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braindumpblehhhh · 20 days ago

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Can I please request just a super fluffy one shot of undertale sans and reader cuddling while sleepy? Just soft and comforting

you guys know what the hell is up omg I need sleepy cuddle time so bad. I hope your pillows are cold tonight and that sleep treats you kindly <3

and I will NEVER tire of classic sans trust he's so fucking babygirl. my little pookie wookie snuggle bear

the irony behind this oneshot is that I wrote most of it at like 1 in the morning

Some Stellar Snuggles (Undertale!Sans x Reader)

The room is dark as you stir awake, your dreams dissolving into the depths of your mind like salt stirred into water. One by one, your senses fuzzily reactivate. Your sight is still blinded by the backs of your eyelids, but you can detect the tiniest tinge of light through them. A fan sits in the corner, buzzing white noise into the room, the only sound you can hear. Warm sheets are draped over your body, and they smell of freshly washed linen from the day prior. Your mouth is dry, the stale taste of sleep remaining on your tongue.

You turn from your back onto your side, away from the source of the light that bleeds through your eyelids. You reach out a lazy arm across the bed, and it smooths over empty space on the mattress. Your eyebrows furrow, your eyes squinting tight as you search further, until you reach the extent of your elbow’s range. The sheets where your limb lands are cool, flat, and to your dismay, empty. Exerting a sleepy grunt, you twist your body to span yourself across the bed, your form practically diagonal on the mattress. You suck in a breath when your palm connects with the freezing wall on the opposite side.

With great effort, you crack your eyes open. It makes very little difference in your eyesight. You open them further and blink away the residue of your dreams, and your vision sharpens to detect the cool light of the moon that falls over the empty half of the bed.

There’s a shadow in the dusting of moonlight, an outline you know well. You roll over onto your other side, squinting into the sudden slat of brightness that floods your corneas. Your head sinks into the pillow, the displacement of the plushness covering one of your eyes as the other traces the shape in the window. Nothing more than a whisper leaves your throat when you call out softly to the figure, your voice still hoarse from sleep. It doesn’t seem to hear you.

You push yourself up with both arms, your legs swinging over the side of the bed and planting themselves onto the old, flattened carpet that’s probably even older than you are. You stand and carefully toe your way across the room, brushing past the discarded jacket on the floor and the multitude of socks that seem to dot the ground like fallen leaves in autumn. Somehow, they didn’t make it into yesterday’s laundry.

Having navigated the minefield of socks, you arrive fully intact at the window (and the figure standing in it). Approaching from behind, you drape your arms around its shoulders and rest the side of your face on the cold, smooth surface of its head.

“What are you doing?” you whisper, “It’s like, two in the morning.”

“i could ask you the same thing.” Sans sighs and leans back into your body, lifting his arm to smooth his knuckles over your cheek. “lookin’ at the stars. they’re bright tonight.”

You cast your sight upwards, your eyes darting between the pinpricks of light dotting the night sky. When your gaze lingers on one, you swear you can see it twinkle, just like you always hear about in old nursery rhymes.

A skeletal hand reaches out and taps against the glass. You follow the direction of the pointed finger as it lands on a small cluster of stars. You recognize the Big Dipper somewhat above it.

Sans traces his finger along the glass, making a spider-like shape on the pane. “virgo,” he says.

He drags his finger over from the constellation and traces a new shape, this one a large rhombus with a hooked stem budding from one corner. “and that's leo. do you see the backwards question mark?”

You nod, following his fingers. He stops at the bottom of the question mark shape and taps on the glass again, pointing to a star that's brighter than the others in the constellation. His other hand drops to page through a book that lies on the windowsill. Its pages are water-damaged and dog-eared, like an ancient tome that survived a flood. Some of the ink is smudged in places, but chicken-scratch handwriting frames the paragraphs and fills in the blanks. He finds the page he's looking for and ghosts his fingers over the text.

“that star is regulus, the lion's heart.”

You lean over his shoulders and study the chart depicted on the page. It's an illustration of different shapes against a black background, a night sky of constellations with each star labeled. You crane your head further, looking over the tips of his phalanges to read the names of the surrounding stars.

“what, you think i'm lion to ya?” Sans says with a chuckle that rumbles in his chest.

