You whine when Mettaton drags a sharp nail down his leggings, starting the tear at the juncture of his thigh and pelvis. He looks up to check on you, or to see your completely wrecked expression. No matter why, he slowly tears away the thin fabric covering his pussy and guides your fingers to rest on it.
“Alright, darling! Get to it! Or don't, it all depends on how much you want.” Mettaton chirps, voice stuttering as you immediately press your fingers inside him.
“D-darling, oh my god I love you.””