This had been a bad idea from the start.

Caving from the combined pressure of school, lack of friends, a stalker and no privacy , you popped the cap on a bottle of vodka that you'd gotten from a twisted guy at the store who accidentally forgot to check your id when you paid him double. You knew you were supposed to mix it in with other things, but...

You gritted your teeth and took a swig straight from the bottle, the fridge door still open, face twisting. Eurgh. That was like... drinking nail varnish that burned your throat.

... Good.

You sat down on the sofa alone, most of the lights off, and started chugging the vodka neat. Well, chug was a strong word. You would down a few gulps, then take a moment to compose yourself, since the burn would be a little too much to handle. But it felt good. After about 6 mouthfuls you felt all funny and buzzy and giggly.

*ping*

last time i checked, you weren't 21, baby girl

You snickered. Baby girl was such a weird pet name. He probably had a daddy kink... not that you had much room to talk.

Fukc off u creppy sluyt

excuse me

You hiccuped and started laughing, accidentally splashing a little vodka onto the sofa, but not noticing, too busy typing out your AMAZING response.

u a creep y weirdno who cant get a gf so he stalkjhs me instrwed

bet ur dikc is smolll 2

tahts y u so lonel;ky u gotaa wathc me all teh time

smol peniks

you seem awfully interested in the size of my cock

bet its smolkler than ur brain if thats evne possible

i have a phd in theoretical astrophysics

o

just how drunk are you, baby?

You licked your lips, stood up from the sofa, and very slowly and deliberately knocked your head back and took another gulp straight from the bottle. You didn't even bother texting, you held the half-emptied glass container up and yelled "THAT WAS FULL WHEN I OPENED IT, JACKASS, YOUR ALCOHOL GAME IS WEAK ."

very impressive

"Tank you." You said, forgetting to text it, sitting back down when you started to feel dizzy.

you're welcome

am i gonna have to look after you again?

You pouted, puzzled by the question.

again?//?//

this isn't the first time you've gotten completely sloshed, baby girl.

Ooooohhh... THAT was why there was a rum bottle missing.

"Mm... so..." You put your phone down, completely forgetting that you had to text him in your drunken stupor. "I got wasted... and you *hic* were a knight in shinin' armour, and escorted me back to my bedchambers."

"you could say that."

You didn't even notice that he'd started talking to you normally. Your idiotic brain was fried, and couldn't draw the parallels. "Sooo... I woke up in my PJs, though." You swirled the clear liquid around in the bottle. "Doessat mean you looked at my panties? Creep."

"you were covered in vomit, baby girl." His voice was nice and deep, and coming from directly behind you. He was probably standing behind the sofa. "wasn't gonna leave you like that."

"You're a gentleman. Y'know, 'cept all the following and stalking 'nd sending me pictures of myself 'n telling me all that creepy shit you told..." You pulled the glass bottle to your lips for another swig, but a black gloved hand reached around from behind you and gently pried it free from your hands, making it vanish instantly.

"i think that's enough for tonight, beautiful." He chuckled. "you're not thinking straight."

You thought to look behind you to see where the bottle went. The back of your head bumped against the back of the sofa and you looked up, into... what looked... like two tiny stars, in a face of black. The bottom of his face was covered in some kind of bike mask that obscured his mouth, jaw, cheeks and bottom of his nose from view. The rest was more or less blocked by the hood he'd pulled over his head. All you could see was deep, round, black holes, with little shining stars peering back at you.

"... You're funny looking." You said, reaching a wobbly hand out and poking where his nose would've been. "... Why you got a mask on?"

"don't think you're ready to know who i am yet, baby." He said, tracing a finger over your cheek.

"Thassunfair." You scowled. "You know everything about me but I'm not even allowed to know what you look like? Talk about bullshit."

"...sorry, princess," he said, actually sounding apologetic. "maybe next time."

You reached up and tried to take the mask away, but he held your hands gently in his own gloved ones. "we should get you to bed."

You shook your head, pulling your hand away and flopping sideways onto the sofa. "You're not the boss of me!"

He moved a strand of hair out of your face, tucking it out of the way. "don't be a brat."

"...M... Why do you stalk me?" you asked, suddenly, turning to face him again.

That took him by surprise. He wasn't sure how to respond, exactly...

"you're... my soulmate, baby girl..." He said, slowly, little stars growing slightly "the only reason i'm living... fuck, you're so important to me. i love you so much."

If you weren't drunk, you would've cried from being freaked out. But you were, so you started laughing.

"Oh my god! Why? You don't even- *hic*... don't even know me."

"as far as you know."

"...That's really creepy, dude."

He didn't respond. He just started to stroke your hair, leaning over the back of the sofa so that he was hovering over you. It felt weirdly nice, and when his fingers touched your scalp it went all tingly.

"What's your name?" you asked him, starting to play with the strings of his jacket. If you were sober you would've shoved him out of the house and screamed bloody murder. But your stupid drunk ass was playing with his clothing!?

"...i told you, baby girl, you're not ready fo-"

"I just want your name... or I could just keep calling you creep?" you said with a small giggle.