The only response you can muster is a tired sigh into the crook of his neck.

“Come back to bed.” You tug at the hem of his white t-shirt. “They'll still be there tomorrow.”

Sans squeezes your dangling arms, uncharacteristically quiet. He hesitates and gives the sky a final once-over, as though he’s committing each of the millions of celestial bodies to memory in mere seconds. He closes the old guidebook with the care of someone handling a delicate artifact, then clutches the backs of your hands.

The world goes black, and for a split-second, the floor is pulled from beneath you, and you're free-falling in the void. The sensation only lasts for a blink of an eye, however, and you'd think your sleep-deprived brain just hallucinated it if you weren't suddenly horizontal.

“Are you serious? The bed was literally four steps away.”

“just think of all the time i’m saving in the long run,” Sans shrugs, nestling beneath the covers. “i’m nothing if not efficient.”

Cold bones slide against your calves as Sans notches his body against your back. His knees slot perfectly into the backs of your own, thighs and femurs running parallel to each other. Firm ribs rise and fall against your back, an odd feeling, but not unpleasant. A skeletal arm drapes lazily across your waist, tracing your lower ribs through your shirt. Something sharp pokes the back of your neck. You twitch at the feeling, earning a half-hearted “sorry” from the owner of the offending nasal bone. Teeth press against the nape of your neck, soft and deliberate.

Your breathing steadies, matching his, but your brain isn't quite ready to simmer down yet. “What woke you up?”

Sans presses another kiss to you, this time tugging at the collar of your nightshirt to plant it on your shoulder. “hard to sleep when you're getting kicked all night.”

You sigh at the feeling, brushing your hand over his. “I don't do that. Uh… right?”

“nah.” Another kiss.

You lock your fingers between his. “Then answer the question.”

There's a puff of surprisingly warm air across the back of your neck, then nothing. Cold air rushes to fill the vacuum created by his absence as Sans rolls to his back. You frown at the loss of heat, and you chase it, turning over and pressing yourself against his side. Your arm slings across his chest, and you lift your head to let him slide his arm under the space between your neck and the mattress.

You can see the faint glow of his eyelights illuminating the bow of his nasal bone. They’re almost like stars themselves, you note as your body molds snugly against his. He's completely still for some time, before resuming the artificial breathing motions of his chest.

“been having some weird dreams lately.” Sans rubs idle circles into your back.

You tug a pillow onto his shoulder so you can comfortably rest against it without bones prodding into your skull. “Like what?”

Sans brings his free hand to rest behind his head. The glow from his eyelights disappears – he must have closed his eyes. The arm around you squeezes your body almost protectively against his torso, and his head tilts to tap his skull against the top of your forehead. He inhales deep against your hair, the long, slow rise of his empty chest and the slight whistle from his nasal cavity perfectly mimicking the instinctual need to breathe as opposed to his usual aesthetic choice to breathe.

“doesn’t really matter.” A warm exhale fans over your head. You can feel the tips of skeletal fingers tracing squares into your back, light and slightly rounded. “they’re not real.”

You close your eyes and drag your hand down his ribs, counting the pattern of ridge, divot, ridge, divot as your fingers dip and rise over them. You follow them as they curve away into false ribs, and you note the points of the floating ribs that poke up into his t-shirt. Beyond that, the shirt falls into empty space, molding over the arch of his ribs and pooling down to meet his spine. The emptiness used to be alien to you, but now, it’s as familiar as any other body you’ve shared a bed with.

“Some people think that dreams have meanings. Like, a common one is dreaming about your teeth falling out. They say it represents something in your life you’re stressed about that you can’t control.”

“yeah, well, tooth be told, babe,” you jab Sans with a finger, eliciting a chuckle from him, “i don’t believe in that stuff. dreams are just your memories blending together while you’re unconscious.”

“Like a smoothie.”

“huh?”

“Dreams are memory smoothies.”

Sans turns his head the other way, but the shake of his shoulders betrays his attempt to muffle his laugh. “i think it’s time to go back to sleep. you’re going a bit bananas on me.”

“Nuh uh.” Your jaws part with a treacherous yawn. “I wanna keep talking to you.”

