hands on wall

A gift for @thebananafrappe

This is a little drabble thing I just finished writing to sort of get my feet wet in this kind of style. The set-up is of a self-insert (with more specific details thrown in for @thebananafrappe‘s description since it’s for them mostly but feel free to mentally alter it) taking care of the illustrious Banana Cabana, a brothel that is home to nearly, if not all, of the skeleton brothers from every AU imaginable. But, while everyone else has their fun, what of the owner and gracious hostess?



The loud click of the deadbolt echoed in the now settled building, the workers put to their chambers for a well-earned rest after a buy day of entertaining the patrons. It was a difficult business and not many were well-equipped to handle it, but that never made you shy away from making others happy.

Besides, it paid well and kept the hunger for contact satiated for your clients.

Tucking a troublesome curl behind your ear, you pivoted to head back to the office and count to today’s profits. It wasn’t the most glamorous part of the job but it had to be done. As you walked the hall quietly, not wanting to disturb the rest of the skeletons under your care, you flicked the key into the knob and entered to close the door quietly with the money box awaiting on your desk.

As the hours passed, eyes burning behind your rectangular glasses that kept sliding down the bridge of your nose from leaning too far forward as you wrote, you leaned back in silent victory. Just finished, thank the stars.

“Even after paying them, it still turned out to be a good day. Not as good as last Thursday but I don’t think anything will top that… What made them so clingy on a Thursday of all days?” you mused, snorting at the absurdity of blaming it on a full moon. Even after working with the more beastial males, it still sounded far-fetched.

Closing the box and locking it away in the safe beneath the medium-sized wood desk at the head of your office, you took off your glasses to massage your temples. A small headache had been forming ever since someone decided to ask twice about having their way with every single one of them at once.

You couldn’t help but wonder if they had a death wish and figured death by sex was the better alternative. While the thought was morbid, and you rightfully declined the idea, a bit of fun did sound nice. Watching everyone else have their way and time with the boys was both rewarding… and making you all the more susceptible to jealousy.

Especially when there was one in particular that seemed incredibly popular.

Not that anyone, or yourself, could blame them.

They always say that the best version of something is the original and with Sans, that was no different. He treated his patrons with the utmost care, tailoring his approach to suit their desires and his own with expert precision. It was almost laughable when someone would be surprised at how easily he could turn from kind and body-worshiping to domineering and provocative. His soothing low baritone was always a nice bonus and to hear him murmur sweet words of praise and admiration right into the ear of a lonesome soul, it was enough to make a girl’s heart melt.

It wasn’t until your mind started wandering into the slightly more private territory did you realize your wandering hand on your lap, flinching it away with a deep-red flush on your cheeks. One could even make the observation that your hair came straight from your face given how they matched in rich color.

Swallowing down your racing heart, you stood from your chair shakily and snatched up your glasses.

“you okay, boss?”

The voice startled you, wide green eyes darting to the door to see one of the skeletons casually leaned against the door with his hands stuffed into his large blue jacket.

Trying to pull yourself together with a nod, tugging at the bottom hem of your “I make jokes periodically” t-shirt, you gazed right at him. “Yes, I’m fine. Shouldn’t you be in bed, Comic? Aren’t you tired?”

His lazy shrug spoke just how tired he was but his tone was as laid-back as ever. “nah. can’t sleep with Pap snorin’ up a storm, ya know?”

“Right. I’ll figure something out.”

“don’t sweat it. heh, i’m used to it anyway.” His bright white eyelights slanted over to you, appraising your awkward shift of weight in the silence. “listen, if you wanna stop this, ya can. no one would stop ya.”

The change in topic was both welcome yet jarring. “What?”

“this can’t make ya happy, not all the way like what your searching for.” Crossing the room to sit down in one of the chairs that faced your desk, he sighed. “we appreciate what you’re doing, givin’ us a chance to interact with our admirers and show ‘em a good time… but you’re not really gettin’ much outta this.”

A frown, scratching your forearm. “I am, though. Making other people happy? That’s how I’m happy.” You turn on the easy-going smile you were so used to putting on. “To see the smiles on their faces to see you guys are free for a bit of fun; that’s all the reward I need. Don’t get me wrong, the G is nice too but it’s their satisfaction and moment of bliss that does it for me.”

Sans studied your expression for a moment, perma-grin tight as the silence stretched between you two.

“i don’t like it when people lie to me, boss.”

Before it could be really processed, he had you pinned to the left-hand wall of your office; your back prodded by picture frames of each skeleton who resided at the Banana Lounge, his ribs pressing against your sensitive chest. You could almost swear that his soulbeat was felt through the fabric between you. With your hands clasped together by one of his own above your head, you were completely at his mercy as his left iris sparked with cyan magic.

You quaked in his grasp, caged like a pet bird, and while your fight-or-flight instinct wanted you to run… you didn’t really have much of anywhere to go. Well, not that his teleporting would let you get far, besides.

His free hand raked against your waist, bringing you out of your own mind and back to him.

“why would you lie to me? i thought we were close friends and all.” he purred softly, head bowed into the crook of your neck and shoulder.

You could faintly hear his breathing hitch as his teeth parted, allowing a glowing tongue to slither out and lap at the flushed skin.

“so, let’s try this again, hm? what would actually make you happy~?” His low, almost predatory, tone made shivers run down to your core.

All this time, you had watched someone else have their fun with him, wishing it were you but now? It was apparently your turn.