marquessbrie said:

I think classic Sans would be really gentle and thoughtful, but infuriatingly slow and meticulous. Also, please let it be a scene with a vagina-having anon where there was a clitoral orgasm first and he fucked her through the spasms, spurring her on

[[ Hell fucking yes, consider it done. GOOD SHIT! I'VE BEEN GETTING NOTHING BUT GOOD SHIT IN MY REQUEST BOX AND WOWZERS, I CAN'T EVEN DEAL.]]

Warnings: Sexual Content, 18+, Ecto-tongue, Ecto-dick, Light Bondage, Excessive Foreplay, Excessive Teasing, Slight Edging, Cunnilingus, Fingering, Clitoral Orgasm, Over-stimulation, Multiple Orgasms

This was getting ridiculous. It was one thing when a few pairs of your panties had gone missing, but this? You stared into your empty closet and growled out a frustrated sigh, fingers pulling through your hair. "Is he serious? What the fuck am I supposed to wear?!" The drawers in your dresser had also been left barren, without even a single sock left inside, and you immediately set out on a journey across the house playing hide and seek with your laundry. Your first stop was, naturally, Sans' room. The cheeky little fuck would hide them under his mattress or something equally creepy. As you stepped around the piles of his dirty laundry and garbage, however, you very quickly realized that your clothes were not there. Your hands gripped at the towel wrapped around your torso tightly, frowning as you began to weigh your options.

Were you going to walk around the house naked while you looked for your clothes? Sure, Papyrus had only just left before your shower to go spend the weekend at Undyne and Alphys' house, but Sans was due home any minute and, while you didn't necessarily mind being naked around him, you wanted to make sure he got a stern talking to… and that wouldn't happen if you were without clothes.

Gee, it's almost like the tricky bastard had planned it this way.

Heaving a sigh, you go to his closet and pull open the door, hand already extended to grab a shirt…but all of his hangers were empty. "Dammit, Sans, do some fucking laundry!" you yelled in frustration, closing the door a bit too roughly as you turned, eyes scanning the floors warily. It wasn't like it would be the first time you wore something of his, but something about doing a 'sniff test' on your boyfriend's dirty shirts just rang 'weird' in the back of your mind. You'd never been aware that skeletons could sweat until Sans came along, and boy, did he sweat a lot. Whether he was waking up from a nightmare or trying to work up the nerve to say something romantic, you'd gotten used to seeing those slightly iridescent droplets appearing on his skull every now and again. '…this isn't helping me.' Stopping to adjust your towel, you turned to leave his room when you spotted it.

It was his signature hoodie, the cobalt-blue number with fluff sewn in around the hood. It was very infrequently that you'd see him without it. You were honestly surprised to see it here. You snatched it off of the floor and held it up in front of you, eyeing it critically. Ah, that would be why. He spilled ketchup on it. A small reddish blotch on the front, right by the zipper, marred the otherwise flawless fabric. Was it worth it…?

Fuck it.

You slipped the hoodie on and immediately felt comforted by its warmth, hunching your shoulders to bury your face in the soft fur brushing against your cheeks. No wonder he always wore this thing! It was easily the most comfortable thing you've ever put on your body. "Hmm… Maybe I'll just keep it, since he's decided to hide all my clothes…" The damp towel pooled around your ankles as you released your hold on it, zipping up the hooded jacket and wrapping your arms around your torso, hugging yourself. It was just long enough to cover the incredibly important bits, the hem brushing against your thighs just below your ass. It wasn't exactly modestly covering, but it would have to do while you continued your search. "He could've at least left me a pair of underwear…" You briefly eyed a pair of his boxers lying on the floor but promptly decided against it. If they were clean, sure. Dirty? Nah.

Your hair dried oddly as you continued to walk through the house, turning over every cushion and pillow and opening every single cabinet in a desperate search for something to wear. Even after searching through the pantry, you came up empty handed, save for a chocolate-covered granola bar you found hidden behind the oatmeal. You aggressively shoved the whole thing in your mouth as you glowered at the lone sock lying on the living room floor, surrounded by a plethora of post-it notes, as if it were to blame for your lack of clothing.

'Sans needs to wash that sock… I swear, it's going to start becoming sentient at this rate…' You leaned down and snorted as you brushed against one of the notes, Papyrus' large, energetic-looking handwriting practically shouting at the previous note his brother had left to do his laundry.