You snake your hand up his shirt, the pads of your fingers sliding over the smooth ridges of his spine. Here, closer to his center, it’s warmer, thrumming with magic from the proximity of his soul.

A swell of drowsiness sweeps over your mind like a wave lapping at the shore, steady in its rhythm as the last of your wakeful tension leaves your legs. Your torso and shoulders follow suit, slackening as your consciousness is gently swept beneath the tide. You can almost hear the soft foaming of sea meeting sand (or maybe it's just the white noise of the fan) and the rocking of the current (probably Sans’s breathing), singing to you like a maritime lullaby.

The shapes being drawn on your back become more abstract, hard edges and corners dissipated into loops and swirls. He draws a soft-edged rhombus with a hooked stem budding from one corner. An upside-down Y. The squiggle of an uneven W.

Sans cycles through the constellations as he feels you relax, your breathing slow and soft against his shoulder. He moves his other hand from behind his head to tug the covers up further around you, making sure you're fully wrapped up and warm. He cranes his head up with all the gentleness in the world and gives your features a final once-over, as though he’s committing every tiny detail, each little imperfection on your skin to memory.

“i'll still be here tomorrow.”

His words fall on fast-asleep ears.

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braindumpblehhhh · 28 days ago

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Hii, I was wondering if you could do headcanons of how (classic) Sans acts when he realizes he has a crush on you :) Thank you, and remember to eat and stay hydrated :D

You anons are so nice :))) you do the same boo <3

i couldnt stop thinking about this scenario and before i knew it i wrote a whole additional drabble to go along with it LOL so enjoy that free of charge at the end of the headcanons :D

[content warning for several dick jokes lol im not sorry]

Undertale!Sans with a crush

If you were to ask Sans how he caught feelings, he'd probably claim that it just hit him all at once. Everyone else who was around him will tell you that they saw the signs long before the two of you became official.

One day you wave goodbye to him at his hotdog stand and his soul suddenly tries to leap out of his chest and follow you. It was that very moment that he knew he was screwed.

He definitely tries to keep his crush under wraps (and deny it himself) but it just slips out in several places.

He just has to show Papyrus the hilarious meme you sent him, and he needs to check out that new thing you've been raving about.

He starts texting you back really quickly. He can leave people on delivered for days, but you? Near instant response.

Late night text chains with you become commonplace. He can stave off sleep for just one more text with you... maybe one more... okay this is the last one...!

He has noticeably more energy after talking to you. Suddenly he's not dragging his feet as he walks, he's prancing like a horse in dressage. Okay maybe not that much but he's definitely stepping around with purpose.

The frequency of suggestive jokes skyrockets. Suddenly, every other pun he throws at you is some flavor of dirty.

His joke frequency in general bumps up, too. Sans wants to make you laugh so badly, and his soul flutters deliciously at the sound of it.

On the flipside, he gets very jealous when others make you laugh. That sound is for him only, thank you very much.

Lots of stolen glances. Sometimes at your face, but most often at your hands. He really wants to hold them. He wants to know how your fingers feel intertwined with his. He wants to squeeze your hand to remind you that he's there and that he loves-- oh shit you caught him looking. Quick, Sans, act natural!

Sans invites you to all sorts of events and outings. He never calls them dates, though. He's too nervous to put any sort of label on things, even if you thanking him for "hanging out" makes his soul die a little on the inside.

