#bun's fics
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Too High
Rating: General
Word count: 1,917
Summary: When the ghouls point out that Copia smells really bad after a Ritual, he realises that something is wrong.
Key tags/warnings: Diabetic Copia, usage of medical instruments including needles, blood
It had been on his first tour as a Cardinal.
They were still getting used to life together on tour. Living in close quarters, having to learn to share, long days of travelling being capped off by high energy rituals. Getting used to being around ghouls and their instincts had been a BIG adjustment for Copia. He was slowly adjusting to all the growls and hisses and posturing.
They'd just finished their first New York show, and they were back on the road on the same night, heading for Ohio.
The ghouls had changed out of their uniforms and into loungewear. Copia had noticed that their clothes seemed to be communal, as Rain was wearing a hoodie clearly too big for him, and Cumulus was wearing a crop top that looked a bit too well-fitting to be hers.
Copia himself was dressed in a pair of jogging bottoms and an old ABBA t-shirt, the logo now faded on it. As he walked out of the master bedroom on the bus, he caught the sound of Swiss talking.
"Eugh… Something stinks of absolute shit."
Well, that was nice.
Copia quickly sniffed himself, and yes, he'd remembered to put on deodorant and his ghoul-approved cologne. He frowned.
Then, he walked through to the lounge, where all the ghouls were draped over the sofas. They looked up at the sight of him, and Swiss still had a look on his face that Copia was sure would stick if the wind changed direction.
"Eh…" He looked over his pack, then clapped his hands together, needing to give them a rousing speech after such a good performance. "Wonderful show tonight. Very good, I liked the… Guitar duel, with the- the New York song, very fitting." He nodded to Aether and Dew, who were sat shoulder to shoulder. Dew had his hoodie pulled up over his mouth and nose, like a mask. "And my beautiful lionesses!" He turned to the pair of ghoulettes, Cirrus in Cumulus' lap. "What dulcet tones you sang, what powerful chords you hit." He leaned forward to cup Cumulus' cheek, and she went to flinch away before stopping herself. She leaned into the touch, though her face was one of someone who had just sucked on a lemon.
Copia frowned.
"Alrighty. There is something going on here." He waggled his finger at the group. "What is it?"
"Don't know what you're talking about, Cardinal." Dew shrugged, pulling his hoodie strings so that the hood closed around his face.
"There is clearly something that is the matter. Is someone in heat? I believe it's the smell that's making you… All funny, si?" He put his hands on his hips, not unlike a stern mother, willing to wait out the group.
The ghouls went silent. They stared at him. He stared back, a disapproving eyebrow raised.
Eventually, Rain spoke up. His nose was buried in the crook of his forearm. "We… We think it might be you, Cardinal." He said softly, almost too quietly to hear. "Sorry."
"Me?" Copia's jaw dropped. He sniffed himself again. "Ghouls, I smell fine. I have had a shower, I have dried, I have put on more deodorant and the cologne that your pack picked out for me. The one that you specifically said made me smell nice. How can I smell bad?"
"I'm sorry… You do smell really bad." Mountain winced, his hand twitching to grab the Febreeze from the counter a few feet away.
"I do not!" Copia snapped defensively.
"You really do." Dew groaned, behind the cocoon of his hoodie. Even Aether had covered his own nose and mouth.
"Cirrus…" Copia pleaded, crouching to look her in the eyes. The one ghoul who didn't wear an expression like he'd just rolled in hot garbage. "I don't smell, do I?"
"Um…" She shifted in her seat, gave Cumulus an uncomfortable look. Cumulus shook her head, letting Cirrus deal with this one alone. Cirrus glared at her, her upper lip twitching in a warning snarl, just for a moment. "You… Uhm…" She licked her lips. "You don't smell amazing right now, Cardinal, to tell you the truth." She grimaced.
"Fuck!" Copia growled, standing back up to full height. "What is it, then? What has caused this- this sudden aversion to my smell?"
"Smell weird." Dew supplemented in an almost peurile tone.
"Thank you." He grumbled, the words dripping with sarcasm. "'Smell weird' how?"
"It's hard to explain." Aether huffed, a wince etched on his face from the scent alone. "We don't think it's your cologne. Uh… You usually have a pretty generic smell around you? Like ozone, almost?" He shrugged, dropped his hand to sniff the air, then quickly shook his head in aversion to the scent and clapped his hand back over his nose and mouth. "Sathanas. But now you just smell sweet. Really sweet. Sickly. It, uh. Isn't nice."
"Hot garbage comes to mind." Swiss muttered, and received a slap behind the ears by Rain for that.
"Hot garbage?!" Copia yelped, holding his hand over his chest, as if he was emotionally wounded. "What do I need to do? Do I need to shower, or- or-?"
"It's underneath." Mountain said. "Like this bad scent is woven into every fibre of you. I don't know how long it'll last, but- we really want your normal scent back."
"Hmm." Copia sat down on the edge of the sofa. Rain moved away from him. Thanks. "You say that I have quite a neutral scent usually?" He asked. The ghouls nodded.
"I think it smells like a fresh breeze." Mountain nodded. "It's nice. Nothing like how you smell right now. Sorry."
"And now I smell like…?"
"If a human kit ate their body weight in candy and then threw it all back up." Dew nodded. Now it was his turn to get a quick flick behind the ears by Aether. He hissed at the larger ghoul in response. "What? Just telling the truth."
"You don't have to be such a dick about it." Aether grumbled.
"I smell sweet..." Copia murmured. Then, his eyes widened. "Oh, shit." He breathed. He was up in a second, speedwalking through to the bedroom.
"Told you he'd forgotten deodorant." Swiss scoffed.
Copia was back a moment later, carrying a small black bag, cursing at himself in Italian. "Uomo idiota, come hai potuto dimenticare? Stupido, stupido…" He hissed under his breath, then sat down on the sofa again.
All the ghouls looked at him curiously, but their hands and hoodies and sleeves were still hiding their noses and mouths.
Copia unzipped the bag and dug through it, taking out a small black device, a yellow container, and a pen-looking thing. He placed a paper strip from the bag into the device, then put it to the side. The ghouls were intrigued now.
"What's that?" Cumulus finally chirped.
"Oh, it is, ehhh…" Copia trailed off, uncapping the pen and pressing it into the side of his fingertip. The pen clicked, and Copia withdrew it with a flourish. On the side of his finger was a perfect bead of blood. "It is…"
Rain chirruped, his pupils blowing wide at the sight of the blood just sitting there on Copia's finger, ripe for the taking. He licked his lips, then grumbled as Swiss held him back.
"Ehhh…" It turned out Copia wasn't a good multitasker. He was focused solely on wiping the droplet of blood onto the white card of the device, Cumulus' question going unanswered. He sucked on the tip of his finger as the device flashed, then beeped three times. "Ah, shit…" He whispered.
"What's wrong?" Aether asked. "What is it?"
"Blood sugars." Copia shifted the bag and all its paraphernalia off of his lap and onto the counter. He deposited the tip of the pen in the little yellow bin.
He popped his finger out of his mouth and checked to ensure it had stopped bleeding, then wiped it dry on his leg. "That will be why I smell so terrible to you ghouls." He stood and walked over to the kitchenette, rooting through the minifridge. He came back with a small glass vial with a silver cap.
"I don't get it." Dew said. Like Rain, he, too, was staring at the test strip, saturated in Copia's blood. He wanted to steal it.
"I'm diabetic." Copia gave a small shrug. "Though I don't tend to announce it to the world. Showing weakness is not good when I am climbing the ranks, you know?" He sat down again and started digging through the bag. He brought out a capped syringe and an alcohol pad and lifted his shirt, revealing his soft belly. He ripped open the packaging on the wipe, felt around his stomach for a second, then wiped over the perfect area. "But it is useful for you all to know, since I am in close quarters with you."
"I don't think I've ever seen a diabetic human before." Rain hummed, tipping his head to the side as Copia uncapped the syringe and drew up some of the liquid from the vial into it.
"Seen a few siblings." Dew answered non-committally. He was too busy focusing on what the cardinal was doing. "With needles and blood and stuff. They fucking stink too, now that I think about it."
"Mm, yes, thank you. I was a bit high." Copia nodded to the glucose monitor sat beside him, then tapped the syringe until all of the bubbles escaped it. Then, he turned to the side, hiding himself from the ghouls as he pinched the fat of his belly with one hand and injected himself with the other. He let out a soft hiss, then slowly withdrew the needle. "Done. I should start smelling better soon, I hope."
"That's it?" Cumulus asked, peering around Cirrus as Copia deposited the needle in the container and started to clean up. "How often do you have to do that?"
"Oh, ehhh… Depends. I had a big dinner tonight, but I clearly didn't burn it all off while performing. I'll try harder next time." He chuckled, patting his belly. "I check my blood, eh, five, six times a day? It depends how I am feeling, si?"
"And the injection, do you do that every time?" Cirrus tipped her head to the side like an intrigued puppy. "Can we help?"
"Oh! Ah… I only inject when my sugar is too high. You can probably smell it on my breath, too. Not that I would like to smell my breath, if I were you." Copia tutted, zipping the bag up. "Help? Well, I am pretty well versed in checking my bloods and injecting myself nowadays, but, eh… If you could warn me. When I start smelling bad again. I would appreciate it, si?"
"We can do that." Swiss nodded. He'd stopped covering his nose. "You're already smelling a little better."
"Don't let me get that bad before you make me aware. Though I am offended that you say I smell like 'hot garbage', if you warn me early, I can check and make sure the smell goes away al momento. It will be better for all of us. I won't smell like shit to you, and I won't end up in a hyper."
"We'll prewarn you, Cardinal." Dew nodded, rather seriously for his usually bouncy and stompy ghoul. "Now that you don't smell as bad, you can come cuddle us, if you wanna."
"Ghoul." Copia smiled fondly. "I would enjoy nothing more."