"Fuck, the laundry!" Tearing your way through the living room, you skid barefoot across the cool linoleum floor as you arrived in the laundry room, eyes wide with hope as you beheld the baskets of clothes sitting on the floor next to the dryer. You practically dove into them headfirst, pulling out neatly-folded articles as you searched desperately. A pun t-shirt, one of Papyrus' classy infinity scarves, a 'Cool Dude' crop top- aha, a pair of frayed jean shorts! ...Wait, no, those were Papyrus', too. A groan pulls itself from your throat as you kneel on the floor, pulling at your hair in frustration. A blaring beep pulled your attention from your inner musings and you turned to glance at the dryer, watching as the slowly tumbling clothes inside fell into a warm heap at the bottom. 'My one last hope…'

You crawled over to the dryer and pulled the door open, feeling the warmth brushing against your hand as you reached inside, searching. A small, frustrated whine, and you leaned further into the dryer, face feeling flushed from the heat. Then, salvation! The faintest hint of lace caught your eye and you lunged for it, smiling as you revealed the familiar pair of panties. They were one of your 'sexier' pair, but fuck, you could care less. So long as you were covered, that was all that mattered. "Put these on and steal a pair of his shorts, and I'm good!" You'd just managed to grab them when a voice came from behind you, deep and playful.

"I hate to be the barer of bad news, but uh… you're not gonna be keepin' those on." You bolted upright, conking the back of your head against the inside of the dryer in your haste to get up, one hand clutching the underwear to your chest while the other pulled down at the hoodie in a vain attempt at covering yourself. Judging from the way the soft white eye-lights in his eye sockets were dilated, blown wide and shining brightly, he got a pretty good look at you from his stance in the laundry room doorway. He had his arms crossed across his chest, barely able to make out the cute little designs of a hamburger and french fries riding a motorcycle through the gaps between his radius and ulna. 'Fast Food' was proudly proclaimed across the top, and briefly your mind went to just how badly Papyrus would despise that shirt, but you were very quickly pulled from your thoughts by the soft, sudden popping noise you knew all too well. The sound of air being forced into a space it didn't belong, the faint smell of ozone, and suddenly Sans was standing directly in front of you, his grin relaxed despite the hungry glint in his gaze as he looked you over. "Why're you wearin' my hoodie?" Oh, right. You were upset with him. Frowning, you gave a moody huff and moved to cross your arms over his chest, but quickly halted the movement as the hoodie began to rise. You didn't miss the way his eye-lights flickered down to the bottom hem, but you were sure trying to ignore it.

"I'm wearing your hoodie because it's the only thing in the house!"

"That's not true, there's a whole basket of clothes right behind ya-"

"You know what I mean!" you cry, throwing your hands up in exasperation. That was obviously a mistake, because he was immediately in front of you, hand sliding underneath the bottom hem of the hooded jacket, just barely brushing his fingertips across the front of your thighs. A small twinge of excitement sparked in your lower belly but you pushed past it, moving to grab his wrist and pull his hands away."I'm serious, Sans! Where are my clothes? You didn't even leave me any underwear!" A touch of smugness melted through his expression as he eyed the panties you still held clutched in one hand, his grin widening a fraction.

"Nuh uh. Ya got some right there," he hummed, moving his freed hand to return to the light touches. "You look awful good in my hoodie, babe, but didn't I tell ya not to wear it without askin' first?" A heat rose to your cheeks and you bit the inside of your cheek, frowning.

"I-I didn't have anything else to put on!" A soft, thoughtful noise came from your boyfriend as he seemed to contemplate your answer. His wrist flicked slightly, almost unnoticeable if it weren't for the sudden fleeting touch you felt to the inside of your thigh. You felt your knees quiver and you bit your lip, glaring at him as you struggled to decide between holding onto the one pair of panties you had left (you were going to call them your Salvation Panties now, it was official) and dropping them to stop the movement of his other hand. "Seriously, Sans! Where are all my clothes?!"

"Oh, they're hangin' around somewhere."

"Sans!" He flashed you a mischievous grin as he struggled to contain a snort of laughter, slippers scuffing gently across the linoleum as he stepped closer. It took no time at all for him to have you trapped between him and the dryer. "Sans, I'm serio-uhhhh…" His index finger trailed across your sex and you breathed out a groan at the unexpected touch. Why were you so sensitive already?

"C'mon babe, don't be a wet blanket," he mumbled, leaning closer and allowing his magic-warmed breath to bathe across your neck. (You still had no idea how that worked. You really ought to ask him sometime. …Sometime when he wasn't touching you like this.) The faintest graze of his teeth nipped at your pulse and he nuzzled his nasal ridge against the underside of your jaw, breathing in deeply in that way that told you he was taking in your scent. Fuck, you don't know why, but that always got to you. There was something primal about it that sent a little spark of heat straight to your belly.