Please help this man. He really needs a friendly push in the right direction to finally admit how he feels.

~~~

The door clicked shut behind Sans as he let out a tired sigh. He dropped his heavy briefcase on the ground, and the loose hotdogs and condiment bottles rattled around inside. Today had been an extra busy day at his little hotdog stand that sat in a prime location on the piers. The hot swell of the sun after a cool, rainy spring had brought the residents of the city out in droves, and if there's one thing someone starts craving on the docks after hours of sandcastles and suntanning, it's a big, juicy hotdog. Now, after a full day of slinging ‘dogs, Sans was ready to collapse in his bed and not wake til at least the third time Papyrus yelled at him to get up.

Speaking of…

The house was unusually quiet. And dark. There were still a few drops of evening light outside, but the blinds inside the house had been pulled, shrouding the entire interior in darkness. It wasn't quite the darkness that unsettled Sans, however. It was the silence. Papyrus was usually home by the time Sans had wrapped up his day at the stand. The only times this wasn't the case were when he was having a particularly late training session with Undyne, but in those cases, he would always text Sans to inform him of the change in schedule.

“hey, pap, you home?” Sans called out. There was no response.

Sans pulled out his phone and double-checked his messages, slipping off his sandals on the welcome mat and toeing his socks off his feet. He kicked them somewhere into the darkness as he tapped on Papyrus's contact. The most recent message was still the shaky picture Sans had sent of a rather smug seagull picking up a slice of hotdog that Sans had tossed at it, as well as a message about how people were flocking to him for a taste of his hotdogs. Papyrus had simply reacted to the message with a thumbs down emoji.

There was, however, a new message from a different contact. The ever-present smile on his face lifted at the corners at the sight of the contact name, the unease melting away from his system.

You: Hey bonehead, how was the rest of your day? Bet it got pretty slow and boring after I left :P

Sans: nah i got ppl lining up round the block 4 a taste of my sausage

You: Ew >:( but like I guess they ARE pretty good lol. Are you gonna be open tomorrow? I have an early shift and could use some lunch afterward

Sans: yes im open tmrw but u can have my wiener whnvr u like ;)

Sans chuckled as he pressed send and threw his keys in the bowl next to the door. He let his phone linger on his messages with you, hoping for a quick reply. He reached for the light switch, deciding to raid the pantry for a healthy dinner of junk food.

Click!

Light flooded the room, and Sans's soul leapt to his throat. The phone dropped to the floor as his magic flared to life in his hands, ready to defend himself as needed. But, as he quickly regained his bearings from the startle, he was met with an entirely different emotion – confusion.

Papyrus was sitting silently on the couch, his arms crossed and a deadly serious look on his face. Next to him was Undyne, equally as serious with just a touch of blood-thirst as she tapped a spear on the ground. Finally, in the recliner, sat Alphys, wringing her hands together and looking like she'd rather be literally anywhere else.

Papyrus kicked the ottoman in front of the couch forward. “HAVE A SEAT, BROTHER.”

Sans glanced from Papyrus, to Undyne, to Alphys, then back to Papyrus. He opted to stay near the door, trying to glean whatever he could from the situation. He shoved his hands in his pockets and made an attempt to seem relaxed.

“did i miss game night or something?” he chuckled, looking around and suddenly feeling hot in his own bones. “sorry, pals, i can't help that i got a monopoly on hot dog sales. that's just the game of life. i hope i’m not in trouble.”

Papyrus was gritting his teeth harder with each board game pun. Undyne was stifling a laugh and trying to look stoic at the same time. The two emotions combined, giving her an absolutely maniacal grin. Alphys started to nervously pick at a loose thread on the chair.

“THIS IS NO TIME FOR JOKES, SANS. THIS,” Papyrus suddenly stood and dramatically paused, placing his hands on his hips, “IS AN INTERVENTION. NOW PLEASE, SIT. AND HAND OVER YOUR PHONE.”

His smile faltered, and all he could eke out was a dumbstruck, “what?”

“WE ARE INTERVENING, SANS. THIS HAS GONE ON FOR LONG ENOUGH. WE JUST WANT WHAT IS BEST FOR YOU. YOUR FRIENDS ARE WORRIED ABOUT YOU,” Papyrus gestured to the other two monsters. He then put his hands over where his heart would be, specks of tears forming in his eyes. “I’M WORRIED ABOUT YOU.”

“i don't–”

“We're talking about your love life, you dork!” Undyne slammed the end of her spear on the ground. “Now give us your phone so we can make sure you don't screw it up!”

Sans froze.

“Papyrus t-told us about them,” Alphys spoke up.

“i've mentioned them two times?” Sans argued, looking to his brother.

