gently, his smile radiant as ever. "come on, look at me, pretty. you don't want to sleep with makeup on your face."

he wets a cotton pad with the micellar water and proceeds to cleanse your face with delicate motions, barely perceptible against your skin. then, using a dry pad, he gently removes any lingering traces of the liquid.

"baby too sleepy for the cocoa?" san inquires, running a hand through your hair, his brow furrowing as he detects the dampness on your hairline. not out of disgust, but rather out of worry because the room is too chilly for you to be perspiring. he turns around, stretching to retrieve the folded blanket at the end of the couch, reluctant to leave your side. unfolding it, he covers you, tucking it between mingi's back and the couch, creating a soothing cocoon.

"no, want it" you whine in a broken voice, and both boys smile at your fragile form, finding you irresistibly adorable. "ah, so bossy," san remarks as he takes the cup and pills, inserting one into your mouth before bringing the cup to your plush lips, helping you swallow. he repeats the process with the second pill.

"want another sip baby?" he coos, noting the way you scrunch your nose. he exchanges a glance with mingi, both of them deeply in love with you, their stomachs still fluttering with butterflies even after all these years.

"no, just one marshmallow, please" you request, extending your hand from beneath the blanket to show them your index finger, emphasizing the importance of having only one.

san's smile widens, his blush evident on his face at your endearing plea, while mingi takes your fingers and presses a kiss to them, producing a loud smooching sound that elicits a soft laugh from you.

"say ahh"

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esmedelacroix · 4 months

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11 days til' Christmas

ot8!ateez and their drunken habits on christmas ⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅̩̩͙‧͙ ‧͙̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚₊⋆

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Hongjoong - The Clingy One

You were at Hongjoong's childhood house for the holidays celebrating Christmas with his family. There was a reason Hongjoong didn’t like drinking too much around his group members but you didn’t know what it was.

You would find out this Christmas when you made him a cocktail. Hongjoong’s family naturally welcomed you with open arms after he had made the revelation that you were a bartender.

They were tired of just drinking plain soju every year. When you got into the kitchen you made a multitude of holiday-themed alcoholic beverages.

“Here you go,” you said as you slid Hongjoong his fifth dirty snowman(spiked hot chocolate) of the night.

He was so lost in conversation with his cousins that he didn’t realize how much he had been drinking. That was until he wrapped his arm around your waist and nuzzled his head into the crook of your neck. “You good?” you asked him as you continued to make a drink for his mom.

“Yeah,” he murmured into your neck.

It was sweet but very out of character for him. He was very touchy but usually in private. You turned to look at him, noticing that he had the worst flush you had ever seen.

“Oh my god, Hongjoong, are you drunk?” you asked between giggles.

“Nooooo,” he denied as he hugged you again and kissed your neck.

“Yea you are,” you said laughing.

“Ugh, that’s how my boy always is, always hugging and saying ‘I love you’ when he’s drunk,” his mother chuckled as she came into the kitchen.

“You’re not going to be able to get him off of you for the rest of the night,” his cousin chimed in.

Although it was uncommon for Hongjoong to be this affectionate in public places it felt kind of nice.

On top of being clingy, he also got very quiet and gloomy when you weren't around and tried to lock himself in the cabinet??!!

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Seonghwa - The Sleepy Beauty

The electricity was out and you and Seonghwa were curled up in front of your fireplace wrapped in a blanket building a Lego Death Star while keeping each other warm.

It was the most brutal snowstorm of the year. You could hear the screams and shouts of little children playing outside in the snow. The sounds of sled racing down the hill you lived on and the drip drip drop of the tap in the kitchen never really stopped. We have to get that checked out, you thought to yourself

You and Seonghwa made it a mission to try and finish the eggnog that was sitting in the fridge before it went bad. Once you got tired of the taste, you both decided to go for the wine instead. It was Christmas anyway.

"Finally," you sighed as the two of you finally finished the Death Star as well as two bottles of red wine.

"It looks amazing right Seonghwa?" you asked after hearing no response he felt something touch your lap.

Seonghwa had passed out just from drinking some wine. Or maybe you just could hold alcohol a lot better than he could. You felt really bad that you didn't slow down and make sure that he was okay.

You ran your hands through his hair slowly. You heard him hum at the relaxing feeling. "You're awake?" you asked.

"Hmm," he answered confirming he was still awake.

"Oh goodness, I thought you passed out," you sighed in relief.

You handed him water to help him sober up. He was still just very tired. You vaguely remember Hongjoon talking about how quiet and tired Seonghwa got whenever he was drunk.

The two of you curled up by the fireplace and napped for almost the rest of the day, one of your best Christmas' yet.

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Yunho - The (Bad)Dancer

Once all the Christmas festivities came to an end and both of your families left your place you and Yunho were gassed. Of course, you enjoyed having both your families over but it was no easy feat hosting a holiday celebration.

Thankfully they had all left quite early but the two of you were bored and seeking some excitement. What better place to go than to a bar on Christmas night?

Most weren't open for the holidays but one was. The bar was mostly full of singles moping over beers, and old men watching soccer matches on the TV because half of the town lost their electricity.

The two of you took a seat at the be together. "Is that really you?" Sang-hee, your best friend and owner of the bar, quipped as she gave Yunho a nod hello.

"Merry Christmas Sang-hee, can we start with two milk and cookie shots and two Mrs. Claws Cocktails," you asked as you put your purse down.

"Of course, that on the house, but what are you two doing at a bar on Christmas night? Should you be getting freaky deaky by the fireplace?" she asked as you made your drinks.

The two of you laughed at her teasing feeling the heat rise up to your cheeks. "Just give us our drinks Snag-hee," you said, rolling your eyes playfully.

The two of you finished your drinks while talking your heads off with Sang-hee joining in occasionally. "Sang-hee, two peppermint bark shots please," Yunho said, feeling all giddy and tingly getting buzzed.

"I don't think I'll drink anymore, I still need to drive," you said as you sipped your water.

"Then I'll drink for you," Yunho reassured as he took your shot.

He started to stagger a bit and slur his words and you realized that it was probably time to go home. You turned to face Yunho but he was no wear to be found.

"Hey, have you seen-," you started before being interrupted by lots of laughter and clapping behind you.

Once you turned toward the commotion, you saw your husband dancing like a lunatic on the dance floor. You let out a sigh and watched him dance his heart out. It was a common occurrence for him to start dancing when he was wasted but it was never good.

Every time you told him that he danced when he was drunk, he never believed you. So you took the liberty to take out your phone and videotape him dancing.

Once he began to trip over his own feet you knew it was definitely time to take him home. You draped his arm over your shoulder and helped him walk out as the whole bar cheered for him and asked for one more performance.

As you drove him home he still continued to bob his head violently to the music playing and you couldn't help but laugh to yourself.

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Yeosang - The Nonsense Texter

It was the first Christmas since you started dating Yeosang that you had to do it long distance. After your own Christmas celebrations, you got into bed and texted Yeosang. You had seen in his story that he had gone drinking with his group members that night.

You: yeosangie! how was your Christmas?

Yeosang: g

Yeosang: goo

You: what?

Yeosang: D u lov me?

You: um yes?

Yeosang: rely?

You: yes, are you drunk?

You laughed to yourself in your bed realizing that he was definitely drunk. It was very uncommon for Yeosang. He held his alcohol very well, you had only ever seen him drunk on occasion but you never took him for a drunken texter.

Yeosang: who i this?

You: It's me babe 😭❤️

Yeosang: what?

You: yeosangie?

Yeosang: ples stob it, only my girfrend calls me tha

You: i am your girlfriend...

Yeosang: o, hi baby

You chuckled to yourself at his texting. He barely made any sense. You took some screenshots just in case he tried to delete the messages out of embarrassment.

You: i'm going to let you sleep now, gn

Yeosang: who is thi?

You chuckled putting your phone away, getting ready for bed. You were so ready to tease him about it in the morning.

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San - The flirt

Christmas was definitely interesting with San staying at your house. You asked him to be on his best behavior at home but your parents didn't really mind with playful manner.

It was your first time bringing a boyfriend home, especially for such an important holiday.

Your parents were ecstatic that you were bringing a boy home and took every chance to embarrass you. Whether it was your dad telling him about your failed attempts at dating in high school or your mom showing him your baby and puberty photos.

San teased you about your emo phase throughout Christmas Eve dinner and you swore to get your revenge once you went to his parents’ place for New Year's.

