#bro when the gold rays fell on your skin and my hair got caught in the wind the choir LITERALLY like sang a melancholic hymn bro.

[heynhay]

god, i'm so lovesick, what have you done to me?

[nighttimelights-prompted]

What kinds of sweet nothings would the UT, UF, US, and SF skelebros say to their s/o?

(ohhh this was far too lovely and got caught in my head for the past couple nights. alright, i’ll take this opportunity to delve into a bit of how i imagine the skelebros and their au selves… slight risque warning for a few of the bros, also. so here we go, in order, with a little headcanoning to go alongside~)

(… this one getsvery very just a little long, sorry about that;;)

UT Sans:

Wordplay has always been his game of choice, and nicknames are no exception. He’ll call you by sweet and silly and too-obvious nicknames as the situation calls for it.

“hey there sugar,” he’d say, a thumb brushing against the stray crumbs and powdered sugar at your cheek when you came over, box of donuts in hand and one already half eaten and dangling from your mouth. “powder you today?”

“what’s happened here, little bear?” he’d ask on another day, fighting to not completely come undone with laughter when he found you and Papyrus covered in oatmeal the morning after you had read him Goldilocks.

… And many, many of the other times, he’ll make pun after teasing pun regarding the main trait of your soul.

That night he found you at last, nursing gashes on your arm and side and unable to move from where you had been attacked, his words brushed over you in a wave that brought the tears up fresh as he fought to bring the lights back to his eyes for you. “babe, oh stars - you… hey, hey, i’ve got you, nothing can hurt you now,” he whispered, his tone dipping gravelly and rough as his hands hovered briefly over you, taking in the damage. “you’re so incredibly strong, nothin’ to worry about now love, just rest, let me take care of the rest.” He lifted you into his arms, his magic steadying you as he cast one dark look at the alley and stepped through the void with you cradled to his chest.

Yet another night, a night you swore he must have stolen two stars from the sky with the soft and brilliant way his eyelights caught on you, he held you close and pressed his forehead to yours, not quite willing to release your gaze. “if i could, i’d name every one of those stars after you, y’know?”

You laughed, a little breathlessly. “Wouldn’t that get a little confusing?”

He grinned, a soft curve to it as he tipped your chin towards him with a brush of his hand. “how else can people understand just how brightly you shine, if not for knowing all the stars in the sky barely begin to compare?”

UT Papyrus:

While wordplay is Sans’ game, Papyrus has his moments… but more often than not, he goes for the kind of brutal and positive honesty that leaves you laughing, blushing, and a little breathless.

“HELLO, MY DEAR HUMAN WHO IS NICER EVEN THAN A DOZEN SOFT PURRING KITTENS!”

“BRILLIANT SIGNIFICANT OTHER WHO REALLY SHOULD BE LISTED AS AN INTERNATIONAL TREASURE-”

“I HEARD A SONG THAT CALLED SOMEONE THEIR ‘DIRTY LITTLE SECRET.’ I NEED YOU TO KNOW THAT YOU ARE ALWAYS THE OPPOSITE OF THAT, BECAUSE THAT DOESN’T SOUND VERY GOOD. SO HELLO AND I LOVE YOU, MY SUPER-CLEAN HUGE SOURCE OF RESPECTFUL BOASTING!”

The night you had pulled him out of the way of a car that ran the light towards him with a malice you hadn’t missed, you had been partially hit by the vehicle that simply swerved and continued onward. His training must have paid off because he didn’t freeze, instead checking over you immediately, one hand glowing with magic as you pushed yourself upward despite an unexpected noise of dissent from him. You didn’t catch the quick, uncharacteristically quiet words he spoke into his phone a few moments later, instead swiftly distracted as he pulled you carefully into his arms as he rose to his full height - over 7 feet, you knew - and immediately began walking towards the sidewalk, where you realized Sans had just blinked into existence. Papyrus hushed you gently as you began to apologize. “Please, Please, Do Not Worry,” he insisted, his voice low and carrying, but so much softer than you were used to. Your uninjured hand had found itself buried in his scarf, clutching desperately as you recognized the shock setting in. “My Love, I Will Not Fail You. I Have You. Forgive Me. I Will Never Let You Go, So Long As You Want Me.”

