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[eridan-kun]

No one was supposed to find that mettapants fic I purposefully put it on a sideblog w/o any tags bc I wanted only my friends to see it...... Haha I guess just having "mettapants" in the title put it in the tag anyway lmao....... Thanks for liking it tho I guess. Maybe I'll write more idk

[eridan-kun]

fucking mettapants i guess

You hate your fucking job. The hours are long, the food is disgusting, the customers are unruly, but most of all, your boss is a fucking asshole. You remember when you started, how bright-eyed and bushy-tailed you were. It was your dream to be an actor, and what better place to get your start than to work under the Underground’s biggest celebrity Mettaton. You didn’t even care if it was just flipping burgers, you were just hopeful that maybe being near him could somehow rub some talent off on you. God, just remembering how much you idolized him makes you sick now. Or that might be from all the Glamburgers™ you’ve consumed out of spite. (You’re not supposed to eat while on the clock but you don’t fucking care, this is your way of quietly “sticking it to the man”).

Its 8am, the MTT-Brand Burger Emporium just opened. You’re busying yourself with wiping the counters as the fryers heat up. You choke back some tears, but that’s a normal occurrence. You’ve actually gotten pretty good at only crying once a day.

You’re thinking of the first day you started at the MTT-Brand Burger Emporium. You were so eager to finally be up close and personal to Mettaton. You remember sweating so much the fur around your face matted a little. The rectangular robot seemed so much smaller on TV… In person, he towered at least a head over you. Nonetheless, you were ecstatic to be in his presence. The first day, he showed you how to work the fryer, the grill, the Starfait™ machine, and how to assemble a Glamburger™, gluing exactly 15 blue rhinestones to the top bun spacing them out perfectly. When he finally handed the reins over for you to build your own Glamburger™, you remember being so nervous your hands shook. Mettaton placed a delicate yet firm gloved hand on your back and said “Don’t be nervous, darling. Just do as I’ve shown you,” his robotic, static-y voice trying its best to be assuring. You gulped and twisted your face in a smile, but you know it was probably more of a grimace. Shaking paws took the glue and rhinestones and made careful work placing each one on the bun. Mettaton watched in silence. You remember wishing that rectangle had some sort of expression you could read instead of just lightly blinking colorful squares. You placed the fifth rhinestone, the sixth, the seventh, trying to overcome your shakiness and do it exactly as you were shown. Just as you placed the fourteenth rhinestone, a metal spatula came down hard on your paw. You yelled in pain and shock, rhinestones and glue flying everywhere as you jumped to clutch your stinging hand. You look to Mettaton in wild, fearful bewilderment. “Your rhinestone was 0.0008 millimeters off center. Remember, darling, Perfection in glamour is everything.” Mettaton’s metal arm waved the spatula in your face, almost mockingly. You grit your teeth, and blinked back tears. “Yes, sir, Mr. Mettaton.”

From that day on, your life was made a living hell by that damn robot box. He yelled at you over every little thing, like if the napkin bin was three fourths of a centimeter off, or if the bow ties weren’t tied perfectly around each and every French fry. Yelling was usually followed by a whack with a spatula or spoon or burger tray, anything he could get his mitts on, really. The worst, though, was when he brings in a CD of him singing about how bad you are at your job. It’s not violent, but it prays on your psyche. Your spirit was completely broken after only about a month of working here. Now, you’re nothing but a shell of the man you once were, and even though you’re only 19, you feel like the oldest person to have ever lived.

It’s now 9am. You can’t believe you spent an hour daydreaming about your awful first day. If Mettaton had walked in on you, he would have run you over with that one little wheel for sure. Come to think of it, you haven’t seen Mettaton in a few days. Not that you miss him. Yesterday, this little weird kid came in asking all sorts of questions about your boss. You wonder if that’s why he hasn’t checked in on you, again, not that you really care. The less you have to see him the better. You decide to have a smoke while cooking up a burger for yourself, one without all the extra accessories. You’re not supposed to smoke while at work, especially not over the food, but your life is already in a fucking garbage can you literally do not care. You secretly hope that you get caught and Mettaton finally kills you. Then you’ll be free. Here’s to hoping, you think, as you scarf down your burger. You honestly don’t know how people can eat a regular Glamburger™ and seriously keep it down with the rhinestone buns and sequins lettuce. This place is a fucking nightmare, you think.

