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Sweetheart, Sugartits, I just hit the Jackpot

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Welp. Here you are. In the Underground. In what was your hospital room. Wearing nothing but a knee-length hospital gown; leaning forward even a little bit exposes your backside. IV still in your arm, ‘Determination’ pumping into your veins. Red confetti and glitter rains from the ceiling. You have no idea who this robot is or what the fuck it’s doing. Apparently you’re on a game show?

“EVERYONE GIVE A BIG HAND TO OUR VILE CONTESTANT!”

The once cheering ‘crowd’ turns to booing as the robot slaps two hands together, emitting a generic clap soundbite. “I’M SURE ALL YOU FOLKS AT HOME ARE WONDERING WHY THE SEVENTH HUMAN IS STILL ALIVE! WELL, YOU’LL HAVE TO STAY TUNED TO FIND OUT WHY!”

Upon seeing your confused expression, the robot wheels over to you dramatically, leaning into the motion, before stopping about 2 feet away with a scree of rubber. “NEVER PLAYED BEFORE, PIG?” it asks and you curl your upper lip at the insult, “NO PROBLEM! IT’S SIMPLE! THERE’S ONLY ONE RULE! ANSWER CORRECTLY…”

It pauses for dramatic effect as you start nervously wringing your hands.

“OR RECEIVE THE PUNISHMENT!!!”

* Mettaton attacks!

There’s a tug at your soul, the world is shifting, and you now find yourself suspended by one of the robots long arms encircling you. It winds around your body like a tentacle, avoiding your lower stomach, between your legs and breasts, the hand at the end directing you to look at the camera. It holds you there as the robots continues waving to the tiny red dot in the darkness. Quickly, you * check out the robot:

* METTATON 99 ATK 999 DEF. * His metal body renders him invulnerable to attack. Can’t run or fight to get out of this one. Might as well play along.

“LET’S START WITH IN EASY ONE!!” He spins, bringing you along with him, “WHAT’S THE PRIZE FOR ANSWERING CORRECTLY?”

Mettaton’s looking at you, his LED face blinking randomly, apparently expecting an answer. “… Mercy?” you squeak.

The sound of a low buzzer. “HAHAHA,” he laughs and the metal arm surrounding you sends a shock through your body; it feels like you just touched an electrified fence, ouch! “YOU WISH! WRONG!

“HERE’S YOUR TERRIFIC PRIZE: MORE QUESTIONS!” All you can do is whimper and hang your head as he continues, “WHO IS THE CAPTAIN OF THE ROYAL GUARD?”

Uhh, Undyne mentioned being in the royal guard, Sans said Papyrus was loyal to the king… You take a guess, “Papyrus?”

BA-DA-DA-DING-DO-DING, rainbow confetti is released, the arm starts vibrating gently, and Mettaton says, “TOO EASY FOR YOU, HUH?????????? YOU WOULD KNOW, HAVING KILLED THE PREVIOUS CAPTAIN!” There’s booing again. The vibrations increase in intensity and you have to chew the inside of your cheek not to moan, it’s right against your clit, fuck. Another human might have lashed out and declared their innocence in Undyne’s death, but fuck that. You’re completely at the mercy of this robot, the crowd hates you, what good would it even do?

“COME NOW, SUNSHINE,” his voice is muddled as the vibrations intensify to the point of rattling your bones, “LET THE AUDIENCE KNOW HOW THRILLED YOU ARE TO BE CORRECT!” It’s so strong, all you can do is let out a low, shaky scream. It stops. Deep breath. Take a moment to look directly at the camera with exasperation. Everyone must be watching this. Everyone.

* The quiz show continues.

“ENOUGH ABOUT YOU, LET’S TALK ABOUT ME!” Mettaton does another 360°, careful to avoid yanking or tangling your IV tube. “WHAT ARE ROBOTS MADE OF?”

He’s obviously made of metal. But he’s not just a robot, he seems to have inhuman powers, similar to that of monsters. “Metal and magic?” your voice is surprisingly confident. There’s pounding on the door to your room, high-pitched shrieking behind it.

BA-DA-DA-DING-DO-DING, more confetti, gentle vibration exclusively on your vulva, what the fuck, why. “CORRECT! WHAT A TERRIFIC ANSWER!”