Christmas Day was always hectic at your house. You were always cooking dishes and making sure everyone looked good for photos.

That Christmas you would be the one to make dessert and you dragged San into your endeavors. The two of you finally agreed on making strawberry swirl cheesecake after much debating.

At your shared apartment you and San always cooked while drinking wine so you did just that. San had a bit too much to drink but he was having a good time at dinner.

But your father kept filling his wine glass and he felt bad saying no so he just kept drinking. San would usually just be all lovey-dovey with you when he was drunk so you wouldn’t mind your family seeing him wasted.

To your support, he put his arm around your mom’s shoulders and kept on trying to make advances. It was entertaining, to say the least, he didn’t do anything crazy but he had mistaken your mom for you.

The two of you did look alike but she was flattered at how young he thought she looked.

It took you shaking his shoulder and reminding you of your existence, for him to stop flirting with your literal mother.

Your dad thought it was cute and your family couldn’t stop laughing about it even the next day. Once they had informed San about it he was humiliated. You poked fun at him about it, giving him the karma he deserved for making fun of your emo era.

In the bed, he got what he deserved but you concluded that you couldn’t take your flirty drunk boyfriend anywhere.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Mingi - The Walking Speaker

You and Mingi were ready for Christmas. There were gifts under the tree. All the shopping was done and the house was prepared to receive your friends and family for the holidays.

The two of you finally plopped down on your couch and popped open a bottle of wine to share. The two of you silently enjoyed each other’s presence cuddled on the couch.

Mingi didn’t usually drink alcohol. He had made an effort not to drink years ago but he occasionally drank with you and his closest friends from time to time.

He got drunk pretty quickly. He often talked about holding his alcohol well but once he drank a bit he was wasted.

You decided to put the bottle and join Mingi on the couch. You could decide on a Christmas movie to watch. You wanted to watch “Love Hard”(one of the best Christmas movies ever) and Mingi wanted to watch “Love Actually”(the worst Christmas ‘romance’ film to ever exist).

You decided to just let Mingi choose any movie but “Love Actually” and he chose to watch “The Grinch Who Stole Christmas” The two of you were polar opposites when it came to romance films. You had the correct opinions and he had the wrong ones.

He liked, “The Notebook” and “Lala Land”(most overhyped romances) You loved, “It’s a Boy Girl Thing” and “Dirty Dancing”(best movies ever).

Halfway through the scene in the Grinch’s layer, Mingi yells, “Oh no, is he going steal Christmas?”

“Oh my god, you scared me,” you said placing a hand over your pounding heart.

"Sorry!" he shouted right in your ear laughing at your reaction.

“Oh Mingi, must you always be this loud?” you complained leaning your head against his shoulder.

“Jagiya, let’s play a game,” he suggested pausing the movie.

“Okay,” you said skeptically.

You knew exactly what game he was talking about and you let out an exaggerated sigh. Mingi’s favorite game to play when he was drunk was a game where you yell in the other person's face and see who does it louder.

So you spent the next minute yelling in each other's faces before you rested your head in his lap unable to contain your laughter.

“Okay that’s enough,” you chuckled.

The two of you continued the movie along with Mingi’s loud and unhinged reactions to the Grinch ruining Christmas for all the whos in Whoville.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Wooyoung - The Gossip/Eavsdropper

You were having lunch with Wooyoung after a successful day of last-minute Christmas Eve shopping. "Feels so good to be done," you sighed after the two of you ordered your food.

"Finishing Christmas shopping should be a celebration in itself, so I ordered us a bottle," Wooyoung replied.

"Seriously? The plan wasn't to get day drunk," you joked, shaking your head at him.

"We won't get day drunk, I hold my liquor pretty well," he said.

"That's what you say every single time. Then I end up having to haul your ass into the car," you teased.

"Well not this time," he assured.

But then it was one glass. Then two, then one more.

You only had a bit because you knew you would be driving the two of you home. Wooyoung wasn't all that crazy when he was drunk he acted almost completely normal. Almost.

"Did you hear that?" he asked.

You shook your head about to ask him what he was talking about but he violently shushed you. He listened to something attentively for a minute before finally turning back to you.

"The two girls behind us are seeing the same guy," he whispered.

"No way," you gasped.

"I don't like to gossip but I think one of them is his wife and the other is the mistress," he said, leaving you completely gagged.

"And get this, the mistress is 15 years younger than him," he started.

"No," you said in denial.

"And they're both in on it, they're planning to share his money when the geezer dies," he continued.

"You gotta be kidding me," you denied as you sipped your mocktail.

"Because the two women are seeing each other, they're dating behind the guy's back," he finished.

Your mouth was hanging open, you were completely gagged and impressed at his eavesdropping skills.

"But I'm not gossiping," he said.

"Yes you are, you always do when you’re drunk," you teased, getting ready to leave.

"I am not drunk," he rebutted as he took your hand and slid it into his pocket to keep you warm.

You leaned your head on his shoulder before saying, "I love you,"

"Babe, I think I'm drunk," he replied.

You laughed at his very late realization and enjoyed your afternoon with him as he gossiped some more.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

Jongho - The Liar

Christmas dinner with your boyfriend Jongho and his group members was a tradition that you always looked forward to. It was nice to see Jongho interact with his friends.

Even more fun to drink alcohol with all of them. You had never ever seen Jongho drunk, maybe a little tipsy but never drunk. The goal every year was to outdrink him but you always got wasted way before him and ended up having to go home early.

It was ironic how he was the youngest out of all of his group members and could still outdrink all of them. He was the oldest and the youngest in a way.

The two of you were running a little late but when you finally arrived you were greeted with smiles and hugs from everyone. All of you sat and exchanged gifts and got straight to partying.

Once everyone but Jongho(of course) was pretty much buzzed and all of you were tired of the drinking games you started talking about their latest comeback.

"The tour was so crazy, did you see how Wooyoung put the cake in Hongjoong's face?" Mingi chuckled.

"Yeah, I saw the video, it was hilarious," you laughed.

"Yeah, did you also see when we performed with Beyoncé?" Jongjo asked.

"What?! You guys met Beyoncé?" you asked, extremely shocked that you were never informed of this.

"Yeah we're working on a song with her don't tell anyone though," he revealed nonchalantly.

You looked around at his members in shock. They all nodded along holding in laughter and Mingi confirmed it was true with a snicker.

"What? Why are you guys laughing?" you asked cluelessly.

"He's tipsy," Yeosang said.

Jongho? Tipsy? Your Jongho, was tipsy?

"He lies when he's intoxicated," Yeosang explained.

You never thought you'd live to see the day he was drunk. You found it so cute that he couldn’t tell the truth when he was drunk either.

Sharing this moment with him was the best Christmas gift ever. Even though he still ended up having to carry you up the stairs because you had passed out.

----------------------------------------------------------------------

taglist:

@aripet22

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arceal-doodles · 2 years

Photo

headcannon where paps 100% knows how to cook and undyne is the only one who knows... so he has some fun with it.

bonus:

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shadowy-suitcase-herring-neck · 5 months

Note

The idea of lil baby Nightmare pretending to be a dragon was so cute I had to draw something, you're so right he would have read so many dragon books

GYXVNVUHBNEAIUBEUINAJBNTUYGNBFTCYNYBIUt Your artstyle is so squishy!/pos <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 <3 < 3 YES! THE BABU! HE IS A MIGHTY DRAGON! >:D Don't worry nightmare Dream just wants to play too :) they can play Dragons together! and then Dream gets Nightmare a lil Dergon stuffy :>

He has named it Stabbo. Stabbo the dragon. thank you @fireladyofink for helping me name the dergon :3

#herrings rambles #herrings mailbox #I find this headcannon so fitting for Nightmare X3 #iwehcwhnguihnweruithiocwehrot The LAD! THE BOY!#Let him live out his dragon fantasies #passive nightmare sans #nightmare sans

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jjunieworld · 21 days

Text

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞATEEZ MASTERLIST minors dni with my nsfw works or you’ll be blocked!

key: fluff (☁️), angst (🌪️), smut (🥛), smau (📲), written series (📖), one shot (📓), drabble (📄), other (💬), ongoing (🎬), completed (📨), hiatus (📪), discontinued (🗑️) note: for my works, i consider drabbles to be under 2k words. ∿ [ continue on to . . . works in progress or request ]

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞOT8/MULTI

nothing yet . . . !

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞSEONGHWA 𐙚 soft thoughts ⋆ hard thoughts

nothing yet . . . !

