How would a monster know about jackpots? Do they have gambling down here? Probably, actually, gambling has been around forever. Your train of thought is thankfully interrupted when Sans’ hands are suddenly upon you. Keen phalanges slip up your hoodie and fan out across your bare stomach, smooshing the tissue.
“fuuuck, sweetheart” he breathes, air hot against your face, “so damn soft n’ helpless. yer on a roll here,” he purrs as he fondles the folds of your abdomen, “i could eat ya right up, rip ya ta bloody shreds…” You moan out immodestly as his hands run down to roughly grab your ass. Reach up to curl your arms around his neck. He’s so warm.
Hands travel even further, sliding down to the backs of your thighs, fingers digging in as he lifts you up by them. Suddenly, the bark of the trees on the bridge is against your back, your legs spread and you’re straddling his waist as he supports you with ease. The wood of the bridge creaks under his weight. How did he move so fast? His right eye has gone empty, left blazing with a red inferno of magic, crackling and completely focused on you. You’re so turned on, everything is happening so fast. You want more. His pelvis thrusts into your core, solid points of his pelvic bone digging into your asscheeks, and you can feel the evidence of Sans’ arousal throbbing against you. Through both sets of clothing. Holy shit.
“so fuckin’ eager,” he chuckles, bucking into you again, hard enough to bunch the fabric of your underwear between your folds. “today must be my lucky day. not only do i find a pretty lil’ human, yer also a fuckin’ freak.” You whimper at that word, shame and desire mixing into an exhilarating emotional slurry. “i wonder what else yer into, huh? let’s find out…”
You catch the flash of an arm swinging towards you and the next thing you know something is colliding with your cheek, forcing your head to slam back against the tree trunk. Dizzy, eyes rolling around in your head, brain sending surges of stinging pain and panic through you. Turn to look at him, his boney palm in the same position it was in when it struck you.
Haha, jokes on him, impact play, particularly slapping, is one of your favorite things. Getting slapped in the face is pretty intimate, but. You like it. On your ass would be better, though. Cheek probably red and beginning to swell, you beam at him, grinding your hips down, nails digging into the cracks of his skull. “Thank you, sir,” you coo, voice slightly hoarse, “may I have another?” Extend your pink tongue, rolling it across the metacarpals of his hand. He tastes salty. Sweaty.
Sans shows a stupefied face for a fraction of a second, then smirks manically, arm reeling back, punching you this time, on the same cheek. The pain is exponentially worse than before. You yelp and do your best not to move your head during the impact, staying put to accept the strike, entire body quivering.
“aahn…” the skeleton groans quietly, more to himself than anything. Looks aroused and a little bewildered, brow bones furrowing. Cheekbones alight with red magic, a large amount of perspiration trickling down his skull and soaking into his white t-shirt. “pretty… impressive, babycakes. but ya better address me as master if ya dun’ wanna get in trouble.” Waggles a finger at you, then leans against the wood behind you, thrusting himself between your legs again.
Pride swells in your chest as you drink up his revealing reaction. You feel confident enough to consider yourself on the same level as him, at least enough to push a button or two, despite the reality of the lopsided power dynamic. Fingers sneak into the collar of his shirt, curling around his clavicle. “Heehee, can I call you Daddy instead?” Lick your lips, and you notice the taste of blood, fuck, maybe he knocked a tooth loose. You hope your cheek was just pinched.
He stares at you. Then, out of nowhere, all you can see is darkness, static rings in your ears, and you can’t breathe. It lasts for a few seconds, you regain the ability to blink, and your reality comes flooding back. You’re completely naked, arms circled back around the trunk of the tree, being held in place by some unknown force. Probably magic. The flakey bark of the tree scratches and cuts up your back and arms. Sans is still standing between your legs, thighs resting on his iliac crests, something warm and tingling between your legs, snuggling up to your bare, damp labia.
Both of his hands are clasping around your breasts, arms hooked under your knees. His grip is so intense you don’t notice the skin puncture until the familiar rusty smell hits your face. A hearty chuckle resounds in his throat, “hey, i gotta joke.” Move your eyes from the blood running down your chest to his face and he looks absolutely enamored. “whadda toys and tits have in common?” He waits maybe a heartbeat or two before howling out the answer, “both were made fer kids but dads wind up playin’ with em!” The laugh he bellows out is loud enough to hurt your ears. You offer a mock giggle, turning it into a scream as he slaps a breast hard enough to splash blood in your face.
