A/N: Hello there! I've been in a bit of a mood lately, and I wanted to write something dark. What you are about to read is dark, violent, bloody, and sexy. It contains child abuse, near rape of a child, graphic descriptions of violence and gore, and all kinds of other nasty shit and triggers galore. Oh, and a LOT of profanity. Like, a shit-ton. But, it also contains a violent monster learning how to be sensitive (kind of), a terrified child learning that not all monsters under the bed are bad, and some kind of romance in a world of hatred.

The world here is what I might describe as HorrorFell. It is neither fully Horrortale nor Underfell, but is kind of a cross between the two? In a way? Paps is Boss. Sans likes to swear a lot, he's damn possessive of what's his, and his condiment of choice is blood. Frisk is but a young'en at first, but she'll grow up. Oh, and she's a girl who falls in love with a monster. Shocking, I know.

I've written a good majority of the story already, so I plan on posting fairly regularly. If you're up for a trip to hell, please enjoy the story.

Bestiality

(Bees-chee-AL-ih-tee)
Noun. 1-Savagely cruel or depraved behavior; 2-Sexual intercourse between a person and a monster.

The Monster Under the Bed

"Now your nightmare comes to life
You're now a slave
Until the end of time
Nothing stops the madness
Turning, haunting, yearning
Pull the trigger.
And it hurts to know
That you belong here, yeah
It's your fucking nightmare."
—Nightmare – Avenged Sevenfold

Boss sure knew how to punish him. This new job was humiliating, degrading, and so not worth his time. He could be out there hunting real humans and doing real damage instead of this dumbass shit.

So what if he'd been a little too rough with his past charges? It wasn't like those pathetic excuses for humans didn't deserve it. They deserved worse than what he gave them. In the end, he'd even shown them mercy when he ripped their lungs out and let them die.

Apparently, that wasn't what Boss wanted. Boss had wanted more information out of the shitfaces, and he'd ruined it all by killing them. He'd scoffed, saying he'd done Boss a favor. Boss didn't see it that way.

That was how he'd ended up here, laying down in the too-small space under a child's bed, waiting impatiently for them to go the fuck to bed so he could get working.

Being the monster under the bed was a job for pussies—monsters that didn't have the guts to interrogate or inflict actual pain. Sans had those guts, even if he was a skeleton. Hell, he had the desire, the itch, to hurt and see tears of horror slip down his charge's faces. He was fucking good at his job, when he didn't let the urge for violence take him too far.

Not to mention that he was too fucking big to be a good fit for the job. He managed to make himself small enough to fit under the kid's bed, but the magic he used to do it was slightly painful. He refused to take off his jacket, which just made him even more uncomfortable. Boss had told him that it wouldn't kill him to change his clothes for once in a fucking lifetime, but Sans disagreed. His black jacket, red sweater, black jean shorts, and black hiking boots were his image; he'd gutted a lot of people, making a lot of good memories in the process, in these clothes.

The door to the bedroom opened and Sans watched as two pair of feet walked toward him. One pair was tiny, his charge's feet, while the other was larger. He'd love to reach out and dig a claw into the larger pair. He smiled wickedly to himself as the fantasy played out in his head. The human would scream as blood flooded from the fresh wound.

Then Boss would kick the ever-loving shit out of him again for going against orders. The thought wiped the grin off Sans' face. Fucker.

"Goodnight, Frisk," a human female voice mumbled. "Sleep tight; don't let the bedbugs bite."

Sans chuckled silently; he wasn't a bedbug, but he could bite. He'd like to bite the flesh right off the calves standing in front of his face. The urge to reach forward and dig his claws into warm, human flesh was nearly overpowering. He craved the violence in his soul.

He took a deep breath and remembered what Boss had said: "IF YOU DISOBEY ORDERS AGAIN, YOU MIGHT JUST BECOME MORE DUST ON MY BOOTS." Once again—Fucker.

"Goodnight, Mommy," the small child's voice replied.

The bed springs shifted as the adult human leaned down over the child. Probably a hug. Gross. Eventually, the adult human walked away, flicked the light off, and closed the door behind them.