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞHONGJOONG 𐙚 soft thoughts ⋆ hard thoughts

nothing yet . . . !

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞYUNHO 𐙚 soft thoughts ⋆ hard thoughts

nothing yet . . . !

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞYEOSANG 𐙚 soft thoughts ⋆ hard thoughts

nothing yet . . . !

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞSAN 𐙚 soft thoughts ⋆ hard thoughts

nothing yet . . . !

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞMINGI 𐙚 soft thoughts ⋆ hard thoughts

eyes roll⌇0.6k - 📄,🥛 in which your boyfriend mingi begs you to climb on top of him while having sex and ride him until he finishes.

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞWOOYOUNG 𐙚 soft thoughts ⋆ hard thoughts

nothing yet . . . !

𓍢 𖣔 ﾞJONGHO 𐙚 soft thoughts ⋆ hard thoughts

nothing yet . . . !

60 notes · View notes

riftfic · 9 months

Text

14. Human

Who will save you now?

Warnings: strong language, referenced suicide, violence

Featured Characters: Sans, Chara/Frisk (Reader), Flowey/Asriel, Wingdings Gaster, Asgore Dreemurr

Note: If you haven't read the previous chapters recently (maybe even if you have outside the past few days), I recommend giving it another read. It's definitely not a requirement, but I added some extra details throughout the story and a few more scenes, most notably in Chapters 3 & 9, that should help the ending feel even more satisfying.

Several years later . . . here's the next chapter.

< Load | RESET | Continue >

From a single strip at the Underground’s heart, Waterfall tunneled away into a boneyard mess of caves. In one direction, the passage to Hotland sprawled in mushroom-light mazes and a boulder choke disguising Tem Village. In the other, a quiet bubble harbored a simple mouse, neck deep in plans to retrieve a wedge of crystallized cheese. Between them, from a silver door that had only been there sometimes, Sans stepped out into a flood of bioluminescence.

Though a door latched shut behind him, dark, damp stone replaced the surface he reclined against now. Its cold, unyielding texture met his fingertips, a reminder that there would be no second visit.

He clutched the spindly metal bars of that unnaturally gray birdcage. He tucked his chin over the iron rung at its peak, hardly dousing the light of the small monster soul trapped inside.

The task set before him was unconscionable. Even if he managed to survive . . .

“i can’t do that,” he had resisted. “i can’t kill Frisk!”

“They shouldn’t even be alive,” said Wingdings.

The words took Sans by surprise. He set his heels despite the encroaching void and a minute hand nearing his final stroke of midnight.

“oh, but ya want me to take this soul all the way back to asriel, huh?” he said. “make sure he survives? double standard, if y’ask me.”

"I didn't say it was fair,” Wingdings hardly breathed. His eyes gained urgency. “The human . . . might survive, if they're determined enough. But after you pull the lever . . .”

At that, Sans’ anger siphoned away, leaving behind a fear much broader than the fate of one human child. Their mistake had set so many events into motion. Lives had been built and destroyed, paths forged and buried. The machine could rewrite the course of everything as easily as it could leave the butterfly effect intact. They could remain here in the present or be sucked back to the day it all began. With a phenomenon this unpredictable, just about anything could happen . . . but whatever world they left behind, at least it might survive.

“if i do use their soul to run the machine,” Sans said more calmly, “what’ll happen to asriel, then? to me? to the underground? heck, what’ll happen to you?”

It was clear to Sans by the frown on Wingdings’ face that his brother had already considered this question. Despite his ingenuity, the once royal scientist only shook his head.

“I don’t know,” he said, “but I do know what’ll happen if you don’t.”

In the present, Sans beat his fist against the rock behind him. Why did it have to be so fucking twisted? Why his Frisk? And why did he have to be the one to do it? Maybe it didn’t have to work out like this. Maybe there was more time than Dings thought. Maybe he could find another way.

His phone buzzed rhythmically at his waist. He pulled it from his coat pocket and looked at the screen. The image of Papyrus illuminated those shadowy cavern walls below several missed call notifications. Sans took a deep, shaking breath, then another, and answered.

“pup . . .”

“SANS!” Papyrus shouted. “I’VE BEEN TRYING TO REACH YOU FOR HOURS!”

“oh.”

“I’M NEARLY TO NEW HOME. A FRIEND HAS INFORMED ME THAT THE HUMAN IS IN TERRIBLE, TERRIBLE DANGER! IS THAT TRUE?!”

Sans nearly broke down then and there. Though seeing Wingdings again had restored many of the deeper cracks in his soul, it still felt fragile, even more when considering the path ahead of him.

“more than true,” he whispered.

A patch of silence followed. Sans dropped his cheek to rest on birdcage bars.

“tell me it’s gonna be all right,” he murmured into the receiver.

“Sans . . . where are you?” Papyrus asked, more gently than was typical.

“just tell me, please.”

“It’s . . .” Papyrus sighed. “It is going to be all right. Now, WHERE ARE YOU?”

Hearing the words in his brother’s voice quelled Sans’ fear, enough to return strength to his limbs. He lingered on the phone a moment longer, as if the connection truly placed him at Papyrus’ side.

“meet you there,” he said.

You followed in Asgore’s shadow, watching the folds of his cape sway and collide like cattails in the wind. His silhouette consumed yours. He could hold all of you in one hand, let alone the tiny red soul he sought to claim.

Past the end of that long hallway mirror of the Ruins, the barrier undulated with powerful magic. Its waves of golden white licked the crackled stone as if in search of escapees. It contoured Asgore’s silhouette in a crisp white line as he turned to face you.

That all-too-familiar smile prickled the fur along his muzzle. Looking up into his apologetic eyes, you remembered his hands on your shoulders, his all-encompassing embrace that threatened to lose you in his fur. The macaroni pictures, the crayon drawings, the sweaters . . . the buttercup pie. You shuddered.

“Human,” said the king of all monsters. His powerful voice trembled, and the earth trembled with it. “It was nice meeting you. . . . Goodbye.”

He held his trident firmly in both hands and lowered his head . . . but a stoplight glow kept his chin from falling too far. There you stood, hands outstretched, red soul hovering above your palms.

“I’m the last one,” you said.

Asgore stared at the heart-shaped spirit as if entranced. Its warmth illuminated your fingers with ruby firelight. It was in the crimson glint of your eyes, however, that he became lost, captured in the clutch of a ghost from years long gone.

“Do I . . . know you?” he asked, bewildered both by the situation and the question itself.

“Please, take it,” you said. Tears fell down your face. “It’s no good for anything else.”

Asgore’s eyes widened with recognition. “Chara . . . ?”

Intense heat flared in the hallway behind you. Before Asgore could say anything more, a brilliant ball of flame had launched him into the cavern wall. Flecks of gray stone spat out among a field of clouds.

You swung to face the spellcaster. Toriel stood framed in the doorway, her face scrunched in a scowl like a snarling lion. One smoking arm remained outstretched, clenched in a fist.

“What a miserable creature,” she growled, “torturing such a poor, innocent youth.”

You hadn’t known what path the timeline had taken or whether your friends would convene . . . yet Toriel had arrived, exactly the same as before. Though you may have jokingly called her “mom,” the name now rang through your head with the purity of a windchime in the breeze.

Undyne, Alphys, and Papyrus appeared after her, along with a swath of others you had met along the way. You wanted to tell them to turn back, that you did not deserve them, that if they had known the demon you truly were, they never would have wanted to be your friend.

Your color drained. As they approached, a web of vines crawled after them along the dark ceiling and cavern floors.

You ran to Asgore, who sat slumped amid rubble and a brand new hallway door in the shape of his back. He grumbled in discomfort. A layer of dust coated his royal robes and golden mane, which he shook like a dog. You slid to your knees beside him.

“Hurry, please!” you blubbered to the stunned monster king. You proffered your soul as if it were on fire. “There isn’t a lot of time . . . !”

Toriel snatched you back by the shoulders.

“What has come over you, my child?” she demanded. “Do you not know what he means to do with it?”

“Mom, I . . .”

“Frisk.” Her eyes had begun scanning the room in fright. “Where is Sans?”

The path to the barrier gave Sans more difficulty than expected. The last time he had attempted these roads with fewer than two shortcuts, he had been a century younger and taking his time, mushroom hunting with young Papyrus. His limbs lagged behind his will. His breath rattled in his chest. Though his fingers slipped against that birdcage no one remembered, he refused to release its colorless patina bars. Everything depended on this.

