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andypantsx3 · 6 months ago

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BY THE BOOK : MIDORIYA IZUKU X READER

SUMMARY: When your pro hero boyfriend comes home to find you studying, he suddenly takes a great interest in helping out. You find his methods... questionable. TAGS/WARNINGS: nsft, hysterical literature (reading out loud while sexually stimulated), pro hero deku, deku still has ofa, support tech grad student reader, slight intelligence kink, gn + afab reader, cunnilingus, established relationship, aged up characters, fluff (3k) NOTES: Hi guys! I have been in survival mode as of late and the writing has been slow going; my sincerest apologies for how long it’s taking me to burn down my @ficsforgaza backlog. But I finally had the time & energy on my hands this weekend to work on this one and I had such a blast!! I hope I’m not too rusty—and if I am, I hope you enjoy it as much as I loved writing it regardless lol. Love you and thank you always for your patience. Happy Holidays!!

Sometimes, you thought you could tell your boyfriend was near, even before you heard his key in the lock.

It was something to do with his power, you’d always suspected—as a support engineer unduly interested in other people’s capabilities, you’d spent hundreds of hours turning it over in your head. It was the unnatural immensity of other people’s powers, you thought, pulling and coiling just beneath the surface of Izuku’s skin. In close proximity, after prolonged use, its presence felt like a shiver up the back of your neck.

You felt the barest hint of it now, an unsettled feeling creeping into the marrow of your bones, and you sat up on the couch just as you heard the scratch of Izuku’s keys at the door.

One For All fit cleanly into Izuku’s own unwavering intensity somehow, like the last piece of his puzzle. Though one would certainly never think so looking at him as he spilled through the door, pink-cheeked from the cold, all bright eyes, sweetly angelic features, and a riot of wild green curls. He looked windswept from the biting winter breeze. He also looked too kind to be carrying the sort of power he did—too sweet and eager and lovely.

“Look what the wind blew in,” you grinned at him over the back of the couch, after assessing he was well. Your eyes tracked the sinuous movement of those broad shoulders as he yanked his mouthguard over his head, the flex and pull of his bicep as he hung it beside the door. He was moving without pause, no sign of injury or muscle strain , and his suit was intact. Ordinarily you didn’t mind if there was a bit of shredding about the abs as long as he came back to you whole and hale, but in the winter you didn’t like him wandering about risking the chance of frostbite.

Your heart fluttered when Izuku returned your smile with one of his own, so beautiful and bright, chasing away the cold he’d tracked in like a warm sliver of sun.

“Lots of small, easy fights today?” You guessed, judging from his intact suit but clear whiff of power about him.

Izuku scrubbed a hand through that riot of curls, exposing the reddened shell of a cold ear. “I only had to use blackwhip a couple of times,” he said as he shouldered the door closed behind him, the muscle of his thighs flexing enticingly as he stepped out of his boots.

You gestured at the pot of soup you’d left warming on the stove, and the veritable pile of crusty bread beside it. Warmth and carbs, exactly what you would have wanted if you were a pro hero fresh off a long day of patrolling in the snow.

Izuku’s eyes fixed on it with an obliging amount of interest, and he almost tripped over himself in the genkan in his haste to get to the kitchen. “I love you,” you heard him say, muffled through a mouthful of bread, heard the clatter of the silverware drawer and a bowl being placed on the counter.

You smiled and turned back to the book in your lap, a particularly dry, knotty text on robotic imitation learning that had had your eyes drifting closed for the better part of an hour. It was the last you’d need to get through for your Wearable Technologies graduate course, and something you were deeply interested in incorporating into your design practice. You could train a piece of equipment on how an individual pro hero moved and deployed their quirk, and use predictive modeling to deploy assistance functionalities within milliseconds if you got it right—such as immediate cooling in pro hero Shouto’s temperature vest the moment he ignited an arm.

The implementation was going to be so cool—but the theory was so mind numbing.

You felt the couch sink in beside your feet, and Izuku peered interestedly at the title in your lap.

“Introduction to Robotic Imitation Learning,” he echoed, and you could hear the note of excitement in his voice. You suppressed a fond smile, knowing he was already thinking through the same applications you had—he was just as much of a nerd as you were.

“Introduction to Snoozing and Napping,” you grumbled, turning back to your page. “There are only so many words on the Kalman filter framework a brain can handle before the human mind shuts itself down.”

Izuku hummed in interest around a spoonful of soup, propping himself up against your leg. The exterior of his suit was still cool from the outside, and he groaned with relief from the warmth of your skin, even as you hissed at the chill.

You knew he wanted you to go on, so you generalized for him. “It’s an algorithm used for robotic motion planning—you not only take measurements of the thing you want to model but you account for uncertainties to predict the probability that something is going to happen.”

Izuku nodded, taking another spoonful of soup, gesturing for you to go on.

You summoned up the willpower to explain joint probability distribution, pleased when Izuku easily managed to follow—he’d always been a quick study, especially of anything that could be employed in the service of heroics. You’d long thought if he hadn’t been gifted his quirk, he would be an insane support engineer.

He managed to finish his entire bowl of soup in the time it took you to explain, and housed another two slices of buttered bread with the sort of alacrity you’d only ever seen in pro heroes and professional athletes, making you smile while you spoke.

His spoon clinked softly against the edge of the bowl as he set them aside on the coffee table, and he hooked his chin over your knees as you finished explaining. In the setting sun from your windows he looked especially lovely, the kind, angular planes of his face brushed in gold, softening the spots of his freckles.

His eyes were especially bright, the way they always were when something in particular had caught his interest, and he smiled at you again over the tops of your knee caps.

“I admire how smart you are,” he told you, in the simple, straightforward way he always gave out compliments. It was like a shot to the heart every time, and you could feel your face warm with the praise even after years of receiving similar compliments.

You reflexively flapped a dismissive hand. “Not smart enough to have internalized it all! I have mostly been falling asleep to it,” you promised him.

He tilted his head, a green curl falling into his eyes. “I know you won’t have a problem when you’re awake.”

You shifted your legs with embarrassment, and a long fingered hand came up to cup the front of your thigh, as Izuku turned more fully towards you. You could feel the warm, hard planes of his chest against your shins, the line of his jumpsuit’s zipper pressing insistently just below your knee.

“Gotta try to impress you somehow,” you joked, your skin prickling as Izuku’s fingers absent-mindedly drew a pattern across your thigh. You could feel the heat of his hand through the thin material of the leggings you’d lounged around in all day, the chill finally chased away from his skin now that he’d come inside and warmed up.

“You do impress me,” he said in his soft, gentle tone. Which made your cheeks and nose burn hotter.

You knew you did, and the steady faith Izuku had in the people around him was one of your favorite things about him. It still made you feel like a middle schooler with a crush to think about, though, the intensity of your feelings too much for one body to handle.

“I will study hard to live up to your faith in me,” you promised, unable to help the goofy smile you knew you were giving him.

Izuku’s chin shifted against the tops of your knees, and he pressed his mouth to the knob of your left one, leaving a smiling kiss. “Tell me more?” he asked, fingers still sliding softly over your thigh.

“I’ll read it to you as I go, then,” you said, turning back to the brick of a tome, propping it up more firmly on your stomach as you adjusted yourself against the couch arm. Izuku’s eyes watched you over the top of the pages, that emerald gaze tracking your face closely.

“‘The algorithm works via a two-phase process: a prediction phase and an update phase’,” you began, trying to turn your attention away from Izuku and back to the text. “‘In the prediction phase, the Kalman filter produces estimates of the current state variables, including their uncertainties. Once the outcome of the next measurement (necessarily corrupted with some error, including random noise) is observed, these estimates are updated using a weighted average, with more weight given to estimates with greater certainty.’”

