Hi! This is Ruse from Cherished!
I was wanting to request Sans helping a young reader that he's SUPER attracted to with homework! With hair being a thing with him maybe? I love my hair and want to think he would too!
Please and thank you!!!
Aw! So sweet of you to actually send me something! Sure I can do that for you ^^ And given the way you found me I think I might know how you want this to go. My first request of 2024! WOOT! 🎉I'll place it below a cut so those that wish to avoid it can if they want!
(This is written by an Adult for Adults. Please don't read if below 18 and sensitive to taboo topics or anything of the sort.)
Rating: M
TW: Awfulness (?)
Your eyes were very pretty.
He could see little flecks of gold within the irises if he looked hard enough, little highlights of shimmer to bring out the very beguiling color they rested in. One of the things he loved most about seeing you was the chance of having those mesmerizing sights set on him, being the center of their attention.
The scratching of you crossing off your answer drew his gaze down.
…your hands were so tiny.
He very appropriately looked away.
And then he remembered you were both alone in the house.
His eyelights very slowly drifted back over.
Briefly Sans wondered what the size comparison would be if—
“I don’t get it!” You shouted hopelessly, throwing down your pen with a pout. “I hate homework! Can we just throw it in the shredder?!”
He chuckled.
cute.
cute and a firecracker.
“aw kid, don’t be that way, it’s easy. look.” Sans reached for the pen and started to scribble on the paper, his thoughts temporarily going towards safer ground as his love of math took over. “let’s draw a line with zero in the middle. going right from zero, what comes next?”
You frowned. “One?”
“yep.” He nodded amused. “and then two and three…”
Sans made a mark and drew the number below it as he spoke, all the way up to ten.
“now we’re going to go left from zero. this is where you get your opposites. the opposite of nothing is something, right? so back to the question: what’s opposite of one?” The way you stared at the paper as if you could will the understanding into your mind made his soul thrum.
“I don’t know…” You sighed, voice wobbly.
…So hopeless.
…So lost.
so adorable.
Sans forced himself to look away so he could concentrate on trying to come up with a good example. “think of it like a mirror. when you hold up your left hand, what do you see?”
The deadpanned look you gave him as he looked back nearly made him snicker.
“My left hand.”
“yes, good.” he nodded. “now pretend you’re the one in the mirror copying the one standing outside. what hand would you be holding up?”
Sans felt a heavy hot lick of arousal up his spine as you furrowed your brows and so innocently held up your hands, darting those golden flecked eyes between them in such a wonderfully naive confusion.
First you raised your left and then lowered it to raise your right.
He could feel his magic coalescing from watching understanding light up your eyes as you found an answer. It became more solid when you aimed that confident understanding at him only to lose it in an uncertain waver, your tone so weak and sweet to his non-existent ears.
“My…right?”
“bingo~” He praised.
The way your cheeks turned pink felt like a victory, turned him smug as he watched your shy grin appear. “but it’s still your hand, isn’t it?”
“Yeah, just the other one.”
Sans tapped the pen’s nub to the left of the zero he’d crudely drawn.
You glanced down at it and across the row on the other side before answering.
“The opposite of one…is minus one?” He chuckled and nodded.
“heh, yeah, but it’s called ‘negative’ when it’s a number on its own kid.”
Another tap of the pen, this time at the first question. “opposite of one?”
“Negative one!”
The way you said that, so quick and so enthusiastic, had him dry swallowing.
“right again kiddo.” Carefully he handed the pen back, making sure not to accidentally touch you, because he wasn’t sure what he would do if he got just a taste of what your velvet soft skin felt like against his bones.
Sans didn’t trust himself.
But that didn’t mean he wasn’t going to look.
And that’s what he did.
He stared at you as you went about answering every question, cutely double checking with him and only continuing on once he hummed his agreement or nodded. All while he took in how the light of the window danced around your head like a halo and shone through the stray strands of your locks like stained glass, savored the lasting bloom of color on the apples of your cheeks that had yet to vanish.
Avidly watched the way your tiny hand moved and how your even tinier wrist flicked.
The second you finished you held up the paper like a trophy as you declared it loud and proud.
…his pelvis ached.
“good job buddy, proud of you.” He gestured at the living room. “how about we binge some of that show you like as a reward?”
Your shoulders slumped, and he swore his soul dimmed with just how sad you looked.
“Mom said I can’t watch tv. Not until I pass my test.”
What he said next was said with an intent that was anything but innocent. Was more an innuendo than as a casual remark as it should have been.
“i won’t tell if you won’t.”
Your eyes met his.
And it was almost as if there was something—
But just as quickly the feeling vanished as you hopped to your feet, and jumped up and down like an excited little rabbit begging for a carrot.
“Oh please! Please! I can keep a secret!”
The chuckle he gave was ironic.
“i’m sure you can kid. go put it on and i’ll make some popcorn yeah?”
He stood up and…paused.
Touching your skin might’ve been too much for him, but your hair…
Sans considered your pretty wide eyes and giddy fidgeting as you looked up at him with a confused head tilt the longer he stood there unmoving, silently debating with himself.
His soul was thrumming, his thoughts racing.
Very slowly, afraid to frighten a wild animal, he took a deep breath…and raised his hand.
Nervously he watched you glance up at it and then back at him but you didn’t move.
Gently as he could, he rested it on the top of your head.
The contact made him draw a harsh breath that he forcefully played off as a chuckle. He dared to move his hand just a little to tussle it, and happily dwelled in just how wonderful and light it felt between his phalanges and against his metacarpals.
Delicate, pleasant like spider silk.
“seriously kid, good job on the homework.”
You blushed again and he felt as if his patellas were going to buckle.
Especially when you said oh so shyly, meek, “Thanks for helping me.”
He really couldn’t help it.
“sure thing pal, happy to give you a hand anytime.” Sans winced as soon as he said it but you didn’t even notice. You instead gave him a bewitching giggle he wished he could’ve recorded and used for a ringtone, before spinning around and rushing to the living room.
He stood there a moment trying to breathe.
A grunt and pinch of his nasal ridge. “heh…i’m terrible.”
Sans made a quick stop to the bathroom before washing his hands and going to make the popcorn.
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