He took what natural shortcuts he could—river ferries and elevators—but even then, the trip cost more time than he had bargained. At long last, he had reached the innards of Asgore’s home in the capital. He ran, huffing and puffing, down the golden tiles of the Last Hallway.

Even as he sped past, his heart ached to remember your meeting here. The flare of sunlight on your head, the even brighter smile on your face, the secret passwords on your tongue. . . . The memory of that pure soul compared to the corrupted one he had read beside the rift overwhelmed him, and he paused. He touched a hand to the white pillar that once occluded him.

Who were you now? Frisk? Chara? Both? If Chara truly were your forgotten name, if everything he knew about the tragedy of Asgore’s children had happened to you, such terrible memories weighed down on your tiny shoulders. It did not surprise him, then, that your violence had escalated to remember those horrors. Ferocious thorns had been hiding in the soft petal corona of your soul, and neither of you had known it.

Clinging tightly to the forgotten prison in his hands, he buried his sentiments and tore through vine-swathed hallways into a dark passage. He skidded to a halt just past the silvery stone archway to the barrier, where his bones clattered with shock.

The cavern pulsed in radiant waves like the steady spin of a lighthouse beacon. Twisting, thorny roots filled the cavern like a briar patch, and their position changed with every flash of light. Among the vicious mess of chloroplast, monster figures had been tangled, their souls nearly devoured.

The dimming pinpoints of Sans’ eyes could not peel away from your small form, crumpled on the floor before a yellow flower. Your red soul snapped among his vines, barely shimmering in a ruby remnant before splitting apart into nothing.

Sans could not stifle the horror that clawed its way out his mouth. He nearly dropped the cage.

Flowey turned to grin at him. “Trash day already?” he asked, spinning his head in a full circle.

Sans shook. No. This couldn’t have happened. You couldn’t have fallen to that little heathen daisy so quickly. You couldn’t have lost your determination. If only he hadn’t lingered in the hallway. If only he had kept running . . . !

You blinked at the human soul still hovering in your outstretched hands. It glowed red, though not as brightly as it once did. Still alive. Still yours to give. Not torn to bits by a nihilistic plant.

Only moments ago, you had fallen to a flower, the same flower weaving his way into this chamber of darkness and light. Toriel’s hands rested heavily on your shoulders. Papyrus chattered away, as Asgore pleaded with Toriel to give him a second chance. While they were distracted, Flowey dug his way out of the earth, grinning deviously, ready to spring all over again.

Confusion waltzed with your mind, spinning you gently. You had experienced this rush backward a thousand times before. Just a short step in reverse to let you continue after falling or if you disliked the outcome . . . but you did not have the determination to do it now. You had intended to die. You had meant for one of two creatures to take your power and be done with it.

It hadn’t been you.

The world shifted. Time rushed away like the tide, back into the ocean depths. Darkness bled away into golden sunlit tiles and stained glass windows. Birds chirped among a distant rustle of leaves. The air danced with prisms for a fleeting moment before the world reappeared as it had only moments before.

Sans realized suddenly that he stood in the Last Hallway all over again. A glittering pocket of magic danced like a handheld star beside him, where he had touched the pillar and remembered you. It had not been there before.

Air filled his ribcage in jagged gasps. His soul burned as it usually did when you reset time, though somewhat gentler. His hands shook around the bars of that monochrome birdcage with fear, confusion, and exhilaration.

He had just turned back time. He could feel it. And if that were the case . . .

He ran. He sprinted faster than ever to reach you, but you lay still on the floor again. Though uncertain how, and though it hurt him, he turned back the clock a second time. Then a third. Then a fourth. Every time, the flower tore apart your soul like a horror movie on repeat, until finally, Sans arrived one split second earlier. Your soul spun a circle above you as if hanging from a string, and a ring of white pellets had only begun readying itself to deliver the killing blow.

Before Sans knew what he was doing, he was charging Flowey through a rough shortcut, foot extended to drop-kick the weed down into his roots. That cursed dandelion’s shriek had never sounded so satisfying. Sans’ dragon skulls had already manifested over his shoulders, jaws aflame—but when they blasted blue-hot magic out their mouths, Flowey had already disappeared into the earth.

A whip of green struck the ground where Sans had stood. He skipped out of the way in the nick of time, then again, and again, and again. He punched his free hand to the ground, and a wave of long, white magic bones crashed down through the air like meteorites. They speared into the cave floor with enough force to run cracks through the ceiling. Clouds of rock sprinkled down onto his shoulders. Flowey’s grip on his friends and family slackened just an inch.

Flowey surfaced again, undamaged beyond a few frayed petals.

Sans panted, his adrenaline quickly plunging. His bones began aching again, though his raging soul burned brightly through its seams. Sweat slipped down his skull into the neck of his shirt. He didn’t know if he could withstand this much longer. He did not know if his soul could survive another time jump.

“Ha,” chirped the little flower. “Looking pretty rough, there, old pal." His eyes glinted red within the skull-like hollows of his face. "Poor, flimsy little monster souls. Why bother trying? Even Chara was no match for me, and they were a million times stronger than you’ll ever be!”

Sans knew he was right. He did not have the full resilience of a purebred human. Even you had to try several times before making it past this bitter herb. Who in their right mind would bet on him: half blind, right arm nearly useless, only one HP? Just like every moment in his life, he would find a way to fuck this up. Just like every other time before, he would be useless to help.

His hope dwindled down, as did the fire in his soul. He could not find the strength to evade the string of bullets shooting toward him, but they were serendipitously blocked by a fence of small white bones.

“DON’T LISTEN TO HIM, SANS!” said Papyrus through clenched teeth. “YOU. CAN. WIN!”

“We are here to help you,” said Toriel. “No matter what happens.”

“Statistically it’s impossible,” said Alphys, “b-but you’ve beaten the odds before! I know you can do it!”

“Fuck you, Sans,” said Undyne.

Everyone looked at her. She shrugged.

“Sans,” said Asgore. “Listen to me.”

Sans clung to the bars of the birdcage more tightly, eyes glued to the smirking flower afar.

“You are not just your father’s son,” said the king of the Underground. “You have more than magic running through your veins. Remember that . . . and stay determined!”

Sans’ white pupils snapped to Asgore’s blue and brown at once. The statement had struck him somewhere deep beyond the monster white shell of his soul, and still more words passed between them unspoken. Sans then dragged his gaze across all his friends, who looked back with steadfast confidence, even Undyne.

Flowey coiled down on himself, pretending to be scared. “Urgh, no!” he whimpered. “Unbelievable! This can’t be happening! I can’t possibly withstand all of you . . . you . . . !” His face contorted into his evilest grin. “Idiots.”

His vines snapped taut around every monster, and yet another thorny coil snatched Sans from the ground as well. Through ropes of green and brown, Sans watched your red soul go down the flower’s throat, sealed behind hungry white fangs within a golden crown. Then, everything became lost in a flash of white.

Clang.

Sans moaned. Between that blitz of light and now, he had dropped to his hands and knees. His palms felt scorched—and dreadfully empty. Ahead of him, the last withering wisp of gray silver bars dissipated into the air as if made of smoke. Seeing it clawed the magic away from his bones with every mounting breath. His eyes became hollow.

The cage was gone—really, truly gone. Not even a step backward in time could bring it back, and with it, Asriel’s soul. Sans felt the world bottom out. Had he really failed, after everything?

A voice cackled overhead. “Finally,” it said. “I was so tired of being a flower.”

Sans looked upward and blanched. Aside from a few drawings you had scribbled out as a child, he had never witnessed this ungodly creature of countless souls. Sans had only been consumed by him, a coal block among many to fuel his hate. Now, Asriel Dreemurr hovered overhead in all his glory, raging with deathly power in a kaleidoscope of energy. No wonder you had nightmares.

Past the wreckage of their earlier fight, your body still lay heaped on the floor among stone and dead vines, seemingly asleep. As Sans crawled close, tears threatened to form.

He bit them back. No. He needed to hope. He needed to dream. He needed to be determined that he could call you out from the darkness, just as you had done for him a hundred times. It was his turn, now. Everyone would make it to the other side . . . including Asriel.

“Huh?” Asriel grunted as he caught wind of Sans below. “What are you still doing here? I ate your soul, you dirty lawn bag!”

“grass not,” said Sans as he stood, dusting the dirt from his jacket with his left hand.

“Ugh.” Asriel pinched his muzzle exasperatedly. “So annoying. How many times have you died now? Thirty-five? Thirty-six?” He thrust a rocket’s flare at Sans with a wicked smile. “Thirty-seven?!”