Izuku’s long fingers traced firmer lines across your thighs, almost like he was taking notes. He layered another kiss along the line of your knee, eyes glittering at you as you read.

“‘The algorithm is recursive,’” you continued, “‘It can operate in real time, using only the present input measurements and the state calculated previously and its uncertainty matrix; no additional past information is required.’”

You almost jumped as Izuku’s mouth trailed lower, into the space between your knees, leaving kisses along your inner thigh. His fingers gently pulled one thigh away to make space for him in between, and you cleared your throat, trying to return to the text at hand.

“‘Optimality of Kalman filtering assumes that errors have a normal–that is, Gaussian–distribution,’” you read on. “‘The following assumptions are made about random processes: Physical random phenomena may be thought of as due to primary random sources exciting dynamic systems. The primary sources are assumed to be independent gaussian random processes with zero mean; the dynamic systems will be linear.’”

Izuku let out a soft breath, insinuating himself further between your thighs. Your own breath came out a little uneven as he bent over you, mouth tracking dangerously towards the inseam of your leggings.

You paused, but Izuku fixed you with a look of his slightly-darkened eyes. “Please—keep reading,” he said, his tone a little lower than it had been a minute ago.

You swallowed in shocked understanding, skin tingling. You felt yourself nod, as Izuku’s fingers strayed to the waist of your pants, dipping below the band.

You let him slowly peel your leggings down, your underwear with them, adjusting as needed to make it easy for him, even as you tried to return your attention to your textbook.

“‘Regardless of Gaussianity, however, if the process and measurement covariances are known, then the Kalman filter is the best possible linear estimator in the minimum mean-square-error sense,’” you quoted, nearly squeaking when Izuku pressed his mouth to your hip, his curls tickling the skin of your belly. His hands gripped either side of your thighs, palms square and rough against your skin, and you tried not to shiver with the feeling.

“Um—‘Although there may be better nonlinear estimators’,” you said, then nearly jumped out of your skin when Izuku pressed his mouth to the core of you, only the strength of his grip stopping you from accidentally kicking him in surprise.

“Oh my g—uh! It—um—‘It is a common misconception perpetuated in the literature that the Kalman filter cannot be rigorously applied unless all noise processes are assumed to be Gaussian,’” you managed, before your cut off into a groan as Izuku layered a hot, sweet kiss over you, tongue dipping carefully between your folds. “Ah-–Izuku—”

Izuku petted a thumb gently over the top of your thigh to show he was listening, even as he swiped his tongue over you again, a long, firm stroke that had your thighs flexing in his hold. He laved over your clit, sucking ever so slightly, and your grip almost tore the edge of your textbooks as it tightened.

“Keep going,” he urged briefly, then did it again, punching a groan out of you.

“Extensions—oh—‘Extensions and generalizations of the method have also been developed, such as the extended Kalman filter and the unscented Kalman filter which work on nonlinear systems,’” you read on, voice shooting up nearly into a squeal when two of Izuku’s long, firm fingers pressed into you, as his mouth moved over you again.

“Ah! Oh my god—the—um, the basis—-” you said, breath growing short. Izuku’s fingers unerringly found the spot inside you that made you twist in his grip with the ease of long practice, and his jaw worked as he kissed you so shockingly filthily. You could feel something already starting to build up behind your navel, a fluttery lightness, an insatiable insistence on more.

“‘The basis a hidden Markov model—oh, fuck—such that the state space of the latent variables is continuous and all latent and observed variables have–ah!--Gaussian distributions,’’’ you recited, your voice tripping up further into a register that sounded more like begging than reading.

Izuku’s fingers worked you, long and thick and perfect inside you, as his tongue drew unrelenting circles around your clit. Stars seemed to spark in your vision, and your eyes squeezed shut, losing your place on the page as your hips flexed into his face. You felt suddenly very floaty and lightheaded, and not at all in a position to keep going.

Still, you tried to refocus your attention.

“‘K–Kalman filtering has been used successfully in—oh—multi-sensor fusion—ah, ah!--and distributed sensor networks–fuck, please, Izuku—to develop distributed or consensus Kalman f-filtering,’” you said, your tone nearly a cry.

Izuku groaned softly, sucking gently as his fingers curled inside you. It made your veins spark under your skin, your legs shaking in Izuku’s hands. You abandoned your grip on your book to seize the arm of the couch, clawing desperately at the fabric.

“Please, Izuku,” you cried, hips bucking towards his mouth.

The book tumbled off your stomach but you hardly noticed, gaze refocusing on the way his eyelashes fluttered as he licked you. His fingers played gently within you, a maddening press that was simultaneously too much and not enough, and his other hand came up to slide under your sweater, plucking gently at your nipple.

You lost yourself to the feeling—caught between the mind-melting curl of his fingers, the delicate suction of his mouth, and the careful pinch of your nipple. A delicious heat curled through you, waves of unbearable pleasure, and you could hear yourself babbling nonsense—garbled syllables of Izuku’s name, and every entreaty you could think of, a hundred thousands mores and oh pleases.

Izuku abandoned your nipple to pull you more firmly against him with a strong arm curled under your thigh, pressing you even harder into his mouth.

You muffled a scream in the sleeve of your sweater as he sucked you harder, tongue laving over you in loving strokes. Only his terrible strength held you down as you writhed beneath him, and then his fingers twisted in a way that had your vision whiting out—and you were suddenly thrown out over the edge of your pleasure.

Izuku licked you through it as you squirmed and begged and cried out his name, your climax seeming to last for eons.

You were panting hard when you finally slumped into the cushions of your couch, the ceiling seeming to swim in and out of focus before your eyes. When you gained enough control of your body again you looked down at Izuku, finding him watching you with a satisfied, almost shy curl to his mouth.

“You’re beautiful,” he told you, emerald gaze glittering with sincerity. “You’re so smart.”

Impossibly you felt your heart swell with even more love for him, and you seized his shoulder, dragging him up over you so you could kiss his mouth. The taste of yourself on him was embarrassing yet thrilling, and you petted a pleased hand through Izuku’s wild mess of curls as you kissed him.

“Well you are amazing,” you told him, swiping a thumb over his cheek fondly, smoothing over his freckles. A gorgeous watercolor of pink washed over his cheeks and nose at the proclamation, and you could hear his fingers flex in the cushion beside your head.

The sight of him flushed and waiting over you like another small something inside of you, like a pilot light, and you let your mouth pull into a wry grin.

“I hope you know I learned nothing though,” you said casually, your plan for your next steps already forming in your head. You let a hand trail carefully down Izuku’s flank, tracking towards his waist. “I think maybe I might need a few rounds for it to really sink in.”

Izuku’s ears went red against the green of his hair, and you felt your smile widen. “Maybe you could read it to me this time?” you asked, guiding him to roll under you, retrieving your book from the floor as you did so.

You settled yourself on the tops of Izuku’s thighs, feeling the hard press of him against your core, as you placed your textbook into his waiting hands.

Izuku’s answering smile was all the permission you needed. You directed him to start from the beginning of the chapter, and he did so in that soft, lilting tone of his you so loved. And then your fingers trailed up to the zipper at his collar.

It was time to return the favor—wholeheartedly.

REFERENCES: Kalman Filtering (Wikipedia) I took the passages our Reader recited from here because I do not actually understand Kalman filtering at all and could not organically come up with feasible text for her to read through. Sorry in advance to the author of this page lol.

#deku x reader #izuku x reader #midoriya x reader #midoriya izuku x reader #izuku midoria x reader #izuku midoriya x you #deku x y/n #bnha x reader #fics for gaza #izuku x you

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sheeezu · 6 months ago

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Shifting proof, you're not wasting your time.

"My beloved, the distances between us have been erased, I am here, I am here."