Later that night, he was holding your hand between his, his gloves long since removed. He sat at your side in the spare bed of Toriel’s you had been set up in after a significant amount of healing. You were drowsy, but couldn’t quite let sleep take you, so you tried again to thank Papyrus. He shook his head and squeezed your hand gently before you could finish.

“IT WAS MY MOMENT OF CARELESSNESS THAT LED TO YOU GETTING HURT,” he explained, frustration lining his eyesockets. “YOU HAVE NOTHING TO APOLOGIZE FOR. I CAN ONLY TRY TO BEGIN THANKING YOU FOR… FOR SAVING ME. FOR BEING THERE FOR ME, ALWAYS. PLEASE, IT IS I WHO NEEDS YOUR FORGIVENESS.” He shook his head again as you tried to assure him that it was unnecessary. “DEAREST HUMAN - NO…” his gaze caught yours, your chest tightening as somehow, once again, you felt the tears threatening to pool. “BEAUTIFUL HOLDER OF MY SOUL, I LOVE YOU… ALLOW ME TO MAKE IT UP TO YOU FOR AS LONG AS YOU’LL HAVE ME.”

UF Sans:

Wordplay is of course his game as well, like any of them… and he, naturally, veers towards that of a decidedly more unapologetically teasing and often flirty - perhaps outright raunchy - variety, if he thinks he can get away with it. You trade tease for tease though, and love the dangerous and delighted way his eyelights brighten when you go toe to toe with him. His everyday nicknames escalate pretty quickly, too, alongside his mood.

“how’s it going, sweetheart?” he’dd say, appearing at your side and casually looping an arm around your shoulders with a sharp grin. “Gotta say, you could strike someone to their soul with how drop-dead gorgeous you look…”He’d eye the plucky asshole who had been flirting a little too insistently with you at the bar then, a whisper of magic against your skin the only thing to clue you into the particular look he shot the guy.

“i’ve got better ideas for those claws of yours, kitten,” he’d whisper against your neck, pressing you flush against a wall, his fingers trailing down your sides and hooking under your shirt.

And then simply, “you’re all mine, sweetness…” in that growl of his, the lowest light of your lamp catching on his gold tooth as his eyes captured yours from between your legs…

Then there was the night you sat with your back tucked against his chest, your knuckles raw, your wounded arms staining your jacket a red that nearly matched the careful blaze of magic securing you as he raced the two of you through town on his motorcycle. You coughed up blood and tried to mutter reassurances to him despite the roar of the wind around you. He didn’t look down as he blazed through stoplight after stoplight, not another soul in sight in the late hours of the night. He simply kept humming a low noise to you, a sound he fell back to as a form of instinctive reassurance, and quietly swearing, both actual promises and dark profanities. “i’m so sorry, doll, we can’t risk the internal bleeding gettin’ fucked off worse by that void… i’ll get ya to Tori’s safe… i swear. i swear. ya ain’t ever gonna have to worry about those bastards ever again… i’ll keep ya safe. hold on for me, sweetheart, okay? just let me take care of the rest, just - just hold on…”

Months later, you had your arms crossed over his chest to support your chin as you laid flush against him, the late afternoon rays filtering through the bedroom blinds. Your eyes had closed, a gentle smile on your lips as his fingers played lazily with your hair. The rumble in his chest as he spoke up sent a pleased tingle through you, and you met his soft gaze with your own, his voice just shy of strained with the odd warmth running through it. “ain’t ever had anything quite so good in my life as you, sweetheart… nah. not just good. fuckin’… perfect. you’re the best thing that’s ever come into my life,” he said, his gaze flickering away for a moment as his cheeks dusted with crimson magic. He met your gaze again after a moment as he shifted to pull you further up him, bringing your face close to his. “i’m gonna do right by you. i… i promise. you’ve got me thinking that… despite everything, i might just be the luckiest soul on this damn planet.” You barely had time to think to reply before he was kissing any words out of you, overwhelming every one of your senses in every beautiful way as he rolled you over and pressed you into the bed…

UF Papyrus:

Were you looking for flowery sweet language? Well, you may want to keep looking, if that’s the case.

