You wanted history to go to hell.

The class, anyways, not necessarily all of the worlds history.

You never paid much attention, instead usually scribbling on papers and daydreaming while staring off into space. Usually your mind would go towards after school, and the nap you would be taking when you got there, but...

Now all you could ever think about was him.

Ever since that... date, he was really all you could think about. His face kept popping up in your mind, and his voice would echo through your ears... Everything just circled back to him. Even just thinking about if he was in the classroom with you, you knew he would have already finished the assignment, and would have written down the notes in about fifteen seconds, and then hell, he probably would have already finished the homework, and would have moved onto helping other people understand what the teacher couldn't make them understand.

Regardless of everything he had done, he was still a genius, and you couldn't help but idolize and envy him for that reason. You had always wondered how he got to be so smart. He took all of the classes everyone else had taken, and he was never on the lists for having a tutor... so what made him so special?

Maybe it was genetic.

"-essay will count towards fifty percent of your final grade."

... What.

...Your heart started pounding as you finally tuned back into what was going on around you. You looked at the front of the board where he had been writing, and realized you had an essay. You were fucking awful at essays, especially ones that had to do with history!

There was no chance in hell that you were going to pass on it.

...

...No. You weren't going to ask Sans for help. You weren't going to kiss him again!

Not after you liked it so much.

The history teacher, Mr. Butler, started to hand out the reference sheet for the essay, and before he got to you, you were hopeful! Maybe it would be about something you knew. Something simple that you could just spew opinions and word vomit onto! You could do that, easily. You knew how to stretch words out, pretty far, so you could handle it.

Yeah! You totally had this!

"Here you are, y/n." Mr. Butler's voice was deep and smooth, and kind of reminded you of the color gray. A dark gray.

He placed the paper down in front of you, and your smile fell completely. Colonialism in the 1800s.

...well fuck.

The bell rang soon after, the rest of the class just containing of him rambling on about his knee surgery for some reason. Guess it was technicallyhistory, since it happened three months before.

Next class... lunch. Wasn't technically a class, but might as well have been, considering it was the only one kids ever enjoyed. You usually didn't like lunch, but you knew today it was going to be even worse.

You were going to have to swallow your pride, and ask Sans to help you. You spotted him at his lunch table, but thankfully, none of his friends had been there yet, so you had an open opportunity. You approached him, and almost backed off when he smiled at you. It was gentle, and it made you a bit uneasy.

You knew he wouldn't be nice, for long.

"y/n!" He called your name, happy that you had actually come up to him. He had missed you all day... even if he had watched you a few times. It wasn't the same if he wasn't face to face with you. He really liked talking to you, instead of watching you from afar like a painting. You were more like an interactive piece of art... he wanted to touch and feel you.

In more ways than one.

"...Hi," you greeted awkwardly, shifting your body weight to the right as you awkwardly grabbed at your right arm with your left.

"...hey... what do you need?" He asked, knowing for a fact that you would never just stroll up to him to start a friendly conversation, or to just sit at lunch with him. He wasn't that lucky... and the look on your face, gave him enough information to know that something was bothering you.

You didn't give him a response, instead just pulling the paper out of your pocket from history and unfolding it, before handing it to him. He blinked before taking it and reading it over.

"...I'm so bad at history," you told him, even though he already knew that. You knew he knew that.

"oohoh," he chuckled a bit, continuing to read it over, "...colonialism in the late eighteen-hundreds? this is gonna cost you."

You had a bad feeling in the pit of your stomach.

You sat down across from him at his lunch table, looking around first, to make sure none of his friends were coming over yet. Luckily, they were all still in the lunch line, so you had some time. You looked up at him, giving him an expectant look, just in time as he had finished reading.

How many kisses would it cost you, exactly?

"...hm," he hummed, a smirk plastered on his face as he looked you in the eye. You managed to hold his gaze, but you wanted to shrink under the intensity of it, "...since it's an essay, the usual kisses rate doesn't apply."

You didn't know what he meant by that, and really, you weren't sure if you wanted to. But the worst thing he could do was drag it out, so you decided to nip it in the bud before it started.

"...Can you just... not tip-toe? Tell it to me straight." All you asked for was honesty, and for him to be blunt. You weren't a kid, and you could handle it.

His smirk didn't falter for even a second as he lifted his hand and motioned for you to come closer with his finger. You did so, and leaned on your elbows across the table so you were almost touching faces. You could practically feel his breath on your face... and it smelled kind of sweet.

"...suck my dick," he whispered, with a low purr.

...

You smacked him right across the skull.

The sound echoed across the room, and his face even turned to the side a little, sockets wide with apparent shock.

...

He blinked, sockets still wide and staring into the distance just to the side of you, and shook his head, with the weirdest face. He looked like someone who'd just taken a mind-blowing snort of cocaine.

"..." His mouth opened, very slightly. "ohooooo..."

You didn't wait for an order. You got up from the table and stormed away, ignoring/unaware of the looks of shock and surprise and mild confusion being cast at you by the other students.