(If anyone is able to guess which song lyric I translated here I will love you for all my existence)

If you're doubting shifting, then read this:

Let's dive into your mind. Most importantly, into your dreams.

Have you ever realised why you dream? Dreams are just for your subconscious mind to reherse your current reality, in practice all its doing is to ensure you don't fall out of your reality.

No matter how insane of a dream you're having, it has some resemblance with the life you are currently leading. Have you ever tried to figure out just how weird the whole concept of dreams are? For example, it's common knowledge to everyone, even antishifters, that lucid dreams are a thing. Meaning you can literally play around in your mind. When you sleep, do you realise the passage of time? Sometimes your sleep stretches on for long and you don't realise you've slept that much, sometimes, dream cover a lot within a short cycle of sleep. So what proof of time could you possibly present to yourself during your hours of slumbers, where is this clock that's supposed to dictate your life?

Sometimes you don't even dream, although unconscious processes are going on in your human brain, but where are you? In the void, you're floating around somewhere in the void, without any care of your reality for once, this is called your common consciousness, or just the void state.

Whenever you wake up from a deep sleep, you feel disoriented and confused, you hear conversations and imagine things which didn't happen, there is no literal proof that these happenings are just caused by general grogginess. This confusion is your consciousness readjusting to the reality you're in.

Let's discuss what all of this science and physics is. It's essentially just a method your consciousness put up in order for you to not fall out of reality, and to not have to face thanos out of nowhere, therefore logic exists.

We are from our roots just souls floating around in nothingness, we're souls capable of creation of anything by thoughts, will, and energy. We need a medium for suitable existence, for all of the people existing alongside us, what we have in common is that our consciousness has chose a similar mode of existence for us, which is by living as human beings on this livable spherical ball, where we accept the principles of luck.

Why does a system of being ridiculed by your environment and people around you and the formation of unwanted doubts exist whenever you claim something "impossible" by human terms, for example, if you assumed and started claiming the sun rising from the opposite direction as the truth, that's going to become your base since you are creating reality, therefore you will break reality and to prevent it you yourself once put these limitations, just like how you script your DRs.

But once you realise the fact that all along this organised way of existence was put up by you in order to excite your consciousness by going through these experiences, you'll realise shifting realities, manifesting, or just going back to floating as a soul in the void is a known principle for you and easy, and you don't have to struggle to gain it, you've been doing it all your existence, then you'll shift on command.

Reality is just like a dough, which you have been molding and adjusting it accordingly.

Shape that dough into your DR

It's you. It's always been you, you've been the main provider and controller, you've just temporarily gone to existing in the form of a human vessel, breaking free is nothing difficult.

Anyways, belief in this is all you need to shift, it's freaking easy even if it's just you going to your DR to get railed. "But doubts-!!" Shush. If doubts are able to stop a process for you, you could also utilise them in a way which benefit you, from this moment do a complete uno reverse card on your doubts, you used to doubts your manifestations, go ahead and start doubting your existence being anything but perfect.

"I don't think I can be a common human being weeping over mere earthly problems, all ill ever be is a master manifestor who could do whatever I want."

...

I finished this draft at 5:55.

Now that I think about it shifting using doubts could be pretty neat, but I still have another 2 methods bending from the poll, so that's on my pending list I guess.

This entire post was a rant from my side so if there is anything confusing or out of place, just ask. Ask away until your little heart is satisfied and then go shift because what are you doing here when you could just go study at hogwarts where the stairs try to put you in your grave.

...

#reality shifting #shiftblr #shifting #shifting antis dni #shifting blog #shifting motivation #shifters #shifting community #desired reality #shifting stories #shifting realities #shifting consciousness #law of assumption

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fear-is-truth · 8 months ago

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𝑺𝑰𝑳𝑽𝑬𝑹 𝑳𝑰𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮 – nicholas alexander chavez x fem!reader

summary — you’re a rising pop star and best friends with cooper koch. when you visit him on set of “monsters”, he introduces you to his co-star. / wc: 1.9k

tags — fluff. not proofread. english is not my first language

05/16/2024

The warm, late afternoon sun beat down on the set of Monsters: The Lyle and Erik Menendez Story, where the buzz of production crews filled the air. You stepped out of your car, smoothing down your blouse as you made your way through the maze of trailers. You were here to see your friend Cooper Koch, who was playing Erik Menendez in the docuseries. He had invited you to visit him on set, and you hadn’t seen him in months. As you approached the craft services table, a familiar voice called out to you.

“Yo, there she is!” Cooper exclaimed happily, rushing over to scoop you into a bear hug. You laughed, burying your face in his shoulder.

“Hey!” you pull back slightly to get a good look at him. Even in character, with his hair styled in a very 1980s fashion and wearing the sharp suit of Eric Menendez, he still had the lighthearted energy that you adored.

“How’s it going, ‘Erik Menendez’?” He shrugged, letting out a playful sigh. “You know, just emotionally preparing for a murder trial.” He looked around, then nodded his head toward a nearby tent. “Come meet Nicholas. He’s playing my brother.” Following him across the set, you spotted Nicholas sitting alone, flipping through his script. Even off-camera, he looked striking: sharp jawline, dark, neatly styled curls, and an air of seriousness. The fitted suit he wore only added to the whole intense vibe, his features tight with focus.

“Hey Nic,” Cooper called out, breaking the actor’s concentration. “This is y/n l/n, pop sensation and my dear friend. y/n, meet Nicholas—my on-screen brother.”Nicholas stood up, a little stiff, offering you a polite smile and extending his hand. “Hey there, nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” you said, shaking his hand. His grip was firm but quick, his expression serious and distant, almost cold. You let go, your own smile faltering slightly as you glanced at Cooper. Nicholas excused himself almost immediately, returning to his script as if he was still lost in Lyle’s world. You raised an eyebrow at your best friend.

“He always this… serious?” Cooper chuckled. “He’s in serious actor mode right now. Give it time, he’s actually an unbelievable goof once he’s done being all ‘Lyle Menendez on trial.’” You shot him a skeptical look.

You ended up visiting the set a few more times that week. Cooper always made you feel welcome, but Nicholas? He was always in the zone—focused, methodical, brooding. There was something almost intimidating about his presence, even though you knew it was probably just him getting into character. But still, it didn’t make for easy conversation.

One afternoon, you sat beside Cooper during a break, watching as Nicholas sat a few feet away, quietly reviewing his lines again. You nudged Cooper. “Does Nicholas ever… like, smile? Or even talk off set?” He snorted. “Told you, once he’s out of character, he’s cool. He’s just locked in right now.” You leaned back. “Sure, but it’s been days, and I feel like I’ve barely heard him say more than ten sentences to him. I’m starting to think either he hates me, or he’s got a permanent serious face.” Cooper just grinned. “Give it time. He’ll warm up. Trust me.”

It wasn’t until later in the week that you finally got to see what Cooper had been talking about. It was late, and most of the cast and crew had already cleared out for the day. You were waiting for Cooper to finish up with a quick scene when you noticed Nicholas walking toward you, hands shoved into the pockets of his suit pants. He plopped down on the bench next to you, and he looked worn out, his usually composed expression softening as he leaned back and let out a sigh.

“Long day?” You asked. He laughed dryly, a sound that was low and tired before replying. “You have no idea.” He looked over at you, and for the first time, his face softened. “I feel like I owe you an apology.” You blinked. “for what?”

“For being… distant. Weird. Cold, even,” he said, running a hand through his dark curls. “I wasn’t trying to be rude. I just… I needed to focus.” You frowned. “On the role?”