… But damn, if you can get through his thorny and seemingly perpetually-unimpressed (if a little too easy to fluster when you know what you’re doing) exterior, Edge has a way of talking to you that no one else may understand or even see, but reaffirms everything you feel for him.

“IF YOU WANTED TO IMPRESS ME WITH SOME STRANGE STUNT, DON’T BOTHER. YOUR STUNNING LOOKS AND SHARP WITS ARE ALREADY PERMANENTLY AT THE FOREFRONT OF MY MIND.”

“NO ONE CAN COMPARE TO MY GOOD LOOKS. YOU, OF COURSE, ARE IN ANOTHER CATEGORY ALTOGETHER. IT WOULD BE A FOOL’S GAME TO EVEN CONSIDER THAT YOU COULD BE COMPARED TO ANOTHER.”

“I WON’T TELL YOU WHAT TO DO. NO, I THINK YOU ALREADY KNOW. THE WAY YOU LOOK AT ME… I’M FRANKLY A LITTLE IMPRESSED THAT YOU CAN CRACK MY UNPARALLELED SELF-CONTROL.”

A bloody mess was all that was left of the man that had attacked you as you walked home from visiting your closest friends late one night. Edge had you in his arms, much of the blood now smeared along your jacket not your own. You were shaking, the adrenaline still coursing through you - as your breathing started speeding up to a dangerous level,  he shushed you, the sound a gentle contrast to what had just transpired. He pressed his mouth to your hair as you felt the magic still buzzing bright and alive within his bones, even though he didn’t need an ounce of it to carry you. “I’LL ENSURE THAT NO ONE MAKES THE MISTAKE OF EVEN THINKING TO CAUSE YOU HARM, DEARHEART. IT IS NOTHING YOU NEED TO WORRY ABOUT ANY FURTHER.” He made no apologies, and you expected none of him. You… honestly were struggling to even feel regret right now, safe in his hold as you were. “THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS IS NOT ONE TO LET THIS STAND. AS MINE, YOU WILL NOT SUFFER THE WHIMS OF FOOLS… I SHALL SEE TO IT.”

Yet another night, you were both sitting on the couch. Laying may be a little more accurate, even if he wouldn’t admit to the lazy posture as you two stretched a little further out, with you tucked safely against his chest. He rested his chin on you gently as he eyed the TV. You played with the edge of his scarf, content in the moment. It was a pleasant surprise when you heard his matter-of-fact voice vibrate through his ribs. “I HAD ACHIEVED EVERYTHING I EVER WANTED, EVEN BEFORE MAKING IT TO THE SURFACE.” You grinned at this, agreeing that he certainly had the prowess to do so with ease and his incredible dedication to his passions. He huffed at your praise, a pleased sound, but continued on, not yet finished. “STRANGELY ENOUGH, THOUGH, WITH YOU… I REALIZED THAT IT WASN’T TRULY EVERYTHING I HAD EVER WANTED, NOT ANYMORE.” He turned his head slightly to meet your questioning gaze as you lifted your head. His free hand lifted and his index finger and thumb gently tipped your chin upwards. “AS IT TURNS OUT, I’VE FOUND THAT YOU WERE THE MISSING PIECE. I’M QUITE PLEASED THAT MY STREAK OF SUCCESS REMAINS UNMARRED…” You flushed as he pulled you close, his sharp fangs nearly brushing against your lips. “AND, ADMITTEDLY, PERHAPS A LITTLE HONORED… IN THE CASE OF YOU, AND YOU ALONE.”

US Sans:

I’ll admit, my headcanon of him varies quite a bit from the “childlike” standard. Because I see UT Papyrus more as someone who is relentlessly positive, a little brimming in self-pride, and far more clever than people give him credit for (rather than an unknowing marshmallow of purity), that translates quite directly to how I view US Sans. He’s boisterous, has a total mischievously clever streak (stars help you if you’ve wagered a bet or challenge with him), can flip any insult into direct praise of his (or your) traits, and his puzzles and traps take on a distinctly scientific and often magi-mechanical twist. He also may take a particular pleasure in trying to figure out what precisely your buttons are… and mashes together his intelligent nature and clever-guard-in-training daily attitude to act as the epitome of a (devilish) gentleman in shining armor with a knack for baiting you into bets and puzzles… and blushing.

