I Fucking Love Nick's Tattoos. They're Just Very Flattering For Him.

i feel like robin would definitely take you stargazing. you both would be laying on a comfy blanket under a sparkling sky, just pointing out the brightest ones, and you would instinctively hold her hand. and the only thing grounding you to the earth is robin's thumb caressing the back of your hand.

Throne Series Announcement // E.M.

okay, i officially decided to start the Throne Series!!!!

i'm going to make a masterlist for it once i post the first one, but here's essentially what it is:

eddie munson smut fics that all revolve around his hellfire throne! i've been thinking about this since i first saw the dnd scene. i just imagine such a sense of power that eddie gets while sitting on that thing, so i want to put it into words!! i'm starting the first fic soon, so look out for that!!

this is the funniest thing i’ve seen on snl in a while

requested by @petersthree

slowdancing with isaacwhy in the rain at night!!

i picture you on a late night stroll with him, and then it suddenly starts to rain. you immediately panic and turn to start walking back to the house. but then he pulls you into a hug, locking you in place. he gently grabs your forearms and wraps them around his neck. you have to go on your tiptoes to reach fully. then he places his hands on your waist. you tilt your chin up to look him in the eyes, and he starts to sway back and forth.

the lack of music isn't awkward. you pattering of rain droplets hitting the ground and your bodies is music enough. you don't pay any mind to your dampening shirt or your freshly-washed hair becoming soaked. you lean your head forward, resting it on isaac's chest, closing your eyes.

soon, you'll have to hurry home and dry off. you'll have to wash your clothes and take a hot shower so you don't get a cold. but none of that matters right now. the only thing you're focusing on is Isaac's heat in the frigid rain.

summary: eddie has never had a homemade birthday cake, so you and your daughter deliver

a/n: a lot of you wanted more, and i'm happy to deliver!! i love thinking about dad!eddie. also, i didn't proofread, so sorry if there are any errors <3

okay, i'm gonna keep talking about girldad eddie. i just can't get it out of my head-

i imagine that, growing up, eddie never really had a homemade birthday cake. the most he would get was a single cupcake from the grocery store. so you decide that you and your daughter are gonna make one for his birthday. of course, some chaos ensued. thankfully, you got the mess cleaned up before he got home from work at the local auto shop (yes, i also love mechanic!eddie).

as soon as eddie walked through the door, your 3y/o daughter ran into his arms and said, "happy birfday dada!" he immediately picked her up and spun around with her in his arms, "thank you, shortcake~" she wiggled in his arms until he put her down. she then grabbed eddie's hand and pulled him into the kitchen, where you were making lemonade. next to where you were working was an adorable round cake with vanilla frosting unevenly layered on, black and red jimmies scattered on top, and "happy birthday!" written on top. there were also some rainbow sprinkles piled on one of the corners, as your daughter insisted that it would make the cake even prettier.

when eddie caught sight of the cake, he froze in place. your daughter threw her arms up in the air and exclaimed, "s'pise!" you had practiced saying "surprise" with her earlier, and believe it or not, that was actually an improvement from where she started. you looked up at eddie and smiled at him. when he caught your eye, he immediately began to tear up. never before had he ever had people who took the time to make a cake for him.

eddie's tears soon fell, and your daughter quickly ran over to him and hugged his leg as she asked, "dada sad?" her father let out a chorus of "no no no" about bent down so he could pick her up again. eddie held the little girl close to him and walked over to you, placing a kiss on your cheek. he sat your daughter down on the counter next to the cake and took a closer look at it. "oh my goodness, you designed this, honeybun?" your daughter squealed happily and responded, "mama/papa/bubba helped!" eddie smiled and pulled you into his side. you pecked him on the lips and pulled out a lighter, the candles soon illuminating the room. you and your daughter sang "happy birthday", though her singing was just random noises that followed along to your voice. when you were done, eddie blew out the candles, a huge smile on his face. he looked at you and your child in adoration. you quickly pulled him from his trance when you clapped your hands together, then asking, "okay, who wants cake?"

Imagine you bake often, and Eddie Munson loves it. <3

Warnings: descriptions of food and eating

A/N: (not proofread!!) I just got a new job at a bakery, and I was thinking about this while decorating cupcakes. I hope you enjoy!! And feel free to send requests in <3

Okay, this guy was already in love with you,

But you baking made him fall in love with you even more.

