Now's Your Chance!!! Spamton x Reader [[HIATUS]]

Virus Alert! [[NSFW]]

[[AUTHOR'S NOTE:]]

MINORS and people not into smashing the puppet can skip this chapter for a SFW alternative! I am a lore/consistency lover and I don't wanna exclude y'all so you'll still get some intimacy, just of the wholesome variety<3

KEEP IN MIND, Y/N IS AN ADULT IN THIS STORY REGARDLESS OF THE CONTENT OF THE CHAPTER. Got that? Good.

With that out of that way, to those who remain, enjoy~!

~~~

Spamton's glasses explode with color and he lets out a pitiful whimper, dropping his head to your chest. He clings to your shoulders desperately, his fingers digging under the straps of your breastplate and burrowing into the fabric beneath. He gasps as another glitch sparks through him, sending him pressing further into you.

"Spam, what's wrong?" You run your fingers through his sweaty hair, trying to soothe him. Electricity shoots through your fingers, leaving your skin feeling singed.

He doesn't respond, but he leans into your touch, so you continue to pet him despite the pain, letting your hand drift to rubbing his back. He arches into the contact, knees bumping against yours as he shifts closer.

"I brought you lunch," you offer gently. "We can start with that, if that helps."

A violent shiver ripples through him. He wheezes and recoils, falling to your lap and curling into fetal position. He grips his hair and whimpers again, vibrating visibly.

"[No][No][No][No][No] I. C'@N'[t]" he mutters.

"There's no pressure! I just want to help you," you fret, confidence already shrinking. Was this really a good call? Is he sick now, because of you? "Lunch can wait, but can you at least tell me what's going on?"

"[CARD DECLINED]! [CARD DECLINED]! I c]an'T [[TH1NKL IT TH-ru]]!!! WH@t. D1D [Us3r City] do [[2]] m3 ??" He squirms up to sit on your leg, arching into you with a wild look in his eyes. And- Is he drooling?

"I, well-" 

His eyes roll back into his head and he groans, his glasses slipping down his long nose. You can feel your connection to him echo a strange, feverish sort of hunger. 

He's sick. Something's definitely wrong because of you. But when he looks up at you, glitching and pressing up against you, eyes needy and distracted, hands grasping for anything, and then to top it all off he licks his teeth-- Well, it's undeniably hot. You can feel yourself flush as his noises vibrate through you, as he shifts on your thigh...

Trying to blink the interesting thoughts away, you refocus. "-Um, I- Newt said I should get you an antivirus, so I did-"

He growls, clawing at your breastplate.

"[BRAND NEW]ton th!$, [all N3nw!!!]ton tH#t, he do3ns'tt KNOW WH@T'sss-s-ss [[BEST BY 00/00/00]] FOR M3, th1 S--" His legs squeeze your thigh as another glitch crashes through him. "HHn--nh-nn... Y/N, Y/N, Y/N, Y/N [[F1]] [[F1]] [[F1]]" He cries out to you. 

"Spamton, you have to tell me what's wrong for me to help you-" 

"S@Y m7 [user8me] AGAIGN," he demands, teeth clenched tight together as he presses himself hard against you. You can't help the gasp he draws out of you as he grinds down. His hard, bare puppet legs give you just the right amount of pressure, the right balance of warm desperation and cold skin...

"Spamton, what are you-"

"AhHHHhhh," he sighs over you, lidded eyes flicking over your body frantically. A rivulet of black drool slides down his jaw, dripping onto your lap. "That'zs.sssssss-s- [[R1gHT NOW]]."