#my computer seems broken | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

fairyysoup · 3 months

Text

easy living

pairing: eric (a quiet place: day one) x fem!reader

summary: You ran into Eric on accident. Now you're facing the end of the world together. How do you get to know someone when you can't make a sound?

tags: smut, oral (f receiving), dry humping, piv sex, silent fucking, angst, hurt/comfort, survival, discussions of trauma, slight suicidal ideation by reader, words of affirmation as a love language, stay silent or die (obviously), strangers to lovers, apocalyptic, the cheesiest ending bc it's me writing, billie holiday lyrics bc it's also me writing

a/n: here it is, the silent fucking fic i promised y'all a year ago when this movie was announced. it was supposed to be like 1-2k words of plain smut but then I got too into the theory of what one does when you can't show affection through words and I genuinely discovered a tidbit of trauma I didn't know I had while writing it so I will be talking to a therapist about it, and also I'm literally out here baring my soul lol.

i also want to thank @bigtiddythanos @raraeavesmoriendi and @maximoffwxnda for supporting me throughout this writing process <3 this fic literally would not have been finished or published without y'all

ALL MY WORKS ARE 18+ MINORS DNI

The rain has ended. Morose, you stare up at the ceiling, wondering when you’ll get something close to free reign with your voice again.

Of course the world had to end while you were at fucking Whole Foods.

You’ll miss certain things. Things you always took for granted, that you never even considered made a lot of noise until now. Typing on the computer. Making stir fry. Microwaving a burrito at 3am. Lighting a match, washing your face. Taking a shower.

And other things, too, that are more obvious, like singing while making cookies. Slurping the bottom of a milkshake. You’ll never be able to have a pet bird. You’ll never be able to see another concert again, and damn it if you didn’t really want those Glastonbury tickets a month ago. But it all just seems trivial, now. You don’t see why you shouldn’t just lay here on the couch forever.

On the other side of the coffee table there’s a gentle shuffling. Eric rouses as quietly as he can; at the very least, your apartment creates a hospitable enough environment that he isn’t startled awake. It’s so silent in the apartment that you can hear the slight shift in his intake of breath, the rustle of the pillow as he turns his head to look at you.

You want to look at him, but you fear that you’ll end up wanting to talk. So, you say nothing. You do nothing. You stare at the white paint on the ceiling and you wonder whether it would be better to get on one of the boats headed out into the water, or to move inland, away from people, away from sound. There has to be somewhere far enough away from the city that the… creatures won’t go, right?

Eric waves his hand in your periphery, so that you have no choice but to acknowledge that you know he’s awake. You have no choice but to turn your head and look into the depths of his eyes, and feel all the pain of the last 48 hours return to you. You’d been able to talk last night, just enough, in time with the rain and the thunder– enough to learn that he has family across the world.

You can’t imagine knowing that somewhere, across an ocean and half a world away, your parents may or may not be dead. No way to contact them, no way to know what’s become of them. You can’t even begin to fathom the fear that he’s feeling, as much as you’re despairing.

Eric’s big eyes tell you everything. Sadness and fear, and trying to grasp at the smallest hint of normalcy he can get. He blinks at you, and mouths, You okay?

No, you’re definitely not okay. Things are not okay. Things are broken and can’t be fixed. Things will never be the same again. He knows that, as much as you know that. But you nod anyway, even though you feel your heart beat a little bit slower than usual, like it wants to just go ahead and give up already. Tears prick at your eyes, and you have to close them before you let on that you’re lying.

Eric knows you’re lying, of course. How could anyone be okay, in this kind of situation? But he waits until you open your eyes, and then he mouths, Coffee?

You let out a small sigh of relief, and a smile that’s indescribably warm crosses your face. Even though he can’t make a sound, he knows exactly what to say.

You don’t have a coffee maker that doesn’t also make a ton of noise. But through some kind of witchcraft, Eric quietly empties two k-cups into a glass measuring cup and boils a soup pot full of water on the stove, and suddenly you have hot coffee in front of you.

On a notepad left on the counter, you write, Wish I had some tea for you.

Eric’s lips turn up at the edges, and he takes the pen from you. You’re able to doctor your coffee for about one second before he slides the notepad back to you.

Bloody American.

Your ensuing huff of a laugh is enough to make him turn pink around the ears, and he turns to place the dirty measuring cup into the sink. He reaches for the faucet, but then thinks better of it. You’ll have to figure out how to wash the dishes later.

You both drink your coffee in silence on the couch. You never considered yourself uncomfortable with silence; you’ve lived alone, you’ve gone for weeks without uttering a word before. But it’s so difficult to be sitting next to someone– someone you feel you could really get to like– and not be able to say a word. To make a sound, laugh or cry or snort or grunt.

You’ll never be able to know what Eric’s laugh sounds like, or listen to his favorite song with him, or watch some stupid rerun of Friends with him while ignoring your responsibilities. He’s right there next to you, he’s risked his life to save you once already, and yet he’s so far away. You’ll never get to know him in all the ways you want to. Will you ever really know him at all?