It was common for you to bring some sort of baked good to his shows.

The entire band would always meet you at whatever table you were sitting at and practically inhale what you made.

If any of the boys ever forgot to thank you, Eddie would elbow them in the ribs to remind them.

While everyone else ate so fast they could barely taste it, Eddie would savor each bite.

Of course, he always knew you would make more, but he couldn't help but take his time.

No matter what you made, Eddie would come up with creative compliments to give you.

He actually became quite versed in baking vocabulary and describing it.

Eddie never refused when you asked him to try something new you were working on, no matter how adventurous the food was.

At one point, you made all sorts of cookies, cakes, and brownies for a bake sale at school.

And who was there to be the little cashier?

None other than your boyfriend, Eddie Munson.

And he actually looked like he was enjoying himself.

Just like you, Eddie found happiness in watching people eat what you made.

He would pass people talking about your food, and he'd be all like,

"Yeah, that's my partner who made that. They're insanely talented. A badass baker."

It made him proud to see you sharing your talent with the community.

Oh! And how could I forget?

You always made themed cupcakes for Hellfire meetings.

Eddie would try his best to loosely explain the campaigns to you, and you would make treats for the members to snack on.

Overall, Eddie is so supportive of what you create, and he always looks forward to it!

cackling over the likely scenario that, if the ST characters came to 2022, all the d&d players would lose their shit over the fact that we still play it and are on edition 5e

Painkiller

♡Pair: Miguel O'Hara x gn!reader Genre: minor Angst / fluff Warning: Injuries, blood. Incorrect British slang and spanish. A/n: Miguel can release how much Venom he wants to release, so this doesn't paralyzed (Y/n) Summary: You got injured from a mission and Miguel basically decides to numb your pain.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Miles! Watch out!" You yelp as the Lizard bites you. 

You made sure the Lizard didn't bite Miles. Its sharp teeth sink into your inner thigh. You punch the Lizard to get its teeth off of you.

As you did you swung a web out to a nearby building. Getting on top of it to check out your wound.

"Hey- Are you alright?" Miles swung by. He was in a panic.

You hissed in pain as you checked your wound. Your suit was ripped where you were bit. Bloody bite mark.

"Im- fine." You huffed. "Call for backup. Without Miguel's knowledge. " You spoke while holding your wound. And Mile did as he was told.

He called in Gwen, Hobie, and Pavitr. They jumped out the portal seconds later.

"S’You called it, mate." Hobie shrugged. As the three realized you were injured.

"Oh my god- (Y/n)- are you alright?" Gwen crouched to take a look at your wound.

"I'm fine, don't worry." You shook off your wound. Wincing slightly when you push a towel onto it.

"Uhm, guys there's a Lizard down here." Pavitr pointed as he played with his bangle.

"Right, that." You sighed.

"We'll get that handle for you." Miles laid a hand on your shoulder. "Trust us." He smiled. You sighed.

"Well you better not tell Miguel about this." You winced.

"You s’betcha." Hobie swung off the building. As well as the other three jump off the building too. You panic when you saw, your watch glow.

It was Jess. Thank god.

"Oh- hey Jess.. how's the baby coming along?" You smiled.

"What's going on? And why did Miles call for backup?"

"Oh! I told him to. You see this… Lizard is pretty strong?" You gave a low chuckle.

"But!" Before Jess spoke again.

"We have it under control, promise." You plead, hoping she doesn't send herself or even worse Miguel.

You knew Miguel was going to bench you after this injury. So you made sure he wasn't going to find out. 

And if he does Miles might not survive another day.

Jess nodded, turning off her side of the call. You lead back on the smashed concrete that was behind you.

But goodness. 

It hurts like hell.

+-~-+

The four spider people lead you to the Medbay, making sure no one sees you. Once you got there. Miles used his Medbay card to check you in and out. Making sure no one knew you were injured.

Your wounds were patched and clean. You were almost healed. Expected the part where you're limping. But, it was very light, so no one could notice it if they were a mile away.

After you left the Medbay you went back to your Spider-dimension. Going back to your apartment.

You quickly changed and lay in your soft cold bed. Taking a break. Your injury was sort of aching. Miles said he would sign you out.

Somehow, he likely would have made it worse.

"Morale. Where. The. Hell. Is. She." Miguel frowned.

"Somewhere?" Miles flailed his shoulders.