#ghost#ghost band#ghost bc#papa emeritus#my works#bun's fics#diabetic copia#cardinal copia#aether#dewdrop#dew#swiss#cumulus#cirrus#mountain#rain
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Touch- Pt 1
Alastor x GN!Reader
Part Two
Plot: Alastor realizes the reader is starting to get comfortable touching the other residents of the hotel, despite their discomfort with touch before. He suddenly realizes that he is not receiving any of these touches, and it annoys him.
Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, short fic.
Word Count: 1,049
Touch Pt. 1
He had never noticed it before, but now that it had been mentioned, he couldn’t stop noticing it. Every time someone leaned too close, or went to bump you, you leaned away, or shrunk in on yourself. It was a visual reaction that lit up his brain; something close to kinship. You were much like him, in the way you cringed at the slightest, unprovoked touch. Unlike himself, however, you never seemed to initiate it, either.
Alastor could see why someone like you wouldn’t bother. You didn’t have the power to make people back off if you made it seem like you were okay with casual touches. Better to avoid them altogether!
Alastor was confused, however, when you seemed to suddenly grow more… tactile with the others. It had been just before dinner, Alastor had Niffty setting the table, and everyone was slowly gathering near the dining room.
“Gosh, how do you even do that, Angel?” You exclaimed. Your face was colored in your bafflement and disgust, even as you let a laugh out. “That’s just, overkill!”
“Just say that you’re jealous, toots. We both know ya’ wouldn’t be able ta’ handle that,” Angel said, leaning his large frame down to wiggle his eyebrows in your face.
You were laughing again. The sound always caught Alastor’s attention. Even down in Hell, you managed to have a very happy sounding laugh. It felt strange and out of place, but not bad, per se. (Alastor did not like to linger on the ‘why's’ of such thoughts. There was no point. The one time he had, it had spiraled out of control. Not again).
When Alastor turned to look, he always did, not that he would admit it, your hands were on Angel's face, pushing him back with a grin.
“Keep yourself away from me, you weirdo! You gotta have like a snake jaw to do that. I want nothing to do with it!” Your hands were still on Angel. Why? You didn’t like touch. Why were you doing it now?
That moment plagued him for a few days, especially as he noticed you touching Angel more. Were you and the effeminate fellow an item? He thought for sure that Angel’s tastes swung the other direction. His theory was smashed to smithereens when he saw you and Husker later on.
You were helping Husker clean smashed glass from the ground, listening to the cat-demon talk. It was often Husker listening to others, so the sight cough Alastor’s attention. He lingered off to the side, and watched, as he was wont to do.
Something the demon said made your eyebrows furrow, and sympathy flit across your face. Alastor watched your lips move, as if you were speaking softly. Then your arm was across Husker’s shoulder, a soft squeeze pulling him against you, for only a moment.
The moment was said and done in mere seconds, but it idled in Alastor’s memory. He could not fathom why things had changed. It only got worse as he realized you were doing it with near everyone in the hotel. Charlie got soft shoulder pats, and light hugs. Vaggie received fist-bumps, (what a strange gesture), and some small hugs. Angel got hip checked and often pulled into impromptu wrestling matches, (he could always hear Angel complain about them, but he never bothered to try and stop you. Maybe the spider didn’t hate it?) Sir Pentious, the cowardly snake, was allowed to pick you up and move you sometimes. Niffty got head pats, and she got picked up by you, sometimes. Husker received the least amount of physical contact, but there were moments where the cat’s tail would brush up against you, or you would squeeze his hand.
Over the course of a few weeks, Alastor couldn’t fathom why everyone else in the hotel was receiving these tender touches from you? He couldn’t tell what the change was. You were still your chipper self, and you helped out as normal. Nothing had changed except the way you interacted with the others. And then it hit him. Others. Your interactions with him hadn’t changed in the slightest.
Your smiles were always soft, and you still laughed at his jokes. You still got spooked when he snuck up on you, and you still shied away when his anger made his form change. He couldn’t spot a single difference! It was after a particularly long day of dealing with Vox, that things hit a tipping point.
Alastor had just gotten back to the hotel, having torn apart goons sent to bother him. Vox was always pulling stupid things like that, but it was more annoying when his technique was suddenly being ridiculed on every screen in Hell! He had managed to send a nasty message to Vox at the end of it all, but it remained a dampener on his day. And then he had spotted you, milling about in the lobby.
“Good afternoon!” He had practically yelled, forcing exuberance into his voice. “How are you this fine afternoon, dear?”
You whipped around, a smile already on your face. “Hi, Alastor! I’m doing okay.” Then a wince washed over your expression. “Saw that stuff on TV, earlier. Hope you got back at him, for it.”
Ah, of course you would mention it. Always worried about how others feel. (He would tell himself that it meant nothing. Because it did. Mean nothing, that is).
“Of course I did, my dear! The belligerent fool will remember today as a failure, for sure!” He had finally made it over towards you, and had moved to pull you against his side, when you ducked under his arms, stepping a few feet back.
But you just kept talking to him, like you hadn't moved! The static of his power surging made your words blur in his mind. He couldn’t hear a single word as his mind raced. How dare you? Was he not good enough? Why did each of the others get to touch you now, but he was a problem?
It was the frown on your face that pulled him back down. “Are you okay,” you asked, your face full of concern for him. It didn’t help.
When Alastor had finally waived away your worries, he had shadow-stepped to his room. He needed to think.
#alastor x reader#fluff#light angst#radio demon#alastor#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin alastor#fanfic#short fic#Bun's short fics
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idk... Abby slamming you against the wall cus you were being bratty
༘˚⋆ 🐇｡⋆࿐.˚ abby slamming you anywhere will make you wanna shit your pants cause have you seen those muscles? like actually omg can you imagine pushing her to the point where she has to slam you against something…
you’d probably been working her nerves all day. you don’t know where you want to go to eat. you hate how there’s so many people at the mall. your legs hurt and you’re tired of running all these errands. the food at this place sucks. the waiter is flirting with abby and it’s pissing you off. she kicked your feet under the table. (she didn’t) she parked too far and now you have to walk alllll the way back to the car, ugh!
she’ll smile. tap her fingers against the steering wheel and try her best to accommodate you. whisper a tired, “i know baby, i know.” but you keep complaining. your negativity is clouding the perfect day out she had planned. then, when you finally get into the house, you can’t even get out “i hate this-“ before she’s grabbed you by the chin and pushed you up against the wall.
“the next thing that comes out of your mouth better be fucking positive.”
and your face is fixed into a devious smile as you choke out the words. “fucking positive.”
(you’re getting your bratty brains fucked out tonight.)
#she ain’t no divaaaa#bunnie can speak? ☆#bun’s asks ꕤ#bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐#abby anderson#bun’s precious abby ✧.*#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson fic#abby anderson imagine#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson tlou2#abby anderson drabble#abby anderson smut
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i’ve always loved the way you eat ; suguru geto
synopsis; suguru is a morning person. he likes the serenity of it all; the quiet of the early hours, the expensive feel of his coffee pot. more than anything, he likes bringing you breakfast in bed.
word count; 4.9k
contents; suguru geto/reader, gn!reader, just comfy morning vibes, fluff fluff fluff!!, suguru being a good soon-to-be husband, lots of petnames, reader is whipped (and so am i) but suguru is even worse, i need him biblically.
a/n; this is my personal essay on why suguru geto is the perfect man and wife. bon appetit !!
something smells good.
as your eyelids flutter open, and you gradually slip out of sleep’s fuzzy embrace, you are engulfed by that one thought. that one sensation.
there’s a sweet fragrance in the air, an unnamed something you can’t place. a force of love.
soft sunrays flit in through the haphazardly closed window blinds of your bedroom, cascading across the floorboards and bouncing off the walls. splotches of sunshine envelop you in a hazy kind of glow; gentle and coaxing, stirring you awake. it feels good on your skin.
indulging in a few more slow blinks, you shift to lie on your back, halfheartedly attempting to chase the sleepiness away. tangled up in silken sheets and fluffy blankets, you stare at the ceiling — but even such a mundane task feels so nice. just wallowing in the tantalizing scent drifting through the bedroom, the flurry of little kisses that the sun smothers you with.
it’s still early, and you’re still sleepy. outside the walls of your apartment, the sun is rising to its feet, dyeing the world in warm colours; violets and blues melting into pinks and oranges, like an egg cracked open on the canvas of the sky. everything is quiet, not a sound to be heard except for the very distant chirping of cicadas from the trees outside your window. utter peace. like time isn’t even passing.
in the midst of such a precious moment, all you want is to laze around. it’s just that kind of pleasant, mellow morning; the kind that makes you wish the sun would never fully rise.
a satisfied little sigh slips from your lips. content to soak in the heavenly feeling until it passes, your eyes flutter shut — you’re just so sleepy, and the sun just feels so warm. soothing you, making it even harder to stay awake, cradling you in its hazy embrace. sunlit and saccharine.
with the morning fatigue clouding your senses, you don’t even notice the other presence in the room.
suguru smiles, from his spot by the door — leaning against the wall and gazing at your relaxed expression, an immense fondness reflected in his eyes. taking a moment to silently admire you.
you look so content. tangled up in blankets and pillows, with your limbs outstretched and starfished across the mattress. your hair is a little messy, and you’re drooling just a smidge, wearing his shirt; it’s a couple sizes too big for you, slipping off your shoulder and exposing your sunkissed skin. as suguru’s eyes trail over your features, the fond smile on his face only grows, shifting into something honeyed and giddy.
you’re perfect, he thinks. absolutely perfect.
a moment passes. then another. suguru continues to stare, as if trying to etch the image of you into his memory. trying to prolong the moment for as long as he can.
until, finally, he’s had his fill. simply admiring you from afar isn’t enough — he needs to see you up close, needs to hear the sleepy little tilt of your voice. so he opts to make his presence known, voice gravelly and sweet, echoing softly throughout the room.
“good morning, sweetheart.”
softly, your eyes flicker open. the familiar voice sends a tremor of something running through your chest — and suddenly, it feels as if some of the sleep clinging to your skin has been washed away. it’s a little easier to make yourself move, shifting to your side to get a better look at the source of the sound.
and the warmth that blossoms in your chest when your eyes meet suguru’s is almost overwhelming.