The doors to the MTT-Brand Burger Emporium burst open, letting in an ungodly bright light. You choke on your last bite of burger and turn. The light is burning your eyes, you can’t see anything but the black silhouette of…something. “Hello, darling. Miss me?” called a metallic voice in a seductive tone. It sounded familiar, yet oddly different…. Something deep inside you knew this was gonna be a bad day.

“Alright, you can turn it off. Thank you so much for your help, darlings. I really appreciate it.” The light turns off and you see two tiny monsters wheel away a big spotlight. In the doorway was…someone. Someone you’ve never seen before. They were tall, probably as tall as Mettaton, if not taller. Black hair, plump lips, plumper ass…. Who the hell is this?? They walk toward you, slowly, swaying hips, stepping stilettos one in front of the other. Whoever it is, is hot and absolutely knows it. You take a gulp as they inch closer to you. They reach the counter and lean on it. “What’s this? Have nothing to say? Not even a ‘hello’?” That voice… Holy shit…

“Me… M-Mr. Mettaton…?” you’re sweating so much. Mettaton grins, soft lips curling up at the ends, long eyelashes half-lid probing eyes.

“In the flesh, or rather, metal.” His voice practically dripped satin and pearls. It was so much more refined than his old robotic, static-y one. Made him sound so much more…human. You knew he always had a thing for humans, the way he was trying to make his restaurant “just like they do on the surface.” Guess now he’s reflected that in his appearance. And did a damn good job of it.

All words caught in your throat. You’re at such a weird place of terrified yet mildly turned on, you don’t think you’ve ever felt such a strange mix of emotion. On one hand, you’re face to face with your boss that goes out of his way to make your life miserable, but on the other hand, he’s fucking hot.

Damn attractive people.

“Guess you’re speechless. Understandable, considering how fabulous I am now.” He flips his shiny black hair. Pushing off the counter, he gives you a good view of what he’s working with. A gloved hand runs down his torso, “Alphys built me the body of my dreams. Now, I’ll finally get to make my debut in the surface world and have all eyes on me all the time! Don’t you think so, deary?” You’re not listening. You’re busy watching his hand glide down his body. Over his chest, fingers dipping into every curve, over the glass incasing a gently beating pink heart, sliding down hips.... The hand cups an ass cheek and lifts it, only to let it fall again and jiggle softly. You let out the smallest squeak imaginable. You realize you’re probably staring; you look back to Mettaton’s face. He’s watching you with the smuggest, most satisfied look ever. Thank god you’re furry or else he might notice you’re face turning red. You try to adjust yourself, straightening your shirt, snuffing the cigarette that long fell to the floor, wiping the insane amount of sweat from your brow.

“W-What can I help you with, Mr. Mettaton, sir?” you choke out. Your voice cracked probably ten different times.

Mettaton cuts you a small glare before sitting delicately on a bar seat, “I was just checking up on my beloved only employee. I knew it had been so long since you’d seen me… Did you miss me?” He was speaking with pure poison. Damn robot knew you didn’t miss him one bit.

You fake a smile anyway. You’re not so good with fake smiles, so your face contorts in kind of an awful way. “Yes, sir, Mr. Mettaton!”

He lets out an amused laugh, “I see. I bet you’re surprised to see me looking like this, am I wrong?”

“No, sir, Mr. Mettaton!”

The corner of his lip twitches. “Has business been going fabulously, then? I trust you’ve had no problems”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Mettaton!” You’re staring ahead, not even looking at him.

You think he’s annoyed now. Good. He glares at you for a while, contemplating something. You just keep hitting him with that fake smile and hopes he goes away soon.

He doesn’t. Instead, he places a heel on the counter, perfectly splaying out a shapely leg for you to admire. You don’t think you’ve ever seen thighs that thick in your life. They could probably crush you.