"... holy shit. nooo, come back." The sound of Sans's chair scraping across the ground as he got up to go after you only spurred you to speed walk that much faster, desperate to get away from him and be alone.

H... how DARE he!

You aggressively continued, fuming, heading to the library. You nearly wanted to cry . Your cheeks felt so hot, and red... You weren't just some... whore that would eat a dick every time some mildly difficult incident came up! If anyone heard that exchange between the two of you, you'd...!

... He was following you. You could hear his soft footsteps. Meaningful, but careful.

You felt harassed. Why did he think that about you!? What could you have possibly done that made you seem like that type of girl! You wiped your face angrily, refusing to let him see or hear any tears. Did he seriously think you'd shove your face into his crotch in gratitude for an essay!? Was this the only reason he was helping you!?

The library's familiar and safe shelves of books suddenly surrounded you when you looked up. It always felt nice to be back here, where it was quiet, and no one ever bothered you.

Or asked you to perform oral sex.

... You sat in a corner, between the sci-fi aisle and the romance, back to the wall. You refused to look up or acknowledge him, instead bringing your knees to your face and pushing your head down, curled up.

... There was shuffling, and you heard him sit down right next to you, so close your upper arms were touching.

...

You scooted away.

"... no, baby." He sounded so soft . "don't be like that."

Your head shot up from your knees, glaring at him. He was sat casually, one leg outstretched and one slightly bent at the knee. Immediately, as if by instinct to check the danger, your eyes darted to his pants... then straight back to him in renewed anger, cheeks flushing.

"Don't fucking baby me!" You whispered, hostile.

"... i know it sounds scary." His voice was still a purr, and you didn't miss the way he scooted a little closer.

"Disgusting." You said, simply, laying your head back on your knees.

"but i promise it won't be that bad."

"No." Your voice was muffled, but harsh.

A little shuffle. "... then i can't help you."

"... Wow." You looked back up at him, h... hurt.

He wouldn't even consider helping you without a blowjob. That... kinda stung? Weren't you the 'love of his life'? Your face twisted a little. Why would he force you to do something you didn't want to do if he was really that madly in love?

Who the hell trades essays for blowjobs?

"hey, if it was science, i wouldn't ask for a blowjob." He was trying to defend his choice. "but history is a bitch."

"Can you leave me alone?" You looked away from him, instead staring at the title of a book on the shelf level with your eyes. Something about time travelling.

...

There was a little sigh on his end, and you felt the air from his breath in your hair. Just how close was he leaning!?

"... okay. just for a while."

He got up, brushed off his pants... and teleported away.

...

Your hands hit your face.

No! You weren't going to do it! It made you uncomfortable and that should be reason enough to say no! He had no right to do that to you!

But he loves you . Your inner fucking idiot chimed. It's better to do it with him than someone else.

Shouldn't have to do it at ALL.

He'll be doing the WHOLE ESSAY for us. Doesn't that deserve some reward?

No he's not. You ran your hand down your face, mind a warzone. You're not sucking his... schwang. Essay or no.

Better him than some rando.

Better NO ONE!

It's probably just like eating a popsicle .

... What the fuck!? No! Your mind started to wander. He... what if he didn't even have a proper dick? What if it was just another BONE? Would you just be licking a- NO! You smacked yourself again before your stupid, STUPID mind could wander.

Why don't you ask him about it, then? Ask about what's actually there .

No.

Just... no.

It's either this or do the whole essay ourselves. We'll be fucked if you don't. It goes toward the final grade, doesn't it? If you screw this up your whole grade will be affected.

... Sh...

... Shit.

It does go to the final grade. And a significant portion, too. Fifty percent...

...

Your throat felt so tight.

You didn't have a choice , did you? It was either this, or failure.

You know what Sans is like. He'll be super sweet abou-

Shut UP, brain!

You pressed the heels of your palms against your eyes, swallowing to try and calm yourself and reduce the pressure in your throat and tear ducts. You weren't going to cry over this.

... You heard footsteps on the carpeted floor, and looked up to see him approaching. He got down on one knee, to your level, face... really soft.

... He moved, sitting next to you again, knees touching.

"... y/n?"

... You didn't respond.

He tried to put an arm around your shoulders but you shook it off, still angry and hurt and feeling like a whore .

"... Fine." It sounded... defeated.

He didn't rub it in, or laugh, or say anything sexual.

Thank God for the little things. You might try to choke him now if he says something sexual.

"... I'm going to class." You said, resigned.

"okay. i'll wait for you at the end." Did he sound... a tiny bit remorseful? You sure hoped so. Maybe you were just looking for a reason to let him off the hook...

...You left.

...

Class had been hell, to put it simply. You couldn't concentrate at all, and you even got in trouble for using your phone, while he was talking about his knee surgery. You didn't give a fuck about it, why wouldn't he just shut up!

Unsurprisingly, Sans waited for you outside of your classroom, with his backpack in his hand, ready to head home for the day.