“Yeah, on the role… but also, I just went through a breakup,” he admitted, his eyes flicking to the ground as if saying it out loud made it harder to hold back. “I was kind of using that energy to dive into Lyle’s head. You know, put it all in the work. I didn’t want to get distracted. Especially not by… well, by a pretty girl on set.”

You raised an eyebrow, feeling a strange warmth creep into your chest. “A pretty girl?” Nicholas gave a small, sheepish smile, finally meeting your gaze. “Yeah. You.”

“Wow,” you said, pretending to be offended as you put on a mock-serious tone. “So what, you’re saying you don’t hate me? Or my music?”

His eyes widened, panic flashing in them. “No! God, no. I don’t hate you, and I definitely don’t hate your music.” He chuckled, shaking his head. “That’s not it at all. I just… didn’t want to get in my own way, you know? Especially after the breakup. I thought if I let myself get distracted, I’d fuck everything up. But it’s been eating at me. I didn’t mean to make you feel like I was pushing you away.”

The honesty in his voice surprised you.“I get it. I really do. I’m just glad it wasn’t personal. I was starting to think maybe you thought I was annoying. That you hate me or my music.” He grinned, visibly relaxing for the first time. “Trust me, neither. I’ve actually been dying to talk to you, but I’m terrible at switching gears. It’s hard for me to get out of character when we’re filming.”

“Yeah, I can tell,” you teased lightly, nudging him with your shoulder. “I guess I’ll take that as a compliment. Being a distraction doesn’t sound too bad.”

He laughed, the tension finally lifting between you both. “You’re more than a distraction. That’s why it’s been so hard to focus around you.”

Suddenly, the distance that had been between you two these past few days didn’t seem so far anymore.

“Friends?” you asked, extending your hand. He smiled, shaking your hand firmly but gently.

“Friends. For now.”

After that conversation, your dynamic with Nicholas shifted dramatically. What started as a tense, awkward distance between you two morphed into something much warmer. You found yourselves hanging out more, both on and off set. Cooper would tease the two of you endlessly, claiming he was the reason for your sudden ‘best friend’ status.

You quickly realized how sweet Nic was—thoughtful, always paying attention to the smallest details. Whenever you sat around with the cast, he’d ask if you wanted a snack or offer you his jacket when the set AC was too cold.

It became this easy, light friendship. But there was something else there. You knew it, and by the way his gaze would linger on you when you laughed or the casual touches that became more frequent, you had a feeling he knew it too.

Then one day, as you were scrolling mindlessly through social media, you saw your name trending—again. Your new album had just hit the charts a week ago, and it was all anyone could talk about. One song in particular, a love song that was a bit more sentimental than your usual style, had skyrocketed to number one on Billboard. Everyone was dissecting it, trying to figure out who it was about, but you’d stayed quiet. Part of you wasn’t even sure if you’d admit it, especially to the person it was written about.

That night, you were at Nicholas’s place at the hotel for a small get-together with some of the cast and crew. The two of you had slipped away to the balcony for some fresh air, away from the noise and chatter inside.

“So…” he started, leaning against the railing with a crooked smile. “I, uh, listened to your album. Pretty much the whole thing.” You looked up at him, grinning. “Oh? What’s the verdict?” “It’s incredible, honestly,” he said, sounding genuine. But then, he hesitated, his gaze flickering to yours. “But there’s this one song—uh, the last one? ‘Silver Linings?’” He raised an eyebrow, clearly fishing for something. You felt your heart skip a beat. Of course he’d pick that song. “Yeah?” you said, trying to sound nonchalant, even though your stomach was doing flips. You knew where this was going. “What about it?”

“Well… I might be totally off-base here, but… the lyrics…” He trailed off, his cheeks growing into five shades of pink. “I mean. Call me crazy but, was that song… about me?” Of course he would pick up on it. You hadn’t exactly been subtle in your songwriting, but you didn’t expect him to ask about it, especially like this. He had that hopeful, boyish grin on his face now, like he was waiting for you to admit it.

And honestly? You were tired of dancing around it.

Instead of answering, you closed the space between you, pressing your lips to his. Nicholas reacted instantly, his hand slipping to the back of your neck as he deepened the kiss, pulling you closer. His other hand rested on your waist, grounding you in the moment as your body melted into his. There was something so gentle yet eager about the way he kissed you��like he’d been holding back for so long and finally allowed himself to let go. His thumb brushed the nape of your neck, sending pleasant jolts of anticipation down your spine and warmth in your stomach. When you finally pulled away, his forehead rested against yours. You stared up at him, breathless, fingers still clutching his shirt. “Does that answer your question?”

present day

Nicholas was lying beside you, both of you in matching pink pyjamas, that he’d insisted on getting when you went shopping together. You were curled up in the crook of his arm, head resting on his chest, feeling the steady rise and fall of his breath. His fingers absentmindedly traced shapes on your arm, the simple motion soothing.

“You know,” he began, his voice soft in the quiet, vast room, “I never thought I’d be the kind of guy to wear matching hello kitty pyjamas with my girlfriend.”

At this, you laughed, lifting your head to look at your boyfriend. “Don’t act like you didn’t pick these out.” “Fine,” he conceded, brushing a hand through his messy curls. “I did. But only because you look cute in them.”

“Right, because that’s why you’re wearing them too?”

“I wear them because I’m committed to the bit,” he joked, pulling you closer so he could press a kiss to the top of your head. Nestling back against his chest, you let out a soft sigh. “Do you ever think about when we can stop hiding this? Us?” his fingers stilled their movements and rested on your arm. “Yeah, I think about it a lot too,” he admitted. “But… we’ll get there. We’ll figure it out.”

“I know… It’s just so hard sometimes.” You whined. He must have sensed the frustration your tone because he pressed a kiss to the tip of your nose, “I know, baby.” His voice was soft, soothing. “But until then, I get to have you all to myself, like this.” Nicholas smirked, brushing his thumb along your bottom lip. “Not the worst deal.”

#nicholas alexander chavez #nicholas chavez #nicholas chavez x reader #nicholas chavez x y/n #jackie writes ⟢

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sexhaver · 4 months ago

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Marvel Rivals does two very weird things with matchmaking. the first one is where, instead of skill-based matchmaking (SBMM), they use a method they literally invented named "EnMatch" (link downloads a pdf of their research paper), which builds on an earlier rudimentary version of the same idea referred to as engagement-optimized matchmaking (EOMM).

to summarize: it still uses a traditional Elo-esque system to quantify the skill of individual players, but unlike SBMM, which aims to balance these Elo ratings between two teams to ensure a fair match (under the natural assumption that players want to play fair matches), EnMatch instead uses a literal AI to predict what win-loss ratio every player needs to not ragequit at that exact moment and then attempts to give players easier or harder games as appropriate. the difference isn't massive, something like a 45% expected winrate instead of 50%, but it's there and it's on purpose. if you read between the lines of the section about influencing factors, they even leave the door open to stuff like cosmetics purchases influencing matchmaking

the second weird thing builds off of that and is thankfully limited to quickplay (unlike EnMatch which is present in ranked): if you lose enough quickplay matches in a row, you get put into a game against 6 easy bots, with 2 bots on your own team to autofill healers/tanks to avoid team composition issues. there are a few tells that let you know you're in a bot game once you know to look out for them, but the insidious thing is, the game never tells you you're playing against bots! there's a separate "Practice vs AI" mode, but this thing im describing happens in the normal quickplay queue! and the reason it sucks so bad, other than still getting the full leaver penalties if you leave, is because it results in posts on the subreddit/discord of people either posting a clip of them "popping off" against literal easy mode bots, or posting clips of a Punisher bot aimbotting them down and asking people to report them for hacks (because they are in fact literally aimbotting). obviously this feature is in the game for the exact kind of player who would never notice it and is there to give them an easy win to discourage a ragequit after a loss streak, but it just feels kinda scummy imo

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phoenixyfriend · 1 year ago

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Somewhere out there is an essay about superhero movies where villains co-opt, misuse, or even just misunderstand the language of the left to push methods and goals that are incompatible with the actual theory of the left, but that sound Right And Good to viewers who aren't thinking it through entirely. And the essay is not just about how they compare to each other, but how they are a litmus test for viewers to know how susceptible they are to propaganda.

