Chapter Text
You always hated Wednesday afternoons.
To be honest, you hated most days. Work always seemed to suck the life out of you, one bone-numbing register shift at a time, dealing with people who didn’t seem to understand coupon expiry dates or the fact that they couldn’t just walk out of the store with items without paying. All with that welcoming smile and helpful attitude you were forced to fake in the face of so much stupidity.
Wednesday was especially annoying, so far from the weekend that you usually ended up working anyway, so close to the beginning of the week, and usually quiet right after lunch, making it harder to not fall asleep where you stood or yawn in the face of the odd customer that came through your checkout. You could really do with something exciting right about now, you thought dully, smothering a sigh as you tried to shake out a foot cramp for the third time that day. It might be time for some new shoes, too...
You weren’t expecting your next customer to catch your eye as much as they did. Then again, who expects to serve a celebrity at work? Especially in your work, which was nothing more than a grocery store chain which was hardly frequented by anyone with actual money.
Of course you recognised him, even with the beanie and scarf that were obviously meant to disguise him. Only Mettaton, celebrity to both monsters and humans, would think it was a good idea to wear bright pink go-go boots with his jean jacket and tights when attempting to go undercover. Or slumming it. Or whatever he was doing in your innocuous store in your random part of the city.
You weren’t going to make a scene about this. You understood that if he was trying not to be recognised, he obviously wouldn’t want his presence to be broadcast for everyone to hear. So instead you started to ring up his items, an interesting collection of instant noodles, chocolate, a whole rotisserie chicken, monster-brand tea, a heat pack, and various cold-and-flu medications. What an entertainment robot needed with food, or medication, or your store in general, you weren’t going to judge. But you were curious.
“Having guests over, Mr Mettaton?” You kept your tone quiet, cool, and unaffected, channeling your general customer-service demeanour. “That is a lot of food.”
He glanced up sharply, and you were immediately intrigued by his eyes, pink and slightly pixilated in their synthetic sockets. When he spoke, it was without the dramatic flourishes you knew he usually used, sounding a lot more subdued. “I’m shopping for a friend. She’s not really used to, ah...” he motioned to the meds, “human illnesses, so I’m helping her out while I’m here. This is the only place that sells her favourite flavour of instant noodles, apparently.”
Even quiet and almost normal-sounding, his voice was smooth and alluring, making you have to work extra hard to not betray your excitement to have him standing right there in front of you. It wouldn’t be good form to swoon at the register. “Oh, that’s nice of you, sir. I hope she feels better soon.” There, that sounded normal, didn’t it? You finished scanning his items and told him the total, wondering if you should try to continue the conversation. This was a celebrity. A hot one. In your shop. Probably the only time it was ever going to happen to you. You should say something cool or funny or flirty!
He paid while you were debating with yourself, and you watched the receipt print, urging yourself to say something, anything, that wouldn’t make you sound boring or awkward. This already felt like such a clunky interaction, in the quiet of the store with only the beeping registers and shopping cart wheels in the background. Surely there was something you could do to make this memorable...
In a moment of inspiration, you grabbed your pen and wrote down your number on the receipt, handing it over with a shy grin. Your friends were always telling you that you needed to be more spontaneous and proactive. Well, this was as proactive as you knew how to be. “I finish at 5. Have a nice day!”
He tucked it in the bag, blinking in surprise at the unexpected addition, and nodded to you, mouth turning up pleasantly at the corners. “Thanks, darling! You too.”
He called you darling!
You watch him leave, gaze caught on the way his hips move when he walks, the unconsciously sensual swing of his ass as he disappears from view. He’s so gorgeous, and you wish you could’ve been more smooth. You clutch your pen tightly and fight the urge to bang your head against the counter, cringing internally. ‘I finish at 5’? Why did you tell him that? Well done for embarrassing yourself in front of THE Mettaton. You sounded like you were desperate for a lay, which, while not entirely untrue, you didn’t want coming across to a celebrity.
Well, at least you’d probably never see him again. Thank god.
******
Work finishes excruciatingly slowly, but eventually you’re done, and you head home for a shower and a quiet dinner alone. The freedom to talk to yourself and not wear pants is one of your favourite things about living alone. You put on some music to mask the silence of your small apartment and hummed along while microwaving your meal, almost missing your ringtone when your phone rings from the bedroom. You hurry to answer it, a little apprehensive as you don’t recognise the number.
“Is this the lovely lady I met at the store today?”
Your jaw drops as you immediately recognise his voice. “What?”