“This body…. Isn’t it just wonderful? Oh, so many wonders, I haven’t even explored them all yet.” His back arches lightly as he strikes a pose. You just stare ahead, still smiling, but definitely sweating a lot more.

You can tell he wants a reaction. And that’s exactly what you’re not gonna give him. Getting up, he saunters behind the counter, standing way too close to your side. You can almost hear the heart pulsing inside his abdomen.

“My dear…. You’ve been working so hard lately,” his hands snaked their way to your shoulders. If you weren’t sweating before, you’re really sweating now. “I think it’s about time you take a well deserved day off, don’t you?”

Your head snaps to him, “You mean it?! I can go home?!” You realize immediately that you’re all too eager. He gives you a sinister smile.

“My, you’re so excited,” long eyelashes flutter over sharp eyes, watching you like a hawk, “Alright, it’s decided. I’ll let you take the day off.”

It’s hard to contain your excitement. You know there’s a trick, there’s a catch, but you really kinda don’t care if it really means you get to go home. His long arms reach over and turn off the fryers, “Will you go lock the front doors? We’ll close the restaurant down today so you can go home and rest.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. Mettaton!” your enthusiasm was genuine this time. You practically leap over the counter to shut and lock the doors. You can’t believe it, you’re actually going home. This’ll be your first day off in years.

You’re thinking of what you’ll do when you go home. Should you sleep? Should you watch TV? Should you play video games? You’ll probably jerk off before anything else; you’re feeling a little antsy.

Just as you reach for the employee entrance door, he calls to you, “Ah, wait, before you go, there’s something I would like to ask you to do.”

Your heart sinks. You knew there was gonna be a catch. You’re frozen, hand on the knob to freedom. You were so close. So close. Turning to look at him, he’s leaned against the burger making station, one hand on a hip, the other slowly beckoning you with a finger. By god, he’s positively seductive.

“Come here, darling.” Are those bedroom eyes? You’ve never been with a girl before, or anyone at all. Ever. Not even close. Most people think you’re actually disgusting, but you’ve seen enough porn to know what bedrooms eyes are. And those are definitely bedroom eyes. You cautiously make your to him, not breaking eye contact. You perspire. You hope you don’t sweat all over him.

You probably got too close to him. He stands a good head and a half taller than you. His thighs are bigger than your whole body. The two of you are standing so close together, if he could breath, you would feel it right on your face.

He parts those luscious lips and speaks with all the silk in China, “My dear, what if I said I had a very special favor to ask of you? One that no one has ever got the pleasure of doing before.” You nod a little too quickly. He smirks, “Would you follow my every order? Like a good little employee?” A hand is placed on your chest and is working down your torso at a snail’s pace. Actually, slower than a snail’s pace. Some snails are pretty fast.

Mettaton pulls away from you, pushing himself up on the burger making station, his perfect, juicy ass sitting right where you make all those disgusting excuses for fast food. He spreads his legs wide open and your blood pressure just went through the roof. You’ve put up a gallant effort up until this point to maintain eye contact but now you’re full on staring at the display. Fuck, it looks so soft, you would kill to be able to touch it…grab it just a little…. Just take a handful of that ass and… Oh my god you’re disgusting. What the fuck is wrong with you. That’s your boss. This was the man who literally 10 minutes ago you were cursing for ruining your life. He’s the one who hit you, yelled at you, knocked hot grease all over you, and ran you over countless times. Remember when you were sneaking those Glamburgers™ over to those girls in the alley? And he caught you and your pants fell down causing everyone to call you Burgerpants for the rest of your life? You’re pretty sure he’s the one who came up with the name Burgerpants in the first place. This robot is the literal bane of your existence and you’re gonna forget all that just because he’s got some new sexy robot body with a plush ass and thunder thighs??

Fuck yea you are.

He can see the conflict in your eyes. He can tell exactly what you’re thinking by just how much you’re sweating, not tearing eyes away from his plump rump. He smiles devilishly and leans back on his hands.