(god, he’s pretty.)
suguru looks perfect, in the morning. he looks like the rest of your life. hair a little messy, tied up into a lazy half-done bun, silky black strands cascading down his neck. and wearing a pair of comfy sweatpants that hang a little low on his hips, but no shirt — showing off the curve of his tiny waist, the slight twitch of his arms when he indulges in an idle stretch.
you try to restrain yourself from ogling his bare chest and arms too much, but it’s tough. frighteningly so. with the sunlight embracing his skin, muscles on full display, he looks a bit like a sculpture. a little too good to be real.
but he is. and he’s yours. and he’s smirking at you, lazily, affectionately — eyes half-lidded as he balances the tray that’s making the room smell so sweet. just standing there, looking so unfairly gorgeous. waiting for you to muster up the energy to respond to his greeting, more than happy to watch the way your eyes soften as they trail across his features in the meantime.
“morning,” is all you can rasp, eyes closing as your cheek sinks deeper into the mattress. a bit too tired to talk to him properly, and a bit too unguarded to look at him without feeling as if your heart is about to leap out of your throat.
he’s a little too pretty, like this. framed by the hazy sunshine, like something out of a dream. all soft clouds and gentle caresses, the scent of dried lavender, the pitter patter of rain against a windowsill. all things kind and comforting.
you’re afraid that your heart might give out, if you look at him for too long.
suguru doesn’t seem to mind. he only chuckles, voice deep and husky, sending shivers down your spine. his lips quirk up into a smooth kind of smile, and he’s quick to make his way to your side; crouching down to meet you at eye level after placing the tray on the nightstand.
a hand comes to caress your cheek. the rough pads of his fingers smooth down your jaw, gentle and doting, as if coaxing you out of hiding. as if you’re made of porcelain. suguru always treats you like you’re fragile, like you’re the most precious thing he has.
(because you are, he thinks. more precious than the expensive vanilla extract he used to make the waffles on the tray, more precious than the diamond-clad ring he’s hidden away in a drawer of the guest room. more precious than anything this world has to offer.)
a blissful little sigh slips from your lips, as you nuzzle into his palm. suguru leans forward to smear a kiss against your forehead, overcome with fondness; warm lips lingering on your skin.
the sensation strikes you as just a little heavenly. his touch is so tender, every caress so full of love. instinctual, the way his love bleeds into his touch, trickles down his veins to the tips of his fingers — smoothing along your skin. such a heavy thing, but he just makes it feel so light.
“still sleepy?” he hums, a little teasing. eyes crinkling, voice bordering on a coo.
and it’s infuriating. the amusement that flickers through his eyes, the way you can tell he’s itching to tease you for being so groggy and tired.
between the two of you, suguru’s always been the one to get out of bed first, to your grave annoyance. and he’s so smug about it. you want to tell him that waking up so early on a saturday isn’t normal, that he’s the weird one for not being sleepy —
but when he’s cupping your cheek so gently, all you manage is a meek little murmur of mm. one that has suguru stifling a coo, lips curling up into an adoring smile.
look at you. his sleepy little baby, dyed in sunrays and tiny specks of dust. so effortlessly pretty, tangled up in fluffy blankets, an image so precious he almost feels like he shouldn’t be looking at it. yet he continues to do so, mesmerized.
(suguru doesn’t mind being a little greedy, when it comes to you.)
“i made you breakfast,” he continues, as you melt into his touch. an absentminded action, but almost brimming with trust; the trust you have in him to treat you well. one he’ll always, always affirm. “your favorite. wanna eat with me?”
breakfast.
something in your brain visibly reacts to the sound of the word, shooing away a little of the morning fatigue still clouding your senses. before you know it, you’ve forced yourself into a sitting position, with groggy movements and a soft groan. rubbing the skin beneath your eyes and kicking the blanket off your legs, a little clumsily.
suguru breathes out a soft bout of laughter, low and amused, as you lazily stretch and indulge in slow blinks. his hand goes to ruffle your hair, and all you do is lean into it.
“i’ll take that as a yes,” he teases, eyes full of fondness. you crack a sleepy smile at his amused tone of voice.
suguru’s hands are big, and a little rough, but still so very soft. you could spend hours tracing them — from the tips of his fingers down to the veins of his wrist, across his knuckles littered with small scratches and barely visible scars. stories of his childhood, that he loves telling you about, almost as much as you love hearing them.
you love his hands. they’re so pretty. so warm and grounding, as they smooth down your hair, unmistakably caring. the weight of them is a comfort, as his fingers card through your bedhead, scratching softly at your scalp. a sensation that makes you feel all fuzzy inside.
suguru is just so good to you.
and you’re only further reminded of that fact when your gaze trails over to the assortment of breakfast foods he’s prepared, neatly stacked on the nightstand. all your favorites, made with so much love; and it’s so evident, even just in the presentation. the freshness of the strawberry slices, the perfect amount of syrup spread over the waffles. the cup of coffee made just the way you like it.
maybe it’s the morning fatigue, or just the softness of the moment. the intimacy, so palpable you can almost reach out and touch it. or maybe it’s something else entirely — whatever the cause, you feel your eyes get somewhat glassy.
a meek little sniffle leaves your lips, and it catches even you off guard.
suguru blinks. suddenly alert, his morning-fatigued brain trying to comprehend the sight of your teary eyes. brain spinning in circles, not sure if it should be telling him to panic just yet. something in him constricts, twists and turns, a desperate kind of yearning to protect you.
but before he can even reach out to wipe away the wetness with his thumb, you’ve latched yourself onto him.
arms snug around his waist, face tucked under his chin. fitting into him like a puzzle piece. breathing in the remnants of the cologne on his neck; a nice bergamot mix that you like, so he sprays on a little extra just for you. so close to him that you can feel the patter of his heart against you, as you soak in his body warmth.
and his arms find their way around your form just as naturally, without him even having to think. like every bone in his body was born with a desire to cradle you close. like he was crafted in the image of someone made to soothe you.
being in suguru’s arms is pure bliss. the most grounding sensation you know, one that never fails to calm you down, no matter how stressed or anxious you’re feeling. with his broad chest and strong arms, his bergamot-scented skin. so doting, pressing little kisses to your shoulder, trying to console you. his hair tickles your cheek a little, but it’s comforting.
”what’s wrong, honey?” he questions, voice set on a low, particularly soothing lilt. coaxing, almost cooing — a tone that buzzes with safety. his big hands go to rest on your head and back, smoothing down your spine.
”nothing,” you sniffle. feeling a little silly. ”you’re just too perfect. ‘s not fair.”
a pause.
then, a chuckle bubbles up from suguru’s throat. something fond and delightful unfurls in his chest, a kind of relief; a feather-light amusement.
(you’re so ridiculous, he thinks.)
but you only nuzzle further into his neck, all sleepy and affectionate — and it stirs his heartstrings in a way that makes him feel rather helpless. crumbling beneath your touch. gazing at you with soft eyes, a happy little hum buzzing in his throat.
he takes you in, in all your clingy glory; so impossibly sweet. maybe he should have sprinkled some sugar on the strawberry slices, just to see if the taste could ever measure up.
”ah, is that so?” he drawls, a lazy amusement flickering through his eyes. playful. ”i’m sorry, baby. i should be the one saying that to you, though.”
but you just shake your head, arms tightening around his midriff. as if offended that he’d have the audacity to brush off your objectively correct statement, to even think to deny how perfect he is.
and suguru raises a brow at you, in tandem, a mild protest resting on the tip of his tongue — offended at your blatant disrespect, shaking your head at his factually correct words, as if disagreeing with your own evident perfection.
but before he can even begin to fight you on the topic, you part your lips to speak.
”thanks for breakfast, sugu,” you sleepily murmur, biting back a yawn. still a little meek, but oh so loving. ”i would die for you.”
he stills, once more. then another soft bout of laughter escapes his lungs, rumbling through his chest like a soothing thunderstorm. it makes you feel so terribly safe.
“there’s no need for that,” he assures you. ”don’t you wanna eat instead?”
to his surprise, he’s met with another soft shake of your head. so snug in his embrace that you could practically live there, only clinging to him a little tighter with a huff.
”just wanna hug you first…” you yawn, arms squeezing at his waist affectionately. shifting in his hold until your lips find their way to his neck.
”i love you,” you mumble, kissing down his jaw and collarbone. sleepy, open mouthed pecks, trailing over the expanse of his pretty skin. ”so much.”
it tickles, a little. suguru digs his teeth into his cheek, ever so slightly, just to hold back the giggle that threatens to break out from his throat.
and it’s maybe just a little too sweet, the sensation that blossoms in his chest, something honeyed and flowery; fluttering deep within his ribcage, like a dragonfly buzzing and trying to break free. it gets him a little weak in the knees.
to distract himself from the voice in his head urging him to go get the ring in the guest room drawer right this instant, suguru scoops you up. cradling you close, as he plops down on the mattress, legs crossed to give you space on his lap.
you don’t protest, only snuggling a little closer — as if yearning to tuck yourself away within his ribcage.
and suguru chuckles, the deep tremor of his voice reverberating through his chest, echoing in your head as you listen to the rhythmic beating of his heart. rubbing your back with a teasing smile, pressing a kiss against the crown of your head.
“i should make breakfast more often if it’ll get you like this,” he grins, basking in the warmth of your body against his.
a little whine falls from your lips. muffled into the curve of his shoulder, against his bare skin. “it’s not about the breakfast,” you pout, looping your arms around his neck. “it’s everything you do…”
a heat rises to your cheeks, a little embarrassed at the sappiness you’re exuding. but the sun feels so nice on your skin, and the bedroom smells so good, and the whole world feels so kind.
inhaling the fragrance of bergamot and coffee, you can only fall apart at the intimacy of the moment.