"...it's an uncommon name, sweetheart. you could find me pretty easily... then again, you probably won't remember much after tonight..." he sighed. "tell ya what, baby. just... just call me 's' for now."

You snorted. " S ? Thass dumb. What, you a Steven?"

He snorted, little stars looking away from you for a moment. When they came back, they were a tad brighter.

"c'mon, let's get you to bed."

---

how did i get this drunk .

Sans felt irresponsible. But you were upstairs in your room, fast asleep, and he needed to stay inside the house in case you vomited or had a nightmare... or something. And that vodka bottle he'd taken off you had looked so appealing once he'd finished the dishes, and he just took onesip to try it out, and before he could snap his fingers he was neck-deep in it, lying sprawled with his face on the table, the empty bottle now lying discarded on the surface, drained of every last drop.

fuck

He was supposed to be looking after you , not drowning his sorrows in alcohol. But here he was. Wasted. Irresponsible, self-control lacking creep.

He just... ugh . He knew it was wrong to stalk. At first, it'd just been little things, like going to the library at the same time to catch a glimpse of the cute face you made when reading and get more of that feeling . Then it escalated just a little into following you around the hallways while he tried to think of a way to introduce himself, but never quite plucking up the courage, instead just walking behind you and hiding around corners when you looked, because he almost collapsed the first time the two of you made eye contact.

He knew stalking was wrong, but he just couldn't help it . The following escalated into following you home, under the pretense of 'making sure you were alright'. Then he wanted to follow you into the shops, into your room ... Then he started observing closer, noting down your every move, memorising key things for... future reference. If he wanted your phone number he just had to steal your phone for a while, no biggie. When he followed you to the shops he learnt your pin number and started transferring small amounts of money to your account so you'd be able to get by. Just enough to be a bonus, but not enough to warrant suspicion.

Then he started taking pictures.

He couldn't get enough. He loved the face you made when you were reading and thought no one was watching, so he snapped that. Your smiles, your different hairstyles, the way your cheeks went such a pretty shade of red whenever you were embarrassed or angry, just... everything.

In fact, the majority of his camera roll was just pictures of you from different angles. He would stare at them at night, the funny light fluttery feeling growing in his chest, never quite able to get enough, purring to himself. He adored you. He was obsessed. Addicted .

And one night, he couldn't help it. He outed himself over text while you ate pizza. He felt kinda bad for making you so scared... he'd never hurt you, ever, ever, ever . But you didn't know that, of course.

And that brought him to his current situation. Sitting, shit-faced, at your table, while you slept upstairs, wondering why he hasn't just fucking kissed you already. Why he's wasting so much time in the shadows. You were right- he knew everything about you (including your kinks, that box in your cupboard wasn't as secret as you thought it was), and yet you didn't even have a name to call him by. It was unfair. On you, AND him.

He groaned, scratching the table with a phalange. He loved stalking you, obviously, but he loved looking after you more. It just... took a toll on his self-control when you played with his hoodie strings like that, face flushed by the alcohol, hair splayed around your head, lips wet and warm and so delicious looking ...

He took a breath and ran a hand over his skull. God, he really was wasted.

He heard footsteps on the stairs and sighed, sitting up as best he could and putting his mask back on his face. It was... probably best that you didn't see a skeleton right now. You might panic in your drunken state and think he was death come to get you or something. It had happened before.

You wandered into the room, a blanket around your shoulders. Fuck , he was already dying. Your pyjamas were a soft, elastic material that clung to your curves in all the right ways, top few buttons undone, revealing just a little skin... God, were you even wearing any underwear right now!?

You blushed when he looked at you, and he had to stop himself from jumping up and fucking you against the wall there and then.

"Didn't..." Your voice was heavy with sleep. "Didn't think you were still here..."

"i'm always here." It came out before he could stop himself. Fucking alcohol. He took a breath, steadying himself against the insanely glorious feeling of talking to you. "why'd you come downstairs, baby girl...?"

You blushed again and pulled the blanket around your shoulders, shivering a little. i can warm you up... he thought, staring at the skin of your chest.

"Was... gonna put the bottle back in the fridge." You mumbled, looking away. Then you licked your lips ( f u c k ) and giggled. "... Ok, that's a lie, was... gonna finish the bottle off." You glanced at the painfully empty container that once had vodka in. "But I can see you handled it."

That made him chuckle, and he could've sworn he saw that damn blush again. You bit your bottom lip and fiddled with the buttons of your pyjama top-

no way.

His eye sockets widened with the realisation.

the alcohol was making you want him.

It was painfully obvious- the way you kept blushing and avoiding eye contact, how strangely calm you'd been in his company, and, fuck , he could only stare as you undid the next button on your top, trying to make it seem like an accident. you'd done that to make him look .

Shit. shit shit shit shit shit shit. He felt the table under his hand crack with how hard he was squeezing it.

"It's cold in here..." You said, making your voice go low, slowly sliding the blanket over you. Your drunken attempt at seduction was both hilarious and turning him on so fucking bad. "Wish someone would help me warm up..."

...