“It’s Mettaton, sweetheart. You gave me your number, remember?”
“Yes! I-I know. But. I wasn’t expecting you to- you know- actually call me?” you squeak, heart starting to pound. You’re so nervous you feel like you’re about to crush your phone in your hand.
“Well, my sick friend wants me out of the house, and you said you finish at 5, so I’m assuming that meant you’re available... am I correct?”
“Yes...” Mettaton wanted to... what? Hang out with you? Go on a date? Hook up? You were down for any one of those things, but especially the latter. Your mouth is dry, and you have to swallow several times before you can speak again. “Did you want to... come over? To my house? For coffee? Or something?” Oh, well done, smooth going there. You almost made a full sentence.
“That sounds wonderful. To be clear, is this coffee-coffee, or... coffee?” The way he said the last word left no doubt as to what he means.
“Um... c-coffee..?” You couldn’t possibly put the same amount of insinuation in the word when you were stammering out of excitement, so you added, “the second one?”
“Very well, I’ll be right over. Your address?”
You told him numbly, and repeated his goodbye as he disconnected. Everything is so sudden that you don’t know what to feel, but you do know this- you need to get ready. You’re receiving a guest, and you can’t leave the house the way it is.
The next few minutes is a whirlwind as your rush frantically around the house, looking for something to wear and tidying as you go. You need something nice, but nothing that tries too hard or shows that you’re expecting him. Even though you are. And even though it’s likely to be thrown off again as soon as he arrives. Do you need pants? Probably not. They won’t last anyway. Are your socks cute enough?
You need to calm down.
You can’t.
You’re nowhere near ready when you hear the knock at the door, but your oversized sweater and long socks will have to do, as will your semi-clean house. You take a few deep breaths and force yourself to open the door, smiling nervously at the robot standing outside. “Hey! Hi! Um, come in?”
He does, still in his failed disguise, pulling off the silly beanie and ruffling his hair as he steps inside. You watch him look you up and down with a critical eye, suddenly extremely self-conscious. You thought your outfit was cute but sexy, but maybe he isn’t into it. Maybe you got this all wrong and he’ll change his mind about ‘coffee’. Maybe-
“Well, aren’t you the cutest thing?” He unwraps his scarf, smiling warmly, and you feel yourself relax. “I’m loving this combo- you have a good sense of style.” He approaches slowly, reaching for your hand and placing a kiss on the back of it, such a strangely sweet gesture for what you hope is still a hookup situation. So close now, all up in your personal space, he holds your gaze and his eyes glitter. “I might even let you keep the socks on.”
“Oh!” You blank, wanting to add to the flirty banter but finding nothing left after that suggestive comment. Damn you’re rusty at this. “O-okay! Whatever you want, Mettaton...”
He chuckles, brushing some hair out of your face with a gentle hand. “No, no. Whatever YOU want. I was built to entertain, which I fully intend to do tonight.”
Well fuck, if that isn’t enough to get your heart racing... you waste no time, pulling him into a kiss that starts off soft and builds as he wraps his arms around you, pulling you flush against his body. His lean, artificial body, which has just enough softness to feel almost organic. Almost is good enough for you, especially when his hands start to wander down to your ass and he presses his hips into you, grinding a hard length against you. Well, then. You’re really doing this.
You push his jacket off his shoulders, and he shrugs out of it, hands slipping underneath your sweater and tracing your bare skin. You can’t help the shivers that follow his touch, and his breath tickles your cheek as he discovers your bare breasts, curious fingers pressing into your supple skin and brushing your nipples, making you weak at the knees. “Bed?” he whispers, tweaking a sensitive bud.
You arch with a gasp, pointing towards the bedroom. “Bed. That way.”
Somehow you make it there still attached, shedding clothes on the way, and he pushes you down onto the bed and captures your lips again, dominant but not aggressive. You’re perfectly happy with this arrangement, sighing with delight as he kisses down your jaw and trails down your neck, brushing your fingers through his thick, dark hair. He kneads lightly at your breasts, humming against your skin as he works his way down. “Humans are so soft... so nice to touch... you’re so beautiful...”
You’re about to answer, but then he presses his lips around a nipple and you gasp instead, toes curling. The way he works his tongue, finding exactly the right way to send those tingles of pleasure down your spine, is downright sinful, and he’s only on your chest! Your panties are soaked from this stimulation alone, and you long to find out just how skilled he is in other ways.