“I-I didn’t even say th-their name…”

“THAT'S TWICE MORE THAN THE USUAL AMOUNT OF TIMES YOU MENTION SOMEONE.” Papyrus cut in, jabbing his finger in the air matter-of-factly. “I HAD MY SUSPICIONS AFTER THE FIRST TIME, BUT I HAD TO BE SURE. WORRY NOT, BROTHER, FOR I HAVE GATHERED ALL THE DATING EXPERTS I KNOW – INCLUDING MYSELF – HERE TO MAKE SURE YOU SUCCEED IN COURTING–”

Sans interrupted. “you know, i really don’t appreciate getting jumped in my own living room.”

Undyne lets out a laugh, like a crack of thunder. “He’s not denying it!” she very helpfully points out.

“i’m not doing this.” Sans leaned down to pick up his fallen phone. All he wanted was to walk away from whatever the hell was happening in his living room and retire to his bed.

Except that was clearly not going to happen.

As soon as he started moving toward the phone, a spear shot by his head with a whistle and impaled the door behind him with a crash. Sans had dodged it on instinct, blinking a solid foot away from the spot where he had once been. He leapt once again at the phone.

“Tackle him!” Undyne shouted, another spear summoned in her hands.

She threw another spear through the air, and Sans once again dodged. The spear went straight through the wall where he was just standing, shaking the nearby table and sending the poor pet rock that sat atop it careening from its paper plate nest. What he didn’t count on was Papyrus tackling him to the ground after his quick sidestep. The two brothers fell to the floor with a thump, and Papyrus kicked away the phone as Sans struggled under his grasp.

Undyne scooped up the phone. Her grin turned to a pointed frown. “It’s locked!” she groaned.

yes!

“THE PASSCODE IS 6969.”

no!

Alphys gave him an unimpressed look. “Real cl-classy, Sans.”

Undyne unlocked the phone, and the commotion paused. Her good eye began to scroll back and forth as she read the messages. Her brows furrowed, then her eye widened, and she threw her head back in a howl of laughter. Sans, watching the whole ordeal, slowly lowered his head to rest on the carpet, his face starting to burn.

“Holy shit!” Undyne cackled, “Is this how you flirt, dude?!”

“LET ME SEE!”

The weight of Papyrus was lifted off his back. The weight of his sins remained.

“That’s a lot of dick jokes,” Alphys observed.

“SANS! THIS IS NO WAY TO GAIN THE AFFECTIONS OF A POSSIBLE DATING PARTNER!” Papyrus snatched the phone from Undyne. To Sans’s horror, he began to type something. “I AM GOING TO WOO THEM WITH A PROFESSION OF MY BROTHER’S LOVE. THEY WILL SURELY SWOON AT HIS WORDS THAT I AM WRITING.”

“You’re doing it wrong, punk!” Undyne swiped the phone back and started typing something else. “It needs more fire, more passion!”

“A-actually, you should say something like this.” Alphys gently guided the phone from Undyne’s hand and started writing yet another something else.

The three became caught in a loop, passing the phone amongst each other, backspacing, rewriting, proofreading, then back to rewriting. Throughout their squabble, Sans had gotten up, honestly perfectly content to leave them to it, walk to his bed, and pretend it was all just a bad dream. He could do damage control when he sees you tomorrow. That is, if you would even want to see him again after the surely horrifying amalgamation of words slingshotted through the invisible current of radio waves and arrived on your screen. Maybe fate would be kind to him and a stray solar flare would whip through the stratosphere and burn the world to a crisp first – or, at least knockout cell service.

As he turned to leave, however, Sans noticed that the arguing and clacking of bones and claws on glass had stopped with a sharp ding. He turned back around and sure enough, the three were staring silently at his phone. Papyrus looked surprised, glancing between the phone and Sans. Undyne’s eye had widened as she clutched the phone closely. Alphys was slack-jawed in awe.

Sans did not take the opportunity for granted. He swiped the phone back, now safely cradled in his hands, and he took a shortcut to the roof of the house before anyone could even react.

He heard the shouts from inside and subsequently ignored them. The air was warm, and the stars were shining in their full glory in the moonless night. Sans sighed in relief, then looked at his phone. Sure enough, there was a nausea-inducing mishmash of text covering the screen, and lucky for him, the send button had not yet been pressed. What caught his attention, though, was that there was a new message from you. Sans thanked his lucky stars that you had responded before you were subjected to the worst combination of words and syllables in the English language.

He read the message. He read it again. A third time.

You: So, “wiener” you gonna ask me out for real?

Sans smiled wide. His cheeks lit up with a soft blue glow.

Sans: ur sure feeling cocky. tmrw? ik a place w great burgers

You: It’s a date! :)

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