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leveragehunters · 8 months ago

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CoPilot in MS Word

I opened Word yesterday to discover that it now contains CoPilot. It follows you as you type and if you have a personal Microsoft 365 account, you can't turn it off. You will be given 60 AI credits per month and you can't opt out of it.

The only way to banish it is to revert to an earlier version of Office. There is lot of conflicting information and overly complex guides out there, so I thought I'd share the simplest way I found.

How to revert back to an old version of Office that does not have CoPilot

This is fairly simple, thankfully, presuming everything is in the default locations. If not you'll need to adjust the below for where you have things saved.

Click the Windows Button and S to bring up the search box, then type cmd. It will bring up the command prompt as an option. Run it as an administrator.

Paste this into the box at the cursor: cd "\Program Files\Common Files\microsoft shared\ClickToRun"

Hit Enter

Then paste this into the box at the cursor: officec2rclient.exe /update user updatetoversion=16.0.17726.20160

Hit enter and wait while it downloads and installs.

VERY IMPORTANT. Once it's done, open Word, go to File, Account (bottom left), and you'll see a box on the right that says Microsoft 365 updates. Click the box and change the drop down to Disable Updates.

This will roll you back to build 17726.20160, from July 2024, which does not have CoPilot, and prevent it from being installed.

If you want a different build, you can see them all listed here. You will need to change the 17726.20160 at step 4 to whatever build number you want.

This is not a perfect fix, because while it removes CoPilot, it also stops you receiving security updates and bug fixes.

Switching from Office to LibreOffice

At this point, I'm giving up on Microsoft Office/Word. After trying a few different options, I've switched to LibreOffice.

You can download it here for free: https://www.libreoffice.org/

If you like the look of Word, these tutorials show you how to get that look:

www.howtogeek.com/788591/how-to-make-libreoffice-look-like-microsoft-office/

www.debugpoint.com/libreoffice-like-microsoft-office/

If you've been using Word for awhile, chances are you have a significant custom dictionary. You can add it to LibreOffice following these steps.

First, get your dictionary from Microsoft

Go to Manage your Microsoft 365 account: account.microsoft.com.

One you're logged in, scroll down to Privacy, click it and go to the Privacy dashboard.

Scroll down to Spelling and Text. Click into it and scroll past all the words to download your custom dictionary. It will save it as a CSV file.

Open the file you just downloaded and copy the words.

Open Notepad and paste in the words. Save it as a text file and give it a meaningful name (I went with FromWord).

Next, add it to LibreOffice

Open LibreOffice.

Go to Tools in the menu bar, then Options. It will open a new window.

Find Languages and Locales in the left menu, click it, then click on Writing aids.

You'll see User-defined dictionaries. Click New to the right of the box and give it a meaningful name (mine is FromWord).

Hit Apply, then Okay, then exit LibreOffice.

Open Windows Explorer and go to C:\Users\[YourUserName]\AppData\Roaming\LibreOffice\4\user\wordbook and you will see the new dictionary you created. (If you can't see the AppData folder, you will need to show hidden files by ticking the box in the View menu.)

Open it in Notepad by right clicking and choosing 'open with', then pick Notepad from the options.

Open the text file you created at step 5 in 'get your dictionary from Microsoft', copy the words and paste them into your new custom dictionary UNDER the dotted line.

Save and close.

Reopen LibreOffice. Go to Tools, Options, Languages and Locales, Writing aids and make sure the box next to the new dictionary is ticked.

If you use LIbreOffice on multiple machines, you'll need to do this for each machine.

Please note: this worked for me. If it doesn't work for you, check you've followed each step correctly, and try restarting your computer. If it still doesn't work, I can't provide tech support (sorry).

#fuck AI #fuck copilot #fuck Microsoft #Word #Microsoft Word #Libre Office #LibreOffice #fanfic #fic #enshittification #AI #copilot #microsoft copilot #writing #yesterday was a very frustrating day

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protectitdental · 2 years ago

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youtube

#How to Use an AED (Defibrillator) for Cardiac Emergencies Step-by-Step Tutorial | First Aid Training #Youtube

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drbharadwaz · 1 year ago

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youtube

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stellawish · 10 months ago

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swiss roll

summary: satoru trying to help his son to learn how to roll over genre: fluff, domestic life warnings: none dad!gojo x mom!reader

“Here we go, buddy.” Sitting on the floor in Haru’s nursery, Gojo gently laid his son on his belly. The baby started to wiggle his short legs while looking at the colorful animals printed on the mattress.

Satoru began to gently massage the baby’s small back. Using rubbing motions with his hands, he drew a line from the shoulders to the lower back. In response, Haru started babbling.

The contrast between your son's small back and Gojo's large hands looked comical. Watching this, you giggled.