He seems to know this, because he moves on, kissing downwards, until he’s crouching between your legs, and you watch him look up at you with the most mischievous grin before licking a slow strip over the damp fabric. You give a shaky moan and twitch your hips, the stimulation good but nowhere near enough. He continues to tease you, tongue dancing lightly over you, bordering on tickling, building your desperation until you’re arching and groaning with frustration. You feel him chuckle against you and his fingers slip under your waistband, pulling the soaked cloth away, and you kick them away, spreading you legs again with almost painful anticipation.
He doesn’t drive straight in, however, and you feel his lips on the inside of your thigh, right next to the top of your thigh-highs. Kissing the soft skin, sucking lightly in some places, working his way towards your core, he makes you squirm and pant, building up your need until you’re almost shaking with it. As he traces the seam between your thigh and your crotch with his tongue, he looks up with you from behind his eyelashes- those ridiculously long eyelashes, what wouldn’t you give for eyes like his?- and smirks.
“You might want to hold onto something, darling...”
“What do y- oH FUCK!” You’re in no way ready for it when he presses his now-vibrating tongue against your clit, and the suddenness of the stimulation makes you jerk your hips off the bed, crying out. He holds you down, grasping at the soft flesh of your thighs with a gentle but strong grip, leisurely circling around your nub, sending hot spikes of sensation to coil in your belly. “Y-you have a-a vibe- vibrating t-tongue?!” you managed to gasp out, fisting your hands in your sheets, twitching uncontrollably under his ministrations, unable to believe your luck. Never have you heard of something so amazingly ridiculous.
“Mm-hmm...” he hums, answering the obvious question with an amused tone. He pauses for a second, quirking a grin at the desperate mess that you’ve become. “Designed for entertainment, honey... all kinds.” The buzzing in his mouth makes him sound funny, but you don’t get the chance to laugh at it. You can only whimper in response as he dives back in, the slow strokes making your head spin. It’s making you ache deep inside for something to fill you, and you can feel yourself clench around nothing, craving, needing him...
You come before you realised you’re doing it, tensing as the white-hot flash overtakes you and sends aftershocks down your spine. He doesn’t let up, holding you down as he draws out the last of it, then switching off the vibrations and letting you rest. You pant shakily, legs trembling, but you’re in no way satisfied yet. If anything, you’re even more desperate than before, and you give his hair a gentle tug in an attempt to communicate what you want.
“Metta- inside me, please, I need you-“ you breathe as he raises himself up to be eye-to-eye. His pupils glint, the unnatural pink darkening as he smiles that wicked smile, sending shivers down your spine.
“As you wish, love.” He pushes down his tights and kicks them away, revealing the hardness that you had felt before. It’s black like the rest of him, long and ridged and curved, and you need it inside you immediately. He sees the look in your eye and chuckles, pressing his hips close and grinding his length against you, sighing at the contact. “O-oh, darling, you’re so slick... I could do this for ages...”
You whine impatiently at his teasing, wrapping your arms around his black-and-chrome body, bucking your hips against him. He decides to take pity on you, slipping down to prod at your entrance, and your hold his gaze as he pushes inside, watching the way his eyes flutter and the colours change. He’s everything you’ve ever craved, brushing all the right spots inside you, stealing your breath away with delight as he moves against you, already setting up a rhythm. He fills you so well, as if he was always meant to be there, and the specially designed bumps and ridges drag against your walls so perfectly, making you mewl and clutch him tightly.
“You’re... so... soft...” he groans, closing his eyes, his breath ticking your face. “S-so... warm...” He braces his arms next to your head, unable to keep his thrusts slow and sensual like he was probably planning to. Your breath quickens at the sound of him enjoying you as much as you’re enjoying him, his quick movements sending spirals of pleasure deep inside you. He looks so amazing like this- hair dishevelled, mouth parted, eyes hooded, and some kind of magic blush rising out of his cheeks. It’s a good look on him.
He presses his forehead into yours, and you wrap your legs around him, encouraging him deeper. You’re unabashedly moaning now, and he’s matching you, both chasing orgasm like it’s a race. You rake your nails down his back, not afraid of hurting the synthetic skin, crying out as the sensation makes him arch and press deeper into you.