“i’m really grateful…” you murmur, resting your lips against his skin. buzzing with a warmth that has him shuddering. “‘m just bad at expressing it.”
suguru’s eyes soften. melting into a tender hue, like that of a creamsicle sunrise sky. a dreamy look smoothes over his features, and a fond hum buzzes in his throat.
“nah, you’re fine,” he drawls, squeezing at your hips affectionately. pulling away ever so slightly, just to plant a kiss on your forehead, brushing your bangs away with a certain bleeding tenderness. “you don’t need to say it out loud. i know, anyway.”
and he does. suguru understands you better than anyone; a point of immense pride, for him. knowing you so deeply that he can practically hear your thoughts before you speak them, knowing what you need at a single glance. just from a certain furrow of your brows, or the slight tilt of a smile you’re trying to hide.
always one step ahead, folding your laundry on days you’re feeling particularly stressed out, or giving your hand a comforting squeeze when he notices that you’re nervous. always so attentive. it’s a little overwhelming, but also so comforting — to be so thoroughly understood.
his eyes are warm. full of pure affection, a devotion so heavy it makes your heart stutter in your chest. all you can do is glance down, shyly, slumping your forehead against his bare chest.
your voice comes out a little strangled, still raspy. a little wobbly in the wake of your adoration.
“i wanna appreciate you…” is muffled against his skin, your lips curled down into a soft pout. and suguru breathes out a flustered little breath, amused — somewhat delighted.
“you can appreciate me by eating a hearty breakfast,” he suggests, a teasing tilt to his husky voice. cradling you just a little closer, as if even the miniscule distance between you is unbearable. as if he needs your hearts pressed together to keep himself intact. “how about that, hm? or would you rather give me a kiss?”
a moment passes, and a sleepy hum slips from your tongue. he feels your lips touch the soft skin of his neck, once more; then you muster up the strength to pull back from his embrace, slumping against his shoulder with your back against the headboard. it takes concentrated effort.
and suguru chuckles, again. odd, how a man who’s normally so put-together can’t seem to ever hide his joy whenever you’re around. but suguru is just a little too weak for you — he can’t help but let you strum his heartstrings along, however you want. any kind of melody you desire.
(it just so happens that no melody sounds prettier than a joyous one, when it’s falling from his lips.)
a lovesick smile painted on his face, suguru watches as you finally dig in. and he thinks it’s precious, the strawberry juice smearing your lips, the contentment in your features as your eyelids flutter shut. a mellow kind of pride swells in his chest with every satisfied hum that you grace him with, every giddy declaration of how delicious it all is.
there’s something about it he can’t quite explain, can’t put his finger on. something almost otherworldly, in how fulfilled it makes him feel, like he’s lived his entire life just for this moment. just for the sake of making you breakfast and watching you wolf it all down.
suguru doesn’t think there's a single better way to show his love for you than this; cooking for you, putting every last drop of his love into everything he makes. from beverages to pastries, each of them carefully chosen to suit your tastes.
there’s an intensity to the labour, something that brings him great joy. the care and excitement in something as small as the flick of his wrist when he pours sugar into your coffee, or the weight he puts on the kitchen knife while cutting the fresh strawberries he spent four minutes picking out at the market.
there’s something about it that’s just so, so tender. that earnest wish to see you happy and healthy, to make sure you never go hungry. taking care of you. it's pure, domestic, love incarnate. he’s so weak for it, so sappy, but he just can’t help it — suguru loves watching you eat his cooking more than anything.
that, and your blissful little expression is a sight to behold. sunkissed by the morning rays flitting in through the window blinds, suguru thinks you look something like an angel, soft and fleeting and so beautiful it makes his heart squeeze painfully inside his chest. heavy thumps of blood; warmth trickling from his heart to his wrists to the pads of his fingers, as he rubs absentminded circles into the skin of your thighs.
and he thinks to himself that all the happiness he needs is right here in front of him. in this moment, with you tiredly munching on the breakfast he made, sipping slowly from your cup of coffee and savouring every last drop. smiling at him so sweetly, so positively precious that he simply can't resist leaning down to taste the caffeine off your lips.
everything feels so wonderful, so completely and utterly right. the world feels so kind, like this. a world where all that exists is you, and him, and the sun. heaven on earth.
all of it sends a tremor running through his heart, every slight change of the scene reflected in his eyes. the soft smile on your lips, the way you lean your head against his shoulder and bite back a yawn, the expectant look in your eyes as you feed him pieces of your food with a giddy grin —
suguru thinks to himself that he’d sooner die than give it up.
as much as he loves sleeping in, loves indulging in your warmth until the sun sits comfortably on the blue canvas of the sky, he loves this even more. loves dragging himself out of bed before the sun even has a chance to peek out beneath the horizon painted pink and purple, tired and groggy, and so disgruntled at the warmth that leaves him when he pulls away from your skin. loves making his way to the kitchen almost in a daze, moving around the open space so very naturally; fingers curling around the lid of the espresso machine, and the crinkled paper bag of pastries, and the carton of orange juice he bought just for you.
just watching the world wake up, basking in the peace and domesticity of it all. basking in the thought of you — you, with your messy bedhead and droopy eyes, always blinking up at him so sleepily when he returns to you in the morning. he loves it all.
the soft little frown that sometimes tugs at your lips when you’re still lost in dreamland, blindly and subconsciously reaching for the empty side of the bed when he gets up to stretch. the weight of your arms around his waist, hugging his back on the somewhat rare occasion that you make your way to him before he makes his way to you. the grumbles against his skin about how he always abandons you on your days off, even if he only does it so he can make you both coffee.
you, in all your glory — now resting against his shoulder as you plop the last strawberry into your mouth, closing your eyes with a blissful little sigh.
and suguru feels so lucky. so very honoured, to be the one you chose. the one and only person who gets to see you like this, when your voice is still raspy and your hair is still messy, and you have crumbs sticking to your soft lips that you're too sleepy to wipe away.
he does so, himself, with an amused little huff that’s really more of a sigh laced with adoration. thumb smoothing over your skin gently, a silent i love you hanging on the tip of his tongue. his fingers find their way to your skin so effortlessly. like they belong there, like they exist solely to trace the softness of your jaw and to cradle your cheek.
”thank you,” you beam up at him, grinning sweetly.
and suguru knows that you mean it. he knows that you’re grateful, knows not a moment goes by when you don’t notice his affections, no matter how subtle. he thinks you're a little bit silly for worrying that he doesn't. but he thinks you're even sillier for not realizing that you deserve all of it and more, that just that sweet smile of yours alone is more than enough to make up for it.
more than anything, he hopes from the bottom of his heart that you know the opposite is true as well. that he appreciates every single thing you do, notices everything you do for him, no matter how small or insignificant it may seem to you.
you're so good to him. always have been. how could he ever bear to not repay you in tenfold?
”you’re welcome,” he smiles, soft and saccharine and genuine. his lips brush against your forehead with a soft peck, one that has your body melting into his just a little more.
breakfast passes you both by in a flurry of warmth, splotches of sunlight and content hums, until you’re lying side by side beneath the blankets once again. curled up close to each other, with you resting on suguru’s chest, cheek smooshed right over his heart. his arm rests on your back, cradling you closer.
”that was delicious,” you chirp, something soft buzzing in your voice as you bite back a yawn. stretching your limbs out lazily, a honeyed smile on your face. ”as always.”
suguru’s a little too tired to fully hide the soft grin that crawls up to rest on his lips, almost smug. awfully happy with himself, and your words of earnest praise.
“yeah? ’m glad,” he hums, looking at you with affection swimming in his eyes. ”i haven’t lost my touch yet, then.”
”of course not,” you exhale, somewhere in between a huff and a chirp. “you could start a whole breakfast diner with your skills!”
the words are teasing, a little much, but laced with a syrupy sweet sincerity that has suguru’s heart doing laps in his chest. thump, thump, thump — strumming his heartstrings along as you please, conducting the orchestra inside his ribcage. but he’d much prefer to think of you as his muse.
a low chuckle rumbles through his body, akin to a purr. buzzing right by your ear, as his fingers curl around yours, his thumb rubbing soft circles into the skin of your hand. ”you think so?”
an eager nod, as you gaze up at him happily. the sight makes his lips twitch upward, and he can only hope you don’t catch the way his heart skips a beat.
smoothing a large palm over your head, he tousles your hair fondly. ”yeah?” he chuckles, again. “you'll be my first customer, then.”
the smile on your face widens. ”will i get a discount?” you ask, a fuzzy contentment in the way your eyes glimmer. ”since i’m your favorite.”
suguru grins. a husky puff of laughter seeps out of his throat, filling the air with a palpable fondness. it’s almost overwhelming, the affection that simmers in his chest, a cup overflowing. he wants to reach over and smother you in kisses, wants to coo at you. wants to tell you how irresistable you are, like this; so cute and sleepy that he thinks you could probably coax him into giving you every star in the sky.
but that can all wait for another time. he doesn’t want to break the peace of the mellow moment, the subtle intimacy that lingers in the air. the playfulness in your words.