Sans gathered your body into his arms and stepped into a last-minute shortcut, safely away from that raw magical surge. After hiding your figure inside an Asgore-shaped wall hole, he flitted through the blue light of a portal once again. He reappeared in the air, directly in Hyperdeath’s path, only inches from his head.

“bone apétit, fucker,” he said and threw a handful of small bones at Asriel’s face. Though they caused no significant damage, they certainly got his attention.

Sans landed on all fours and scrambled. Bullets, fireballs, shooting stars, and lightning strikes raged after him. They left craters in the ground and drove deeper cracks into the ceiling overhead. Stalactites fell and shattered. Sans dodged every one of them. His body thoughtlessly followed the part of him that knew how to survive but had no time to ask permission, so begged forgiveness instead.

As Asriel Dreemurr took a moment to lift his hands, Sans struggled to catch his breath. His hood smelled of smoldering keratin. Holes had been burned through his sleeves. His body felt slick and ashen against his jacket’s cotton interior. The bones he had tossed like a scoop of dog biscuits into Asriel’s face had been the last magic he could muster. Whatever great power the prince of the Underground gathered now, Sans doubted he could survive it.

The world darkened. Sans could no longer see Asriel or the barrier, not even his hands if he raised them. Everything had become silent except the paddle of his own breath.

A skull three times his size suddenly materialized from the shadow. In appearance, it reminded him of those he and his siblings had mastered, though its horns and features mirrored Asriel instead. It laughed in his face—a grim, bone-chilling sound like grating rocks—but Sans stood firm. Brilliant red rage and determination surfaced among the cracks of his soul. How dare Asriel steal from Papyrus? How dare he turn Sans’ own family magic against him?

Waves of light drew into the open bowels of its snakelike gullet. Debris ran past his ankles, recalling images of a lab in shambles, a brother consumed by a beast of timeless indifference. He braced himself, ready to dive into the darkness as he did then and save the ones that mattered most.

A flash of brightness burst over him once more. This time, it ripped the soul from inside him and shattered it into pieces.

His mind floated through an abyss, bursting with the fireworks of everything at stake. He thought of Papyrus, never seeing sunrise; Toriel, never knowing the love of a new family; Alphys, never seeing the true greatness inside herself; Undyne, never free to explore the world; Asgore, failing his people. He thought of you, swallowed in the belly of the very thing you had sought to save. He thought of the entire world, destroyed by the god of hyperdeath, eaten alive by a hungry rift in time. The pieces of his soul quivered in a glow of crimson, ready to disperse.

*But it refused.

The shards sewed back together. A burst of bright red coursed through him like a new flame that had waited a lifetime to be struck. He had to live. He needed to live. He wanted to live! The darkness faded away, and soon the pulsing light of the barrier greeted his eyes once again.

He gaped at his shaking hands, eye sockets wide with confusion and amazement and, more than anything, determination. His soul felt aflame with a ruby-red blaze that forged the bleeding cracks of every pain, every hardship, and every sorrow into an armor stronger than the thickest alloy.

Asriel’s final form hovered ahead of him. Giant wings had sprouted from his back, flaring with blues, reds, greens, and purples. His teeth bared in needle points to rival Undyne’s, seething with fury and frustration.

“YOU . . . GARBAGE BIN SKELETAL FREAK!” he screamed. “WHY? WHY CAN’T YOU DIE?!”

Sans realized very suddenly he couldn’t move. Asriel’s true power had run rampant through the air, cocooning him in a chrysalis of magic he could not escape. He struggled with no result. With no way to resist, Asriel’s attacks barreled into him again, and again, and again. Every time his brightly burning soul rebuilt itself, a little was lost along the way.

“I can feel it,” Asriel growled with relish. “Every time you die, your grip on this world slips away. Every time you die, your friends forget you a little more. Your life will end here, in a world where no one remembers you.”

Sans thought of Windings, lost in a hell of the same description. He recalled how determined his brother had been to hold that same world together in one piece, forgotten or not. Sans could not fail him again, not here, not now, not after how hard Dings had tried, not when all his hopes were so invested in his success. His brother’s words rang through Sans' head, the last he would speak before the ghost of a gray door had separated them.

“I want you to know,” Wingdings had said, “I believe in you more than I believe in anyone else.”

“heh, yer jus’ tuggin’ my tibia . . .”

“For Tesla’s sake, Sans,” Dings snipped. “Can you just, for a second, let me spoon-feed your imperceptibly minuscule single-cell petri dish of a trait you call your self-esteem?” He took a deep breath and steadied. “I know it might seem like you’re my only option,” he said, “but you’re the best option I could have ever hoped for. My big brother. The one who sticks it out through thick and thin. The one I could always rely on to come through for me. You can do this. You can save everyone. I know you can. So, please . . .

“. . . don’t give up.”

Sans closed his eyes and reached his heart out to Asriel’s amalgamation of souls. His friends and family were there somewhere. He could save them. They believed in him. Dings believed in him. His determination to save everyone bled through the confines of Asriel’s magic, and deep inside that monstrosity, something began to stir.

Darkness closed in and images of his friends materialized, though their faces could not be seen behind swimming, fragmented blurs of pitch. Toriel, Papyrus, Asgore, Alphys, and Undyne stood like statues in a ring around him. Under their breaths, they mumbled their deepest wounds aloud: loss, rejection, loneliness, guilt, and captivity.

Sans stared up at his little brother’s towering silhouette, shaken to see him so reduced.

“hey, puppy . . .” he began. He inched nearer. “‘member me?”

Papyrus did not acknowledge him beyond summoning a few bones, which promptly flew in his direction. They were nothing compared to what Asriel had been punting his way. Sans stood perfectly still to allow a large blue femur to pass harmlessly through his forehead, then teleported behind him. He wrapped his arms around his waist until his face lay cradled in the lower curve of his spine, as if it were fashioned to hold his head.

“is that any way to treat your big bro?” he asked quietly. He searched his head for his worst possible joke and turned to the remaining souls. “uh . . . w-whatcha all starin’ at?” He whipped out a finger gun as nonchalantly as possible. “never metacarpal of skeletons before?”

A long, silent moment passed. Then, Papyrus groaned. So did Undyne. Toriel giggled alongside Alphys with a snort. Asgore only sighed.

Sans beamed, then dodged what he saw as a well-deserved barrage of attacks from all five of his monster friends.

“hey, undies,” he said to Undyne past the quick flash of a blue spear. “i liked the tuna your piano. think you can teach me some scales?”

A similar response. Another wave of dangerous magic.

“knock, knock,” Sans said to Toriel. A hand of fire tried and failed to snatch him off the ground. He brushed off the heat. “i’ll take that as a ‘who’s there’. it’s yer local sentry, sans gaster!”

Toriel mumbled incoherently, but her last words sounded clear: “. . . Sans Gaster who?”

“yeesh,” Sans said, tugging at the neck of his shirt. “and i thought we were friends!”

Toriel laughed, then, revealing her face in a glorious burst of joy. Papyrus groaned more loudly than ever into existence.

“THAT’S ENOUGH BOONDOGGLING, SANS!” he shouted.

“i think you mean bone-doggling.”

“I DO NOT!” Papyrus stomped his foot.

With that, the rest of his friends returned to themselves, holding their stomachs or their heads in laughter. Sans wiped a joyful tear from his eye. By then, Papyrus had swept him off his feet into the tightest hug he could muster, which might have broken a rib were they more than specters. The remaining crew piled in: Toriel, Alphys, Asgore, even Undyne. In that one gesture, Sans’ soul swelled with hopes and dreams and burned brighter than ever.

“You’re d-d-doing great!”

“We’ve got your back, punk.”

“We believe in you.”

“heh . . . i’m rootin’ for me too, i guess,” Sans agreed bashfully.

“THAT’S THE SPIRIT,” Papyrus said, then lifted his eyes over Sans’ shoulder. “ONLY ONE MORE TO GO.”

As he said it, their images dissipated. Sans turned to follow Papyrus’ gaze. Another figure stepped from the shadow, eyes burning red through a shifting black cloud. A blood-red knife glinted in your hand. Your ruby soul quivered in the pit of your chest, a beacon through the dark.

“kiddo,” Sans breathed.

You shambled forward and blindly slashed for his neck. He side-stepped the sloppy cut. Your blade lodged into the unseen ground, so deeply it took a few tries to pry it out. Like a marionette, you lolled about to face him.