The door flies open and Dr. Alphys storms inside. You never thought you’d be relieved to see that crazed, yellow monster. Struggle a bit in your restraints and look at her expectantly. Mettaton doesn’t skip a beat, he steps aside to give her room in the spotlight and scolds, “ALPHYS, ALPHYS, ALPHYS. IF YOU WANTED TO BE IN THE SHOW SO BADLY, ALL YOU HAD TO DO WAS ASK!!!”

She strikes a pose and blows a kiss to the camera, the background cheers growing into deafening screams. “Mettaton,” she hisses under her breath as she throws her lab coat behind her theatrically, like a cloak, “you know the human isn’t healthy enough for this yet.”

A moment of awkward silence. The robot continues, “I’LL ASK A QUESTION… YOU’LL BE SURE TO KNOW THE ANSWER TO!” The doctor sneers at him, holding her head up with poise. “WHO DOES DR. ALPHYS HATE MORE THAN ANYONE?”

More silence. She isn’t going to answer. You think you know the answer but you aren’t going to say it. BA-DA-DA-DING-DO-DING, you get zapped again.

“CORRECT. DR. ALPHYS DOESN’T HAVE ANYONE TO HATE ANYMORE. BECAUSE YOU KILLED HER.” He thrusts you into the camera, face now only inches away from the lens. Say nothing, look away, trying to hide in your hair. Urrrgg, please let this end.

“WELL WELL WELL.” Toes meet the tile, Mettaton’s arm around you retracting, metal scratching on metal. “WITH DR. ALPHYS IN THE ROOM, THIS SHOW HAS NO DRAMATIC TENSION!” Attempt to flee towards the open door, but Alphys grabs you by the arm before you get very far. “BUT. THIS IS JUST THE BEGINNING!”

The lights leave you and the doctor, focusing on the robot in the center of the room as he begins his outro. “WE’LL FIND OUT WHY THE HUMAN IS MORE VALUABLE ALIVE THAN DEAD… NEXT TIME!!!” His arms and wheels pull back into his body, and he somehow balances on the tip of his triangular body before rocket jets shoot out the bottom. There he goes, disappearing into the darkness of the ceiling. Did he teleport?

Everything returns to normal, spotlights leaving, ceiling lights back on, camera and audience completely gone. What the fuck.

“I’d unplug that robot if he wasn’t such a good moneymaker,” Alphys grouses, directing you to get back in bed with the grip on your forearm. Whine and reach out toward the open door, so close! “Oh, shut up. Sans, get your ass back here.”

With a poof, the skeleton appears, hands in his pockets, a dumb grin on his face. “ya were great, sweetcheeks,” he compliments, eyes brightening when he looks at you. Scrunch up your face at him bitterly. Fuck this guy.

Alphys lets you go, leaving detailed marks of her scaled palm on your flesh. As she removes the needle from your other arm completely, she says, “just get it over with so I can perform more tests.” Huffs and puffs as she scuttles out the door, closing it behind her.

Alone with Sans. Again.

“sorry bout that,” he says as he saunters over to you, stopping when his femurs meet the mattress, “part’a tha deal. tha doc keeps ya goin’, n’ you appear on a few of her pet’s television shows.”

You’re cold, so you resentfully pull his spare jacket around your shoulders. It’s even warmer than you remember. “Along with being her guinea pig,” you hiss. Tuck your clammy feet under yourself as he sits next to you, still smirking.

“i’ll get ya outta here soon as i can. have a lil’ faith, huh?”

… Faith, he says.

A hand reaches out to cup your face and he’s stroking a distal phalange across your lower lip. He has that look. How can he possibly have that look. You’re so angry, he let this happen to you, he abandoned you. Again. The fact that your body responds to his touch with such eagerness must be a side effect of the pregnancy. Because despite your vexations, you really want him.

“What are you doing?” you ask when his hand slides down your neck and pulls open the knot holding your gown up.

“ya ain’t tha only one supportin’ that kid, dollface.” Let the material fall onto your lap, sleeves bunching around your elbows, bare nipples immediately hardening from the temperature. “it needs magic. an’ only one a’us can provide that.” Gauges your expression before leaning in to sweep closed teeth across your chest, releasing your arms from the gown with a light tug. “an’ tha easiest way ta do that is…” Warm breath gusts across you as he speaks, “well, shovin’ my cock in yer pussy till i goo.”