“Do you like what you see? Isn’t it just delicious? You have Alphys to thank for this. She’s finally outdone herself this time. It’s so much better than my old body. So much… Sexier.” He licked his lips, which went unnoticed by you. A little irritated, he delicately lifts your chin up to meet his gaze. You realize you’re drooling.

“My sweet employee…” he pours on the honey, “I would love for you to be the first to try my new body’s ‘special feature’. Alphys added it in only at my request. Would you like to see it?”

Again, you’re nodding way too excitedly. You really don’t want to give this guy whatever satisfaction he’s getting from this, but you honestly can’t help yourself. Your eyes are glued as you watch the gloved hand leave your chin and trace down his body again, this time taking its dear sweet time. Down his chest, then laying out over the glass in his middle. You notice his heart inside was getting a little drippy, beating faster. A small pool of pink collected inside of the container. Finally the hand gets down to his thigh, caressing it along with his ass. Your breath hitches as it cups the soft lump between his thighs. You watch him rub back and forth for a while, making the most delicate mewls of pleasure. Excitement builds inside you. You’ve got no idea what’s going on but you kinda don’t care. Getting to go home and watch your suddenly sexy boss touch himself is definitely a better turn of events that you ever could have hoped for today. The only thing to make it even better is if something could be done about the boner in your pants you just noticed.

“Oh, darling,” he moans lightly, “are you ready for the big reveal?”

You gulp. So many emotions run through you at once. What could be down there? Was it a dick? It was probably a dick. You realize suddenly there’s a good possibility that your boss was gonna make you suck dick for a day off. Then again, there’s also an equally good possibility that he’s installed some sort of weapon to hurt you. Like a flamethrower or something.  At this point, you don’t think you care. All you want to do is keep watching him rub at his crotch and make obscene noises.

His hand dips down, rips at the shining black latex to show pale silver skin with vibrant pink folds. A pussy. Your boss is showing you his pussy.

Your eyes bulge from your head. It’s so close to you. You can see every dip and tuck and nook and cranny. It might be your imagination, but you swear you can see the slight shine of wetness on the lips.

“Like what you see?” his voice is low, enticing. You look up and are greeted with an absolutely evil sneer. He’s watching you like a snake watches a mouse. It makes your heart sink into your gut. What in the world is going on, you wonder. You’re shaking visibly, sweating visibly too. Your breath’s become haggard and your eyes haven’t gone back in your head. His grin widens. You wish you weren’t such an obvious virgin.

Long legs spread further apart, resting heels on the counter. Damn, he’s flexible. Now he’s completely spread eagle before you and you can see everything. There are no more secrets to Mettaton’s new “special feature.”

His hands run all over his thighs as he speaks, “I’ve been desperate to find someone to help me try it out, but no one seemed to fit the bill. Would you like to, darling?”

You nod, slowly this time, not taking your eyes off the pink folds.

“Speak, darling, you’ve barely said a word.”

Your throats dry and you’re still panting. God, you probably look like a creep staring at it like that. Not that you can help it, you are kind of a creep. You manage to choke out some barely audible words, “Yes, sir, M-Mr. Mettaton….”

He gives you a smile, then takes one of your paws in his hand. His fingers take a second to squish your pads. He’s being so gentle, it’s a little surprising. You don’t think you’ve ever been touched by him in a way that wasn’t inflicting pain. He takes your paw and brings it down between his legs, right onto his lips. Your knees literally turn to jelly at the first touch. The skin there is so soft, softer than you ever imagined. It feels like straight velvet, lightly moistened. He moans a little too over-the-top for just a slight touch, but you’re into it anyway. The hand holding yours nudges you to move, but you’re not sure what to do. You have no experience with vaginas, and you honestly didn’t think you ever would. You guess you should just rub down the slit to see what happens. He fucking loves it, moaning out loud. You feel like you’ve actually done something right for once. You keep sliding your fingers up and down, through the pink. Shit, he’s so wet…. You notice the liquid he’s secreting is also pink, staining your fingers and his bared silver skin. Another guiding nudge from his hand lets you know he’s ready for something different. You gather a little courage and go for his entrance, circling around it before plunging a finger in. Oh god, the moans…. He’s making the sweetest noises right into your ear and you’ve honestly never heard anything better. You’re pretty sure he’s doing it on purpose but who cares.