Sans's self-control went out the window.

Before he could even realise what he was doing he was up, and then suddenly your warm body was pressed between him and the wall, and he tore off his mask and forced his mouth against yours, feeling those delicious little lips on his. You froze for a moment, and he suddenly realised that he might have been reading the wrong signs and the alcohol and addictive love and desperation for you was making him see things, but he knew he was right when you let out a little moan and melted against him, body so warm and soft and... and... fuck he was falling fast. How did you do this to him? How did you reduce him to nothing more than a lust-driven monster without even trying?

Whatever. He wasn't complaining. He tangled his phalanges in the hair at the back of your head, delighting in how soft and smooth it was. His other hand was on the wall just beside your waist, trapping you in, just in case .

Mmh, you were so warm, and your mouth was so wet... Shit, wait, when had he put his tongue there? And since when had you been mingling your tongue with his, moaning softly into his mouth, breasts squishing up against his ribcage as you wriggled, hands up his shirt and playing with his bottom ribs...

Fuck , you were so perfect for him. He was slipping further and further, the part of him screaming to 'get a grip and back off before he did something he regretted' drowned out by the alcohol. All he could think about was how perfectly you fitted against him, how you were made to be his, how you belonged to him ...

He broke away, and you looked up at him in drunken confusion, but he used the hand that was buried in your hair to turn your head to the side and give him a perfect view of your soft, vulnerable neck. He felt a surge of primal (and sexual) excitement at seeing you so exposed and defenceless to him, his breathing quickening and vision tunneling. He leant down, after admiring it for a moment, ran the flat of his tongue along the smooth skin, feeling how thin it was, how your blood was pulsing faintly on the other side, how open you were. How, if he wanted to, he could clamp down with his sharp teeth and kill you here and now.

The best part, though, was the little gasping sound you made. It was so sexy, so... so... delicious. He couldn't have stopped the gleeful growl that escaped his throat, even if he wanted to. God, everything about you was driving him crazy, the predator inside him thrashing against the bars of its cage. Your scent, your skin, every little sound you made...

f u c k .

He knew he needed to control himself. To back off and make your drunk ass go to bed, but he just couldn't . This was such a perfect opportunity. He had you right where he had always wanted you, and you were so willing ...

He pulled back and kissed your forehead, letting his hands wander down your sides and then linger on your hips for a moment before one snaked up your shirt. That little whimper that left your lips... God damn ... you were so fucking lucky he had at least some self control left.

You wrapped your arms around his neck and he just couldn't help the tiny growl that escaped him. He let his hand wander up farther to your chest, where he discovered you, like he suspected, weren't wearing a bra.

But something was eating at him. Causing him to hesitate just a bit.

If you weren't drunk... you wouldn't want this. If he wasn't drunk this wouldn't even be happening.

He forced himself to push that thought to the back of his mind. This was happening. You were his . You wanted this. You actually wanted him ... even if it was just the alcohol numbing your brain and heightening your SOUL's call to him.

You let out a little squeak when he gripped your right breast gently, causing him to smirk. You were so fucking cute . He crashed his 'lips' back against yours and you moaned against him. It made his mouth tingle and made his body shiver. His other hand made it's way down and he grabbed your ass gently, giving it an experimental squeeze. You let out the smallest giggle and it took everything in him not to just throw you on the floor and fuck you senseless right then and there.

He pulled back again and your lip quivered. You let out a needy whine and he melted. He let his hands move away and start to unbutton the rest of your shirt. His hands were a little shaky, because, fuck , he was about to touch you everywhere !

And it was consensual!

You stared up at him as he did so, causing his non-existent stomach to flip in anxiety. You leaned up and kissed him on the corner of his mouth, and that was just it.

He groaned and ripped the shirt off of you easily, letting the torn article of clothing fall to the floor. He leaned down a bit and kissed between your breasts, making you bite your lip to hold in a moan. He ran his tongue from the center of your chest up to your neck and your breathing got heavy and faster. He liked the reactions he got out of you.

Suddenly, he reached back down to your butt and lifted you, pleased when you jumped a bit and wrapped your legs around him. He quickly pushed your body back against the wall so his body kept you pinned to the wall. He went back to kissing your neck, since you seemed to like that so much, and he sure as hell just developed a taste for it. Your hands started to clutch and cling to the back of his jacket, almost like you were trying to pull him closer .

He fucking loved it .

"you're so... fuck... you're so soft ," he muttered as he gently bit down on your shoulder. You winced a little, but it quickly turned into a breathy moan.

You hiccuped and then let out a drunken giggle. "It... It's called fat, stupid."

He growled lowly and then bit down again, harder this time. You whined and held onto him even tighter. "shut your mouth," he practically hissed at you. "you're not fucking fat!"

You pouted and punched his back weakly, once, out of a mixture of embarrassment and nerves. "You shuddup..."

He kissed you again, and this time it was something softer. Sweeter. He pulled away slowly and placed his forehead against yours gently. "you're perfect just the way you are. don't you ever change... okay?"

You looked surprised at first and then glared, clearly not used to this type of attention. "Stop."