Heh. Heheh, goo. Start openly laughing, he said that with such a sexy voice. “Goo,” you parrot and he chuckles back, arms encompassing you. “Yeah, shoot that baby batter into me,” you say in the most seductive voice you can muster. He snickers again, seemingly taking your joke as dirty talk as he continues his advance. Jaw opens, incisors kiss your neck, and a sudden sensation of suction makes you moan. Arch into him, hands leaving your side to take ahold of his iliac crests, bunching his shirt around the bone.

The remaining knots of your gown are undone. “mmn?” he hums against you as one hand creeps down your spine slowly, “ya want that red hot goo inside ya?”

This is so stupid, but it’s actually turning you on. Take it one step further, “yeeaaah, gimme that liquidy almost-children.” That makes him groan enthusiastically, the suction on your throat heightening before it’s replaced with a wet tongue. Torn between laughing and moaning, decide to do a bit of both. Inch across his pelvis until finding his spine. Attempt to mimic the way Sans fiddled with Papyrus’s column; fisting it, massaging between the vertebrae.

“fuck, i love ya, (your name).” The words make your soul begin to manifest outside your body, seeking his. Fight it a bit, wanting to focus on the physical sensations; his tongue tracing the details of your ear, one hand alternating between sliding down your crack and fondling your asscheeks, the other clutching you into his ribcage. Your fingers slip ineptly from the perspiration, but his encouraging sounds urge you to continue. “(your name), (your name),” he mumbles.

“Sans…” you reply, looking down at the swirl of your spirits. Notice his glowing erection painfully obvious behind those thin gym shorts. It’s been a long time since you had that in your mouth. The swell of your belly prevents you from slouching enough to reach his pelvis. He makes a jubilant noise when he realizes what you’re doing and he sits up on his knees, grabbing the metallic headboard for balance. Waste no time; yank those shorts down, red cock bouncing once before your lips wrap around it. Grasp the base with one hand, the other curling around his pelvis to deter him from thrusting.

There’s magic between your spread legs. It feels like a tongue, but when you look down all you see is the faint red tip of a disembodied tentacle outlining the seam of your thigh. It teases at your vulva, never granting direct contact, as you bob lightly on his member, hand jacking off the base, the jelly magic feeling almost like foreskin. Sans whines and trembles lightly, hips attempting to shove more of his length inside, but you don’t let him.

You both play this game for a while; his magic avoiding your most sensitive spots as your tension builds, your mouth obliging his cock, pulling away any time he grabs your hair, tries to go deeper, or when your jaw gets sore. You’re the one to eventually cave, throwing your head back and crying out, “don’t tease, please, just fuck me.” His glowing eye rolls down at you, his grin crooked. He wants you to say it, so you do: “Daddy~

“ooh, babe,” he replies, releasing the headboard to gently seize your legs, phalanges running down to your ankles, then he’s hoisting them on his shoulders. Lie on your back, arms resting above your head, big toes looping together around the back of his head as he slides his arousal between your legs. Thrusts into the fat of your thighs before fanning out his femurs, lowering himself until red magic meets your swollen wetness. Glides between your folds and you buck upward. “ya ready, lil one? ready ta take yer medicine?”

“Yes, Daddy,” you coo, undulating your hips to get more clitoral stimulation. He ogles at you, then moves his hand to aim himself. There’s unexpected burn from tightness as he enters and briefly you wonder about how long you were unconscious. You just had two cocks in here, but this tight. Like you haven’t been penetrated in weeks.

“haha…” Sans laughs when he sheaths, “fuckin’ tight… just like tha first time, huh?” Pulls out only an inch, back in, the large bulge at the base stretching you until it hurts. “ya were so fuckin’ cute. ya smelled so good,” he growls, right arm around one leg, left hand between your legs, rubbing moisture across your clit. Starts moving, half his length in and out, over and over. “now lookit ya,” almost reverently, his hand pets your stomach, then returns to the nerve bundle at your crest, “my lil human bitch.”

Meet each thrust, legs squeezing around his neck for leverage, which he seems to enjoy. “You were so scary,” you breathe, trying to ignore your inflated belly altogether. “You would have killed me.”