”of course,” he simply says, indulging you with a sweet smile. ”you’ll get all the discounts you want, baby. nothing less for my favorite customer.”
suguru’s eyes crinkle, brimming with love when he hears the happy little giggle that tumbles from your pretty lips. so pretty that he can’t resist pulling you a little closer, to give you another kiss — relishing in the way you soften against him. like you could fall asleep just like this, so safe and comfortable. breathing him in.
sunlight shines in through the window blinds, engulfing you in that familiar heavenly hue. your bedroom almost seems to glow, like a hazy polaroid, a moment that feels too precious to put into words.
you look stunning, he thinks, with your droopy eyes and sleepy yawns. absolutely breathtaking. soaked in a brightness rivaling that of the sun herself, the most precious thing this world has to offer.
and suguru thinks to himself that this might just be it. that this might be all that he needs, all that he’ll ever need — but he already knew that.
he thinks of sunrises. of soft embraces and fluffy blankets, of expensive coffee pots and diamond rings, of the way your lips curl up every time he kisses you. he thinks of the light of morning, how it always seems to devour everything else. how it makes every sliver of darkness seem so inconsequential.
he thinks of how your presence always seems to do the same.
when suguru looks down, pulled out of his lovesick stupor by the sound of a little snore, you’ve fallen back asleep. cheek squished against his bare chest, drooling a smidge as you dream so prettily, your chest rising up and down in a rhythmic serenity.
his heart flutters. fleeting and giddy, a little dove trapped in his chest. with a sweet coo, he reaches over to caress your skin with the back of his hand, careful not to wake you — so gentle that he holds his breath, as if afraid that even a single exhale could disrupt your well-deserved rest.
butterflies dance in his stomach, when he sees the way that makes you smile. a whirlwind of them, wings fluttering eagerly, as if attempting to fly out of his throat. he gulps them down again, but he can still feel them. just like he could when you first met.
butterflies that still haven't gone away, despite how long you’ve been together. butterflies that never will go away, as long as there are plates to fill and breakfasts to be made.
in other words, they're there to stay — forever and ever.
(suguru’s gaze falls on your ring finger. he thinks of the secret in the bottom of the drawer, and wonders what kind of breakfast he should make for you when it’s time to bring it out.)
#im normal abt him!! i swear i am!!!!!#smth about extremely devoted malewives with black hair just do it for me#suguru geto n aki hayakawa are like this🤞in my brain#i think suguru was like. crafted specifically to look good in the morning#like that deep voice……. his hair in a messy bun………. wearing sweatpants w no shirt……………….. i am on my hands n knees#this ended up almost as a parallel to my gojo fic…. it wasnt even intentional blame stsgs soulmatism#geto suguru#geto suguru x reader#jujutsu kaisen#jujutsu kaisen x reader#geto x reader#geto fluff#geto suguru x you#jjk geto#jjk x reader#jjk
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just working | matt murdock x f!reader
summary: you’re trying to focus on work, but matt murdock has something else in mind.
tags: softdom!matt, office sex, oral (f!receiving), piv, established relationship, (not-so) secret relationship, idiots in love.
word count: 1.9k
a/n: i wasn’t expecting to share a fic so soon after putting out the poll, but someone replied something lovely on one of my fics, and it really made my day and motivated me to put to paper a little fantasy i’ve had for a while. 😭
“matt, we really shouldn’t be doing this here,” you whisper, giggling as you hide your face in his chest. you can feel his heart pounding as fast as yours, the thrill of the secret adding to the excitement.
“you started it,” he teases, his voice low and warm, the vibrations tickling your ear. you’re in his office, papers and files strewn across his desk with a half-spilled coffee on the floor, a testament to the workday that’s supposed to be happening. but right now, all that fades away. it’s just you and matt, alone in a bubble of your own making.
you look up at him. there’s a glimmer of mischief on his face, a challenge. “did not,” you retort playfully, trying to stifle another round of laughter. matt’s hand rests on your back, his touch light but firm, anchoring you to the moment.
“anyway,” you say, still fanning the half-dry coffee stain on your skirt. “seriously, matt, we need to focus.”
"i am focused,” he insists, the corner of his lip upturned in mischief. “focused on you.” he reaches out, pretending to adjust a nonexistent wrinkle on your shirt. the light touch sends a shiver through you, and you swat his hand away playfully.
"stop it,” you whisper, but with no real severity in your tone. matt just grins, undeterred.
"you know, you’re adorable when you’re trying to be serious,” he teases, leaning back in his chair and with an air of nonchalance.
"i’m always serious,” you retort.
he reaches for and grabs your arm, pulling you into his lap. he noses at your neck, the stubble of his chin teasing over your pulse point. his mouth opens to respond, but the sound of footsteps in the hallway jolts you both into stillness. matt’s head beams up, listening, and in a second his quick reflexes have you both stepping apart, looking every bit the consummate professionals as the door opens.
“got some fresh leads on the dawson case…” foggy announces, stepping in. “ahem, am i interrupting something?” he asks, his gaze flickering between the two of you.
"no,” you and matt both reply, a little too quickly. foggy raises an eyebrow.
“right,” he says, drawing out the words with a hint of skepticism. “well, i just came to drop off these files.” he places a stack of papers on matt’s desk, his eyes lingering on the two of you a moment longer before coming to rest on the coffee cup on the ground.
"thanks, fog,” matt says, his tone casual, but you can sense a slight tension in his posture.
foggy sighs, shaking his head slightly. “you two are about as subtle as a brick through a window, you know that?” he says.
matt turns away to hide a smile, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“foggy, we’re just working,” you reply, trying to sound convincing.
"sure, sure,” foggy says. “just remember, we’ve got a lot riding on this case. so don’t, uh—work—too much,” he says, with that, he turns and leaves, closing the door behind him.
as soon as the door clicks shut, you look at matt incredulously. “matt!” before you can chide him, he gets a goofy look on his face.
“so, i uh, might have finished prepping this case last night.”
"you... wait, what?” you exclaim. the thought of him letting you ramble on while knowing the work was already done makes you shake your head. “and you let me go on about it all day?”
“guilty,” he admits. he stands up, reaching out his hand to you. “but i thought it might be nice to have an excuse to spend the day with you.” there’s something so pure and honest about his tone that it makes your heart flutter.
you shake your head but are unable to hide your smile. he holds a hand outstretched, nodding toward the exit.
you take matt’s hand, but right before you reach the door, he veers off course, pulling you into a small, rarely-used bathroom. he locks the door with a soft click, and his lips are on yours in an instant.
he picks you up with a soft grunt, sitting you on the bathroom island, hiking your skirt up until it bunches at your waist. he drops to face-level with your cunt and pulls your waist to the edge, nosing hungrily at your underwear.
“matt, are you su—” you begin, but then you stop. the small space amplifies your sound, each tiny breath and touch echoing off the walls. you instinctively cover your mouth.
as if a switch suddenly flipped in him, a low chuckle comes from between your legs, and it's him doing the chiding this time. “that’s right. wouldn’t want to get caught again, would we?”
a rough finger pulls your underwear to the side and he playfully nips at your unsuspecting folds, then molds his lips around your clit and sucks. you whine into your own palm, your legs closing on instinct, but he holds them open, impossibly strong.
“mmphf— just a quick one before we get home,” he groans, arms snaking under your open legs to wrap around them like a vice. “c’mon, sweetheart, give me more,” he grunts against you, tapping your thigh twice with his hand. you’re not sure what he’s asking at first, but then he pinches your thigh, and you yelp. you grind into his face and he groans. you catch on, working up an erratic rhythm against his stubbled chin. it doesn’t take much for you to cum like this, his tongue suctioning torturously around your sensitive clit and darting into curl against your walls, eager for a taste.
it’s unrelenting. just like the rest of him.
after you come down from your climax, he helps you stand, holding out an arm for balance as you shakily step to your feet and let your underwear and skirt drop to the floor. he then drops his hand to his own aching erection, unbuckling his belt and stepping out of his slacks and boxers. you undo his dress shirt and pull it over his shoulder and down his arm, where they catch on the muscle of his biceps.
cock freed, he shucks off his shirt, and helps you pull yours over your head, bra in tow. he pulls you near enough so that, for a moment, you’re chest-to-chest and you feel his cock pulses against your lower stomach. you’re about to lower yourself down, take him into your mouth, when he puts a hand on your waist, stilling you.
“spit on it,” he murmurs, voice impossibly low. his whole demeanor seems to have shifted in just moments, confined in a space that’s so filled with your intoxicating scent.
you comply, and watch your own spit dribble down onto his erect cock. he holds a hand under it, catching any spare saliva so he can work it over his cock.
“jesus,” he curses softly, and his other hand comes up cup your chin and thumb at your lips. for a moment, he just takes his cock and runs it across the supple skin of your stomach, the curves of your waist, then against the fat of your thighs, slapping it a few times, spreading the slick around. “you have no idea, do you? the things you do to me.”
you whine softly against the thumb at your lip. “matt, please.” you’re not sure what you’re begging for, but, as always, he knows exactly what you want.
“turn around,” he orders, and you waste no time. he nestles between your parted legs, spreading them further with his own and bending you over the counter, the head of his cock already pushing past your entrance. you gasp, pushing back but meeting resistance with his size.
“‘s alright. ha—’ he breathes. “we’re going to take care of you, kay,” he murmurs, hand guiding himself in slowly, the low timber of his voice sending shivers down your spine. he works an arm under you, and slowly bottoms out into you.
you hiss at the stretch, but before long, you’re bouncing in his lap, the sound of skin slapping on skin filling the space. he’s bigger than you, and every thrust punches another guttural sound out of you. you gasp and writhe, trying to catch your breath and adjust to the stretch and pace. you grab the counter, the sink, the mirror.
he murmurs something, but you don’t quite hear it at first.
“—push back,” he repeats, a little louder. you do, but the next thrust fills you so deep, you almost yelp out loud.
“quit running from it,” he chuckles, but his size and pace are so overpowering, your arm instinctually moves back to slow his thrusts. he grabs it instantly and folds it back over your chest.
“push—back—” he grits, pulling your hips into his thrusts. when he’s satisfied, he groans into your ear, barely muffling the sound in your hair. and then rough fingers are rubbing over your clit, circling them.
“i know, baby, i know.” he croons softly against your ear as you bite down on your forearm to keep from moaning. “you—fuck—be brave for me.”
“that’s right. you’re gonna get it nice and creamy for me.” he keeps an unrelenting pace.
“or else—“ he chuckles, patting your cunt a few times.
“i’m gonna slap this pussy raw.”
you barely mask the sob into your arm. “matt— please.”
“you can do it, you can do it,” he breathes, voice breaking and growing equally as desperate. “‘m gonna follow you, sweetie.”
you push back into him, holding your temple flush against his.
“love you so m—,” you croak. “—much.”