Sans waited a few moments before getting to work. He took a clawed finger and gently scraped it against the bottom of the bed. He heard the child's gasp and smiled to himself. As good as he was at inflicting pain, he was even better at scaring the living shit out anything. He'd even been known to scare Boss on a few amusing occasions. Granted, those occasions had gotten him beaten nearly to dust, but they had been worth it.

After a few more scrapes, just to get the girl's blood pumping, he stepped it up a notch. He shifted a little, purposely causing the spikes on his belt to scrape across the hardwood floor and pushed up on the bed just enough for her to feel the movement. He couldn't help but feel a bit triumphant when the girl whimpered.

"Mommy!" she cried out, her voice full of tears.

Sans chuckled to himself. Not even ten minutes and she was already calling for her mother. Yeah, he was good.

The door cracked open. "What's wrong?" The adult's voice was not soothing; rather, they sounded irritated.

The child sniffled. "There's something under my bed," they whimpered.

The adult snorted. "Stop being so whiney, Frisk. There's nothing under your bed. You know monsters aren't real. Go to sleep." The door shut resolutely behind the adult.

Sans could feel the tight fear surrounding the child. After a few more scrapes and pushes, he decided he was tired. He settled himself uncomfortably on the floor, facing up at the bottom of the child's mattress, and closed his eyes. His hands crossed together on his broad chest as he sucked in a deep breath and prepared to sleep. He'd done good; the kid would probably have some pretty deep nightmares tonight.

He was woken a few hours later by a terrified, bloodcurdling scream. The bed above him bounced as the child scrambled out of her covers and dropped to the floor. He looked out over the room as she got to her feet and ran for the door, wailing as she ran down the hall. He smirked to himself; he'd caused some good nightmares. Maybe this gig wouldn't be too bad after all.

By the fifth night, Sans was bored. He'd done everything he could think of that wouldn't actually show himself to scare the child. He was pretty sure she was traumatized now, barely able to sleep in her own bed. The few times she'd gotten brave and looked under the bed, he'd made his magic dark and surround himself so all that showed were his red, glowing eyes. Once or twice he glinted his teeth at her, sharp fangs that promised a world of pain. The sight had caused more screams of terror.

To his surprise, the mother didn't react as soothing as he thought she was supposed to. Instead of coddling the little urchin, the mother told her to grow up and stop being such a wimp. Sans had to agree; the faster this kid grew up, the faster he'd be out of this damn job and back to what he was really good at.

There was untapped potential that Sans really wanted to explore. The most of him that the child had actually seen were his eyes; he wanted to show her more. He wanted to reach up in the middle of the night and grab her foot or pull the covers down or, hell, even scratch her a little. Those things were forbidden by Boss—he could not, under any circumstances, actually show himself. Giving her the glimpse he did of his eyes and teeth was pushing the boundaries of the rules.

Instead of really pushing those boundaries, Sans decided it was better for his physical safety if he stuck to what he'd been doing.

Nearly three years had passed before anything changed. The now ten-year-old Frisk was suddenly forced to sleep in her own bed more often. The small comforts she'd been getting reduced to mere shouts through the closed door that monsters weren't real and to go the fuck to sleep.

One night, the air in the room seemed far more tense than usual as Frisk changed into her nightclothes. She sniffled, hovering by her dresser, and keeping as far from her bed as possible. Her crying was not the normal scared crying she was prone to; instead, it sounded painful.

Curious, Sans scooted a little closer to the edge of the bed and peeked out. Frisk's top half was bare, her back to him, and he was able to clearly see the bruises that had formed on her shoulders. His brow bones furrowed; who had hurt her?

He ducked back under the bed as she started to turn around. With a deep, resolute breath, she left the room. He heard her talking for a moment before she came back in with an adult following her. Instead of the mother, however, the feet that followed her in were male.

Something dark hung in the air as he tucked her in and hugged her. Sans thought he lingered a little too long, gave too many kisses and spoke too sweetly before finally leaving. After her door shut, Sans listened as she cried again.

Something was wrong; he could feel it in his soul. He didn't try to scare her that night, instead trying to think of who could have hurt her and what was going on with that damn adult male. Why was he feeling territorial over this child? He was only there to scare her, nothing more. He sure as hell didn't give any kind of fucks what happened to her.

Except maybe he did. He hadn't been able to see anyone bleed in years. If anyone was going to hurt this child, it would be him. Nobody would take that shit away from him.