As first-time parents, you are always learning and seeking new information, whether from books or various websites.

Recently, you caught Satoru watching a tutorial video. "Massage helps strengthen the back muscles and aids in digestion," said the woman in the video about helping your baby learn to roll over.

Satoru continued with the same gentle movements of his thumbs, drawing lines in opposite directions as he moved lower.

When he finished, he turned the baby onto his back and said in a mock-serious voice, "Now the real training begins. This time, don’t expect any mercy."

Your 4-month-old boy showed his gummy smile, and unable to resist, Satoru kissed his son’s round cheek.

Your husband took Haru's short legs and lifted them into the air, directing them towards his tummy. Then he lowered them down and repeated the movement again.

You were lying next to them on your side, resting your hand under your head and watching the scene with a broad smile. “By the way, Toru, Megumi texted me and said they’ve arrived.”

Megumi and his friends went to summer camp for a few weeks. When he first told you about this plan, both you and Gojo were surprised, as Megumi isn’t very social and prefers spending time alone.

So, his decision to attend summer camp delighted both of you. “I’m glad he’s opening up and coming out of his shell,” you said.

“They’re good kids,” Gojo added.

“There's a great spot nearby that sells some awesome strawberry Swiss rolls. I should get him to bring some home.”

You watches him simultaneously lifting the little boy by his arms and placing him in a sitting position. Satoru read somewhere that such activities strengthen the baby’s muscles and help them learn to roll over independently.

“There you go, little one.” As he turned Haru onto his back, Satoru tickled the baby’s neck, making him wiggle.

Next, your husband, carefully supporting the baby’s side, flipped him onto his tummy and then back onto his back, repeating the action once more.

For the last time, Gojo exaggeratedly sighed and, in a playful manner, said, “Good job, buddy. You did great.” He praised his son. “Now tell me, where did you get your athleticism from, hmm?”

You giggled. “You, my little Swiss roll.” Gojo tickled the baby’s belly and blew raspberries, causing Haru to wiggle and giggle.

Satoru decided to spare the baby and pulled away with a big smile. “Okay, now which book do you want to read today?”

He flipped Haru back onto his tummy and stood up while you gently stroked the baby’s back.

Gojo chose a book and lay down on the other side of Haru. He opened the first page and placed the colorful interactive book in front of his son, encouraging him to explore it.

You stretched your left arm out and accidentally pressed a toy, which squeaked “meow.”

This distracted Haru from the book, and he turned his head toward you. Unable to find the source of the sound, he tucked his right arm underneath himself and, lifting his plump left thigh, ended up on his back.

You and Gojo looked at each other in shock, questions in your eyes. “Did you see that?” your lips stretched into identical smiles. “Oh, my baby, what a good boy. Can you do that again, hmm?” You both began to shower your chubby little one with kisses, eliciting his laughter and making his cheeks rosy.

While you all cuddled together, praising your little one, you locked eyes with Satoru. Despite the genuine joy for your son’s first victory, you saw the reflection of your own thoughts in his eyes: Don’t grow up too fast, son.

more dad!gojo HERE

#jjk fluff #dad!gojo #gojo fluff #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #gojou satoru x reader #gojo x you #jjk gojo #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #gojo satoru fluff #divider by enchanthings

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nerdygirlramblings · 5 months ago

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omega!soldier gets their call sign and shows the base what a badass they are

The next two weeks are a blur of training. You feel like you're back in basic except instead of being with a class of rookies, it's you and one of the other members of the 141.

Ghost has you on the shooting range each morning working a number of different weapons. He starts you on the Glock 17, the SA80, and the L129A1, the three weapons you said you were proficient with. He grunts after each clip, pulling your targets before you get a good enough look at them. On the first morning your targets are set at 500 yards. By day three, he's pushed the targets past the end of the standard 1000 yard limit.

By the end of the week, Ghost has you on the L115A3 and the L7A2 GPMG. He offers a quick tutorial on how to shoot each new weapon before pointing you at the target down the range. Because they're new-to-you weapons, he gives you three days before pushing the distance. Day after day, the targets come off the line before you're allowed a good look at them.

Between the range and lunch, either Soap has you on the field or you're still with Ghost in the gym.

When Ghost has you in the gym, he starts you on the speed bag, counting hits until your arms shake, then he moves you to weights. You alternate between free weights and machines but hit every muscle group you knew and some you didn't. Just when you feel pushed to your limit, Ghost sets you up in the mat to grapple.