“It’s all my fault,” you murmured. “All my fault.”

“that ain’t true,” said Sans. He grimaced and ducked another swing. “you’re a good kid. you’ve always been a good kid.”

“I'm sorry,” you mumbled.

“why?” he asked. “you saved us. you saved me. you gave up your resets for it!”

Your razor-edged swipes and stabs began to falter. “My fault . . .”

“the only thing you’re at fault for is trying too bleedin’ hard.”

Though shaking, you continued to jab and swing your dagger with reckless abandon, and he continued to evade its path with infuriating precision. Whipping air and shuffling feet echoed through the dark as if you fought in an empty chapel.

“c’mon, bud!” Sans panted. Sweat had begun to gather on his forehead. “it’s me, sans!”

“Sans?” you replied in a fog. “Sans is dead. I killed him. It’s my fault.”

“i’m not dead. i’m right here.”

He came close, a breath away. Your knife grazed his cheekbone, revealing a stripe of red that trickled down into his shirt collar. As your arm passed his shoulder, he caught you around the chest and held on tight. He buried his face into your neck.

“i’m right here.”

At this, you froze. You held your knife shakily over his head, prepared to strike down into his back—but you didn’t. Though the black, jagged strokes of paint shifting about your head did not cease, the red of your eyes had dimmed.

“frisk. chara.”

He cradled your hiding face between his hands and looked into your eyes a long, long time. You could feel him reaching through your soul, judging you, reading you from cover to cover like an unlocked diary.

“it’s not your fault.”

As the words sank in, tears sprinkled down from that stormcloud between you, raining over your shoes and his. That dreadful, bloody knife clattered to the ground, and soon you followed. You sat seiza at his feet and clung to his coat, your face no longer shrouded. You sobbed into his t-shirt, broken, yet overjoyed to see him alive.

He hesitated, then slipped his fingers down into the deep brown thatches of your hair.

“You’re really here,” you said, looking up into his face.

Sans crouched down to your level and shrugged. “think so.”

“Am I dead?”

“uh.” He scratched the back of his skull and winced. “ya ain’t in yer body, that much is for sure. hopin’ you might join me on the way back, though . . . if you’d do me the honor.”

You hugged him again, even more tightly than before. Conflicted by memories old and new, shame hooked onto your soul with claws sharper than the dagger at his feet. His hand in your hair was all that kept you solid.

“I’m sorry.” Your tears fell faster as you considered the road leading you here. “I made you fall into the rift . . .”

“that one’s on me,” Sans said. “i knew what i might find down there.”

Your face sombered. “Did you find . . . him?”

Newfound brightness ignited his eyesockets. “he’s . . . alive,” he said quietly. He could scarcely believe the words. “trapped between time and space. it’s just like i thought.”

You were never more relieved to be proven wrong. Still, questions encircled your head like stars. Where was his brother, now? If Sans had gone to that place, how had he returned? How had he survived the rift, and Flowey no less? Was he the one turning back the clock? That should have been impossible.

As you extended a hand to smear the streak of red you had carved into his face, a terrifying thought occurred to you.

“Determination,” you breathed. “Sans, you didn’t—!”

“no,” he said.

“Monsters don’t bleed,” you said firmly in an attempt to call out his bullshit.

“not full-blooded monsters, no,” he agreed.

Several moments passed in which you digested these words, and what they implied.

His smile slowly fell into a grimace, a mix of regret and weary sadness. He sat down in the darkness across you. Here, the two of you were truly alone. He breathed in, breathed out.

“skeletons are kinda hard to come by,” he began hesitantly, “if ya hadn’t noticed. we’re only born under certain circumstances . . . with . . . certain parents.”

He lifted his head to the darkness above as if he might see the sky. A piece of him drifted away into nostalgia on Noctis wings. Bittersweet was the only word you could surface for his expression now.

“hardly look nothing like dad,” he began with a half-hearted shrug. “he was like . . . a dragon made of blue stars, a constellation in a nebula. huge, bigger than asgore. gast clan always was, compared to the dreems. i see him in my magic, though, sometimes. his face in my blasters, even if just the skull.”

You couldn’t find words. Surely he didn’t mean what you thought.

“don’ hardly look like mom, neither,” he said with a partial smile, “but we got her bones. we got her structure. i got some of her determination.”

“You’re half human.”

“i’m all me, thanks,” Sans snipped. Talking about it seemed to crawl over his bones like a spider bake sale.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” you asked, genuinely hurt.

He paused and picked at the healing cut on his cheek. He rubbed the red fluid pensively between his thumb and forefingers. “everyone down here knows what it means to be a skeleton,” he said quietly. “i thought you knew too, at first. we all did. a lot of folks thought it was why you shacked up with us instead of tori.”

Your shoulders relaxed.

“by the time i realized it . . . honestly, i didn’t know how to tell ya, kid. it's a sensitive subject.” He drew his coat around himself more tightly. “we’re the only ones left, y’know; me and puppy-dog. and dings. when the war started, humans went for families like ours first. papyrus was a bean, dings was just the right age for it to hit him later, and i . . . i remember everything, as always.”

Your guilt ascended all over again.

“we were just kids," he went on, "but nothin’ scared those purist humans more than a fuckin’ mule.”

“i’m sorry,” you said.

“don’t be,” he murmured. “not your fault.”

“But it is,” you insisted. Your tears began rising again. "I’m human. I’m responsible. After everything humans have done—after everything I’ve done—I don’t deserve any of you. I don’t deserve to be here. You shouldn’t have saved me . . .”

Sans gently wiped your face with his sleeve. “lemme finish, kid,” he said quietly. He heaved a long, drawn-out sigh, as if releasing a toxin trapped inside his ribcage. “i got a reason to hate humans, sure. they drove us down here. they blocked us in. hell, even monsters gave us a hard time for that half of us. papyrus was so bent on catching a human just to prove what side he was on. thought people might like him more.”

You felt sick.

“but,” Sans said, forcing you to meet his eyes, “my human parent sacrificed everything to save us. she stayed behind so we could get away. so many of us are alive because of her. you wanna tell me that was wrong? you wanna tell me she was responsible for everything that happened to us, just for being human?”

Your tears continued to fall.

“you can’t help where ya came from,” said Sans, “but you can choose where ya go. and boy have you gone to some good places.”

“Like the dump,” you quipped with a faint smile.

“heh, yeah,” he said. “like the dump.” He hung an arm over your shoulder. “so maybe you’ve made some big mistakes . . . but your heart was never in the wrong place. you want to make up for it. you want to be good. that’s what really matters, right?”

You sniffled and nodded. You had said the same to Alphys. Were you really beneath your own advice?

He gathered you into his arms again. After a long time kneeling there, faces in shoulders, he helped you back to your feet.

“gonna need you to step in from here on out,” said Sans. “the chances hyperdoofus listens to me are about a million to negative one.” He smirked. “think you can handle it?”

You took his hand and squeezed.

“Only if you stand there with me,” you said.

His heart swelled in his chest. “i can do that."

Holding onto one another tightly, you stepped out from the darkness into a rainbow of light.

Notes:

And thus we have arrived at my third and final head-cannon: skeletons are what happen when a monster loves a human. I think my nervousness about dropping that bomb contributed to the delay in a latent sense, haha. Sorry for that again.

The idea of skeleton monsters always puzzled me, because in most folklore and fantasy contexts they have a direct tie to humans. Undead, more specifically. But in the context of the Undertale universe, undead didn't sit right with me. Skeleton monsters that conveniently mimic human anatomy didn't either. Then I had this thought. It explained several things for me: the blood from Sans' cut in the no mercy run, the reason he's so powerful, that "fourth wall" breaking tendency he and Papyrus both share... I massaged things some for the narrative here, but yeah.

I had been building to this a little bit as a possible reveal, then considered sidestepping it, but then as I really hammered out my ending it became an essential fact. I added more scenes and details in earlier chapters to get a little more traction on it, hence why I recommended rereading. :) Either way, I hope you find it at least interesting.

Thank you again to everyone who held on until now. Only three chapters left!

Next Up! Chapter 15: Determination.

