(well that last anon idea is too good to be ignored, so here I go again. You know what you’ll find under the readmore. Three very short bits!)
“O-oh god...” What started as you giving Sans a little morning attention turned into a pre-breakfast blowjob. And then... well, apparently you really like the taste of his cum, because after the first plentiful, sticky load, you barely give him any time to get his bearings again, licking him clean and keeping those slow, almost teasing licks up until he groans and puts his hand on your head, pushing you down for round two. You could swear your stomach felt full at that point already. But you wanted more... his magic was making your body burn from the inside in that all too familiar way, aching for him and everything he’d give you. “M-mmmh...” Another thing you love about the short, stout skeleton is how every orgasm makes him more active. The first time, he barely even moaned; the second time, his hand was resting on your head and his hips slowly rocked into your swallows; the third time, he actually pleaded with you to not stop - ‘don’t stop, don’t you fuckin’ dare, ahh fuck yeah, you’re really down for this...’ - and by now he’s got you laying down as he lays on top of you, thrusting into your mouth slowly but deeply, moaning on each motion. You feel overfull but still so, so hungry for him... and he’s about to fill you to bursting, you can tell by the way his hips jerk unevenly into your face, his pubis grinding against your nose every so often as your mouth and throat tightens and relaxes around him to coax him into coming again.
“f-fuck... oh fuck... oh god... p-pal... better... o-open wide... about to... to... blo-oh-ohhhnnngh!” He thrusts hard into your mouth, shivering over you - you can feel those shivers transmit to your own body, to your heart and your loins, and when he pulls out of your mouth, rolling off you sideways, you slowly snake a hand down to your privates to find your own juices steadily oozing from you, a wet patch staining the sheets underneath you. Sans, of course, notices too and chuckles. “...wow, pal, you really got riled by me, huh? ...heh, look at that stomach...” Glancing down, you notice your slightly more round belly, a soft glow indicating where your stomach is, where he’s been pouring his magic into you. “...heh, whaddya say, pal? wanna glow on both ends?” His bony fingers move slowly, teasingly over your sensitive skin, smearing your fluids all over them, and that’s all it takes for you to plead.
“G-god, just... just please, fuck me, Sans... I need you so much... so much...”
In the blink of an eye, your legs are resting on his shoulders and he’s roughly fucking you without any hesitation, and you arch your back off the mattress as you come.
“...heh, wow, so eager for this... want me to-”
“Keep. Going. Dammit.”, you groan out, and he laughs.
“...didn’t intend to stop, pal...” He’s rough, and his magic is swirling in your stomach, burning, making your entire body itch for him... it’s so perfect.
The windows are steamed up. The mirror on the door is covered in a fine layer of precipitated vapor. The room is full of that heady, heavy mist that makes it hard to breathe.
You pant, gasping for air, as Gaster’s form slicks over your lower body. He’s at his most formless mid-sex, but only those parts of him that don’t matter as much. His face is still intact, eyes glowing that kind of blue you have vivid dreams about, somewhere between cyan and cerulean; his hands are still very solid, gripping you and holding you upright against the bedroom wall.
And his dick is so very solid as well, sliding in and out of you.
“Oh god... h-human... I will... I w-will...”, he warns, and you wrap your legs around him, squeezing in time with his thrusts.
“Please do...”, you whisper into his nonexistant ears, and he gasps, hands pinning you against the wall as he goes from medium speed to something ludicrous and so hot, slamming into you and in turn slamming your body against the wall hard and fast, and he comes a millisecond before you do, his cry in your mind loud and very unashamed for once. You can feel his magic erupt inside of you, and straight away you feel your body absorb it and turn it into energy. “...Oh...”, you groan as Gaster pulls out and away. And then, a heat-flash courses through you and you moan once more: “Ohh...!”
“Human... I... y-your energies are... fluctuating... this is... not supposed to happen...” He looks you over, his smile one of worry, but when you step closer and kiss him once more, he doesn’t seem to mind. His hands very carefully smooth over your bare shoulders, down your back, holding you close.
“G-gaster... what is happening to me...? Ahhh...! I feel... l-like we... like I...”, you stammer, and Gaster nods.