“Oh, darling~”

Inside him feels…wet. And warm. But mostly wet. Like really wet. You start to wiggle your finger a little. Shit, its making a dirty sound. Like macaroni and cheese being stirred. Your whole body feels hot, you honestly can’t believe it. You’re fingering your boss. You’re having a really good time fingering your boss. If you weren’t going to hell before, you definitely are now.

You look away and admire his thighs again. They look so soft, it’s killing you. You wonder if you could actually touch one. Hell, you’re three knuckles deep in his clunge right now, what’s grabbing a handful of thigh? You look up to check his expression. He’s staring at you with half lidded eyes, pink tongue hanging out his mouth. A shiver runs straight to your dick. He’s most definitely watching your every move. So much for being sneaky. You think maybe you could muster enough courage to just do it. You spend a while concentrating hard, keeping your finger wiggling inside of him. Your other paw reaches up and in one swift motion grabs a hand full of right where thigh meets ass. This shit is so rich you nearly cream yourself. Mettaton lets out a small “oh!” in surprise, but he doesn’t kill you. Thank God. You knead lightly, taking in every bit of cushiony ass. Jesus, it’s so plush. It’s so soft. His latex pants squeak faintly. You don’t know what material is filling out his lower half but it feels so fucking great. You compare it to a sandwich bag full of pudding. You guess that’s not exactly the sexiest comparison, but it works. If you squeeze hard, you can feel something solid in the center. A metal endoskeleton, you guess.

“Mm, oh, darling…” he calls to you. A hand gingerly lifts your chin to look at him. He pets you between your ears, ignoring all the sweat amassed there. “You’re doing fabulous, darling, but wouldn’t you like to do something a little different?” You wipe the drool off your chin and nod. His guiding hand takes your finger out of him. His legs fall from the counter and suddenly you miss looking at the beautiful pink flower. “Get on your knees for me, baby.”

Your brows knit together, “W-What? Why?”

His sudden angry expression startles you. “Why? Don’t question me. You said you would follow my every order. Do as I say or you won’t get your day off.”

You’re sweating again, “Y-Yes, sir….” You hesitate getting down. The floor is really dirty, and he’s kind of scaring you right now. He decides to take matters into his own hands, apparently, by lifting up a stiletto and slamming it down on your shoulder. The heel digs into your pressure point and he forces you to your knees. “There,” he mewls, “Much better.” You’re now face to face with the pink slit. It’s still soaking wet and leaking, making a mess of your burger making station. You hope silently it’s easy to clean up. Legs hook over your shoulders, your head in between those amazing thighs. Suddenly, you’re being pulled straight into the muff. You can’t breathe, your mouth and nose buried in pink silk. Strong calves keep you from pulling back.

You struggle, hands clasping at the squishy thighs trying to pull them away from your head. A hand pats you gently between the ears. “Shh, shh, don’t fight. It’s ok. Just take a deep breath and relax, it not going to bite,” he coos. Problem is, you can’t take a breath. Your eyes are wide with panic and you’re trying desperately to get some air. You figure he notices you literally dying and eases up on his grip. “Sorry, darling. Didn’t mean to suffocate you.”

“Th-That’s ok…” you lie. You could have died. But now that youre breathing again, you have time to actually assess what’s happening. Your head’s between his thighs, nose pressed against his muff. You kinda get what he wants you to do, but you take a second to relish in your position. Never in a million years did you ever think you’d ever get the chance to be so close to pussy. Pussy is like, a man’s number one goal, and you’ve got your face literally buried in one. You take a big whiff for remembrance’s sake. It smells sweet, like candy.

You’re a little nervous. Sweat collects on your brow; you’re panting slightly. You probably look a fucking mess, you’re sure you’re making a weird face. Mettaton huffs above you, “Sometime today, darling?”