You begin with rookies, and Ghost comments on your form. "Y'll never take down a bigger target wi' tha' 'old," he says as you wrap your arms around your opponent's torso. Against another opponent, he barks a sharp, "No!" when you get low. "Ya start down there, y'll stay down there." When he pits you against a few alphas, he gives a similar warning to the one he'd heard you give all those weeks ago. "Wi' us, any 'and ta 'and is gonna be 'gainst a bigger target, a beta or an alpha, who's going to underestimate ya fer yer size and yer secondary gender." He teaches you new techniques for taking down bigger opponents. "Ya need ta get 'em flat on their back quick if ya wanna survive."

By the end of week two, you're up against Ghost himself, who warns you he won't go easy on you. He promises he won't hurt you too badly, but he makes sure there's a first aid kit nearby. You pull out everything he's taught you and everything you know and any dirty trick you can think of. It's several long minutes of defensive maneuvers and hits before you're able to, for the briefest moment, get Ghost on his back underneath you. You can tell from how his mask moves he's smiling. "Good. Now's when ya go fer the kill: kidneys, throat, groin." You don't hide the flicker of fear in your eyes quickly or mask the disgust in your scent fast enough because Ghost continues and tells you, "It doesn matter if ya've never taken a life before, ya have to be prepared to do it."

It's not cruel, but it is bluntly honest. Never before has it been so clear that your job is to serve Queen and country by honing yourself into a weapon.

If Soap has you on the training field, he's timing your runs. You know what the qualifying physical fitness is to join up, but the task force qualifications must be different because every time Soap clocks your 2K, he'll look at the stopwatch for a moment while you breathe and call out, "Again, but a might faster, yeah?" Or he'll start the beep test and see how many reps you get on pace. After the fifth round, you lose count of how you're doing.

When you're not running, you're putting the weight training to good use. Soap starts you with the 2kg ball on an unmarked field, at least from your perspective. You assume there's some sort of distance indicators where he stands, but he never tells you how far you've thrown anything. You watch divots of grass pop up farther and farther away before Soap switches you to the 3kg ball, then the requisite 4kg ball, then on to a 5kg ball. Each one pockmarks the field in front of you, Soap making notes each time.

He has you pull the fixed weight bar over and over, recording the force off a screen he won't let you see. He'll look at the force, then as you and say, "Brace more wi' your back. Let's have another go."

Sometimes he has you on the pull up bar, alternatively calling out either your time while you count or your counts as you watch the stopwatch he dangles from the end of his clipboard. Or he'll hang the stopwatch from his neck as he sits at your feet while you do situps, calling out each correctly formed situp and fixing you when your posture slips. He doesn't count them - or the pull ups where your chin doesn't clear the bar - as done.

You're grateful all the hard physical work happens before lunch. Ghost or Soap will give you just enough time to haul ass back to your bunk to get cleaned up for the meal. Like on the first official day, you usually sit quietly, listening, while clearing two or more servings of food.

After lunch, Gaz or Soap has you in a classroom. On day one, Gaz stands in front of you with a folder open in his hands. "Impressive A Levels," he says by way of greeting.

You pull up short. "How do you have my A Levels?"

Gaz smirks. "Ya signed Adam's forms, yeah? Gives us permission to pull all your data. And these scores are...somethin' else."

You look at the table in front of you. "I like to learn," you admit softly.

"That'll make our time together easier, then." He gestures to the table and its stacks of books. "Yer gonna get a crash course in as much as Soap an' I can cover."

They give you a crash course indeed. Nothing close to Phase 3 training, but you've been through 2A. They take that basic officer knowledge and increase the rigor of everything. Soap covers demolitions, infiltrations, and target elimination. Gaz tackles surveillance and covert ops. You can't match the 141's training in these crash courses, but you absorb more than you thought possible. By the second week, both Gaz and Soap are in the room with you, running simulations and recording your responses and decisions.

Two and a half weeks after officially joining the 141, you find yourself in front of Price's intimidating desk, made more imposing by his seat on the other side, ringed by the team. There's papers spread all over his desk. Clearly there's an order to it, there must be, but you can't fathom what it is. From your position, you see only a handful of familiar markings: targets from the shooting range, PT ranges dotted with dated peaks and valleys, the letterhead from your secondary school.

"Well," Price says, steepling his hands in front of him. He glances at his pack team behind him. "The lads have had quite a lot to say about you." The pause feels heavy, expectant, but you've learned to keep quiet when faced with such a conversational opening, especially from an alpha.

Price looks at the papers on his desk again. "Excellent weapons quals," he says, briefly pulling up one of your targets. "Apparently hit what Adam needed on day one."

You gape at Ghost. "But...I thought...you kept having me change weapons and moved the targets."

Ghost snickers. "Wan'ed ta see wha' ya could do."

Price continues, "Ghost also said you took him to the mat last week." Ghost nods, and you see the surprise cross Soap's face as Gaz cuts his eyes to the leftenant. "An' Soap says ya likely set some records with yer PT: beep test and 2k speed's impressive. Ya run?"