“ya look good in red, angelface,” he hums as he cups your cheek, shoving a bloodied thumb into your mouth. You gladly accept it, reveling in the flavor, sucking and lapping at as much of his hand as your tongue can reach.
Ass pulled towards him, the red tip dips into your wetness, coating your folds, forcing a loud, real moan out of you. He snickers lowly at your sounds, his body reverberating as he presses it flush against you. His hand moves from your face to your hip, the other grasping the base of his dick to aim at your opening. “ya feel that? feel how fuckin’ wet ya are?” he grumbles into the crook of your neck, mouth opening, scrapping his long teeth across the warm skin of your collar bone. “and i’ve barely done a damn thing. a’ight, get ready fer me ta fuck yer brains out.”
You can feel each bone of his ribcage digging into yours, breasts squished against his sternum, staining his already wet t-shirt with red. He envelops you in his massive coat, the temperature change in itself making you whine. He pushes forward, sliding in easily, filling you maybe 3 inches. Enjoyable, manageable, oh god, it’s getting wider, stretching you more and more as he enters. Oh GOD, it’s so much, he’s so thick, it burns! Sans hilts, thinner at the base, giving you the sensation of being knotted.
“fuck yeeaaaaa, cupcake, whadda nice n’ tight lil’ cunt ya have,” he growls into your shoulder, “been a while, huh?” You don’t respond, fingernails digging into the bark of the tree, brain just trying to wrap around the entire situation. You’re in the Underground and a monster you just met is balls deep in you. He’s so thick and hot, it burns so fucking good. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, pulls out all the way, plunging back in, jabbing your cervix. Moans burst unbridledly out of your mouth, you don’t have the capacity to hold any semblance of power or reservation anymore.
The thrusting is fast and short, keeping most of his length inside you, nudging your core over and over and over again. Skelehands reach between your legs, pinching the outer labia, yanking them apart, making you whimper. “here’s another one, whadda ya call tha useless flesh surroundin’ a pussy?” He punctuates his question by pulling up on the folds, stretching them, then releasing, “tha human!”
When you don’t respond other than moaning to his dick pounding inside you, he leans away and slaps you across the face, other cheek this time. “HEY,” he barks, obviously vexed, “dun’ be fuckin’ rude, that wuzza good joke, least ya can do is acknowledge it.”
You perk up, eyes bright, and say, “s-sorry Sans! Good one!!” Let out a few disjointed laughs, trying to still your quivering legs.
The assault on your entrance never eases up, the speed inhuman, shoving into you with enough force to launch you flush against the tree. It’s so fast and constant and his dick is so big, you can feel your climax about to be ripped from you. When you open your mouth to tell him, a blood-curdling scream comes out instead as razors delve into the muscle between your neck and shoulder, Sans’ jaw clenches until the tips of his incisors meet inside you. He opens his mouth and runs the red tongue across your wound as you mewl in agony. You’re still so close.
“yer fuckin’ mine now, (your name),” he groans out, tongue scooping blood and tissue from your gaping injury. “ya can cum when ya promise yerself ta me.” His sweat mixes with yours, wet skull nuzzling against your bruised cheek, hands roaming all over, hips continuing their frantic pace. You’re so close, fuck fuck, what are you going to do. His smoldering voice doesn’t give you time to think, “gimme yer body an' soul or bleed ta death in the fuckin’ snow.”
“Yes!! Okay, whatever, I’m yours, pleaseplease, let me cum! DADDYletmecum!!”
A thumb finds you clit and rubs it in hard circles, Sans gazing at you with a delighted expression, “there we go, cum fer me, lil’ human.”
You do, buckling into him, clenching around his member, drawing him to your cervix as liquid erupts free, squirting all over his pelvis and shorts, pooling with the blood on the bridge beneath you. The pulsations of your muscles are so strong, they force him out of you. He grits his teeth and grips the trunk of the tree so hard bark splinters, monster seed unloading onto your stomach as he howls. It’s scorching, searing your sensitive skin, tingling and almost twinkling in the light of his magic.
Coming down, aftershocks beginning to fade, reality sets in. You’re in immense pain. Shoulder throbs, mouth and chest bleeding, vagina sore. Still held against the tree, Sans panting between your legs. Of course you don’t plan on holding your promise. Sans will provide healing items and will protect you from the rest of the Underground until the opportunity to continue forward shows itself.
The skeleton heaves out a heavy sigh and cups both hands around your face. He leans in and ‘kisses’ you, sweaty teeth brushing softly against your mouth. “tha muthafuckin’ jackpot,” he mumbles tenderly into you, “sugartits, yer my ticket outta this hellhole.”