A look spreads across his face that hasn’t been directed at you for quite some time; one socket wide, single red pupil dilating, other eye furrowed, mouth stretching to expose every sharp tooth he has. Obviously, he’s trying to get a reaction out of you. “ya scared a’me now?”

Yes is the real answer. After everything he’s done. Everything he hasn’t done. Knowing he’s lived through countless timelines. In each one, he’s still a pretty fucked up guy. And here you are, in probably one of the worst timelines of them all. “Yes,” you finally rasp.

“but ya still love me,” he says, butting his head into your legs until they spread enough for him to get between them, “dun’cha?” Hunches over you, hands resting next to your face, wearing the same expression, maybe even a bit more twisted than before. Starts fucking you faster, the vaginal sting fading into pleasure, thighs hugging his pelvis. He’s quivering, can tell he’s trying to be gentle.

“Yes,” you say, hesitation dulling with the continuous attention to your genitalia. Extend your arms to hold his face and you kiss him, harrowing look and all. Sans whines when you do; probably not anticipating the affection. “Pretty fucked up, right? I should hate you.” His snicker implies his agreement.

Little bit faster, he grunts lowly, then he abruptly orgasms. Penis expands and twitches as it unleashes his magic. It’s not a lot; about the same amount as a human male would ejaculate, sitting in the back of your tunnel until he vacates and rolls onto his back next to you. He just pants, letting the sweat trickle, reaching up to scratch at his face. That’s it? Well, this sucks.

Grumble and poke him, bucking your hips into the air, you aren’t even close yet! He gives you an almost irritated look, but he still turns to face you, shoving three fingers inside your pussy. His expression softens as you mewl happily and move your body into the motions, resting his skull on a fist so he can watch you. The pads of his phalanges massage into your g-spot, sharp tips occasionally brushing. The idea that he could stab right into you is intoxicating.

Reach down to rub your clitoris perfectly, legs spread at just the right angle. When you start whining and spasming, Sans switches from rubbing to harsh jabbing, leaning over you, humming contently. Fingers curl and yank up into that sensitive organ, then down to the other wall, back and forth, faster and faster.

“S-saaannss!” you cry, warning him that you’re close, and he goes even faster. Throw your head back and focus on yourself as the peak creeps up on you. Legs tremble, vagina throbs, clit engorges, and your orgasm releases into his waiting hand. Whimper ‘daddy, daddy’ as you ride it out, the energy immediately overwhelming. As it dims, phalanges leave you only to give your puffy vulva an open-palmed slap. The sound is loud and wet; you keep rubbing your clit and moan, he slaps you again, harder, growling quietly.

Your mouth hangs open as you finish again, even harder this time, fuuuuck. All you can do is experience it and freeze, too sexually swamped to respond to his tongue entering your face. He lashes his appendage inside your mouth, pausing to investigate the still empty space where your tooth was. When you come back to reality, you hug around his neck, continuing to frantically make out with him as his teeth just press into your face.

He leans away and smiles wickedly at your disheveled state, running his dripping hand across your now glowing cheeks. Close your eyes and wiggle into the firm mattress until you feel comfortable enough to relax. Exhaaaaaale. Feels like you’re going to fall asleep. Don’t want to. There’s still a lot to talk about. Sans pulls his shorts over his hips and sits up with a huff, prodding at your belly button idly.

He’s going to leave. “Where are you going?” you ask, immediately frightened of being without him.

Stands up and takes a cigarette out of his pocket. Rubs the back of his head and says, “i uh. i’m guh-gunna see my bro.” A spark, then the smell of burning tobacco.

A chill prowls up your spine at the very concept of Papyrus. Stiffen up and grab the bed sheets, yanking them over your nude form. You don’t have anything to say about that.

“ee’ wants ta visit ya,” he comments, turning around to look at you. Give him the stink eye; you can’t believe he’d even mention such a thing. “ee’ ain’t normally that uh. what a’ppened was… extreme. even fer ‘im. ee’ wants ta ap-pologize.”

Flare you nostrils in disgust and roll your eyes. You aren’t even going to respond to that. “Well. Bye.”

Sans sighs. He watches you sit there for a minute. Then he teleports away. Nothing to do now but focus on regaining your strength and wait for the doctor to return.