"Sans, I'm serious, where are my clothes?" He didn't respond to you, and you wanted to shove him by the shoulders to get him to stop touching you, because fuck, you couldn't focus on the conversation like this. That was probably all a part of his plan, too. That fucker. You move your hands to his shoulders, fully intending to push him away, but then your knees shake slightly as he suddenly presses a gentle finger past the outer lips of your sex, brushing across your clit and pulling a yelped moan from you. Those hands instead wind up holding onto him, squeezing his shoulders and fingers grasping at the fabric of his stupid pun t-shirt as he placed teasing touches, hand entirely occupied while his eye-lights kept themselves trained on your face. 'I didn't think his smile could get any more smug,' you think, feeling slightly ashamed of how easily your legs are trying to spread apart for him to get better access. "Nnnnh- Now, Sans! What if Papyrus came home right now? Do you want him to see me half naked?"

A flash of blue suddenly sparks within his left eyesocket, and that's the only warning you get before you feel yourself being lifted from the ground. Experience taught you to hold very still, not wanting to disturb the magic keeping you afloat. The look in his eyes was hungry as he set you on the washing machine, the hand not currently touching you reaching behind you press the buttons on the machine. The drum inside spun to life beneath you, the sound of water filling it breaking the otherwise ambient silence between the two of you. …Well, him. You were still trying to get to the bottom of where your wardrobe had vanished to. You waited for the blue glow to fade, but it didn't. Then, almost as suddenly as being lifted, you feel the sleeves of the jacket around you moving on their own, somehow working their way off of your arms and moving to cross across your front before tying themselves behind your back. Excitement bubbled low in your belly despite your insistence on getting answers.

"Can't say that's something I want Papyrus seeing…and that's the naked truth." His chuckle was so self-satisfied that you wanted to reach out and thwack him on the head, but your arms were held firmly at your sides. With you now situated atop the washer, he moved to stand between your legs, not allowing you to close them. He let his fingertips trail up from your knees to the insides of your thighs, squeezing at the soft flesh there before leaning forward to graze his teeth across your skin gently. A shiver pulled down your spine and your breathing hitched slightly. He was so close to you now. All it would take is a few inches higher and he'd be able to-

"Wh-where are my clothes?" you demanded weakly, voice holding the faintest tremor of anticipation as you watched that glow in his eye brighten, traveling downward the slightest bit to pool in the base of his jaw. You could see the faint glow shining from between his teeth and, when they parted, you moaned as you saw the familiar, oh-so amazing tongue he'd conjured. Oh, the things he'd done to you with that tongue. You could feel wetness gathering between your thighs at the thought alone. He slid his hands upward, one hand spreading your outer lips apart while the other brushed light, teasing touches across the inner lips, the hood of your clit, the edges of your opening, everywhere at once and at the same time not enough. You tried to shift yourself closer to him, only for him to pull back. A frustrated groan escaped you before you could silence it, and the grin on his face was reaching shit-eating levels.

"What's the matter, babe? Somethin' got ya a little…" He parted his teeth again, allowing his tongue to dart out, licking across the front of his teeth, "...tongue-tied?" You felt your inner walls clench as your eyes trained on the faintly glowing appendage, breathing becoming a bit faster as you were suddenly overcome with a desperate want. "What, ya got somethin' to say? You look like you do. Look like it's riiiight on the tip of your tongue." The very instant he muttered the last word you felt it, the wet tip of his tongue lash gently across your clit. You threw your head back and groaned, legs spreading wider of their own accord. The expression on his face was particularly pleased as he scooted himself even closer, replacing his fingers with his tongue.

He just barely brushed across you at all, with enough pressure for you to feel, but not enough for any sort of real satisfaction. Your breathing hitched and you struggled to shuffle your hips closer, giving a small whine of aggravation when he pulled away again, instead pressing teasing licks to your inner thigh.

"Sannnsss!" If he wasn't going to do this properly then to hell with it, you were going to get up and take care of yourself. ...then demand to know what happened to your clothes. You'd almost entirely forgotten about that. The washer gave a small click as it turned to the spin cycle, the machine vibrating beneath you, and you choked on a moan as he chose that moment to drag the flat of his broad tongue up across your sex. In a complete sweep from the very bottom of your entrance to your clit, he kept his licks slow and gentle, but with the movement underneath you, it was starting to be enough. Just enough for you to start feeling that pressure beginning to build deep in your lower belly. It was slow, but you could feel yourself getting close. Sans could sense it, could see it from the way your thighs flexed and your hips twitched upward slightly, trying to get closer to him.