“WELL HELLO, MY LOVE! I’D WATCH YOUR STEP IF I WERE YOU IN THIS PUZZLE… IF YOU FELL FOR ME AGAIN, I’D HAVE TO ROGUISHLY RESCUE YOU FROM THE CHALLENGE YOU’RE SURELY, SURELY UP TO.”

“ALLOW ME TO TAKE CARE OF THAT FOR YOU, ANGEL. SAY HALO TO THE STARS FOR ME, WON’T YOU? I ALREADY SEE THEM TWINKLING IN YOUR EYES.”

“I DON’T REALLY MIND THE RAIN AT ALL… NOT WHEN I’M HERE TO WATCH IT FALL WITH YOU, SUNSHINE.”

You don’t entirely know what had happened the day of that picnic you had planned in the park. One moment you were stretching high on your toes to unfold the blanket with a few shakes in the wind, the next you were on the ground in Blue’s arms, the blazing intensity of his cerulean eyelights pouring out of his sockets in clouds of pure magical energy. The sun had gone behind some clouds - no, no, that was… it was hidden behind an impossibly tall wall of thick bones. Shouts and screams were coming from the other side, some furious, some fleeing. His gaze flickered down to meet yours, still hard but a softness to his tone that didn’t quite match the look in his sockets. “Are You Alright?” He asked. At your nod, you felt the tiniest sigh of relief from his chest, but instead of letting you down he cradled you closer and stood. “Hold Tight, Dearheart. I Do Not Approve Of Running From Your Troubles, But Sometimes Strategy Calls For It For The Better Sake Of All.” And the moment after that, your hands were looped around his neck, clinging for dear life as he dashed into the cover of the forest with you secure in his arms, shouts of confusion echoing behind you.

Another day, you had his head in your lap, the grey and cloudy sky stretching above you as you looked through the enormous skylight in his room. Your fingers brushed soothingly over his skull as the rain pattered against the crystal-clear glass. He sighed, a content sound that had you smiling, warmth rising in your cheeks. Gently, he took your hand from his skull, his fingers gently tugging so that he could press a gentle kiss into the palm of your hand. He looked up at you, his mouth still at your palm, eyesockets lidded. “I HAD IMAGINED A LIFE ON THE SURFACE FOR MY ENTIRE LIFE. I PICTURED IT ALL - THE WASH OF THE WAVES ALONG BEACHES, STUNNING SUNLIT FORESTS, THE GENTLE CHANGING OF THE SEASONS, THE BRILLIANT STARS AT NIGHT… BUT, UNCHARACTERISTICALLY, I FAILED TO IMAGINE ONE THING IN PARTICULAR.” You gently tilted your head in question at him, the quiet fall of the rain forming an intimate backdrop to his words. “I FAILED, OF COURSE, TO IMAGINE YOU. BUT I SUPPOSE I WAS DESTINED TO FAIL IN THAT REGARD, WASN’T I?” He closed his eyes and pressed another kiss to your palm. “I COULD NEVER HAVE HOPED TO IMAGINE ANYONE SO WONDERFUL AS YOU.”

US Papyrus:

Stretch has the laidback personality, the often ignored or lazily employed power, and the amused nihilism natural for the Sans personalities, with the clever knack for problem-solving and the deep charming skill of the Papyruses. He can be a hard guy to read, more often than not, caring most obviously for his brother - usually found indulging in Blue’s intelligently mischievous japes while kicking back and offering teasing observations and the most obvious puns he can come up with, while tending to his anxiety with a clove cigarette… or even a lollipop, once Blue starts getting on his case after they reach the Surface where humans can be harmed by the smoke. He’s easy to get along with at a surface level, but it takes a long and dedicated, deep friendship to get close enough to him to become his S/O. Once there, however, he’s got all manner of nicknames, ranging from sweet to punny, and like his brother he has a tendency to look for how to best poke the buttons of his S/O.

“funny running into you here,” he said with a wide grin after teleporting conveniently where you were about to step as you walked to his house, his arms circling you to keep you from falling flat on your back. “how was the trip, honey?”