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cherryxsang · 1 year

Text

𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐋𝐀𝐖

Outlaw!San x Bountyhunter!Reader (afab) Genre: smut Word count: 3.7k Warnings: POSSIBLY TRIGGERING BRIEF SEXUAL VIOLENCE (San tries to attack the reader for sexual reasons but doesn't actually do anything), dub con (San is drunk), physical fighting, handcuffs, penetrative sex, handjob, oral sex (m and f), spit kink, hate sex?, filthy dialogue

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You tried to keep your nerves at bay as you reached for the door of the bar on a night you’d been searching for for weeks. It wasn’t the building you were searching for, but a certain person you were hunting. One of your sources had tipped you off that he would be in that very building on that very night.

You stepped inside and quickly scanned everything around you. Although the bar was brightly lit, it was also quite busy, and you didn’t see him just yet. You tugged at the itchy frills of your dress and followed your senses. If I were an outlaw, where would I be, you asked yourself. That question lead you to a counter located near the back of the building. It was slightly less illuminated and not as packed with people.

Your heart pounded with excitement when your eyes focused in on the silhouette of one man. Your gut told you that you’d found him. As you carefully approached, you caught a glimpse of his profile and knew immediately from his wanted pictures that he was your man. Here we go, you thought.

Unlike most women who walk into a saloon after sunset, you weren’t there looking to wow him, at least not as your final goal. You were there to trap him. He had a hefty bounty on his head, and you had found that you were a natural at this kind of thing.

You scooted yourself onto a stool near the outlaw, keeping a close eye in your peripheral while also appearing cool. As you leaned your elbows on the bar counter you felt his heavy gaze take its post on you. “A bourbon, please,” you smiled at the bartender.

A chuckle to your right. You looked over as an unknowing stranger, your eyes wide with feigned innocence. That was the first time you gazed into the cat-shaped eyes of Choi San. The same dark and weathered, yet still young and curious eyes that had seen every one of his crimes. Ten known murders and an estimated thousands worth of stolen goods, among other things. You hated yourself for noticing how attractive those eyes were.

Through dark and droopy—probably drunk—eyelashes, he looked your feminine form up and down. “Sorry, miss,” he said, his voice deep and gravelly, “I just wouldn’t have expected a pretty little thing like you to walk into a place like this.”

You smiled at him—a fake one, you were sure—and responded in your nicest voice, “Well, sir, I did expect to see a handsome man like yourself, see.”

He flashed a cocky smile as his gaze dropped down to his drink. “You city women are a peculiar treat,” he said in a low voice. It made your confidence waver just a bit. Had he already become suspicious of your character? Should you have put on a smooth, slow drawl to match his? You cleared your throat and shooed the thoughts away.

Ignoring what he had said, you spoke again, remaining composed. “If I’m not mistaken- Did I notice that you’re alone tonight? Would be a shame.” You fingered the condensation on your drink glass, anxious for his response.

“I’m always alone, miss.” You rolled your eyes at his vague and, you judged, pompous answer, but nonetheless began to plan your next move. That is, until you felt the vibration of the stool next to yours moving. You inhaled deeply, instinctively ghosting your hand over the pocket-sized pistol that was strapped to your thigh under your dress, but allowing San to take the seat beside you. “That don’t have to mean physically, though,” he added.

You giggled through your teeth, watching a warm smile grace his soft but masculine features. Now that he was close, you noticed how large he was—not especially tall, but muscular. A true farmhand’s build. How charming. That was also when you realized that you had placed your hand on his arm to flirt with him. It wasn’t a conscious choice, just a reflex. Still, all part of the job.

“Can I buy that for you?” he motioned to your drink. Sensing an opportunity arising, you answered with a cunning “sure.”

“Perhaps I could repay you in some way,” you said softly and avoiding eye contact, acting shy. The look San gave you sent a chill down your spine. It was as if you could see his mind switch gears, see the tunnel vision activate. His face darkened, his eyebrows resting shiftily above his eyes and his polite smile fading with seriousness. But it only lasted a second, and then dimples melted back into his tan skin.

“It would be much obliged,” he almost whispered, his voice sweet like molasses. It made you weirdly nervous. You were silently puzzled by the fact that you felt your trust in yourself dwindling. You can do this, you reminded yourself. Your internal quarrel was interrupted by San reaching very suddenly for your hand. “You know,” he started mindlessly, toying with your fingers. You kept stern eye contact, reminding yourself not to be fooled by his prowess and to keep your guard up. “Despite your cold reputation, you city ladies are really quite friendly.”

He looked at you and you smiled politely, telling him, “I’m full of surprises, sir.” Never breaking eye contact, you added, “And can I have my ring back?” You probably shouldn’t have said it, as it could set him off and ruin your chances of getting the bastard caught. You didn’t care about the ring anyhow, it was a simple prop. But he was cocky, attempting to steal your ring right in front of you. And you were annoyed.

San gave you wide eyes of surprise but quickly covered himself with a laugh. Holding your ring on the tip of his pointer and examining it, “Let me pay you for it with another drink,” he said smugly, dropping the ring in his pocket plainly. “It’s not worth much anyways.”

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Or…” You raked your fingers up and down the cowboy’s denim-clad thigh. “Spend the night with me and we’ll call us even.”

San dipped his head in feigned shyness. He kept his head down for a second too long and it made you uneasy. You knew he was imagining all the things he might be able to get away with doing to you. “You are something, city miss. You don’t even know my name.” He maintained a teasing smile.

“Mine is Y/N,” you offered.

“San,” he returned, pulling your hand to his mouth for a kiss. All calculated, you reminded yourself. “There’s an inn next door,” he suggested.

“Let’s go.” The two of you stood up, abandoning your own drink while San quickly finished his off. He replaced his hat and led you out of the saloon. The walk to the bedroom you would be occupying was clouded by a war within your head. You didn’t know what it was exactly. You knew your plan was to get him alone, handcuff him and bring him straight to the police’s attention. But there was a nerve-wracking feeling deep down that you didn’t trust yourself this time. You didn’t know what exactly you were worried about, you’d done this all before after all, but nonetheless something felt strange. There was some part of yourself that you felt you weren’t in control of.

Those thoughts were interrupted when you arrived at your rented room which San had ever-so-kindly paid for. He let you in first then closed the door. “Finally,” he sighed darkly. The next thing you knew, you were off your feet, caught completely off guard. San had picked you up by your waist and thrown you roughly onto the mattress. He was quick to climb on top of you, thighs around your waist and with a tight grip on either wrist. Even drunk, the bastard was damn strong.

“Get off me, you fucker!” you shouted, blindsided by the sudden danger. You were painfully aware of the cold metal of your pistol on your thigh, so close but entirely out of reach.

“I’ve been waiting too fucking long for this.” The two of you struggled, meanwhile San had let one of your hands go to allow himself to fumble his belt undone. You began to desperately punch him as hard as you could. All the while he was staring you in the eye expressionless. “You’ll lay still and take me, stupid whore.”

Once he had unzipped his jeans, he began pulling at your dress. As he worked the mess of fabric up your thighs, he unintentionally revealed your weapon. He shot you a look like he was scared, his brows furrowed and eyes wide. “What are you?” he asked frantically.

He was weakened by his confusion and you were able to twist away from him, your feet hitting the floor. He quickly grabbed you again, but now you were able to kick him back by his stomach. You tried to calm your nerves while he was down and reached for your gun. This has gotten out of hand, you told yourself. I have to end it.

Before you could cock the pistol, San grabbed it by its barrel. He pushed you backwards until you hit a wall. You shouted as your head hit the hard wooden door frame and continued to wrestle for your gun. Again, San just stared expressionless. He was probably petrified. He was fighting for his life, but so were you. “You shouldn’t have fucked with me,” he whispered. “But I hope you’re having as much fun as I am,” he smirked. With his body pressed against yours, you happened to notice that he was rock hard. You didn’t do anything with that information except get the idea to knee him hard in his groin.

When he fell to the ground you quickly spun around to his back side and pointed your ready gun at him. You still had another tool on your body: a set of handcuffs in an inside pocket of your dress. The realization gave you an idea: Stick to the original plan. But you needed to get him near the bed first. So you climbed onto the mattress, your pistol still locked on San. Sure enough, as soon as he got to his feet, he jumped on the mattress with you, reaching for your gun again. But you were ready for him, grabbing him by his neck and throwing him down with all your adrenaline-fueled strength. His skull hit the headboard in a thud and you sat on his chest, the handcuffs already in your hand. You dropped your pistol and through a struggle managed to chain his hands together, looped around the headboard so he couldn’t move.

Stepping back, you took a few seconds to ensure he was immobilized and to catch your breath. You thought you imagined at first when San started to laugh maniacally. A drop of blood slowly rolled down his forehead, meanwhile he grinned. “What are you?” he asked again. “Bounty hunter?”