“H-how... are you... s-so perfect?” you choke out, cupping your hands around his face and pulling him down for a kiss, and you feel him shudder and whine in the back of this throat. Hmm... is that a praise kink you hear? A moment later, you’re flooded with warmth and he comes undone on top of you, shaking and moaning in a tone that sounds like chiptune. You just need that little bit more- you’re almost there- you can feel the edge approaching and it makes you buck your hips desperately, clenching around him-
He pulls away, leaving you reaching for him with a wail of his name, but you quickly catch onto his plan as he tugs you sideways, and you flip onto your front and grab hold of the sheets, ass in the air. You’ve barely settled when he slides in again, and you groan into the bed as he pounds into you, rapidly working up to that edge again. It’s twists inside you, winding tight in your belly until finally it snaps and you bury your face in the mattress as you wail again, little light-headed.
You feel him press against your back, brushing his hands across your skin almost soothingly as you recover. He kisses your shoulder, then your neck, lips so soft and gentle and sweet against your skin that you gasp and lean into it, feeling yourself twitch against his cock. How is it that even after that thorough fucking, you feel like you could totally go again? You wiggle a little against him, and he hums into your skin, arm encircling you, and brushes you hair out of the way to whisper in your ear.
“You want more, don’t you, darling?” You make a noise of agreement, heart skipping and toes curling in excitement. He chuckles, pressing deep into you. “Well then. Hold on tight.”
You should’ve seen in coming, what with the tongue and all, but when his cock buzzes to life you can’t help but shriek and jerk, the intensity making your eyes water. The shock soon turns to pleasure, though, and soon enough you’re a shivering, moaning mess beneath him, rocking your hips against him as he just holds himself still, vibrating deliciously inside you. It’s so much and yet not enough, and you aren’t sure if you want to hurry up and come or lose yourself in the cloud of pleasure for longer. Your belly coils even faster than last time, and you grind your cunt against him, gasping for breath as you hit just the right spot and stars dance in front of your eyes.
“Met- ugh! Mettaton! P-please-“ you can barely form the words, squirming desperately in his grip. “O-oh g-god, fuck me, please, f-fuck-“
He purrs- purrs!- lowly in your ear, loosening his grip a little and draws his hips back, taking the vibrations with him, and you whimper, clenching hard as if that would be able to hold him in place. For one torturous second, he holds himself just inside your cunt, waiting for you to beg, which you do, unashamedly. Then he thrusts back inside and sets an intense pace, and you almost sob into the bed, writhing helplessly beneath him as you come, hard, white hot heat surging through you.
And he keeps going.
He doesn’t stop pounding, and you don’t want him to. You think you’ve become addicted to his hands on your body, his cock inside you, his ragged pants in your ear that quickly turn into moans and then babbled, glitchy words. Your voice joins his, begging and cursing and whimpering, and maybe drooling a little too. Everything is so intense, and you feel him nip at your skin, biting just hard enough to add that extra something that tips you over the edge with a hoarse scream, fisting your hands in the sheets as he follows you, burying his face in your shoulder. His voice breaks as he cries out against your skin, and he gives a few more shaky thrusts before switching off the vibrations and pulling away. You feel him collapse next to you and wrap an arm around you, and you shift so that you’re facing him, breathing heavily. You’re sweaty and shivering and so, so worn out, but you have the biggest grin on your face because you’ve never felt so satisfied in your life.
“Holy shit,” you murmur once you’ve gotten your breath back, raising a weak hand to brush his hair out of his face. That gorgeous, sexy face, that blinks slowly at you with a tired smile. “That was amazing!”
His hand wander down to your thigh, fingers slipping underneath your sock to rub at the skin before snapping the fabric against your leg. You jump and giggle, rubbing your socked feet against his metal ones as he caresses your ass, trailing his hand up your body as if he can’t get enough of your skin. “I greatly enjoyed myself, darling.”
“Would you like some real coffee now?”
“Please.”
You sit up and stretch, aching deliciously, and quickly grab an oversized tee from your drawer, slipping it over your head as you wander out of your room to the kitchen. He follows you, picking up his clothes from the floor and making himself decent.
The night ends with the two of you sipping coffee at the table, him chatting about his work and his friends and his attempts to make up for being an asshole some years ago. You think he sounds a little lonely despite the fame and the reconciliations. When he decides to leave, you stop him on the way out. “Look, my door is always open if you want coffee. Or a booty call. Or both. I had a really great time tonight and if you ever wanted-“
“Oh, I’ll be back, honey.” He winks, tossing his car keys in the air with sexy nonchalance. “You can count on it. Now get some rest, alright?”
“Sure thing, Mettaton.” He turns on his heel and saunters away, and just like this morning, you watch him leave, biting your lip.
Well.
Maybe you don’t hate Wednesdays so much after all.