Co-opt: Most obvious example and the inspiration for this post is the Riddler in Batman (2020, the one with RPatt). The Riddler recites leftist rhetoric about corruption, wealth hoarding, and redistribution, but his actual actions and goals are unrelated. He's an accelerationist who's more interested in tearing down a system that didn't benefit HIM than in actually rectifying the problems, and who cares if a few kids get traumatized or even killed along the way?

Misuse: Easy mode, this one's Thanos. He talks about ensuring there's enough for everyone to eat, but like. Bro.

Misunderstand: Erik Killmonger, who has the benefit of both some incredibly legitimate grievances and a pretty face, but also kind of fails at the idea of intersectionality, proportionality, or Start With Words Before You Escalate. He's the easiest to sympathize with, because he has some really good points and ultimately does appear to be legitimately pursuing those goals... but he's also a misogynist, jumped to international terrorism before "call up my cousin who doesn't know I exist," and there's something in there about the role played by his time in the US military, which gave him emotional trauma, head trauma, and a sincere belief in the validity of US-style insurgency operations based on hostile takeovers of inconvenient countries. He's charming and pretty and sincere... he's just also, in many ways, wrong. And the parts where he's right makes it easy to try to ignore the bits where he's wrong if you're predisposed to like him and prefer some absolutism.

Anyway, yeah, there are definitely other examples, but the ones that were suggested to me didn't quite vibe with the base idea (Mysterio and Vulture both had disgruntled union moments in the MCU, but they left those roots so quickly that I don't think the concept of using leftist rhetoric as cover/justification for the crimes really applies since, they very quickly shift gears into revenge and greed respectively).

Someone's probably done this better orz.

#mcu #dc #marvel cinematic universe #batman 2022 #the riddler #Edward Nashton #thanos #black panther #erik killmonger #phoenix posts #meta #rhetoric #propaganda

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guitarguitarworld · 2 years ago

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MINOR TOPIC-EASIER WAY TO IMPROVISE WITH MODES

Minor topic-improvising on modes mad easier for guitar

CLICK SUBSCRIBE! minor topic-an easier way to improvise with modes of music IMPORTANT: Please watch video above for detailed info: Hi Guys, Today, a quick look at another way of exploiting modes/improvisation on the guitar fingerboard. We will be creating music via concepts/musical tools based on this minor shape. Why do this? Because with this 5 fret shape arpeggio we can easily…

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splatsvilles-fashionista · 1 year ago

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Nintendo is removing twitter integration next week, here's what to do to share screenshots instead

So in case you missed it, Nintendo announced last month that they're removing the Switch's twitter integration on Jun 10/11 (depending on your time zone) as a result of twitter jacking up their API fees to absolutely ridiculous degrees. This will not affect making posts in the plaza (at least in Splatoon 3) but it does mean you will not be able to upload screenshots and videos to twitter for easy access.

If you're like me and do this a lot, then you've got two alternatives.

One of these methods is significantly easier than the others, but requires a computer that runs Windows and a USB cable. With your Switch in portable mode, go into your System Settings and find the Data Management section:

Click it and scroll down to the "Copy to PC via USB Connection" option.

Click it and you'll be prompted to connect your Switch to your PC via USB. When you do, a folder containing all your Switch screenshots and videos will pop up on your PC. From there, you can copy as many videos and screenshots as you'd like to a location of your choosing, at which point you can disconnect your Switch.

And now you're done!

The other option is a bit more finicky (and also I can't take screenshots to show you the process), but can be done with any smart device. Go into your Album and pick a video or screenshot you would like to share. Select Send to smart device, after which you'll be prompted to scan a QR code. Scan it with your smart device and you'll be given a link to connect to a Wifi, which sounds weird but is just how the console and smart device connects. Once they have, you'll be able to send your images and video to your phone.

#nintendo switch #splatoon 3

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oceantornadoo · 2 months ago

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baking is hard

dr robby x chief resident f!reader fluff

yes langdon is in this, sue me he went to rehab and got accepted back

trying to pursue a hobby as a chief resident is encouraged, but the outcome less so. turns out, it's good you put hundreds of thousands of dollars into med school and got extremely into debt.

you can't bake.

the first attempt was chocolate chip cookies. a tupperware container, given to the nurses for first priority, sat empty by the second hour of your day shift. you'd spotted the med students ravaging it ten minutes after you set it down and had to shoo them away to make sure other people had a try. it was an hour after when whittaker first complained of stomach pains. turned out, they weren't cooked all the way through.

"any plans for a bakery, chief?" dana calls out, snorting when you sigh, exasperated. "i swear i put them in for twenty minutes, just like the recipe said!" you mumble as you wait for the EMTs who called ahead to arrive. "oven all the way up?" robby asks, arriving just in time. he snaps on his gloves and your eyes stray to the fine bones they conceal, before pulling your gaze away to land on his face. he smiles in that way where his skin tugs and creases, and you have to roll your eyes to banish the warmth that threatens to grow under your skin. "i'd like to see you in the kitchen, robby." you throw back, softening it with a half-smile. "why don't-" the doors burst open, interrupting his words, and you go into action mode, conversation abandoned.

you never learn what he was going to say, words lost to the linoleum and lemon-iron scent of the ER.

the next week, it's banana bread. you had bananas that were way too ripe and your best friend promise the recipe would "literally be so easy, even you couldn't mess it up." turns out, you've got a thing for the impossible.

"how is this both burnt and not cooked through?" langdon wonders, a crumble of bread escaping his mouth while he chews. you snatch the piece of bread from his head and throw it, a little violently, into the nearest trash can. "you should be glad i can't bake. it's an art, not a science. shouldn't i be good at science?" you retort. someone mumbles something behind you and when you turn, it's santos, standing innocently. "got something to say?" you look at either of them, extremely offended that you couldn't even get banana bread right. a warm hand clamps down on your shoulder and when you look up, robby's eyes are looking at you tenderly. "c'mon, chief, got a good one for you." you sigh, if only to ignore the electricity coursing through your veins at his touch.

"if you let the med students get to you, this whole thing crashes down." he murmurs, just for your ears. you smile at the thought he had to rescue you, then remind yourself it's simply him maintaining a 'positive workplace culture', or whatever gloria said at your last meeting. "i really thought banana bread would be easy." you mourn at the wasted hours you spent on your day off. it's always a struggle to finish your groceries when getting takeout or grabbing something from the nearby cafe is so much faster. so much for a new way to use your groceries. "my bite wasn't too bad." robby admits, stopping you outside of the curtain separating you from the patient. "really?" you grin, hopeful. he steps closer, the cargo pockets of his pants almost brushing your scrubs. you go stock-still, unsure of his next move. "anything is better than salmonella." you gasp and he winks before yanking open the curtain. "mr. corby! this here is my chief resident..."

brownies. brownies can be simple. right?

this time, you triple check them. your roommate shows you the toothpick method and you suddenly realize how you screwed up the first two attempts. only when the stick comes out clean do you attempt to take out the tray.

and completely forget your oven mitts.

"shit!" thankfully, it's your non-dominant hand. you quickly run it under cold water, hissing when the pain doesn't ease after the usual 10-15 minutes. you wrap it with some clean gauze and hope it'll resolve itself. of course, it doesn't. you take a peek two hours later and your hand has swelled, with the pain roaring even after some meds. you sigh, grab your keys, and make your way to the place you can't escape.

