Can I take you to Dinner? Mafi-fell!Sans x Reader. [COMPLETED]

Willpower

He had taken away your choice, your movement, everything you could take to fancy and yet you were still restless with a scowl upon his lap! What... was your deal?! No dinner, no fun, well, besides this. Seeing you squirm was high on his list of entertainment. Speaking of, he smirked as he placed his bony grip onto your inner thigh, your face showing as much repulsation as you felt, let alone could muster. He could feel your hands itching to slap him, your scowl furrowing as far as it could, as if you were to explode at any given moment.

It was delightful really, and Sans hadn't had this much fun since... the surprise meeting this morning now that he thought about it. "It wouldn't be much fun if you knew when to back down, would it toots?" He smirked, running the brunt of his ivory knuckles along your spine, his free hand holding both your wrists captive. He felt you arch against his touch in recoil, him chuckling at the futile attempt. His hand shifted upwards, an almost snake-like movement akin to lightning.

His thumb grazed the dip between your legs, slowly. Your breath hitched, horrified, aroused, fear-stricken with anticipation of his next move. He never made it. Instead his grin widened, more so than humanely possible as his thumb rested there, caressing your (s/t) flesh in short, tender strokes. You bit off a silent moan that Sans felt, him tsking almost teasingly at your reaction.

"Betcha ain't never even touched there have ya??" He grinned wolfishly with a barking laugh, his touches ceasing as he bucked you in his lap with a jerking motion of his hips. You fell forwards limply, his breath now tickling the shell of your ear: "So damn demure darlin'... Y'know, Society says you gotta wait for a man to do the exploration...." You shivered against him as his translucent, almost ghostly crimson tongue licked the rim of your ear sharply.

"-And I say to hell with that. A lady can put her hands where she pleases..." His hot breath finished as he released his grip on your wrists, leaning forwards so your back was pressed tightly against the table, laying splayed where his eyes roamed over the sheer sight of you.

Simply a turn on.

"And since I'm a man of my word, as you've seen so famously," He chuckled, lighting another disgusting, fumigating cigar; "It's either hands on me or yourself Darlin', take your pick!" He declared almost jovially with a lustful leer, sinking back into his embroidered seat. Given the current status between you two, it looked like Sans was going to get a front row seat to a show performed only for his glaring sockets. You knew you didn't have a choice.

You trembled underneath his gaze, he supposed he could be frightening when he needed to be, call it a natural gift if you will... so he leaned back leisurely: "So, what'll it be darlin'??" He rumbled, exhaling another vile plume. You turned your head. Yet another refusal. He wouldn't take another no from you tonight. He was about to help himself before the hesitant, almost jerk-like motion of your quivering hand caught his attention. He leaned back into his chair, watching.

Flaming, your fingers glided past the material, shimmying under the shimmering substance as he let off a eerily malicious smile, cocking his head back to groan under his breath: "Mmn, you're killing me darlin'...!" He sneered, reaching into the depths of his vest. Another cigar. Lighting it, he motioned for you to continue, watching the fabric hike up around your bare legs. He whistled.

Scowling through the haze, a single finger trailed it's way upwards, slowly, surely, before it pressed down. Like pressing a key on a keyboard a beautiful sound emerged, a moan, a mewl, you sung out into the smog and he knew then and there that he wanted you. Not yet though, the show was still running. Leaning back further into the brocaded sofa seat he crunched down on his cigar, uncaring of the tobacco that settled in between his teeth, rolling it round against his tongue, wondering what sweet taste your pearl would provide his palate.

Beyond embarrassed, your fingers made quick work under the dress, pressing against your slit, this was how you did it right?? The breathy moan that escaped you gave you your answer, your fingers grew slick, one cautiously slipping through— Sans growled, getting impatient with your hesitancy. "Fuck it." He rumbled lowly, spitting out the cigar with feverish need. Your (s/t) thighs were suddenly gripped like a vice, ripping you down suddenly towards your attacker. You squirmed, the dress ripping, hitching until you were bared, all to the crimson stare.

You felt warm breath at your entrance- you flushed—

-

You were home.

The skeletal hand that held your elbow gently released itself, your own arm dropping by your side limply. You were still flushed; wether it be out of embarrassment, anger or-heaven forbid you ever saying it aloud, enjoyment- he, was still grinning like a madman, his tongue continually running over his teeth, as if trying to re-enact, remember, the taste, the moment that had just occurred.

"Well, darlin'-" Sans began, clearing his throat. You turned to glare at him, the barely-concealed venom in them speaking volumes. "That was somethin' else!" He barked with laughter. He calmed down after a moment before tipping his fedora in a gentlemanly fashion, though you couldn't bring yourself to call him that after what had just happened: "I wish you a good evenin' doll maybe if we got to know each other a lil' more you'd see I'm not such a bad gu-"

*SLAP*

Sans's face was cocked, as if stuck in the motion from whence you slapped him. Rightfully, you might add.

"Maybe if you weren't such a bad guy that harassed the absolute folly outta women- driving them into corners, hustlin' them into decisions- Then maybe, just maybe I might've gotten to know you better-!!! Goodnight Sans! And don't you ever dream to come near me again!" You glowered.

His eyes flickered up in bare registration to your narrowed gaze. For a moment, a brief, flashing moment.... you were terrified of consequence.
He only smirked, slowly, in turn with this new gesture, chuckling before he vanished. He had ideas, so, so many ideas to turn himself into your one and only safeguard. You'd be falling into his arms.... over. And over, because he, good god- dear reader, had developed a taste for you.

....This little game of you playing 'hard to get' was getting GOOD.

(A.N: At last! It is done!! Now take it! Take it take it take it!! Stop pestering me, my sock puppets!! XD won't be updating for a while, though I have lots of ideas in mind and part nine is underway. But I'll still be around to hear what you have to say and wether you enjoyed the latest cause I absolutely love hearing from you guys! If there was something you didn't like, then let me know so I can keep it in mind for future chapters! Can't wait to hear back!
Love, MissHoll-E-Socks <3)

(P.S: If this gets to 5 or 6k in a week, I'll give you all sneak preview for part 9 ;))