“thanks for the dessert, sugar,” he hummed into your side, catching at your arm and pulling you close before you could walk away to grab your own plate. “no need to run another lap,” he added with a grin as suddenly you found yourself pulled onto his lap, his fork raising to your lips as he settled his chin on your shoulder so his words could whisper against your cheek. “i’ve got plenty to share…”

He even pulled off his sweater when he stepped into the frigid garage one winter afternoon, finding you digging through a pile of old gear for something you swore had to be in here. You looked up at him, brows raising, as he feigned fanning himself as he propped himself against the doorway. “is it hot out here or what? oh… nope, it’s just you.”

One night at the beach you found yourself unable to open your eyes, saltwater dripping off your body as you struggled to breathe under the pressure on your chest. The distant echoes of your friends were muffled by the roar of the waves and the choked off-screams of a group of men that, for a second, had been close to you. “-rt— sw– heart-” you heard, before the pressure picked up again. Suddenly you were coughing, hacking, saltwater dripping off of you and out of you as you gasped for air. “sweetheart, honey, i’m here, try and catch your breath, i’ve got you-” you heard Stretch at your side, hovering over you, his hand soothing circles on your back as you rid the rest of the saltwater from your system. Finally you looked up at him as your arms buckled, but his arms were already around you to hold you close. He smoothed the wet strands of hair away from your face, a soft smile spreading on his face even as his eyesockets were tightened in worry and anger. You reached up and managed to grab onto his hand, apologizing for worrying him, trying to vocalize what had happened, recalling the jetski coming out of nowhere and knocking you under the waves- but he just shook his head, his hand squeezing yours. “nothin’ to apologize for, honey. it’s not your fault assholes can’t choose the right path to take…” He held you as you realized you heard the sound of your other friends approaching at a run, Stretch’s cellphone discarded to one side of you, and decided to not ask what had happened to the group of jetskiers.

Another night, you both listened to the music filter through the speakers of your car, seats pushed back and some fast food fries in hand. The view from this pullout partway up the mountain was magical in its own way, and you both had been quiet for a few minutes. His voice came just loud enough to you over the beat of the music, and your gaze pulled to him to find him still staring distantly over the view. “everything’s new up here. new versions of old things we already knew, sure, but also just… new. new experiences, new views… new people.” He chuckled, his gaze switching to graze over you before capturing yours. “i’ll admit, i don’t really know what to do with all this new stuff. i just take it a day at a time, i guess. still not too sure if i like it all the time…” you laughed with him this time, feeling what he meant on a personal level. He leaned over to you then, his voice carrying more strongly, a shiver running down your spine. “with you though? it’s nice. everything new feels like… home. like it was kinda always meant to be, and we just had to take care of some stuff first. now i get to take care of you, sweetheart. so just say the word… and i’ll take care of you in any way you need.”

SF Sans:

Swapfell’s an odd universe to be sure. The sweet and unexpected charismatic switches of Underswap, with the dangerous and brazen attitude of Underfell. It often boiled down to “kill or be killed, and best claim what’s yours while you can.” Swapfell Sans, who I tend to refer to as Spike (though on occasion, Blackberry), takes this mindset to soul. He’s got the brilliantly deadly edge of a mad scientist, the cunning of a master strategist, and the self-assured and bold edge that brought him to renown in the first place. Deep down he’s trying to cover up his fear of losing it all by taking it while he can with all the cleverness he possesses. Even the Surface is a little more dangerous than in a normal universe, and this attitude doesn’t lessen much once the monsters are on the surface. Once in a relationship with him, he doesn’t hesitate in claiming you as his in every way he can - it’s not a relationship for the faint of heart, but if you can match him well in wits and will, you can be assured he’ll never let you feel undesired or unappreciated.

“THERE YOU ARE, MY DEAR,” he said, taking your hand as you walked into the room so he could press a kiss to your knuckles before he settled your hand on his arm. “YOU LOOK RAVISHING IN THAT OUTFIT WE CHOSE FOR YOU EARLIER… ARE YOU READY TO LET THE MONSTER COURT KNOW JUST WHO THEY WOULD REGRET CHALLENGING?”