"Somewhere? SOMEWHERE? She's your partner, estúpido. How could you lose her?" (Stupid)  

"Do you like her, aye?" Hobie added. Which seems to have shut up Miguel.

The room was silent.

"I'm going to check her watch." Miguel Ignoring Hobie's question would make everyone confused.

Miguel turns on your watch's camera. Everyone was bracing themself for Miguel to yell.

But he didn't. More like he was mesmerized. The screen was big.

You were lying in your bed, covers right on top of you. The watch right on top of your nightstand. 

How Miguel was staring at you, everyone in the room knew Miguel had the fastest crush on you.

Lyla snapped him out of it. He was embarrassed. A deep scarlet red rose around his face.

"You can leave, now." He turned behind to see no one there. He let out an annoyed sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose.

+-~-+

Few days went by and you tried your best to distance yourself from Miguel, hoping he didn’t notice you were injured. Going on missions when needed, making sure to lower suspicions. This didn’t help your injury heal at all.

It only got worse. It was only time before Miguel caught on. He noticed your constant limping when you came back from every mission. 

He called you in one day.

“Yo, you need something?” You asked, webbing to his platform. Trying to stand still as possible.

“You want to tell me what you’re hiding?” He glanced at you, with his arms crossed.

“I’m fine.” You said.

“What?” He frowned more than usual.  “You're injured?”

Oh shit… He didn’t know?

“No-? What I meant to say is ‘What do you mean?’ ” You fidget with your hands. Not like he was going to believe that, but you still tried anyway.

He walked up a bit closer to you. You walk back a few steps, almost falling off the platform, till he catches you by the suit. You wince slightly. Miguel seems to notice you wince. His frown turned into a concerned face.

He carried you bridal style on to his desk.

“Where does it hurt?” He asked, searching around your body. 

“I told you, I’m fine. You got off the desk landing on your bad leg. You hiss slightly, crouching a bit. Miguel lifted you back on the desk.

“Eso no suena bien. I’m not going to ask you again. Where does it hurt?” (That doesn’t sound fine.)  He looked at you. As he pressed around your leg, as soon as he heard you whimper in pain. He ripped the thigh part of your suit.

“You owe me a new suit.” You said, wincing.

“Lyla, make (Y/n) another suit.” As the orange hologram appears.

“You got it, bossman” As Lyla puts up multiple orange screens.

Miguel's eyes widened when he saw bandages, bled through.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were injured?” His voice softened. You look away from him.

“Didn’t want to be bench.” You shrugged. You heard him sigh.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, it feels like an ant bite.” You said sarcastically.

“Have you taken painkillers yet?”  He asked.

“No, those don’t do much.” You sighed, aching at every movement.

“Could I perhaps try?”

“Giving me medicine?” You frown.

“Do you trust me?” He crouches to your knees.

“Yeah?”

“This might sting a little.” He spoke, spreading your legs out a bit.

“What are you-” You whimpered, as he stuck his two fangs into your thigh. You felt a cool numbing to your leg. It was a relief, but you were blushing like crazy.

“Better?” He asked, with a faint pink expose on his cheek.

You nodded at him with a million thoughts in your head. Your heart was beating a little faster than usual. You couldn’t even look him in the eyes. You always had a small crush for Miguel, but you never thought anything like this.

“You might not be able to walk for a little.” As he started to re-bandage you. “You shouldn’t be moving at all, either way.” He carried you off the platform into his spare bedroom.

“Take me out to dinner first, O’hara.” You joked. As he placed you down on the bed.

“Sure, when you get better.” He placed a light kiss on your forehead.

Wait what?

-

W.C 1.2k

Steve with reader who has a cold, just generic full on fluff with helping her have a warm bath, nothing spicy just domestic? :) <3 ly always

18+ for general nudity theres NOT smut/ any graphic descriptions, pure fluff! thank you for your request doting steve is the best! ly anon 1k wc

"Oh, gross. What the fuck's happening in here?” Steve asks, bursting through your bedroom door like a maniac. 

You flinch awake, a wave of used up tissues falling off of your chest. "Steve?" you ask, though your nose is so plugged up that it comes out like, "Steeb?" 

"I think my nose just started running, it's like the air is eighty percent vapor rub." 

You pull your bed sheets over your face to hide from your boyfriend for about five seconds before the air gets too hot and you have to pull it down to just under your lips. 