You got no idea how to go about eating someone out, but you start with sticking out your tongue. It touches lightly to sweet skin. You drag your tongue up through folds and he moans loud. “Oh, I’d forgotten about the sandpaper tongue!” he exclaims. A hand pushes your head further in. This boosts your confidence significantly; apparently you’re doing something right. You flick your tongue, a quick lick to test the waters. He gasps and arches his back. You proceed to go to fucking town lapping at his pussy, taking in all the sweet juices. It tastes just like candy. He’s writhing above you, rutting his hips shallowly against your face. The noises he’s making are enough to put a pornstar to shame. You wiggle your tongue in a ‘z’ shape, ghosting over his entrance. It puckers ever so slightly, enticing you in. You accept the invitation and plunge in. He gasps, more fluid escaping him. You drink it up like it’s your life source. Inside him, you wiggle around, tasting every wall. There’s nothing you don’t love about this.

You go at it for a while, rotating between teasing the clit, slurping up the juices, and wiggling around inside him. He’s losing his mind up there, shaking slightly, legs taut on your back, thighs quivering against your cheeks. You’re a little glad he has enough concern to not squash your head while down here. His voice- fuck, his voice- is making the most erotic, naughty moans and groans. You definitely like this side of him a whole lot more than when he’s barking orders at you. You wish he could stay this way forever, completely at your mercy. Your ego has skyrocketed. You know it sounds dumb, but you feel almost a little cool. Even as dead embarrassing as it would be, you almost hope someone would walk in and find you making your boss a bumbling, moaning mess of pink liquid.

Then again, this giant boner you got is making you feel a little less cool. It’s pressed against the fly of your pants, aching hard. If something isn’t done about it immediately, you feel it might just explode from buildup. You’re sure your balls are bluer than ever right now. You sacrifice a hand clutching plush ass to press against the bulge. You make a small groan. You lower your zipper and dip some fingers inside. Sharp heels dig into your back suddenly. You yelp out and jolt. “No touching yourself,” he orders at you. Even though his face is completely flushed, his eyes are stern. You gulp and return to your meal.

It’s been ages, you feel. Your tongue is so exhausted you can barely lift it. You had to start moving your whole head to get the desired effects. Mettaton, however, seems to be barely holding on. Whatever kind of voice modulation he’s got in that robo-body is giving out. His moaning has become short and haggard, with a layer of static over it. You really hope he’s reaching his end because you don’t know how much longer you can last. In a final push, you attack his clit. That’s usually the moneyshot, right? Those porn forums are a little cloudy in your memory right now, but you go for it anyway. You take that sandpaper tongue of yours and lap at the nub relentlessly. Now he’s desperately clutching your ears, tugging on them. Working through the pain, you flick your tongue faster, keeping the movement consistent. His back is arched as much as it possibly can; legs are clutched tightly around you.

“Mm~! Oh, darling! Oh, I’m cumming! OH-!”

Suddenly, he grips your ears in a vice, body lurching forward. His whole being quakes, a flood of that sweet syrup gushes out into your mouth and down your chin. He rides it out, bucking hips against your face, then collapses. You gaze up at him; his eyes are rolled back in his head, eyelashes fluttering. A pink tongue drapes out of his mouth, salivating that same rosy liquid you just swallowed. He looks positively disheveled and really fucking hot. You can’t stop yourself from smiling as you rise to your feet.

“W-Wow, Mr. Mettaton…” your voice shakes a little, “That was…really fun….”

His eyes roll to look at you. He looks… threatening? You don’t understand. You just got him off, why is he looking at you like he wants to kill you? Didn’t he enjoy it? He clearly did, you’re literally covered in his climax. Your heart finds itself in your stomach again. He sits up on his hands, slicking a glove through his shiny black hair. The heart in his abdomen is leaking, pulsing lightly, the pool of pink almost filling the container.

There was a long silence between you two. He pushes himself off the counter and stands over you, chest to chest. He’s glowering down at you, making you feel significantly smaller. All that confidence you had, your swollen ego from making the big, bad Mettaton a shaky, eager little whore lusting after you comes crashing down and shatters. You’re realizing now that he probably wanted it like that. He wanted to make you feel big just to make you feel small again. That’s just the kind of guy he is. You have the urge to cry.