“I... should have known... that it was not a good idea to... mingle... with a human... M-my magic... has the side effect of... m-making a human... h-hypersexual...”
“Hyper... hyper...”, you try to wrap a progressively more unresponsive brain around the term, and Gaster, mistaking the haze of lust for misunderstanding, repeats the statement in more direct terms.
“...My c-cum is making you... want m-more sex. W-with... uh... anyone. I b-believe, at least... I have never tested this...”
“Well, doctor Gaster...”, you say sultrily, putting his hands on your hips and grinning up at him. He’s blushing deeply, bless his fragmented soul. “...I’d say you need to test this theory... Otherwise, you’ll never know if it’s true...”
“I... I...” He wants to give in, you can tell: his fingers are pressing into your skin as if he desperately needs to find solidity to ground himself, and his eyes flicker in that impossible shade of blue again. So you speak from the heart, letting his magic run rampant throughout your body.
“...I can disprove one fact, though...”
“O-oh? ...W-what fact...?”, he stammers - his dick has re-formed, pressing against your lower stomach as a fond reminder that he’s into this as much as you are, no matter how shy he’s being, and you wink at him.
“I don’t want more sex with anyone... just you...”
He kisses you sloppily, pushing you back onto your bed, and you allow his proximity and the slow, sensuous burn of his magic inside your veins to take your senses over.
“HUMAN-HUMAN-HUMAN-OH-HUMAN-STARS-PLEASE-MERCY-PLEASE...” Your body is feeling sore already, and Papyrus hasn’t even come yet. His heat came like a bolt of lightning from a clear sky this time: one minute, the two of you were still thinking up puzzles to befuddle Sans with, and the next moment he’s got you in his racecar bed, only wearing your shirt, as he’s pummeling into you hard and fast, eager for release. Usually, you have some advance warning so you can mentally prepare for another three days spent in his bed; you suppose you’ll have to call in sick when he’s asleep to avoid getting yelled at when you turn up in public looking like you haven’t slept for days.
Still, it’s ironic that the one that’s hurting the most is you, and yet he is the one that’s pleading for mercy.
“Pap... ahhh, baby...”, you try, but suddenly he grips your hip, his thrusts growing uneven as his spine arches impossibly much and then you feel a torrent of his cum flood into you, filling you enough to make your lower body glow faintly in the dusky confines of his room.
“OH WOWIE... HUMAN, THAT... OH STARS... S-STILL...!” It’s always like that: the first release of his heat lasts about a minute or so, just a little too long for your body to process all of his magic residue and convert it into energy. You can feel the scintillating sensation of that process start inside you, feeling a rush of warmth-
Liquid fire races through your body, like lava in your veins, making your skin flush and your muscles ache. Before, you were sore, but that’s nothing compared to that sudden jittery bout of energy that’s now flooding you. Your mind reels.
And then, you start moving, without really putting any thought into it. Papyrus is still coming, but you start pushing back into him, slowly at first but then in time with the waves of his cum hitting your insides, stuffing yourself as full of him as you can, and Papyrus’ moan mirrors your own.
“Pap... oh baby... oh baby... please... I d-don’t... I can’t... stop...”, you say breathlessly. Your skeletal lover is just as confused as you are, you can tell, but he grips your hips and helps you sit up so you can ride him - and that is exactly what you do, lift off him and then push back down onto his magic length, filling yourself up so satisfyingly that the both of you grunt and groan. “I-it’s... your magic, it feels... oh god, I need you so much...!”, you admit, gasping and moaning with every other breath as your ass crashes into his pelvis hard time and time again. It’s so amazing...
“H-HUMAN... OH S-STARS... YOU ARE...”
“Y-your magic... put me... in heat... ahhh baby!” He thrusts up into your motions, meeting you halfway, and that feels so good that you actually lose track of your thoughts, putting your hands on his clavicles and looking him right in the eyesockets as you pant out: “Don’t stop... don’t stop, Pap... don’t ever, ever stop...!”
He doesn’t, and neither do you.
romaincrisis
pixelskylines
izzy806
theartofmadeline
snowghoul
gamechangershow
2087