"Er, yessir. Between 5 and 10k a day, sir."

Price pauses in his perusal and looks at you directly. "S'tha so?" He waves a hand before you can respond. "Pull ups and push ups and the ball toss all well above quals."

You look at Soap over Price's shoulder. "You pushing me, too?" He grins sheepishly.

"Ye caught me."

"And the boys showed me how you reacted to the scenarios. Handled 'em like a seasoned operator," Price finishes, sitting forward, leaning his arms against the desk.

"Yer a real Renaissance soldier," he tells you. He chuckles to himself. "Maybe we should call ya Ren."

You don't know what to make of this. "Sir?" you ask.

"'m glad those other alphas were too pompous to see how amazin' ya are," Price says. *Ren, yer worth more 'en half the base. Them idiots didn' know wha' ya do wi' ya, but wi' us, yer gonna shine. If these reports are accurate," he looks at the team who are all nodding, "all ya need is a little more trainin' to be damn near perfect."

The gleam in his eye at the last statement borders on avaricious, but you write it off as his pride at getting you on his team.

series masterlist | main masterlist

#cod #poly!141 #poly!141 x reader #tf 141 #tf 141 x reader #omegaverse #omegaverse 141 #omegaverse tf 141 #a/b/o #a/b/o 141 #a/b/o tf 141 #john price #kyle garrick #johnny mactavish #simon riley #nerdygirl says #fierce wars and faithful loves

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esouliie · 6 months ago

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Christmas at the Romanoff’s

(natasha romanoff x reader) & (platonic!yelena belova x reader)

tags | christmas headcanon – friends to lovers, first kiss, fluff and comfort!

notes | hello, pls take this small headcanon as a thank you for reading and supporting all my fics even though i cannot keep up with demand lmao. i promise to do better in the new year. merry christmas! <3

It’s your first Christmas with Natasha, and you quickly discover that the Black Widow is… not exactly a holiday enthusiast. At least, not in the traditional sense. When you first arrived at the apartment she shares with her sister, you were greeted by Yelena’s unholy mix of holiday cheer and chaos. Mismatched ornaments hung precariously from a tree that was way too big for their living room, a plate of burnt cookies sat on the counter, and garish Christmas music blared at an almost concerning volume. Natasha, however, looked like she was about two seconds away from wrapping the excessive lights around her neck.

“I hate Christmas music,” Natasha mutters under her breath as you hang up your coat. Yelena’s halfway through yelling “All I Want for Christmas is You” with a Santa hat perched at an angle on her head. “She’s been doing this for weeks,” she adds, her voice low like it’s some covert confession. It takes you all but twenty minutes to realise that Natasha has a very complicated relationship with Christmas. She doesn’t hate it exactly—she just doesn’t really know what to do with it. With all the joy. When you try to hand her a burnt gingerbread cookie, she looks at it like it’s some kind of alien artifact. “Why would I eat a cookie shaped like a man?” She asks flatly, before breaking it in half like it personally offended her.

She then proceeded to argue how she’d be more likely to eat one of these ‘monstrosities’ if it was shaped like a woman…

But there are little moments where she tries, and it’s adorable in the most understated way. You catch her quietly fixing the crooked ornaments on the tree when she thinks no one’s looking, muttering under her breath about how “the reds need to go next to the greens.” One night, after Yelena goes to bed, you find Natasha scrolling through YouTube tutorials for how to wrap presents, muttering curses in Russian every time the tape sticks to her fingers.

And then there’s the stockings. Yelena insisted everyone have one, even though Natasha grumbled about it. But before you went to bed on Christmas Eve, you noticed that Natasha’s stocking was the most stuffed. There’s a random assortment of things crammed in there—protein bars, an extra pair of thick socks, a tiny first aid kit. You don’t have to ask to know that she filled her own stocking, long before Christmas Eve. The thought makes your heart ache in the sweetest, saddest way. She spent so many holidays alone that it just… became her normal.

Finally, it’s Christmas morning and Natasha is draped over the couch like a cat, one leg tucked under her, watching as you and Yelena clean up the mess from last night. She’s quiet, sipping a mug of tea, but you’ve learned by now that quiet Natasha doesn’t exactly mean unhappy Natasha. In fact, she looks content—eyes crinkling every time Yelena grumbles about your “lack of enthusiasm” in picking up all the decorative pillows.

What really steals the show, though, is the mountain of presents you’ve brought. You didn’t mean for it to get out of hand, but once you started, it was impossible to stop. You’d see something and think, Yelena would love this, or Natasha would smile at that, and next thing you knew, you were hauling six bags into their apartment like some sort of festive mule. When the gift exchange begins, Yelena dives into her pile like a kid on sugar overload. Her laughter is infectious as she opens each one: a set of retro pins for her jacket, a waffle maker, a framed picture of you and her after a mission (that one earns a rare hug). She’s glowing, grinning so wide it’s almost blinding. Natasha just sits there, watching her sister, her fingers loosely holding the edge of the blanket draped over her lap.

