Sans AU One shots ♥︎

Canon Swap x reader

Omg Wattpad deleted the ending for the story and left it at 𝘶𝘯𝘥𝘦𝘳𝘩𝘢𝘯𝘥 for some reason.
__________
I wasn't very active... It's just a known fact of the world. I usually feel very self conscious whenever I visit the gym, or when I work out by myself. I feel like I'm weak and embarrassing whenever I pick up a small weight and sit down next to someone who looks like they could lift a truck with their pinky finger.

In that sense, it feels like I don't work out because I haven't worked out.

After having met Sans, only a couple months after monsters had crawled out from under their mountain and adjusted to surface life, most of my insecurities had been banished almost instantly. I felt like I could lick cheetoh dust off my fingers around him. Like I could snort while drinking. Like I could just be 𝘮𝘦.

But he never managed to make me come with him to training. He'd beg and plead, even sometimes suck up to me, practically praying every night that I'd one day agree to run 500 laps around a lake with him and a super jacked lizard. And I always let him down.
Because if I thought bodybuilders were ridiculously strong, Sans was something completely out of this world. I couldn't even imagine embarrassing myself in front of him, struggling to lift a 50 pound weight as he pumped a 100 on each arm effortlessly.

Today felt like it was going to be different.

Sans was smart, if not 𝘵𝘰𝘰 smart for his own good. I don't know if he'd realized my feelings for him, or if he'd developed his own, but he started using himself in a way of getting what he wants more... 𝘗𝘩𝘺𝘴𝘪𝘤𝘢𝘭𝘭𝘺.

And if he wasn't putting his hands on me in almost explicit ways, he was teasing me, sticking his face in mine and lowering his voice to something barely above a husky whisper. He would lock his eyes in mine, even going as far as taking advantage of my interest for monster magic to draw me further in what he was saying, changing the shape of his eyes and creating small images in the corner of my eye that he wouldn't let me turn to look at.

Sometimes he felt like a mermaid, or a siren.

Right now, for example, was one of those moments. He had relented on asking me to go with him to training for a couple weeks and simply walked past me as I lay sprawled on the couch to walk out the door. He never mentioned training, and hardly even waved goodbye when he left for it.

Now, he had one hand on the armrest of the couch and another clutching the cushion next to my head, trapping me with his body as he looked down on my jumpscared form. His eye lights were smaller than they were before, when he was talking to me from the dinner table behind the couch.

It seemed I'd triggered something during that conversation, and tried to sift through what I'd said. I couldn't focus on it too long, however, as he began to lean closer to my face and cock his head.

His eyes trailed over my stringy arms, gripping a bag of chips and the t.v remote tight, or at least, as tight as they could with how little muscles they had. He quipped a browbone, meeting my gaze,

"Aren't humans supposed have some sort of indicator when they become strong? Like a tumor of a sort? "

"Tumor...? " I muttered, scared to speak too loudly. I figured that he was talking about bulging muscles, but chose not to say anything about how insulting that genuinely was to me.

He dragged a gloved finger up my forearm, stopping at my boney shoulder to give it a light squeeze. I resisted squeaking in surprise, clutching my mouth with both hands.

Sans' eyelights widened, "I'm not supposed to be able to feel your bones, human! " quickly, he scooped me up under my shoulders and swung me over his, "We are fattening you up immediately. "