“oh, i love you so much too— you’re mine, you know?” he breathes, and then he says your name, the final trigger.
you grab the counter in front of you, seizing up and crying his name inaudibly as you come harder than you’ve ever come. his arms hold you, your steady anchor at sea as you forget all your surroundings.
it’s just the feeling of him coursing, thunderous and electric, through your veins.
he joins you moments after, groaning into the meat of your shoulder.
you don’t know if seconds or minutes pass. in this moment, it’s just the two of you.
~
you both step out of the bathroom, adjusting your attire. the office around you is silent, the usual hustle of the day having ebbed away with the setting sun. matt pauses, his heightened senses scanning the environment.
“coast is clear. foggy and karen must’ve left,” he notes. "office is empty.”
"your heightened senses come in handy," you giggle.
matt’s hand reaches for yours, fingers entwining. "they have their perks," he admits.
matt pulls you close for a moment, kissing your forehead. surveying the aftermath of your impromptu interlude—the spilled coffee, the disheveled papers—he comments, “we made quite the scene here."
you glance at the mess, a playful glint in your eye. “just working, though,” you say.
“right, ‘just working’,” he repeats with a smirk.
hand in hand, you leave the office, stepping into the cool night. the city around you is alive with lights, but in this moment, they seem to pale in comparison to the excitement still buzzing through you.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock smut#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock x you#x reader#matt murdock#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock fanfiction#marvel#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#matt murdock fluff#bun’s#bunny brain
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hey folks, you know the drill...
im back with more IYGABAB art
Cardinal with an ice umbrella, complete !
to see the process, here's the post (contains B&W version)
mask design credit goes to @noir-renard as usual, though I took some liberties on modifying the look to make it resemble the face of a Northern Cardinal >_< (also called redbird or just cardinal)
So in short, Danny's look is the mixture of these two:
(left: northern cardinal. right: yellow-billed cardinal, according to the author, this is what he'd look like with the Penguin Goon Suit & red-themed gear!)
Had a lot of fun drawing this:
The Court of Birds will decide your fate
#:hey bun do you think you're making to much content for one specific fic#what? noooo what do you mean :)#tis my pleasure to contribute to the Batburger phandom#dp x dc#art#dpxdc#illustration#if you give a bat a burger#iygabab
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evan peters and his cute man-bun
#bring back the long hair#i mean i still love it now#putting it in a bun is the most boyfriend thing he could have done#the cutest human out there#evan peters smut#evan peters imagine#evan peters x reader#sarah paulson#ahs fandom#evan peters#james patrick march#tate langdon#kai anderson#kit walker#ahs#ahs smut#ahs fic#ahs fanfic#ahs edit#ahs murder house#ahs cult#ahs coven#murder house#ahs tate#tate and violet#evan peters fic
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It's always "Daryl bringing you back gifts from his runs" this or "Daryl finding treasures in the forest for you while he's hunting" that, but what about the presents you give him?
You always keeping him the juiciest and sweetest fruits that you harvest while he's away, and preciously keeping them on your kitchen counter, preventing anyone to even approach them, because he just deserves the best of the best <333
When you're on runs, you always look for bolts or arrows, to replace the ones he lost or broke. Wrapping them in a pretty pink bow if you're in the mood to decorate ♡
Finding cool records of artists he used to like before the outbreak, even though it's sometimes media you cannot listen to because finding a functional tape player can be hard, just for nostalgia!
And if you're crafty, making him bracelets out of string would literally make him melt. Even better, using shiny beads he brought you back to decorate the matching bracelets you made for the both of you??? He wouldn't take them off EVER, istg. Maybe don't make it too bright-colored though, this man has a very specific aesthetic to stick to.
Maybe I'll add more bc this man is making me go feral <33
#maybe i'll stick to posting headcanons bc i haven't got the time for full fics with my master's degree 😭😭#daryl dixon x reader#daryl dixon headcanon#twd reader insert#bun writes
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Draco slows at the perfect moment, gliding up the gentle slope behind the cottage, and then Ron’s running toward them, whooping, and the bike is safely out from under their feet. Harry gets his arms around Draco’s waist and gives him a sloppy kiss on the cheek, Ron’s arm brushing against him where it’s slung around Draco’s shoulders, and he knows just from how they move that Ron’s kissing his temple.
commission from @dodgerkedavra for their fic Bike Dream for @dronarryfest 2024 💕✨ This was a joy to work on (look at their happy faces!!!) and the fic is a real treat 🥹💕 y’all gotta go read and lay in bed to giggle and kick your feet ok
#plus!!!!!! there’s a sentient house#if you crack my skull open rn???? only magic houses#beautiful buddy thank you for bringing this to me#i love to draw happy queer boys!!!!!!!#also?? hot ron#his messy bun??? why don’t my messy buns look like that#harry potter fanart#hp fanart#dronarry#dronarry fanart#dronarry fest 24#commission#commissions open#draco malfoy art#ron weasley fanart#ron weasley#draco malfoy#my art#commissions#dronarry fic rec#fic rec#any chance to draw freckles and dust motes and blushing???#actively gnawing my own arm off for that shit#(not the drawing arm)
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Hallo! im new here so please let me know if i cross any boundries.'
anywho, I was wondering if i could request a platonic philza and/or techno comfort? ive had bad few days :(
Have a wonderful day/night!
I APOLOGIZE FOR GETTING TO THIS SO LATE!! I literally love dsmp asks even though the fandom is dying off, so this definitely isn’t crossing any boundaries! I hope you’re doing better. My dms are open if you ever need to chat! :D
🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷
Character(s): Philza, Technoblade (ft. Mumza & Chat)
Fandom(s): DreamSMP
Reader: Gender neutral (you/your)
Style: Hcs
TW: N/A
Summary: How Philza and Technoblade (separate) would comfort you!
🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷
Philza:
I feel like he’s the type to just know you aren’t doing well before you even say anything.
Like, you’re just sitting there in your feels, then suddenly?
BOOM CONCERNED DAD RIGHT IN YOUR FACE
“Are you okay, mate?”
“Do you need anything?”
“Here, let’s sit and have a chat.”
Literally shooing chat away so it’s just the two of you having quality time together.
Would sit down next to you on a couch, but probably wouldn’t initiate any touching. The most I see him doing is a shoulder pat or a hand rubbing your back.
Of course, he wouldn’t mind you leaning on him or embracing him! He just doesn’t want to touch you in case you want your space :)
If you want to talk about it he’s there to listen and offer wise old man advice (if you call him old while you’re upset, it’s the ONE time he won’t get defensive about it)
Like
He’s just talking giving you some advice about your problems, then he hears you snickering
“What’s so funny?”
“You sound so old right now, Phil.”
Usually he’d shout his usual “I’M NOT OLD/I’m only in my 30’s, mate…” (I’m pretty sure he’s canonically thousands of years old but shh let grandpa be delusional)
But now? He’d just chuckle and shake his head
“Whatever you say, mate.”
DON’T EXPECT HIM TO BE SOFT FOREVER, IT’S ONLY BECAUSE YOU’RE CURRENTLY SAD
After you’ve concluded your venting/told him that you don’t want to talk about it
You know what time it is…
DISTRACTIONS!!!
Pillow fort anyone? He’s giving pillow fort vibes.
He’s a dad, so obviously he’d just do all the work and build it for you. Again, only because you’re sad. Any other time he’d yell at you for not helping.
Speaking of sadness
Don’t let Phil’s wife see you sad…
OH NO YOU’RE SAD? NOW MUMZA IS SAD AND IS RUSHING TO COMFORT YOU
Mumza is the type to cry when she sees someone else crying, so now both of you are just sobbing together and Phil is there trying to comfort the two of you but is an overwhelmed old man and may end up crying himself
Uh… cry party?
Either you all end up making fun of each other for crying which results in you all laughing together, or you just cry till you get sleepy and pass out on the floor together.
What an interesting way to family bond.
Technoblade:
So you seek The Blade for comfort, the most monochrome and nonchalant man on the server. What a wonderful decision, reader! /lh (I’d do the exact same)
If you’re a Technoblade fan you’ve definitely heard the “it’s fine” audio.
Now I can either be wholesome and say he’d hold you close and whisper that everything will be okay to you
Or I can be silly and realistic and say that he’d pull out a phone and just play the audio with a blank face, but is laughing on the inside due to your “what the actual fuck” face.
Okay now for some actual comfort!
As we all know… Technoblade isn’t exactly good at comfort.
He kills orphans for a living, how do you think he’d react seeing someone crying like a child?
He’s standing looking at you with a look of “why is this creature screaming” and “wtf do I do”
“Uh… you good? You okay? You, uh… need a hug…?”
Very awkwardly holds his arms out for a hug, and if you accept, he even more awkwardly pats your back.
If you got his shirt wet with tears, he’d DEFINITELY comment about it
“Are you seriously ruining my shirt? How are my enemies supposed to think I have a good fashion sense now?!”
Goes into a rant about how he needs to look his best and how it’s a good strategy to beat his enemies in battle while you’re kinda just there… honestly are you even crying anymore?
You’ve stopped crying ages ago, and he’s still just talking
In conclusion, Technoblade is good at calming people down without even trying (I was literally having a breakdown and all I needed to do was listen to the silly pig man talk about Greek mythology. It must all be part of his master plan…)
Speaking of listening to his voice, here’s a scenario.
“Technoblade, can you read to me?”
“…what?”
“Read to me.”
“I’m not reading you a bedtime stor-“
“I wanted you to tell me about Greek mythology.”
“Fine. Come here.”
Long story short, he starts by reading you just one story. That one story turns into the entire history of the Greek gods and goddesses… yeah you pass out pretty quickly. But Technoblade isn’t one to stop mid-ramble. Once he notices you’re asleep, he’ll continue talking, just quieter. He’ll eventually get sleepy himself, and soon enough… you’re both asleep.
Works like a charm!