"i'm telling you, dana, i'm fine! just need some better burn cream." she clucks at you in her mother-hen tone. "and i'm telling you to get this looked at. and not by a student." she whispers the last part, eyes sparkling with mischief.

"no, dana, i'll go find mckay-"

"robby!"

he materializes out of nowhere, wearing black rounded glasses that make your heart pound. "special patient!" she waves your hand in the air, only stopping when you make a shout of pain. dana suddenly looks regretful, but you laugh. "that's what you get for being an instigator." you taunt. "you're fine go home." she swats your forearm and goes back to her job.

"what do we have here?" his tone is low, warmth spreading to your limbs as you soak in his presence, on an off day especially, like the sun. "burnt my hand." in realizing you're dressed in leggings and a sweatshirt, you're suddenly meek without the shield of your scrubs. robby hums, guiding you with a hand on your back to an empty exam room. "you can treat me in the hall, robby, don't let me steal a room from someone who needs it." he leaves you momentarily, coming back with a burn kit. "you need a room." you soften a bit at his reply, letting yourself sink into the chair as you sit sideways. robby sits on the round chair, a rare time where you tower over him. the burn kit lays near your arm and as he peels off the gauze on your arm, his elbow brushes your thigh. neither of you comment on it.

"baking?" he asks, nodding to the burn. instead of answering, your uninjured hand finds itself floating in the air, near his ear. he glances to your hand, then back to you, brows furrowed. "you still have your reading glasses on." there's a minor blush that rises on your cheeks, and pride rises like a balloon within you, to think you could make him feel a fraction of how off-guard you are. "mind taking them off?" he entreats you, lip curling into a smile. you can't help but brush the bridge of his nose as you pull them from the center, taking care to not jostle him. when they're off, you set them on the free space of the chair and turn back. there's a red mark where they laid and on instinct, you swipe your thumb down the thin skin of his nose until it's less irritated. fearing you overstepped, you pull back, but all you can find in his face is wonder.

"i was baking brownies." you admit, voice raspy with disuse. he brushes the soft inside of your wrist, far above your burn and completely unnecessary for medical treatment. you curl like a cat into the feeling, thighs pressing together as your calves, swinging in the air, lay against his own thighs. "they work out?" he applies the burn gel at the same time he asks and you suck in air at the sting.

"i'm sorry, baby, that hurt?" you both freeze at the pet name. for a second, you think he regrets it, his gaze locked on to the burn. then he lifts his head, that mournful look ever present on his face. silent, waiting for you to make the next move. "didn't hurt that much. i'm just sensitive." deft fingers wrap clean gauze around your palm. there's too much contact: his fingers around your hand, your fingers brushing his own, your leggings against his cargos. "good to know." he mutters. your stomach clenches, heart jumping. he tapes the gauze, one callused thumb brushing featherlight over the cotton.

"i heard when you kiss injuries, they heal faster." you venture, voice strong despite your nerves. "think i saw a NIH article on that." robby adds, beard pulling as he tries not to smile. before you can respond, his lips brush over the gauze. he makes his way upwards, worshiping your wrist to the crook of your elbow. finally, he stands, crossing his hands over his chest like he can't decide his next course of action.

"what am i going to do with you?" he muses, almost to himself. gaining confidence, you hook your foot around his calf and tug lightly, grinning when he doesn't stumble, like you knew he wouldn't. "a kiss might be nice. patient satisfaction scores and all that." he chuckles, enveloping you in a blanket of glee. robby cups your face, thumbs brushing your fluttering eyelashes. the kiss is more forceful than you expected, almost possessive if you squint. his hands squeeze your jaw, forcing you to open your mouth wider. it's soft and hard and your spine turns liquid in his hold, wavering and delicate.

"i need to get back." he interrupts, forehead creasing in discontent. "you need to give this room to a patient who needs it." you reply, unsure how to do deal with what just happened. he decides for you, pecking your forehead, then offering a hand for you to stand. "did the brownies work out?" he inquires, switching topics deftly. you nod in confusion. granted, they aren't pastry-chef level, but they're mildly edible and mostly enjoyable. "i've got some experience in taste testing." he summarizes his point, laughing when you realize his point. "i know you're old, but you do remember you can just ask these things, robby?" you scoff, poking him as you make your escape. he grabs your waist just before you reach the curtain, mindful of your injury, pulling you into his orbit.

"save some for me?"

"make sure you're there by 8pm. i can't make any promises after that."

#the pitt #michael robinavitch #dr robby #michael robinavitch x female reader #michael robinavitch x reader #female reader #the pitt spoilers #the pitt x reader #dr robby x reader #tornadothoughts #the pitt episode 14

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tommykinard · 4 months ago

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Coloring anon here, yes, I would definitely like to know more about how you color frame by frame and the other techniques you mentioned! It would be much appreciated, thank you!

Hi anon! I'd be happy to go over my preferred methods for colouring!

First resort (ideal):

Painting over shots with little movement (the first method in this tutorial)

Colour manipulation using selective colours (the second method in this tutorial; alternate tutorial -> i also sometimes add a hue/saturation layer on top to manipulate the cyans/blues as well)

Second resort:

Keyframes for shots with consistent movement where it's easy to hide "imperfections" (tutorial 1, tutorial 2)

Last resort:

Frame by frame colouring -> DISCLAIMER: the way I do this method is the easiest way I've gotten it to work for me but that also means that it's very inflexible when it comes to editing any of the colouring afterwards. Once you start colouring in frame animation mode you're basically locked in so you need your gifs to be exactly the way you want them prior to adding your colour

So in this tutorial I'll go over how I do my frame by frame colouring as well as how I create actions to automate the repetitive parts of this process! (Some resources that explain how to create actions are here: 1 2)

To use the select subject feature you will need Photoshop CC 2018 or later

Step 1: Preparing your gif with base colouring

So first you want to do your base colouring for your gif in timeline mode, which I've explained here. I keep my gifs short (ideally 40 frames or less) since this colouring process is tedious!

I make sure that in my hue/saturation layer, I turn the saturation in the yellow, green, cyan, and blue tabs all down to -100 (and for the yellows I usually add around +20 to +60 in lightness)

Here's my gif with the base colouring that I'll be starting with:

Note: turning down the saturation in almost all the colours gives you that nice silver/grey neutral background to paint on top of. It's a lot less noticeable when your painted layers aren't perfect

Step 2: Converting to Frame Animation Mode

I use the save action from this action pack to convert my gif from timeline mode to frame animation mode.

You cannot edit your base colouring from this point onwards!

Step 3: Using Select Subject

If you're recording an action this is the step you would *start recording*

This is what your window should look like:

Making sure your first frame and first layer are selected, go to Select at the top of your window and click Subject

You should then see the marching ants outline around the person in your gif

You then want to create a new solid colour fill layer (which can be found when you click that little circle icon at the bottom of your layers panel), and set the layer blending mode to colour.

The layer mask will automatically be created since you had the marching ants outline.

Since my person is in colour and not the background, I want to invert the layer mask by clicking on it and using command + i (or ctrl + i), and now this is what it looks like:

Note: Select subject isn't always perfect!!!, depending on how cluttered the scene is and how much contrast there is between your person and the background, select subject could either do a really good job like it did here, or screw up a little like it did here:

That's okay though because it still gives us a good base to start from! We can fix any issues by painting with black and white brushes on the layer mask.

Step 3.5: Create clipping mask

Thanks to @wolfchans for telling me about this because it gives us back a little bit of flexibility when colouring frame by frame! Instead of merging down, we can make a clipping mask instead. Right click the solid colour fill layer and select create clipping mask.