“… I FIND IT TO BE THAT PARTICULAR LIGHT YOU GET IN YOUR EYES THAT DOES THE TRICK, KITTEN. LIKE YOU COULD KILL A MAN, AND WOULD, IF NOT FOR YOUR SWEET SOUL. IT MAKES ME WANT TO ENDEAVOUR TO CATCH YOUR GAZE FOR THE REST OF TIME.”

“DOES MY TOUCH DO TO YOU WHAT YOURS DOES TO ME, DARLING?” He gazed at you with an intensity that lit a fire in your very soul as he stepped closer. His hand slipped up your arm, his gaze following it as he trailed a slow path up, over your shoulder, settling to trail a ghost of a touch along your neck and down to your collarbone. “DOES IT DRIVE YOU MAD? WOULD YOU TRULY DO ANYTHING TO KEEP IT IN YOUR LIFE? NOT AN EASY LIFE, TO BE SURE, BUT…” He closed nearly the last of the distance between you, his breath raising goosebumps as he bent to draw close to the line of your neck. “… SURELY, A WORTHY ONE, IF THERE EVER WAS…”

There was nothing left of the men that had dared to drag you into that alleyway on your way home from Grillby’s that fateful night. The acrid scent of intense magic and dusted flesh was swept in the gentle breeze as he turned to face you, overpowered magic still setting a faint glow over his bones. More gently than you had ever seen him approach, he made his way to you, where you stood pressed against a wall, a bloodied pipe still dangling loosely from one hand as you held the other gingerly to your chest to protect the fracture in your arm you were briefly distracted from. His hand hovered over your injured arm for a moment, the calculating and furious expression rising for a moment longer before it softened marginally as he met your wild eyes. “They Are Taken Care Of, My Love. They Should Have Known To Never Cross You… Or Me,” he said, his voice measured and calming, a sound you knew so well by now that you couldn’t help but relax just a little. The pipe dropped from your fingers with a clang, and he grasped your freed hand with a gloved one of his own, inspecting the reddened tone for a moment. “I Shall See To Your Healing Myself… But I Will Aqcuiesce For Some Extra Help, Should You Want It.” He kissed your palm, his gaze sliding up to his. Despite the moment, heat thrilled in you at the look in his eyes. “Trust In Me.”

And there was one morning where you woke to the smell of fresh coffee, a gentle early sunlight falling over your form from the slats in the blinds of the window. You stretched for a satisfied moment, the blankets pulling over your form as you took in the room. Spike sat to your side, dressed only in a pair of pajama pants, leaning against the headboard of his bed with his notebook resting against the thighbone of one raised leg. Two cups of coffee waited on his bedside table. He looked to you as you stirred, a soft smile lifting on his amused face. “GOOD MORNING, SLEEPING BEAUTY. DID I TIRE YOU OUT THAT MUCH LAST NIGHT?” You rolled your eyes and elbowed him lightly as you moved to sit up. “I FIND MYSELF WITH A SURPLUS OF ENERGY THIS MORNING… AIDED BY WHAT I MAINTAIN IS ONE OF THE BEST DRINKS THE SURFACE HAS TO OFFER.” He passed you your cup of coffee, pausing as he reached for his own when you let out a soft moan of gratitude at the taste. He turned towards you fully then, his leg brushing against your own as he got a terribly delightful glint in his eye. “THE FACT THAT IT CAN DRAW THAT SOUND FROM YOU IS ONLY FURTHER PROOF… THOUGH I THINK I MAY WANT TO SEE WHICH METHOD YOU PREFER. COFFEE, MY DEAR? OR ME?”