🩷☁️N E R D Y S L E E P Y B U N N Y☁️🩷
#bun asks#bun writes#technoblade x y/n#technoblade x you#technoblade x reader#technoblade fluff#philza x reader#philza#philza minecraft#philza x kristen#dreamsmp x reader#dreamsmp x you#dreamsmp#mumza#dsmp fluff#dsmp x you#dsmp x reader#dsmp x y/n#comfort fic
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Go read sweet submissive Ed being taken care of and cherished and pampered by Stede in Show Offs by @piratecaptainscaptainpirates ✨
#ofmd fanart#our flag means death#ofmd#blackbonnet#ed teach#edward teach#my art#ofmd fic#ofmd fic rec#they are so so sweet and this fic is incredibly hot btw you guys should read it#also yes Ed in space buns is what I live for
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Sunny gets bullied BADLY at the Ministry.
Not by the ghouls, they all adore her. Even the older, stoic ghouls belonging to Primo and Secondo. She makes them smile when she shows off her cartwheels and tumbles and flips.
Not even by the Papas. They all (apart from Copia) grumble about how badly trained she is, she has no self control, she's too bouncy. But they adore her really. She makes them feel young at heart and she adapts her activities depending on the Papa. She spends time in Nihil's chambers, looking over all his curios. Picnics with Primo. Long walks with Secondo. 'Hunting' Terzo and then switching roles so that he's tracking her once he's been caught. She dances around with Copia and climbs all over him. She can perch on his shoulders, she's so balanced.
It's the siblings that bully her.
She just didn't realise this, really.
They had liked her at first, laughed at how high energy she was. She'd been invited back to dorms to show back her fire and air tricks.
She had been too trusting.
Too trusting when they made snide comments and disguised them as compliments. Too trusting when they told her that she looked way cuter with shorter hair and 'helped' her cut it from halfway down her back to a bob length (Copia had been furious when he found out).
Too trusting when they treated her as some sort of specimen rather than as a living, breathing ghoul with thoughts and feelings and emotions.
Omega had caught the siblings with her one time. He had appeared behind the siblings, towering over them, looking down at the small group with Sunny trapped in the middle as she giggled nervously. He'd silently judged them, before taking Sunny by the shoulder and guiding her away.
The breaking point had been when Omega had went looking for Sunny one day and found her in Primo's office, curled up in the Papa's arms, all teary eyed and blubbering. Between sobs, she explained to Omega how cruel the siblings had been to her.
Primo had looked over Omega for a moment, evaluating him. Then, he pulled Sunny closer in the cradle of his arms and murmured "They won't bother you any more, cuoricina..." before giving Omega a nod, signaling for him to leave.
A few hours later, Alpha, Omega, and Zephyr sat together in their dorm, cleaning the chunks of flesh out of each others' teeth, licking the blood off of their hands and faces, sated in the fact that Sunshine wouldn't be bothered anymore.
#ghost#ghost band#ghost bc#papa emeritus#my works#headcanons#headcanon#Sunshine#Sunshine ghoulette#Primo#Papa primo#Omega#Omega ghoul#Alpha ghoul#Zephyr ghoul#Chair ghoul#Yeah Sunny has autism and adhd#Also she loves all her papas#Murder ghouls#Bun writes fics
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Touch Pt 2
Alastor x GN!Reader
Part One
Plot: Alastor talks to Charlie about his problem, sort of. Then he settles the situation with Reader.
Tags: GN! Reader, fluff, angst, minor pining, short fic.
Word Count: 1,591
Touch Pt. 2
It was Charlie that came to get him. He had neglected to make dinner or even tell the others that he wasn’t going to make it that night. Charlie had knocked on his door, her rhythmic knock ever-so recognizable, and leaned her head just inside.
“Hey, Al? You alright, in there?” He could see her eyes flit about, before landing on him. “We were worried about you.”
Alastor just hummed, disinterest coloring his face. He was sitting at a small table just across the border of the original room and his swamp, sipping a cup of coffee, and reading.
Charlie, seemingly ignoring his clear show of indifference, stepped further into his room, shutting the door behind her.
“Don’t worry about dinner. Angel begged for us to just order pizza instead. Something about ‘junk food healing the soul’, or whatever,” Charlie continued, making her way towards Alastor. Although her hands fiddled with each other, she kept her voice steady. Charlie was getting better at hiding her nerves around Alastor. (He could almost say he was proud, but that would be inane!) “Just wanted to make sure you were okay.” Charlie said your name, and Alastor’s ear perked, on their own accord. “They mentioned you seeming off earlier, but didn’t want to bother you.”
“I can assure you that I am fine, dear. I don’t know what silly thoughts they’ve put in your head, but everything is fine,” Alastor said, trying to keep his smile wide. When he finally looked at Charlie, he realized she hadn’t believed a word he’d said. How ridiculous! There was nothing wrong! She should just take his word for it, and leave.
“I don’t know. You do seem bothered by something.” Charlie made her, ridiculous, thinking face, before nodding to herself. She promptly sat herself in the seat opposite Alastor, and folded her hands on the table. “You should talk about it. It’s not good to let these things bottle up.”
Alastor nearly dropped his smile so he could glare at her. How absolutely ludicrous! He had nothing to talk about! And even if he did, he had nothing he would willingly tell Charlie. “There is nothing to talk about. Please leave.”
Charlie cocked her head, and narrowed her eyes. She said your name, again, watching his ears twitch. “This is about them, isn’t it! You’ve been acting weird around them recently. Always staring at them.”
Alastor gritted his teeth, trying to hold his composure. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
“HA! It is! You would never respond like that if it wasn’t.” Charlie smiled smugly, and Alastor wanted to claw her face off. He couldn’t, but it was an entertaining thought. He could turn her skin into ribbons, and use them to gift-wrap things for Rosie. “Come on, what’s going on? You didn’t have a problem with them before.”
Alastor hesitated. He could try and pry information out of Charlie, if he let himself be a tiny bit honest. He sighed, and set down his book and mug. “Alright, I’ll tell you a little, but! I have a question first.”
Charlie gave him a suspicious look, but she acquiesced with a nod.
“Why are they suddenly all… touchy with everyone? You mentioned some time ago that they don’t like being touched, but that seems to have changed, rather out of nowhere,” Alastor said, trying to keep his motivation for the answer hidden. He watched as Charlie’s face flooded with multiple emotions, before settling on something soft. He couldn’t tell what it was, but it made his skin crawl. The deer-demon hoped that expression had nothing to do with him.
“Ah. Yeah. I meant to explain that when they talked to me about it recently, but I completely forgot,” Charlie sighed, brushing a hand through her hair. “They’re touch averse, but when they get comfortable with people, especially good friends, it’s something they start to… hmm what is the word I want to use… They kind of start to crave it. Touch is something they don’t get a lot of, so when they are comfortable with someone, they’ll initiate a lot of it. So now that they’re settled into the hotel, and know all of us well enough, they’re more comfortable.”
He had never considered something like that before. You would get lonely, wouldn’t you? You were a very outgoing soul, but sequestering yourself from others would get hard after a time, wouldn’t it? The more Alastor thought about it, the more it made sense. You had been there quite a while once you started to get tactile with the others. But still, it didn’t make sense that he would be excluded! You were always so nice to him! You sometimes sought him out for conversation. Was he too overbearing sometimes? Alastor’s mind slightly spiraled, the longer he thought about it.
“You alright there, Al?” Charlie’s voice interrupted his mental descent with a rough jerk. “Does your problem have something to do with that?”
Alastor looked away from the princess, trying to contain his thoughts down enough so he could tell her without giving it all away. But the idea of you fearing him or something of that nature made his stomach churn. He couldn’t think straight.
“Then why not me?”
Alastor didn’t realize he had spoken until Charlie’s eyebrows popped up. “Oh. Oh geez.” Her face scrunched in guilt. “That might be my fault.”
A screech interrupted the soft static that played around Alastor. “What?”
Charlie’s eyes flitted about, uncomfortable with the weight of Alastor’s glare. “Yeah. I mentioned, pretty early on to them, that you also don’t like being touched. That sometimes you might touch others, but you didn’t like it.”
Alastor cupped his forehead in one hand, and glared down at the table. “Are you kidding me?”
“Ah, no. I’m pretty sure that’s it. They’re pretty good about keeping boundaries, so they might have been trying to make sure you were comfortable,” Charlie muttered. She cupped her face in her hands, melting into them with guilt. “I’m so sorry, Al. I can totally go talk to them for you. If I had known this was a problem, I would never…”
Alastor tuned out Charlie’s ramblings. This whole thing had been a misunderstanding. Somewhat. It was true, he didn’t like being touched, most of the time. However, he did not like being left out of things without being consulted! It should have been up to him to draw that line. Alastor huffs to himself, and decides he will simply talk to you, himself.
He abruptly stands from his chair. “Alright then! I’m off to go talk to the little darling! I will straighten this out myself, Charlie.” Without another word, or even bothering to make sure she left his room, he took off towards your room.
He knocks twice, and waits patiently. Alastor hears a few thumps, and is glad that you’re inside. Much better to have this conversation in a private place, rather than out in the open!
The door creaks open, and there you are! You smile up at him. “Hi, Alastor. What can I do for you,” you ask.
Ha! What could you do for him? (What couldn’t you do? No. He wasn’t going to continue thinking.)
“Hello, my dear! I was hoping you had a moment, so we could talk! Hopefully, inside?” He gestures towards the inside of your room, and, although you hesitate, you nod. You open the door wider, and let him in.
“What’s up?” You ask. (He would never get over how strange slang and expressions got in recent years. At least he could understand most of them now. It used to be hard to understand younger souls).
“Ah. I was hoping to clear up a misconception that you might have.” Alastor leans down, leaving a few inches of space between your faces. Your eyes widen, just slightly, in surprise, but he is pleased to see you hold your ground. “I do not always mind being touched. I have, in fact, noticed you actively avoiding touching me.” Alastor leans back, suddenly, placing a hand over his heart. “And oh, does it hurt, dearest!”
He says it as if it’s a joke, (it isn’t), and it is, but he dislikes being singled out in matters as trivial as these! Your brows furrow, but you still give him a smile.