Proud of the work you accomplished tonight, you told him honestly, “Yes.”

He continued to laugh, mumbling to himself, “Fuck me. City miss. Bounty hunter. I thought you were just an odd whore.” He adjusted his legs, seemingly getting himself comfortable as he accepted his fate. He wiped his blood on his denim jacket. “You have no idea how much fun that was. Between us, I like a feisty woman.”

You took a step closer to him. “You were hard,” you said flatly.

He grunted in response, rolling his head toward you. “You’re gorgeous. And you put up a hell of a fight, Y/N.”

“You’re gorgeous, too, actually.” What’s the harm in telling a man likely soon to face death row? “When I heard your description…your crimes…I wasn’t imagining something like you.”

He listened intently. The first time that night that you felt he was really hearing what you said, it was when you were praising him. He was disgusting, and yet look at him; Chained up and submissive. At your complete disposal. You thanked the heavens for your occupation as a bounty hunter and not a member of the police force. There were no rules against what you had now accepted you wanted to do.

You simply undid your dress, allowing it to pool at your feet. San was silent, just watching for whatever you would do next. “You’re going to fuck me, cowboy. Then we’ll be even.”

He laughed harder than before, his broad chest heaving. “You really are a whore.”

You punched his mouth. That shut him up. Then your eyes trailed to the tall tent in his jeans. You finished what he had started earlier, unzipping them all the way and fishing his rock-solid dick out. It was tall and veiny, leaking and frustrated. You felt your arousal spill at the sight. You pulled his jeans down to his knees and then you straddled him, hovering above his hard-on.

You undid the buttons of his leather vest, exposing his swollen abs and pecs. You threw his hat across the room and examined the wound on the top of his scalp. You dabbed the blood with the bed sheet and then carefully combed your fingers through his bangs. You took care with him now as in a moment of weakness, you let your mind wander straight into fantasy. If only this deadly, gorgeous man had a soul, you thought. Maybe you would try to make him yours. Still, you took pride in being the only woman to ever take him down and make him feel weak.

“Don’t fall in love with me,” he teased you, sensing your hatred for him slipping.

You grabbed him by the neck and pushed his stupid head against the hard wood of the head board. “Don’t you fucking dare,” you said.

“Then just fuck me already, will you?” he spat, fed up. His dick was still standing there all alone in the cold room and you guessed it was painful for him. Good.

You peeled your underwear off of your already sweaty body and slowly lowered yourself onto his dick, facing away from him as you couldn't bring yourself to look at the bastard’s face any longer. He felt even bigger inside of you and he had a beautiful curve, effortlessly brushing against your sweet spot with every movement. You and San let out a unison moan as you bottomed out and your walls fluttered around him.

He was silent now as you rode him. No snide comments as you finally gave him what he really wanted all along. But you couldn’t complain about what he wanted because you were giving yourself a little treat too. If he’s going to be arrested and likely executed, why not make him useful while he has the chance?

You rubbed your clit against San’s pubic bone, the friction causing you to tense around him with each grind of your hips, much to San’s delight. He was shameless, a moaning, whiny mess behind you. He was breathing heavily and you imagined by the way he was tugging at his restraints that if his hands were free they’d be all over you right now. A part of you longed to feel those arms. Not San’s, you reminded yourself, but maybe someone’s.

You settled to fuck yourself stupid on the outlaw’s dick. You held his thighs as you sought out the feeling of sharp, quick thrusts. You moved rhythmically, tensing and relaxing your muscles, allowing yourself to revel in the sensation of being stuffed full.

Soon enough, San started going crazy beneath you, tugging harder at his handcuffs, his thighs twitching. That was your cue to lift your hips. You weren't about to let a criminal place some kind of mark on you with his seed. Plus you weren’t done with him. San groaned deeply at the loss of sensation. You turned around and he looked like he wanted to kill you right then and there. “What the fuck, Y/N?” he hissed sharply.

“You piece of shit,” you retorted, “We just started. You need to make me cum, too.” You brushed his lips, which were slightly swollen from your earlier punch, with two fingers and without verbal direction he obeyed and opened his mouth. “Let me see that tongue,” you whispered to yourself, meaning to only say it in your head.

“I don’t-”

“Shut up,” you said before grabbing a handful of his hair and directing his mouth to your pussy as you crawled forward. Despite his apparent resistance, he obediently stuck his tongue out for you and lapped at you like a starved man. You grinded against his tongue, seeking more. “Suck me,” you said, and he did just that, wrapping his swollen lips around your clit. You didn’t need to give him any further instruction, he knew just what to do as he continued to happily drink up every last bit of your arousal and paid close attention to your clit. You came undone with a string of high-pitched moans and kept a hand in his hair so he couldn’t get away, not that you thought he’d ever try to. He continued to gently work you through your orgasm, and you laughed, “You might hate me, San. You might want me dead, but you still can’t get enough of my pussy, can you?”

He disconnected from you and looked up with puppy eyes. “Please let me cum, miss.” How sweet, you thought. Miss. You had apparently broken him when you didn't even really mean to. You tried your best not to smile at his cute, pitiful state and instead busied yourself with licking your arousal off of his chest. The mixture of cum and sweat was salty but sweet in a way. You licked up the crevice between his pecs and then swirled your tongue around one of his nipples. He hummed happily. “No one’s ever done that before,” he said.

“Which part?”

“Everything you just did.” There was a gentleness to his voice now. You knew it was just that he was more desperate than ever to cum and was trying to play his cards right to get there. But a part of you couldn’t help but enjoy it in the moment. Not that you were going soft, you told yourself. It was just sweet how a man as big and tough as San was always, at the end of the day, a slave to his own dick.

You turned around again, sitting your wet pussy on his belly and wrapped your hand around his dick. You dropped a string of spit onto his cock head and spread it around with a couple of soft pumps. San moaned again behind you, once again chasing his long-awaited orgasm (although it hadn't been that long, he was just impatient). You continued pumping his shaft with one hand, while the other alternated between massaging his balls and teasing his tip. “It’s good, miss,” he whispered mindlessly. Sleepily. Drunkenly. Why did it make your hands move faster? “Feels so good…” When he started to stir again, you bent down, sticking your pussy in his face and sucked on his tip, tonguing the slit while your hands still worked him too.

A long and strained “Fuuuuuck,” told you he was close and you started pumping him as fast as you could, grabbing and sucking harder. Just a few pumps and you felt his warm seed spurting out into your mouth, felt his thighs quake, heard the pleasing aria of breathy and tired moans behind you. You decided you would swallow, if only to not create another mess for the innkeepers.

You looked back at the man you were sat on. He was lying still with his eyes closed, his chest rising and falling as he caught his breath after his orgasm. You took one last look at his marvelous dick before concealing it again with his jeans–you wanted to leave him some tiny bit of dignity when the police came to find him chained up.

You stood up, ready to call it a night and grab your things, but there was one more thing you just couldn’t shake the feeling that you had to do. “Don’t go,” San teased as you looked down at him.

You leaned down close to San’s face and stared at his lips, hoping he would catch your hint. He did, as he opened his lips just slightly, expectantly. You grabbed his jaw roughly and opened it the rest of the way, spitting on his tongue. “Enjoy the taste of yourself, you dirty fuck.”

He shot a pair of sharpened cat eyes and said, “You really are full of surprises, miss.”

As you slipped into your dress again, your head was full of thoughts. For the most part they were of your plan to get the sheriff to the inn, but there was a strange feeling you couldn’t ignore: Regret. Not of having slept with the San, but of not being able to do it again. It was quite fun. An exciting adventure and an enjoyable fuck, and now it was over. Even though he was a horrible man, you were going to miss him in a way. And though you felt no guilt over his arrest which was to come, you felt compelled to leave him with a goodbye.

“Good luck to you, San,” you said, tucking your forgotten pistol into your dress pocket. “Whatever happens to you, good luck.”

He watched you unamused. He sighed, then said, “You can fuck yourself. And I guess I’ll see you in hell.”

“I’ll see you when you’re being arrested,” you smiled, taking in the sight of the attractive outlaw handcuffed to a stranger’s bed for the last time before closing the door behind you.

From there, you went straight to the police station and informed the sheriff there of the outlaw waiting for his arrest. You led a pair of officers to the bedroom. Another gut feeling was telling you now that something was wrong, and as the officers rushed in, your fear was realized: there was no handsome criminal, just a broken headboard.

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