You silently walked up to him, ignoring your surroundings and the stares you were getting. You always knew it would be weird, once you both started finally talking to each other at school. You must have looked like some type of charity case, that Sans was only hanging out with because he felt bad, or he was just trying to look like a nice person.

It was kind of humiliating, even though it was just in your head.

His expression was soft as he glanced down at you, and it almost looked like he had pity in his sockets. "...my place?"

You looked around one more time, taking in your surroundings... it must have all been in your head, because literally nobody was looking at you, besides one kid who seemed to be staring off into space, rather than staring.

You looked back at him, and examined his face. He looked so chill... but at the same time, it was terrifying, because you knew what was about to happen. How could he be so calm in this situation?

...You did feel kind of lucky however, since so many people wanted Sans for themselves, and you weren't gonna lie... he was pretty fucking hot.

"...Whatever." You agreed softly, letting him take your hand.

When your feed landed back on the ground, you instantly searched your surroundings. You had never been to Sans's house before... come to think of it, had anybody ever been to Sans's house before? You would have expected him to throw super cool parties, being the most popular dude in school, so... you found it a bit strange.

As you looked around, you realized he must have been loaded. His room was huge... easily the size of your entire downstairs area. You could tell he lived on the rich side of town, which probably explained the lack of parties and guests.

His bed was huge, and looked insanely comfortable, along with matching chairs and a small table next to it. The wallpaper looked like the galaxy, and he had a huge flat screen mounted on the wall, but... what really caught your eye was the huge closet, directly across from the bed. It was a deep blue color, and seemed to be a walk in.

You walked over and opened the two doors before stepping inside, jumping a bit when the automatic lights turned on.

Inside, there were a bunch of racks with clothes, all the way from designer brands, to casual clothing you could buy at Target. There were a shit load of shoe boxes, and other things like belts, wallets, photo albums... you name it. But what really caught your attention, was a bright blue box on the floor.

You instantly knelt down and started to open it, feeling no sympathy whatsoever, considering the fact he never respected your privacy. But as soon as you started to open it, he slammed the lid back down.

You couldn't help but flinch back a bit, still feeling sensitive over what had happened at school.

...That just made your curiosity grow even stronger.

He chuckled a bit, the type somebody would do when they knew they were getting caught in something they shouldn't be doing. "...sorry. that's, um... why don't i just..." He stuttered softly, before maxing the box disappear altogether, like it was never even there.

...That was suspicious and unnerving, and you really wanted to go home.

Apparently he could tell, because he instantly started to explain himself when he looked at your face. "...it's... my stuff from when we still... didn't know each other, properly."

..."...So... my stuff that went missing?" You guessed, honestly not going to put anything past him, anymore.

"...y-yeah." He admitted, his face turning bright blue. It would have been cute, if the circumstances had been different.

...It was so weird, how you could forget he was your stalker at times, but somehow you were always reminded, one way or another. You ripped your eyes away from his face, and they just so happened to land on a picture frame, and in that frame, was a picture of you that you do not remember being taken. You were sitting on the couch, watching TV and drinking something.... fuck, this was such a bad idea.

You could feel your skin crawling as you looked at the other picture frames... all pictures of you, that you never gave consent to being taken.

"...wanna wait a bit?" He offered, softly, apparently now pitying you.

But you just shook your head. You wanted to get it over with, and then pretending it never happened. Go home, and bathe in bleach, so you could wash away the sins of the act you were about to commit.

... He went over to the large bed, and sat, just on the edge... legs slightly spread.

You stood there.

Like an idiot.

...

How did this even work? You were such an unbelievably virgin , virgin.

"... c'mere." He said, softly, his sockets just as gentle as his voice.

...

You took a single step forward.

He probably would've rolled his eyes but he kept his voice soft and kinda encouraging. Which... made you feel sicker.

"bit closer."

... You went all the way over to him, heart starting to pump faster, the sounds of your feet moving on the soft carpet almost deafening to your hypersensitive state.

"... might wanna kneel down." He said, when you just stood there, so close to him that he had to look up to keep eye contact.

The phrase made you want to run for it.

"...I only get on my knees to pray." You muttered, swallowing, thinking it was pretty funny. You wanted to lighten the mood, but...

"won't be able to reach, otherwise."

Apparently he didn't find it very funny.

... You sighed, trying to slow your thunderous heart. You just needed to breathe, and...

Kneel.

...

You got down, slowly, even though every fibre of your pride was screaming don't do this. You can still keep your morals ... but now you were eye-level with his crotch .

...

His hands came down, and he started unbuckling his belt. You couldn't look anywhere else, not even to his face- you'd probably just get up and leave if you saw his face right now, looking down at you from above as you got ready to trade oral sex for an essay .

... He pulled his dick out.

...

The first thought that struck you was, 'Oh, so he does have an actual penis. I won't be sucking a bone, then.'

But immediately after that, you were taken aback by the fact that it was blue.

And glowing.

And...

Thick.