SF Papyrus:

Last but certainly not least, Swapfell Papyrus… He’s got a few different scattered nicknames I’ve seen, but I like to stick with ‘Rus. I have to give @tyranttortoise a shoutout here as well, as I absolutely agree with her headcanon of him as something of a (perhaps unexpected) sex god. What can I say, it all lines up, doesn’t it? In my headcanons of them, he is similar to Swapfell Sans in that regard - the “claim what is yours while you can” paired with their power and experiences lend to it all too well. ‘Rus takes little for granted, maintaining the nihilistic tendencies of the Sans personalities much like Stretch, but he will nevertheless fiercely protect what little he does value or care for. Spike is on that list, and if you get in a relationship with him, prepare to find yourself on it as well. His mind operates at a level of near-genius that he doesn’t show often. He’s far more inclined to spending time looking after his brother, doing odd jobs to pass the time (he has little need for the money considering what he brought with him from Underground), and occasionally hooking up, especially for the time period directly following their making it to the Surface. Permanence is something that takes a while for him to get used to… and he doubts it even still, even when he does eventually get in a dedicated relationship with you. He is extremely low maintenance as a significant other, tends to put your needs and desires first, and will satisfy you in any way he can, and often that will be through easygoing wandering conversations and company… and considering his incredible skill and appetite for it, if you’re alright with it, an incredible amount of sex.

“hey darlin’. mind if i give you a hand there?” he’s said, appearing at your back as you picked out groceries to make something for movie night. His hand brushed over yours as he easily reached the higher shelf, the combination of it and his easy, low tone raising a particular kind of goosebumps along your arm. From the spread of his grin, you knew he didn’t miss that.

“there’s something about the cock of your hips right now, sweetsoul.” His gaze raked over your form from where he sat on the couch, his position relaxed with his legs spread a little, his hands tucked into his jacket pockets. His grin spread a little then, his golden fang catching the light as his gaze caught yours. “ah, yeah, that’s what it is. i’d rather be seeing it in closeup.”

“nothin’ to see here, doll,” he said, waving off your worried look as he strode into the apartment, cradling an arm that swirled with wounded magic. You sat him down quickly despite his words, sighing as he grunted and shooting him a look. He simply shrugged, but you could tell he was a little pleased at the attention, even if he didn’t want you to worry. “really, love, ain’t nothin’ worth worry about, i’ve had worse, and just havin’ you here is all i need to feel better.”

The crack of a gunshot whipped down the street, but before you could react to the immediate screams, you found yourself flush against ‘Rus, your face buried in his jacket as he pressed you close, the distinct wave of unsteady nausea from a trip through the void confusing you as you blinked. You felt his arm wrapped tight around your waist, and his other hand tangled in your head as he held you close. “shhh, darlin’, ‘m sorry to do that without warning,” he murmured. You couldn’t see, but you could tell his face was turned in another direction. The echoes of the gunshot - gunshots - faded, and you heard distant shouts of frustration amidst the screaming and a even more distant siren before you heard the screech of a car taking off. Your hands gripped at his jacket, the memories of a news story playing at the bar last night flashing in your memory. “… and closely aligned with the Monster Monarchy are several monsters of power and note, including the skeleton brothers, one of who is known as Captain of the Guard, the other of which seems to keep a low profile - yet just last week was seen leaving a secured building that the Monarchy had been meeting in with several noted officials…” You breathed in sharply, the pieces falling into place. The low growl of swears above you cut off, and ‘Rus spoke to you again. “i’ll get you outta here, darlin’, don’t you worry. i can’t… we’ve already been seen together too much, but trust me… outsida never knowing me, there’s no safer place than at my side.” You felt magic flare and wrap around you both. “i swear it.”

One night, weeks later, you sat straddling his lap. His hands were laid at your waist as you pressed against him, both of you relaxing on his couch, revelling in the moment of lazy, intimate peace. His fingers traced tingling, trailing designs along your sides, and you gently brushed the knuckles of one hand along the vertebrae of his neck, eliciting a pleased rumble from him. He tilted his head to press his mouth to your hair as you continued. “if i had to say, i’d call the way ya sit here so sweet and too-good in my arms unfair,” he said. His hands shifted to trail further up your sides, then back down, down to your thighs. You pressed a little closer to him, your own pleased sound pulled out of you, making him chuckle. “but i guess i wasn’t ever one to play fair either… i like to get dirty in the face of a challenge,” he continued, his voice dipping lower. A grin was pulling at your lips, and you turned your face to press a kiss to his exposed collarbone. He growled, and one of his hands was at the back of your neck in a blink, his fingers tangling with your hair as he pulled you up towards him. Magic sparked in his eye, and the heat pooled in you as you matched his lidded, smirking expression. “so, that said… care to play a game, darlin’?”