You notice she hasn’t opened her gifts yet—not even the ones with her name written in your careful handwriting. You nudge her gently, teasing, “what’s the matter, Romanoff? Afraid you’ll cry if I outdid you?” She gives you a half-smile, the kind that makes your chest ache a little because it’s soft in a way she rarely lets herself be. “Just... enjoying the show” She says, her gaze flicking back to Yelena, who is now holding up a pair of horrible light-up slippers you found at a charity shop.

When Natasha finally opens her gifts, it’s much slower, deliberate. You’re nervous, even though you know she’ll never let you see it if she doesn’t like something. But the small things you picked—a leather journal, a new cream scarf, a rare first edition of a spy novel she once mentioned—earn a quiet “thank you,” each one accompanied by that little smile. It’s the last gift, though, that gets you. It’s a snow globe. Inside, there’s a tiny replica of a mountain standing tall in the heart of Russia, the one Natasha had mentioned missing when she told you about her childhood. The one she only saw once and yet managed to comfort her throughout her life. Her fingers tighten around it, and for a moment, her expression shifts—just enough for you to catch it. Sadness, maybe, or longing.

She doesn’t say much after that. But when you look at her later, as Yelena’s dancing around in her ridiculous slippers and yelling about how she’s making everyone waffles tomorrow morning, Natasha’s looking at you like maybe you’re the best gift she’s ever gotten. And maybe she wouldn’t mind Christmas each year if you were around.

Later that night, you find her in the kitchen with a mug of hot chocolate she swore she didn’t want. The two of you stand there in the soft glow of the tree lights, listening to Yelena snore on the couch. “I don’t really get Christmas.” She admits softly, her voice barely audible over the crackle of the fake fireplace video Yelena left running on the TV. “But… I think this year was nice.” And when she looks at you, the faintest hint of a smile tugging at her lips, you know she means it.

Without thinking, you step closer, reaching out to brush a stray curl from her face. “It’s more than nice. I’m so happy.”

And that’s when you hear it—a distant jingle. You glance up, realising Natasha’s holding a tiny branch of mistletoe above your heads, her expression smug but her cheeks just the faintest flush of pink. “Well, would you look at that…” You murmur, before giggling at her antics. She leans in slowly, her breath warm against your skin. The kiss starts soft, hesitant, like she’s testing the waters. But when you cradle her face in your hands, she melts into it, kissing you deeper, with a tenderness that leaves you breathless.

And when you finally pull back, her forehead resting against yours, she exhales a quiet laugh. “Okay,” she admits, her voice barely above a whisper, “maybe Christmas isn’t that bad.”

From the living room, Yelena’s snore breaks the silence—loud and obnoxious. Natasha groans, but you can see the affection in her expression when she shakes her head. “Don’t tell her I said that.” She adds, smirking. And just like that, the moment is gone, replaced by the familiar warmth of Natasha’s dry humor.

But later, when you catch her adding an extra blanket over Yelena on the couch, you realise that maybe, Natasha likes Christmas more than she’d like to admit. And maybe this Christmas might bring more than just holiday cheer.

#my fics! ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱₊˚⊹#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x you #yelena belova x reader

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rottenspawn · 1 month ago

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Heyaaa!! can i request hcs about blocktales characters, it could be anyone! :DD

I'm so deprived of blocktales content... i need to consume more... 🥀

R4NDOM BLOCKTALES HCS!

warning;this is a mix of multiple characters and is purely silly

—Greifer has a stack of witch brew in his room stashed somewhere

—Blue & Red has beaten up atleast 30 adults in a span of two weeks

—Cruel King has arthritis

—H4TRED gets tomato’s thrown at it

—Kyoko has a box full of pics of the player

—Tutorial Terry has committed grave crimes that he WILL do again

—Kitchen Wizard crashes out every time they see us

—Greifer never cleans his room and it smells like radioactive WASTE

—Noobador one time broke his back playing ball

—Tutorial Terry has a nuke in his house

—Hatred eats food by smelling it

—Cruel King is the type of person to write the most GUT-WRENCHING BEAUTIFUL letters

—Greifer had a Gacha phase

—Shedletsky kept the cane after recovery

—Kyoko has an entire room dedicated to first aid in her hometown

—The player is banned from multiple areas

—The player has committed arson once and will do it once again in the future

#block tales #noobador #tutorial terry #greifer #griefer block tales #player block tales #headcanons #goofy bullshit #Silly #cruel king #blue and red blocktales #I hate that loser named greifer #hatred block tales #block tales cruel king #kyoko block tales #kyoko

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stickdoodlefriend · 1 month ago

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What I think each Batfamily member eats in a day:

Bruce: anything Alfred prepares. Something super dense in protein and fats that follows his detailed nutrition plan to support his vigilante activities. Taste is secondary. He burnt off his tastebuds years ago during a training exercise.