He’s studying you, probably thinking about what other horrible, disparaging thing to do to you next. You stare at your feet, unable to look him in the eye. His mouth opens and he speaks, slowly, softly, menacingly, “Take off your pants.”

You squeeze your eyes tight, trying to stop the trickle of tears threatening to fall. You’ve really got no choice at this point, you’re already so low. Trembling paws unfasten your belt, pull down your fly, and let your pants fall to your ankles. Your dick stands proud in your boxers, a wet spot forming where the tip leaks. Your whole face lights up red. Mettaton barely bats an eyelash at your exposure, “Undies too, my dear.” His attempt at a pet name doesn’t make you feel any less embarrassed. You grip the waistband of your boxers. Panic and fear rises in you. No one has ever seen your dick. You’re flooded with self-conscious. Is it small? You know it’s not pornstar size, but you’ve always felt it was about average. Not that you’ve ever really seen another dick. Will he laugh if it’s small? You wouldn’t put it passed him, but you don’t think you could handle it. You’d break down sobbing in front of him, and then he really would have the upper hand.

“Sometime today, please,” he sounds irritated. You mentally prepare yourself for whatever reaction you might get and slide your boxers down. He takes one look at your dick and cocks his head to the side. “Oh,” is all he says.

‘Oh’? What does ‘Oh’ mean? You’re standing there, dick out, rock hard, red faced, sweating and panting, and all he says is ‘Oh’. “I guess we can work with that,” he follows up. He lifts a leg and hooks it on your hip. You’re pulled closer again by a strong calf. Both your hips are pressed together, the tip of your dick almost touching his cunt. He isn’t serious, is he? Are you two really about to fuck, right here, in the middle of the MTT-Brand Burger Emporium? You can’t fucking believe it. Sweat pours from your forehead and you can’t stop trembling.

“Are you going to stick it in or do I have to do everything for you?” he snarls at you.

You guess you better get to it instead of just standing there thinking about it. You grip his ass with one paw, squishing the supple flesh, and guild yourself into him with the other. You start to moan, but bite your lip. Holy shit, it feels like fucking heaven. You got only the tip in, but it’s so fucking good you could cream yourself right now. It’s warm, moist, tight, everything you imagined it would be. You immediately start thrusting up in him.

“F-Fuck! Fuck… Holy shit, god…”you moan, face pressed against his pink body armor, pounding into that perfect piece of anatomy. God, his pussy is the best, you think. It’s sending shivers all through you, particularly through your cock. You can’t stop the moans and grunts spilling from your mouth. “Jesus fuck, it feels so good…” Your face contorts in a medley of pleasure.

Mettaton, on the other hand, was largely unaffected. His expression hasn’t changed from the silent scowl. Try as you might to thrust harder, faster for him, he barely notices. He keeps his leg up around your waist, giving you optimal trajectory, but nothing is breaking his cold stare.

You decide to worry about that later and just keep working the task at hand: pumping your aching dick in a tight pussy. It’s only been about a minute, but you can already feel the telltale signs of climax building in your gut. You bite your lip hard and thrust erratically into him. “Fuck…! Fuck fuck fuck!” You grip his ass hard, knees buckling under you as you cum inside his beautiful pink cunt. Immediately, you fall boneless against his solid, metal chest, heaving hard.

Mettaton scoffs at you disgustedly and shoves you away; your weak legs not able to hold you, you fall to the dirty floor. Dazed and confused, you lie there, looking up at him. He stands over you, heeled boots on either side of your chest. He looks so beautiful, standing under the gleam of the fluorescent lights. You can see white semen dripping from his pink slit. He’s repulsed by you. The look on his face says it all. He steps over you, heels clacking away, “Get back to work.”

He leaves you lying on the filthy, greasy floor, feeling empty and used. You don’t try holding back the tears this time, letting them fall to the floor as you whimper softly. You hate your fucking job.