He knew, and he pulled away. You gave a despairing groan and threw your head back, knocking it against the wall behind the washer, but it wasn't enough to get him to return to his ministrations. He chuckled in his deep, rolling baritone and moved to nip and lick at the tender flesh on the inside of your thighs instead, and it wasn't what you needed. You would have grabbed him if you could have, but your arms were still held tightly to your sides. You were helpless…and as you struggled against the jacket tied around you just a little bit, you only felt slightly ashamed of how hot that felt.

"Patience, baby girl, patience," he cooed, the vibrant glow of the cyan orb in his left eye socket reflecting all of the patience that you currently weren't feeling, and it was so frustrating, but the little ministrations were soothing, and you found yourself relaxing despite the sexual frustration.

The lights suddenly flickered out, and there was a strong pulling sensation all around your body. You found yourself flying off of the washing machine and to the floor, but, as you braced yourself for impact, you felt your body land in a soft, if not slightly lumpy, pile of clothes. …clean clothes. Oh, Papyrus was going to be so salty over that-

"Ahhn- fuck!" Bony hands were gripping at the backs of your knees, pushing your legs up until they folded against your chest, and you wanted to question how on earth you were ever that flexible, but you were unable to think straight as you found the cool, familiar slickness of his tongue sliding back along your folds. He chuckled against your mound and circled your clitoris with the blunt tip of his tongue, rolling it beneath the odd flesh-like texture of his ecto-appendage . He moved to hold your legs up with his forearm and his other now free hand slid down to slide two fingers inside your entrance, moving and curling with slight scissoring motions as he brushed against your inner walls. You were already sensitive, and it was mere moments until you found yourself trying desperately to roll your hips against his mouth, moans spilling from you as you awaited your approaching orgasm. His eye gave another fierce flash of cyan blue but you ignored it, squeezing your eyes shut against the sensations that were washing over you. The slow coil of heat and pressure in your lower belly tightened until, with a graze of his teeth against your most sensitive spot, it snapped.

He pulled away, and you whined slightly at the loss, hoping that he'd tease you through your orgasm like he normally did.

A cry that bordered on a scream tore from your throat as you felt him easily slide his length between your folds, wet enough from his teasing that you didn't need any prep. There was the smallest burning sensation of a stretch, but you were already gone, and having him suddenly thrusting wildly into you drove that so far from your mind that you couldn't have cared about it if you even wanted to. His hip bones smacked against the backs of your thighs and your ass, the lewd wet noises that always accompanied your love-making filling the room, drowned out only by your desperate cries and his groans.

"Stars, baby girl, you're squeezin' me so nice right now."

"You still comin'? I can feel it. You're so fuckin' wet and tight- shit!"

The waves of pleasure that had begun since your orgasm were spiraling around you, pulling you in until your entire body was alight with pleasure. Your nerves were all firing off signals and tingling in response, and maybe it was the position you were in, but your hands and feet suddenly felt like they'd fallen asleep. Your inner walls squeezed around his cock rhythmically, and it wasn't very long before he started to quicken his pace. It was all good-so goddamn good-that you felt like you couldn't breathe. Were you screaming? You think so, because he's suddenly getting much louder, too, and his hands move to squeeze your hips and pull you into every cant of his hips roughly until finally, finally he comes, growling out a low groan just by your ear. He keeps moving through his own orgasm, and your voice breaks off into weakening cries of pleasure until he slows to a stop, burying himself to the hilt inside you.

"Ffffffffuck, baby, I didn't know I was ice cream." Through your heavy panting you manage to make a small confused noise, but you immediately regret it the instant you see the smug, if not slightly tired, expression on his face. "Well, you were screamin' for me-" You heave out a groan that's supposed to sound aggravated but comes across more exhausted. He takes pity and unties his jacket and slowly pulls away from you, his length de-materializing and his eye lights returning as their usual soft white lights. "So uh…why were you wearin' my hoodie anyway?"

Why were you…? Fuck, did it even matter? Your sex was still aching with little aftershocks of pleasure and you were suddenly exhausted, the muscles in your legs and back all sore. He seemed to notice this and chuckled, taking a quick moment to pull up his shorts before slipping his arms underneath your arms and legs, hoisting you up against his chest bridal style. The house was a tired blur around you as he carried you to his room, his soft baritone muttering something about clothes to you as you curled into his pillow. …At least, you think that's what you were cuddling. Something about being fucked through an orgasm takes the capacity for thought and just throws it right out the fucking window. His footsteps reapproach from down the hall and you sleepily lift your head to look at him, scratching his skull and looking confused in his bedroom doorway.

"Hey, uh, where's all yer clothes?"

…Oh. Right.

;)