Jason: Diners or takeout. Balances it with a fruit. He knows the best places in Gotham where it's cheap and filling where he can eat his weight's worth of food and no one is glancing at his laptop where he is definitely NOT orchestrating any illegal activities. He does know how to cook a few basic things like eggs but he's got things to do and he'll cook when he has peace. Except. It's him so he doesn't do peace. Now if you throw him in the tundra or a difficult terrain? He'll be able to find something and grill it to cook it properly but otherwise, he's not going to bother.

Tim: he lives in a houseboat. He never considered the kitchen in his renovation and now the stove got replaced with a Bunsen burner to test samples he found on a crime site so he has no place to cook anymore. The cupboards are just makeshift armory and have like first aid kits, menus for takeout even though the delivery driver has sworn not to waddle in the middle of the marina with Tim's noisy neighbors and Tim's sketchy house that just looks slightly off to a civilian but Tim tips well so what can the poor lad do. There's only one cupboard dedicated to food and it's Zesti cans, Dick's nutrition drinks because Dick swears by them, and dog treats for strays and to bribe Titus. I don't think he ever learnt how to cook but he will figure it out if ever ends up in that situation where he needs to.

Stephanie: ramen with veggies and eggs thrown in for nutrition, Mac and cheese, anything basic with a skillet. She had to take care of herself when Crystal couldn't and her father didn't. She is highly self sufficient so she learns by watching Barbara or any YouTube tutorials for nutrition packed foods that taste good and are easy to make.

Cass: a pan to her is better as weapon to take down a mob. Food though is a rare indulgence she gets to keep so she goes to different places to try out different dishes. She doesn't cook but she likes to watch Steph hum while she's cooking and her body sways-dances contentedly to 90s punk rock.

Dick: whenever he gets time, he meal preps the quickest meals ever. Stuffs everything he made in the freezer for like three-six months if not longer because he'll forget. Is it probably expired? Maybe, but his stomach has withstood much worse. He'll have a bunch of nutrition bars and those meal replacement nutrition drinks stocked. He's used to cooking in bulk and the lesson in cooking is: if it tastes bad, you aren't adding enough herbs and spices. Luckily for him, he can store dried herbs and spices in airtight containers and use them for months.

Duke: home cooked meals with food that ISN'T seasoned by a former MI6 British butler. These are family meals made with love and care. He is living his life.

Damian: when he first came to Gotham, he ate whatever Alfred made though he did complain like a fussy kid. He still eats everything and values the high nutrition density but he will sneak in extra pepper and salt and make requests occasionally for halwa to sate his sweet tooth.

Barbara: no one taught her how to cook and she and her father ate takeout while he went through his case files and she listened on the police scanner and called in the tip lines to help solve cases pre-batgirl. She learnt how to cook during college because surviving on a diet of just pizza and ramen wasn't sustainable as Batgirl and she values being able to do things for herself. After becoming Oracle, she pushed harder to learn how to cook very well but even if she knows how to cook now, she is still bad at avoiding takeout (if she's not forgetting meals in favor of working that is).

#dc #batman #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #Stephanie brown #barbara gordon #duke thomas #cass cain #robin meta #these are silly little headcanons

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ohmtoff · 1 year ago

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Ride Me

Nick Sturniolo x Male Reader Smut

Contains: Anal sex, top!reader, bottom!nick, fingering, rimming, riding, overstimulation (?)

Word count: 2,112 words

Disclaimer: minors dni. will contain grammar mistakes, english is not my first language. this is FICTION, not a tutorial for gay sex.

Both of you stumble into his bedroom, attached at the lips, your hands tucked into Nick’s back pockets and him clinging onto your biceps to keep upright. You manage to guide you both to his bed without having to disconnect your lips. You thank god internally that the both of you didn’t bump or trip into anything.

It takes you both about two seconds to get each other’s clothes off as soon as you made it onto the bed. You eagerly reached into his bedside drawer for lube and a condom, looking to Nick in question, and waiting for his nod of approval. You kiss down Nick’s chest and licks over his nipples while flicking open the lube, causing him to let out a weak breathy moan.

Your mouth travels down to his hipbone and he bucks up to the sensitivity of the area, but he whines and presses you to stop teasing. You chuckle at his display of desperateness, so you waste no time in pressing a wet finger in, already warm, watching the way he throws his head back as his toes curl in pleasure.