If you're recording an action, it's at this point where I would *stop recording*

Step 4: Fixing the layer mask if needed

So now I want his jacket and t-shirt to also be purple, and to show his fingers behind the glass. I make sure the layer mask is selected, and paint with a brush at 60-70% hardness (painting with black erases the colour, painting with white shows the colour). User smaller brush sizes to paint smaller details!

This is what my canvas and layer mask look like now.

Step 5: Repeat

Now I click on my second frame and second layer, and repeat steps 3-4. As you can see, using the clipping mask allows you to still see and edit the colouring of the previous frame, just make sure you click on the right frame and it's corresponding layer when you're doing further editing.

This is where an action is super helpful in cutting down all the repetitive steps and clicks you need to do. So at this point I'd just play the action I created and paint on the layer mask as needed.

Repeat for all your frames and then you're done! After this I convert it back to timeline mode again so that I can add my text and do any other effects such as blending or transitions. Hope this helped!!

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what-is-love-babey-dont-hurt-me · 1 month ago

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literally how are you doing the gradient text thing. i need to know.

✨ Snappy's Gradient Text Tutorial

You might have seen me use gradient text in a few of my artworks, and it is a great tool to make a posts tand out! I learned from this post, but find some of the information outdated, so I am making a tutorial of my own!

To my knowledge, this is only possible via desktop mode* (mobile method at end), but not the app, as access to the HTML function is necessary. Alongside that, you need access to a text color fader! There's a few options out there, but I use:

Patorjik's Text Color Fader

Let's get to the tutorial!

Have the text you want to turn into a gradient ready and copy it to your clipboard.

2. Open the text color fader and paste your text into the box labeled "your message".

3. For the most basic gradients, you may ignore the boxes on the right. The leftmost boxes allow you to choose between preset colors or making your own colors.

Tip: if you are making a gradient for something such as art, I reccoment grabbing a few hex codes from the image to use for your gradient. This allows you to have control over your colors. You may also save a pallet if you want to use it again

4. When you are happy with your colors, generate your text.

5. You will be brought to this page. If you are happy with the colors, click "select all" and copy the HTML to your clipboard.

TIP: check your text against both a dark and light background to ensure it will be readable to viewers on dark and light mode. If it is not you can tweak the colors by choosing "create new fade".

6. Open Tumblr again and open your post. At the top right there is a grear icon. Click the icon and scroll down to the text editor. Change the setting from "rich text" to "HTML"

7. When you move to HTML, your post will look very different! In the HTML, your goal is to find the text you want to replace in the code.

TIP: If you can't find it, use "Ctrl + F" to open the keword search function and it will highlight your word.

8. Highlight your plain text, right click it, and paste your HTML from Patorjik into the space.

TIP: The HTML is a confusing mess to look at. Click the "preview" tab to check if your code worked

9. You should see a gradient when you swicth modes!

If the HTML broke your formatting, you can edit it in the preview mode. Once you have done a gradient a couple of times this process is very easy and takes LESS than two minutes. It looks intimidating but after you get the hang it is very achievable! I believe in you guys being able to do it. Happy gradient texting for you guys!

*EDIT: It is possible via mobile through the method of entering your account on a web browser and putting it on computer mode, then following the same process. Reportedly it is less comfortable but it works, thank you to chocokeyboard for letting me know!

#sent to snappy #asks #snappy speaks #web resources #tumblr resources #gradient text #tumblr tutorial #gradient text tutorial #loveee doing this for my posts it adds so much #if anyone DOES know if it can be done on mobile let me know! I will edit this post to include it #EDIT: mobile method found! to my knowledge not app compatable but if anyone knows how to do it via app let me know and I will include it!

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austinbutlerslovers · 2 months ago

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False Intruder

Label Mature 18+

Summary Hanks been on edge ever since he brought home a cat named Bud, and now you wonder just how safe you are when you’re both startled awake in the middle of the night

❤️‍🔥Passionate Smut ❤️‍🔥 Hank protective • savior mode • kiss it better • affectionate • adoring •fingering • don’t wake the neighbors • sex against a headboard • p in v • nipple play • clit play• simultaneous orgasms • creampie• aftercare 🔗 Masterlist

✨ Inspo recent Caught Stealing pics

False Intruder

Your apartment with Hank is a shared haven, the kind that feels alive with both of your most cherished belongings, each one decorating the place with the life you’ve built together.

The bedroom is bathed in the glow of the city skyline as New York hums outside, a distant blend of car horns and the low rumble of the subway passing by… but inside, it’s just you and Hank, wrapped in your own little world.

You slip under the cool sheets after a long day, the bed settling softly beneath you. You’re wearing one of Hank’s t-shirts, the fabric soft and worn, carrying the faint scent of him, and the tart detergent of the corner laundromat.

Lying back, you watch Hank through the partially open bathroom door, his movements slow and methodical as he pulls his black boxers on, sliding them up his thighs in a way that has you mesmerized, the waistband snapping against his hips.

He brings a dark gray tee over his head, the fabric stretching over his broad chest, and you catch a glimpse of the faint scars across his torso…remnants of trauma he never speaks about.

Hank’s been off lately, you can see it in the way he’s lost in thought after he clicks off the bathroom light, the usual easy charm of him undercut by a jittery edge.

Ever since he took in that scrappy cat Bud to watch for a neighbor, he’s been paranoid, glancing over his shoulder, triple-checking the door locks.

You don’t know if it’s the cat or something else, Hank’s not the type to spill his guts unless you pry, and even then, it’s like pulling teeth.

Bud climbs on the bed beside you his green eyes glinting in the dim light as Hank comes to sit on the edge. The cat proudly settles onto his lap, and Hank’s broad shoulders hunch as he scratches behind Bud’s ears, his calloused fingers gently moving in a way that makes you yearn for them.

“Love you, you little bastard,” he coddles, his voice low and warm as Bud purrs, a deep rumble that makes Hank’s lips quirk into a rare soft smile. “Yeah, yeah, you know it.”

You slide closer, resting your cheek against the pillow, watching them. “You gonna spoil that cat all night?” you jab, your voice playful and sleepy.

Hank glances at you, his blue eyes catching the city’s glow. “She’s getting jealous,” He whispers leaning down to press a kiss on Bud’s forehead and you can’t help but smile.

For a guy who’s built like he could break someone in half, Hank’s got a heart that sneaks up on you.

Bud stretches lazily and hops out of Hanks lap with a soft thud, padding across the hardwood floor with his tail flicking.

He curls up onto Hank’s worn green duffle bag in the corner and you let out a sigh of relief. That cat’s been a third wheel non stop, wedging between you and Hank like he owns the place.

Hank slides into bed beside you, the mattress dipping under his weight as he brings his bicep under your head. He’s warm, and solid, his body a furnace as he pulls you against him, pressing your back to his chest.

His other arm snakes around your waist, heavy and possessive as you feel the steady beat of his heart against your spine.

He buries his face in your neck, breathing you in and a low hum rises from his throat. “You smell so good,” he whispers, his lips brushing the sensitive spot behind your ear, grazing it in a way that makes you melt into him.

“Better than Bud?” you quip, and you can feel his smirk against your skin.

“Close call,” he says, and you lightly elbow him in the ribs, earning a playful grunt. He leans in closer pressing his lips to your neck kissing the curve soft and slow. “Mmm. Definitely you,” he confirms and, you smile as you give in to him, the city’s hum fading as you close your eyes.

His warmth, his scent, and the weight of his arm are enough to pull you under, and your breathing slows as you drift off to sleep together.

Hours later, a loud crash rips through the apartment, sharp and jarring. It barely registers, your mind sluggish, still tangled in sleep, until you feel Hank sit up his hand pressing your chest protectively.

“Stay here,“ he whispers, and you nod, your pulse hammering sensing the danger as he slides out of bed.