His eyes soften when he gets a good look at you. "Shit, you don't look good." 

He strides straight to your window and throws it open and then to your side, tugging the sweat-damp sheets off of your tired body. 

"I told you I was sick." 

He sits by your knees, hands landing familiarly over your struggling chest. He spreads his hand, feels the clammy material with a frown. The smoothing of his hand over your skin is nice. 

"You said sick, not dying." 

"You're so dramatic," you complain weakly, your voice thick. 

He pats your chest once. "Alright bub, up we come," he says, arms slipping under your back. 

You moan as he pulls you up and in, his chin pushing over the dip of your shoulder in a hug. He rubs your back. You wish you could breathe through your nose if only to smell his scents, his bergamot and cedarwood, his hairspray and his skin. 

"Steve, I'll make you sick." 

"Sacrifices."

You're sweaty and too-hot, you smell sick and you look worse and Steve absolutely doesn't care, his skin on yours unflinching.

"I think," Steve says under his breath, pulling back to look down at your feeble hunch, the back of his hand pressed to your forehead, "that you need a bath." 

"I'm too tired." 

"I'll help you out, yeah? I'm, like, your personal hot male nurse." 

You wrinkle your nose at him and the skin around your nostrils feels tight and dry. You wince, wanting to fall into his arms and never get back up again. Steve has other ideas, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and leading you into the bathroom. He shuts the toilet lid and sits you down gently.

"I don't want to be naked right now, I'm disgusting," you complain though you don’t really mind, content for him to do as he pleases. You're just happy he’s here. 

"You've never been disgusting a day in your life. Icky, maybe. Slimy. Pretty underneath all the dirt, though, babe," Steve says as he turns on the faucet. 

He sticks his hand under the stream until he's happy with the temperature and then pulls out a clean towel, tucking it over the towel rack and turning to you, smiling his pretty smile that always manages to calm you down. 

You look up at him, breathing through your mouth, head heavy as a bowling ball. He rubs your shoulders lightly.

"Stevie…" 

"I know. You're alright. Look, let's get this off you," he says, hands at the hem of your shirt. He helps you undress and encourages you to hang onto his waist as you step out of your pants, his hands waiting to catch you as you climb into the bathtub. It's not necessary – you're not dizzy, only aching and weak – but it makes you happy that he cares that much. 

You feel better as the water rises, legs crossed and pulled up to your chest in an effort to maintain some dignity though it really couldn't matter less, your boyfriend having seen and loved on almost every part of you by this point. Steve sits on the lip of the tub with his arms crossed, only moving to reach out and rub the top of your back with the heel of his palm when you cough. 

"The steam will clear you out, get you breathing easy again in no time," he promises. 

You turn to him, bringing your hands from the water. They get the hip of his trousers regretfully wet as you grip the side of the bath and drop your head into his lap. 

Steve heaves a sympathetic sigh and hugs you best he can in your positions. You're so tired and being this sick is miserable but his company, his care and his touch are all invaluable. You melt in his arms, quickly close to dozing. 

"Don't fall asleep," he croons jokingly, "I haven't given you your sponge bath." 

"You little freak," you murmur. He bursts into laughter, his chuckles rocking you and making the water around you ebb and wave. You feel like laughing too for the first time in at least a few days. 

"Sorry I couldn't come see you sooner. I mean, I would've made it happen if I'd known you were this sick, I swear," he says.

"It's okay. I know you would've. I've only been this bad since last night." 

"You could've called me." 

"You worked overtime, I wouldn't do that to you." 

"Do what? Let me take care of you? Shocker, loser, I want to do that. I wanna take care of you all the time." 

You grumble into his lap and he mimics the sound fondly, rubbing the edge of your hairline, pushing against it. 

"You want me to wash your hair, babygirl?" Made warm with affection his words come out quiet, like his lips aren't fully parted. 

"Please?" you whisper. 

He guides your head from his lap and strokes your face before giving you a good pat on the cheek. "I'm gonna have you clean as a whistle in no time," he says with pride. He tilts his head thoughtfully. "Then I'm changing your gross sheets. You couldn't pay me to cuddle on those bad boys. There's, like, an eighth grade science experiment happening in there." 

"Bet I could persuade you," you say, not believing it yourself. 

"You definitely could. Dunk your head, I wanna wash your hair before the water gets cold."