You start out slow, you just let the tips of your fingers sink in, until he is begging for more. You twist your wrist and screws your fingers in hard, right up to the knuckle, relentless, making him gasp and moan. “Ohhhh fuck,” he sounds so sweet you desperately need to taste him.

“You okay?” and pull your fingers out.

“Yeah,” Nick pants, lifting his head up. You pull his legs farther apart, lifting him up halfway and draping his long legs over your shoulders. “Are you gonna–” Nick’s words get cut off on a mewl as you spread him open and prod your tongue inside. You slide a finger back inside of him as well, beside your tongue, and then add another, stretching him wide open. Nick thrashes in your grasp, gasping and arching his back as you finger and tongue-fuck him at the same time.

“Oh fuck, fuck, fuck,” he sounds like he’s going to cry, beautiful face flushed red. He looks absolutely gorgeous with his head thrown back against the sheets, hair forming a halo around his angelic face, thighs wrapped around your head.

You back up to give yourself more room, scissoring Nick open now with two fingers with the aid of your tongue. You wish you could actually look at him while eating him out. Nick with his fluffy hair in disarray, blue eyes hazy in pleasure, puffy bitten lips, fisting your hair in his hands as he moans, looking like something right out of a porno. Classy, quality porno.

Your dick is rock hard that it’s painful. You pull your fingers out again, moving up Nick’s flushed body, licking from his stomach to one of his taut nipples. You take one into your mouth, sucking on the puckered nub, and pinches at the other one with his thumb and index finger, wet from lube. You give the nipple in your mouth a tiny nip, dragging your mouth away and up to speak into his ear, “You’re ready?”

He nods right away, pushing you back to get you off from on top of him, “Wanna ride you.”

You had to swallow the moan from just imagining it as you settle against the pillows, half sitting up.

Nick climbs onto your lap and you go to grab the condom but he beats you to it. He rips it open and wastes no time in rolling it on you. A few squeezes of lube was poured onto your cock and he stroked you slowly and twisting both his fists around you to even the lube throughout the length, making you close your eyes and let out a breathy moan. He scoots forward so that your cock is nudging right at his hole, then he takes a deep breath before he starts sinking down, slowly.

You swear you come this close to actually blacking out from how tight he is. It’s so fucking good.

“Fuck,” Nick hisses, once he’s about halfway down. “You’re so big. Feels fucking amazing.” Then he drops his full weight onto your lap, pushing down on your cock so he’s seated properly, trembling and gasping. His hands are clutching the headboard, then your shoulders, then he drags his nails down your chest till you fuck up into him on instinct. You draw him in close, until you’re both cheek to cheek, the brunette is panting into your ear, still working his hips in little fits and starts, clenching and unclenching.

“Feels good?” you make sure.

“So good,” Nick answers, between dropping hot, open-mouthed kisses on your jaw. “Baby, baby, fuck.”

Nick buries his face in your neck, starting to ride you so hard he’s already out of breath, heart pounding against your chest. You flit your hands over his back and ass and pulls on his hair, sweaty and soft. You get a grip in those locks and yank Nick’s head back so you can see his face, his red cheeks, hazy blue eyes and slack mouth.

And then he is pulling off of your cock, out of nowhere. You grunt in confusion, so he presses a sloppy kiss to the corner of your mouth before pulling at you until you get the message and move down the bed, so you’re lying flat on the mattress and he is hovering over you, his dark brown hair falling into his eyes.

He sinks back down on your cock and mumbles into your skin, “Like– this, please?” He’s breathless, his words getting cut off by gasps as he draws figure eight’s with his hips.

He leans forward until he’s braced with his elbows on either side of you, churning his hips on your cock, grinding down and squeezing rhythmically, blowing your fucking mind. He’s moving back and forward on your cock so hard that the entire bed is squeaking and slamming hard against the wall on each churn of his hips.

He sits back up and scrapes his nails down your chest as he bounces on your cock. He slams his body down, over and over, the sound echoing around the bedroom. His necklace is bouncing against his chest as he rides your cock, his breath quickening more and more.

“Fuck,“ you said, hands sliding up and down his sweaty back, as he clenches around your cock particularly hard. "Christ, you’re so fucking good at this.”

Nick whimpers, moves his head down to nudge at your cheek until you get the hint and presses your mouths together. “You feel so good. So good,” he pants.

Then Nick starts clenching around your cock on each drop down, making you feel like your dick is going to fucking explode from how gloriously hot, wet and tight he feels around you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you pant, moving your hand along the curve of the brunette’s waist. “Just like that, fuck.”

Nick clenches even harder, making you inhale sharply and grip at his hips. “Are you close?” Nick asks.

“Yeah, fuck,” you pant out. “Are you?”