“Ah, dang, Al. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to exclude you. I just thought you didn’t like that kind of stuff.” You smile wider, your tone turning silly. “I’ll make sure to include you in all our group hugs now!”
Alastor’s brows flatten, and his ears pin back, just slightly. “Please don’t.”
Your eyes close as you smile and laugh. You take a hand and cover it up. (Alastor wants to pull it down. One should never hide their smile. He doesn’t, though). He feels a weight, that he hadn’t noticed, lift from him at the sight.
When you put a hand on his arm and squeeze, softly, it feels right. He says little more, just a ‘good night’. When he finally deigns to make himself dinner, he lets the joy finally saturate his body. What a delightful feeling!
He enjoys the next several days, where he realizes how many little touches you give him. If he preens beneath them, or his smile grows wider, or his tail wags, no one notices. Much better that way. No one needed to know.
Much less you, with your soft smiles, and happy laughter.
Not knowing would always be the better option.
Taglist:
I have no idea how to do one of these! I apologize if it doesn't work! Also, some of the names aren't working, when I try to tag, so I am sorry if you are listed, but it didn't work??
@wpdarlingpan @cxrsedwxrlds @littledolly2345 @angelofthorr @nkirukaj @hazelfoureyes @teh-vampire-bunny @fairyv-ice @ittoehurt @poppingaround @mysterypotatoink @viridiya @xalygatorx @viviannagiorgini
ALSO
Thank you?? I wasn't expecting the response that I got from everyone! Thank you so much! I really appreciate it. I squee'd out loud when I saw how many people had read my silly little fic. Also, if you have left an ask, I am working on it, I promise! I just have a very crazy schedule.
#alastor x reader#alastor x you#hazbin alastor#alastor#light angst#fluff#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor fanfiction#bun's short fics
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all i do i think about mean!abby i need her </3 her strap game would be toooo good
nsfw!
𓈒ㅤׂㅤ𐙚 ࣪ ⭒ mean!abby…omg i’m literally drooling thinking about how she’d make you ride her thigh and then teases you for leaving a wet spot. “you’re always making such a fucking mess, now i have to clean it up. no, don’t stop now. don’t stop until i tell you to.”
her strap game is impeccable by the way. she’ll sit you on her lap, slip it in nice and easy. watching your eyes roll back while you go brain dead on her cock. then she’ll stop thrusting and force you to ride her until your legs grow tired and numb. and when you’re begging her to help you reach your peak, she just crosses her arms. doesn’t even look at you! pulls out her phone and starts scrolling. “if you’ve got the energy to whine and beg in my ear then you’ve got the energy to finish yourself off.”
and this lasts like…two minutes because you’re literally struggling to move. she’s stretching your pussy open wide, cock covered in your slick juices. (and probably a mixture of your spit because she likes to watch you gag on her before she fucks you. you have to earn that prize.)
you can’t do it anymore. you’re shaking all over. so she groans, rolls her eyes, sets her phone down and grabs your chin. “you’re so fucking weak, can’t do anything yourself, huh?” and she doesn’t let you respond with a frantic “i’m sorry-“ before grabbing your hips and thrusting up into you. hands squeezing at your sides so roughly you’re sure she’ll leave bruises. pace unforgiving. she’s fucking relentless. she’s fucking you into next week.
and even after you come all over her and drip down her legs and your thighs, she doesn’t stop thrusting. she’s not going to stop thrusting until you come again and again and again. (that’s what you get for being so weak.)
plus, she loves how you sound when you’re overstimulated. <3
#bunnie can speak? ☆#bun’s asks ꕤ#bun’s anons ˖°🦇ִ ࣪𖤐#abby anderson#bun’s precious abby ✧.*#modern abby#abby anderson fanfic#abby anderson fic#abby anderson x female reader#abby anderson imagine#abby anderson x reader#abby anderson tlou2#abby anderson headcanons#abby anderson drabble#abby anderson smut#abby x you#wlw imagine#sapphic writing#wlw fanfic#abby smut#— ˗ˋ ୨୧ ˊ˗ —
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all is fair in love and scrabble
summary: you and matt play a game of scrabble, and the competition gets fierce.
warnings: fluff, matt being a show-off.
word count: 1k
a/n: for all the competitive girlies out there <3
you’re sitting across from matt, a scrabble board between you. the room is cozy, lit by a soft lamp in the corner. you’re both deep into the game, letters scattered around as you both try to outwit each other.
“that is not a word,” you protest, pointing at the board where matt has just laid out ‘qat.’
matt leans back, a smirk playing on his lips. “it’s a word. it’s a type of shrub. trust me, i know my words.”
you can’t help but roll your eyes. “fine, but if i find out you’re making up words…”
he chuckles, ”you’ll what? tickle me to death?”
the game continues, with both of you playfully arguing over each other’s word choices. matt feels each letter tile before placing them on the board, his fingers moving deftly over the embossed letters.
“aha! ‘bamboozle!’” you announce triumphantly, placing your tiles on the board.
matt tilts his head, a smile in his voice. “bamboozle? really?”
“yes, and it’s worth a ton of points,” you say with a toothy grin.
the game takes a whimsical turn, as both of you start to play the most outrageous words you can think of. matt plays ‘snickerdoodle,’ and you counter with ‘hullabaloo.’ you can’t help but laugh at the absurdity of the words.
“okay, your turn,” matt says, passing the bag of tiles to you.
you pick a tile and frown. “z? what am I supposed to do with z?”
matt leans over, his shoulder brushing against yours. “zephyr, zealot, zucchini... need more z words?”
you stick your tongue out at him playfully. “show-off.”
finally, you place your tiles on the board, spelling ‘zizz.’ matt feels the tiles and nods approvingly.
“a zizz, huh? are we inventing words now?” he teases.
you laugh. “maybe. but it’s fun, right?”
the game continues with more laughter and ridiculous words. matt places ‘quokka’ on the board, and you burst into giggles.
“quokka? really, matt?”
he grins, his fingers tracing the letters. “it’s a real animal. cutest thing you’ve ever seen.”
you play along, enjoying the challenge and the fun. “fine, then i raise you ‘gobbledygook.’”
the scores are close, but the competition is friendly. matt’s laughter fills the room, warm and infectious, and you find yourself laughing along with him.
matt’s smugness grows as he pulls ahead in the game, his word choices becoming increasingly obscure and challenging. “and that” he says with a triumphant flourish, ”is ‘xanthophyll.’”
you stare at the board, trying to come up with a word that can match his score. matt’s grin widens, sensing your struggle. “need help?” he offers teasingly.
“no way!” you reply, determined to outdo him. but as you look at your letters, you realize the odds are against you. matt’s lead is almost insurmountable now.
you lean forward, a mischievous glint in your eyes. ”you know what, matt? i think you’ve earned a break.”
matt raises an eyebrow, his smirk still in place. “oh? and what did i do to deserve that?”
“well,” you begin, your voice dropping to a playful whisper, “you’ve been so good at this game, outwitting me at every turn. i think it’s only fair to give you a reward.”
matt grins, catching on. “and what kind of reward are we talking about?”
you stand up, walking around the table to stand beside him. “how about a distraction?” you say, your hand reaching out to gently tug at the edge of his shirt.
“a distraction, huh? i’m not sure if that’s within the rules of scrabble.”
“who says we have to follow the rules?”
matt chuckles, his hand covering yours. “i like the way you think.”
he stands up, his presence commanding yet gentle. “alright, you’ve got me. what’s this distraction?”
you take a step back, a playful challenge in your eyes. “first, you have to catch me.” with that, you dart away from the table, laughter trailing behind you.
matt’s laughter joins yours as he follows, his heightened senses easily keeping track of your movements. the scrabble game is forgotten, replaced by a new game of playful chase around the apartment.
you duck behind the couch, peeking out with a giggle. matt’s footsteps grow closer, his own laughter a warm sound in the cozy room.
“gotcha,” he says, suddenly appearing beside you. his arms wrap around you in a gentle embrace, and you laugh, caught in the moment.
the evening turns into a delightful mix of playful pursuits and shared laughter, the scrabble game a distant memory. you find yourself lost in the joy of the moment, the smugness and competition replaced by a warmth that fills the room.
matt’s voice is soft as he whispers, “best distraction ever,” his breath tickling your ear.
you smile, leaning into him. “glad you think so. but just so you know, next time, i’m totally going to win at scrabble.”
matt’s chuckle vibrates through you, his embrace tightening just a bit. “oh, is that a challenge?”
“absolutely,” you reply, grinning up at him. he nods, a contented sigh escaping him as he relaxes into the couch, pulling you along with him.
as you snuggle against matt, feeling the steady rhythm of his heart, you realize that this moment—this simple, joyous connection—is more precious than any game.
“you know,” matt murmurs, his fingers gently playing with your hair, “this turned out to be the best game of scrabble i’ve ever played.”
you laugh, your head resting comfortably against his chest. “yeah, even though we didn’t finish it.”
“it’s not always about finishing the game. sometimes, it’s just about enjoying the time spent playing it.”
you close your eyes, content in the circle of his arms, the worries of the day fading away. outside, the city continues its bustling rhythm, but inside, in matt’s embrace, everything is calm and peaceful.
and in that moment, with matt’s warmth surrounding you and his heartbeat a steady lullaby, you realize that winning isn’t everything. sometimes, the best victories are the ones where you find happiness, together.
#matt murdock x reader#matt murdock fluff#matt murdock fic#matt murdock fanfic#matt murdock x you#x reader#matt murdock#matt murdock x fem!reader#matt murdock imagine#matt murdock fanfiction#marvel#marvel fanfic#marvel fanfiction#bun’s
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Some doddles i did for my charlastor fic Bernadette
#bunbunart#charlastor#bun fic#Bernadette (fic)#adam x lute#idk their ship name yet#digital sketch#if im not careful it may become a whatever fic with sprinkled ships within#which i might just out of insanity lolz#alastor the radio demon#charlie morningstar#hazbin hotel adam#hazbin hotel lute#my art stuff#my artwork
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