Hanks broad frame is tense as he heads to the corner near the bedroom door. His hand lowers down, fingers curling around the handle of his old baseball bat, the one he keeps propped against the wall ‘just in case.’

The wood is worn and smooth from years of use…some of it not so innocent, and he grips it tight, his knuckles whitening. With his other hand, he pushes open the door and you sit up in bed watching him step out into the darkness feeling the fear rising in your chest.

The apartment is deathly still, the kind of quiet that amplifies every creak, every distant siren and you clutch the sheets, your mind racing.

Was it a break-in? Is someone after him? You’ve seen the way he flinches at loud noises, the way his eyes dart to the door sometimes, like he’s expecting trouble.

You strain to hear anything, your ears ringing with the effort, but there’s nothing.

The weight of silence is suffocating making your heart pound harder until, a soft click—the living room light flicks on, a sliver of yellow spilling under the bedroom door. It clicks off just as quickly, and your breath catches as footsteps approach.

Hank steps back into the bedroom, his silhouette filling the doorway. The bat is loose in his hand, no longer poised to swing, and his shoulders are relaxed having lost their tension.

“Bud,” he says, his voice rough and tinged with exasperation. “Knocked over that damn lamp in the living room. Nearly gave me a heart attack.”

You let out a shaky sigh, relief flooding through you so fast it leaves you dizzy. “Hank,” you whisper, pressing a hand to your chest. “Hank, I thought…”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he says, setting the bat back in the corner, the wood clunking softly against the wall.

He turns, his eyes catching yours, and a slow grin spreads across his face. “You were worried about me,” he teases.

“Yes, always,” you admit, your voice still trembling from the remnants of fear. “Don’t act all smug about it.”

He grins, slow and warm, climbing onto the bed, the mattress dipping under his weight.

“You don’t gotta worry about me,” he says, his voice dropping to a husky murmur, the air between you shifting into a different kind of energy…the kind that comes from facing danger and coming out unscathed.

Your heart is still racing with adrenaline and the way his eyes darken, you know his is too.

He pulls the blankets back, reaching for your thighs, his hands rough as he drags you down to him. He brings your legs around his waist, his blonde hair falling loose from behind his ears, his blue eyes warm and affectionate as his full lips curve into a soft smile looking down at you.

“You mean so much to me,” he confesses, his voice heavy with desire, his gaze locking onto yours like you’re the only thing keeping him grounded in this world.

“I wouldn’t let anything happen to you,” he says, his hands gliding down your sides to your thighs, giving them a firm possessive squeeze that makes you ache for him, feeling the heat blooming deep in your core.

His hand slips beneath the hem of his t-shirt you’re wearing, and you sigh as his fingers slide into your panties, circling your clit, testing and teasing until you feel the hard press of his cock against your thigh, straining in his boxers.

“Fuck you’re so wet,” he whispers, his voice low and reverent as he slips his fingers inside you.

You gasp as they move slick and sure, stretching you with slow, deliberate thrusts, your hands clutching his forearms, fingers digging in as the pleasure begins to take over.

His piercing blue eyes stay locked on yours, his blonde hair falling messily across his face framing his handsome features as he watches you fall apart beneath him.

“Hank… yes,” you moan, your voice trailing off as he curls his fingers just right, hitting that perfect spot with devastating precision, thrusting harder as your moans rise, raw and desperate.

Your hips rock against his hand, chasing the rhythm he creates, fast and overwhelming, your breaths hitching with every slick, unrelenting stroke.

His focus is entirely on you, jaw clenched with determination, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels your walls start to flutter around his fingers, knowing you’re close.

“Come for me,” he pants, seeing you lost in pleasure and you moan, your voice breaking off as you climax.

He presses his thumb firmly against your clit, circling with unyielding pressure, and the sensation sends a jolt of heat surging through your core, pushing you toward release with dizzying speed.

You come hard, your walls clenching tight around his fingers as he coaxes you through it, his thrusts faster, feeling the slickness between your thighs.

“So fucking good for me,” he breathes, his voice full of awe as he finally slips his fingers away.

You shiver, but he’s already moving, guiding you up and turning you around.

“Hold the headboard,” he says, and you obey, your fingers curling around the cold metal as he kneels behind you, his hands sliding down your body, squeezing possessively.

“So fucking pretty like this,” he praises, his voice rough with want as pulls your panties down, the fabric skimming your thighs.

He lowers his boxers, and you feel the warm, blunt head of his cock glide along your slick folds, the sensation making you clench inside, your back arching to angle yourself better for him.

He lines himself up, his large hands gripping your hips, and he pushes in, slow and deep, filling you with a stretch that makes your clit throb as your walls squeeze tightly around his thick cock.

“Hank, fuck,” you cry out, a high-pitched moan escaping your lips as his thighs press hard against the backs of yours and his cock settles deep inside.

He pulls you against him, his chest warm against your back. “So perfect on me” he whispers, his lips finding your neck, kissing soft and slow, his mouth moving desperately, as if chasing away the fear still lingering inside of you.

He moves with purpose, holding you tight to him as he thrusts, paced and measured, his cock hitting so deep it steals your breath, and he groans in your ear, heightening your pleasure with every push of his hips.

“Feels so good,” he pants, and you moan your voice wrecked as he slides one hand to your breast, squeezing firmly as his fingers tease your nipple. His other hand moves to your jaw turning you to kiss him, his lips pressing harder against yours between every well timed thrust.

The city’s glow paints the room in shades of midnight blues and purples, casting shadows over his tight muscles flexing as he drives into you, each thrust pulling a desperate moan from your lips.

You don’t care that it’s the middle of the night, that the neighbors might hear, that Bud’s probably watching from his duffle bag with judgmental cat eyes.

There’s only Hank and the way he fills you, the way he makes the world narrow to just this moment with him.

“Need you so much,” he rasps against your ear, his voice rough with want, nearing the edge of release.

Your hands clutch the headboard tighter, your knuckles aching, your body arching to meet his thrusts. “Need you too,” you gasp, your voice trembling with need, urging him on.

He pulls you tighter against him, thrusting faster, deeper, harder, each stroke pushing you both closer, your bodies trembling on the brink.

He starts grunting, the adrenaline burning through you both as his thighs begin smacking against the backs of yours.

“I’m gonna come,” you moan, your voice breaking in to soft, helpless whimpers that drive him on.

“Fuck, come for me,” he whispers, hushed against your ear, his fingers finding your clit again, rubbing tight circles as your orgasm surges through you, your walls clenching on his cock as your moans pour out into the dark.

He groans your name as he follows, spilling into you, hot and thick, his cock pulsing as he buries himself deep.

You both try to catch your breath as he wraps his arms around you, keeping you close, your bodies heaving together, until your drained and sated and he slowly pulls out as you shiver from the loss.

You collapse together and he pulls your back against him, his arms wrapping around you, his chest heaving.

The city’s hum is back, a soft reminder of the world outside, but it feels distant and unimportant as Hank’s lips brush your shoulder, his breaths shallow and warm.

“I’m worried,” he says quietly, his voice barely above a whisper. It’s not like him to admit something like that, and the vulnerability in his tone makes your heart ache. “I just… I need to keep you safe.”

You turn in his arms, facing him, your fingers tracing the line of his jaw as his blue eyes search yours in the dim light, heavy with uncertainty.

“You do,” you say, your voice steady despite the ache in your chest. “We’re okay, Hank. Everything’s okay,” you reassure him, your words soft but firm.

He squeezes you tighter, pulling you against him like he’s trying to make himself believe your words, and as you rest your head against his chest, listening to the steady beat of his heart, you can’t help but wonder what Hanks been dragged into in the city that never sleeps.

END 🧢⚾️

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