“Ye-yes,” he stutters, hands coming to rest on your shoulders, mewling as your cock hits his prostate.

You squeeze Nick’s hips, fucking back into him and meeting him with a thrust every time he drops down. His eyes flutter shut as he lifts himself up, rotating his hips before dropping back down. His hair is all over his face, and his lips are rosy red from where he’s been biting at them trying to keep quiet. A very futile attempt when his moans just keeps getting higher in pitch every time he feels a wave of pleasure from your dick hitting his prostate.

“C’mon, baby,” you take a deep breath, dig your hands in and helps Nick along. “Want you to come on my cock.”

He moans, spreads his thighs as much as he can as he picks back up his fast and hard pace where he had slowed down a bit. He’s got sweat beginning to drip down his chest, and you can’t help but lift your head and lick across the skin. Nick’s rhythm stutters, and you move your head down to suck a nipple into his mouth.

“Baby,” Nick gasps out, grinds down into your lap while you guide him back and forth. “I’m gonna come.”

“Yeah?” you pant, lowering your head to the pillow. Nick nods frantically and his bounces are getting messy and he’s losing his rhythm, clenching and unclenching around your cock at odd times and you are going to fucking die if you don’t get to come soon. You drag your hand from his nipple down to his dick and stroked, “Come on, babe, come for me.”

Nick moans loud enough that you are positive his brothers heard him, and then he’s coming between you and him, crying out and frantically bouncing on you, riding out his orgasm.

“So good, fuck, Nick,” you grunt, planting your feet on the bed to fuck up into the tight, clenching heat of Nick’s body.

Nick goes with it, lets you keep him in place by keeping a firm hold on his hips, frantically fucking into his oversensitive body slowly coming down from his own orgasm.

“Fuck,” you groan moving your head to suck a mark into the skin of Nick’s jaw.

He tilts his head, gives you better access as your cock moves inside him, “Come on, fuck me hard,” he encourages.

“Shit, Nick,” your legs are shaking with exertion as you try to fasten the pace. It seems as if now that Nick’s come, he wants you to do all the work, has stopped moving on your cock. It’s when he squeezes around you one more time and snaps his hips forward that you come, letting out a loud groan. Nick kisses you and you bite into his lip hard as you rabbit your hips, your upper body curling inwards as you pump up into the beautiful boy on your lap, working through your orgasm, his tight body milking you dry.

You both catch your breaths after you’re done. His eyes are closed and his body goes pliant, clearly ready to shut down.

“Let me clean you up, baby,” you whisper in his ear, and he nods with his eyes still closed. You press a kiss to his forehead then you turn both of you around so Nick is laying on his back as you pull out, making him hiss slightly from oversensitivity.

You try to go to the toilet to take off the condom and get a rag to clean yourself and him with, but Nick is whiny and extra clingy after sex so he makes puppy eyes and you almost gave in but the cum on your stomach is tacky and will definitely be gross in the morning if not cleaned.

“Ugh, fine,” he gives up and you chuckle. You can’t believe the sassy and grumpy Nick who can and will fight anyone can become putty and sweet for you.

***

The next morning, you wake up first with your arms around the other boy’s waist, his back warm on your chest. You squint around to find your phone and see that it’s already half past 11. You also got a message from Matt.

Matt

Yo, you and nick want some mac and cheese? Me and chris made some

You wrapped your hands back to your boyfriend’s waist and try to softly wake him up. “Babe?” Nick hums to answer.

“Matt and Chris just made some lunch, you wanna go down to eat?” Nick burrows his face further into the pillow, “I’m hungry but I don’t think I can move.”

You chuckle, “You big baby, fine I’ll go down to take it.” You stood up to put on your underwear on the floor and sweatpants that you took from Nick’s closet.

As you arrive at the kitchen, you meet both Chris and Matt sitting down and munching on their cooking. “Hey guys,” you greeted them while taking two bowls from the drawer to scoop up some of the Mac and Cheese.

“Suuuup,” Chris answers back, with a smug grin on his face. “Nice tattoos on your chest.”

You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion before looking down to see the red marks on your chest. Both Matt and Chris laugh at how your face turns beet red as you realize that you basically just showed them evidence of last night’s session.

“Shit, sorry guys,” you said while laughing. Matt replies, “It’s fine, man, but tell your boyfriend to quiet down next time, Jesus, he sounded like he was dying.” I mean, he did go to heaven.

Chris let out a boisterous laugh at that, “Man, even I heard it from downstairs.”

You finished scooping the delicious smelling dish into the two bowls and turned towards them with one bowl in each hand, shrugging your shoulders and replying, “Well, guess my dick’s just that good.”

You can still hear their explosive laughter as you walk back upstairs.

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