He’d created a diversion when one of the fucking things had you trapped in a corner, between a dumpster and a brick wall. He chucked a rock at a car and set off an alarm, and then ran with you down an alleyway, his arm wrapped tight around your waist. Eric looked so sad, following you like a lost puppy. He was fucking drenched, too, so you know he’d probably been through one hell of a morning. And then the rain started, and the creatures were confused and… well, you weren’t just gonna leave him, scared and alone.

You, too, were scared and alone.

Eric’s hand appears to brush away a tear that had begun to fall down your cheek, betraying your internal monologue. You look to him with puffy eyes, and he pulls his hand away, suddenly unsure of whether you’re okay with such an intimate gesture.

Your coffee cup meets the table with a quiet tap. You’re slow to move, but you scoot towards him, his arm still outstretched towards you, his eyes wide. Eric has the prettiest eyes in the world, you think. You want to tell him so.

But you’re a little too choked up to form words, anyways. Your forehead meets Eric’s shoulder, and his arm comes around you before you can huff the first silent sob that brims up. He coos softly into your hair, so softly that you can barely hear it, but it conveys enough. It does enough.

The world is fucked. Your life is fucked. You have tunnel vision and you can only see things getting worse from here on; the only good thing you know anymore is holding you and caressing your head so gently that it pushes your tears out for you.

You’ll never get to see a movie in a theater, and smell the stale popcorn again. You’ll never drive down the highway with the wind in your hair. You’ll never ride a roller coaster or sing karaoke. You’ll never go to a club and have a drunken heart to heart with a stranger in a bathroom.

“Do you think it’s worth it?” You whisper, so faintly that it’s barely above a breath, your lips pressed to the shell of his ear. “To try to exist in a world where you have to pretend like you don’t exist?”

Eric pauses, holding you to him. You can see the wheels turning in his head, while he tries to figure out what to say. Then he turns his face to put his lips against your ear, the same way you’d done to him.

“I think it’s worth it to try to survive.” His breath tickles your skin when he whispers, “So survive with me, yeah?”

You nod solemnly, your tears threatening to rise up again. “I can’t stand not talking to you.” It’s so hard to keep your voice from cracking, from rising above the merest hint of a whisper, directly to him and no one or nothing else.

Eric takes it in stride. “You are talking to me.” He pulls back and bats his eyelashes, and you think, he oughta fucking know what that does to me.

“Not like this,” you breathe to him, because that’s really what it is– it’s a breath. A sigh. A gust of air and nothing else, barely anything that registers on your vocal chords. Your hand on the back of his neck, pulling him close to you. His hand, tightening on the middle of your back, holding you there. “I want to talk– I want to get to know you.”

“Well, this isn’t so bad, is it?” Eric turns his head. His forehead nudges yours at the temple, and you swear you see a flash of a smile on his face. “What do you want to know?”

His forefinger traces up and down, up and down, a gentle pattern that keeps you grounded. You bite your lip, trying to keep from letting the sounds come out too loud. You say the first thing that comes to mind. “What’s your favorite song?”

“Easy Living. Billie Holiday.”

“You’re kidding.” You’re blushing, hot in the cheeks. You’re imagining it; slow dancing in the kitchen with him while oldies plays on the radio. You didn’t think such an innocent question would send you spiraling like this, but it hurts worse to know that it will probably never happen.

“Absolutely not.”

“Somehow… I can’t picture you listening to jazz.”

“Picture it all you want,” he whispers. Eric swallows, and continues, “My granddad used to have these records, and we used to play them on Christmas. But when– when he died, the records went missing. I couldn’t find the song until a couple years ago,” he explains, and his voice cracks just slightly into a murmur.

You both freeze. You wait for the sound of creatures coming down the hallway, busting down the walls… nothing happens. You let out a breath, and you pull his face closer to yours. His eyes flick over your face, and you put your lips against his ear.

“You have to be so quiet. Can you do that for me?” Eric nods in your hands. “I wish we could do anything but this. I wish that we could have met in better circumstances. I wish… I wish I had known you before all of this. I think we would have had a lot of fun. But if this is the only way I can get to know you, and hear your voice now, I’ll take it.” You’re nodding as well now, like you’re trying to convince yourself of it. “I’m telling you this because I don’t know how long we have. Together, I mean. And I don’t want to waste it passing notes. Okay?”

“Okay.” He sounds clipped. His hand fidgets on your back, and you pull away to find him misty-eyed, his brows turned up. He fishes for words that don’t come, and then he nods. “Okay.”

Neither of you move. The atmosphere around you feels heavy, like it’s pressing in on all sides. Eric’s hand slides up your back and to your face, and you remember that you’re still holding his. You’re near sitting in his lap with how close you’ve become, and the realization of that feels like a punch to the gut.

You think you should pull away. You don’t.

Eric’s thumb traces a gentle arc across your bottom lip. It’s so featherlight it’s barely there– his eyes are honed in on your mouth, clearly lost in thought. You’d let him stay there as long as he wants, but you want every minute you can get. “Eric–”

He closes the gap and kisses you. The way you’d said his name– or not said it, rather, you sort of mouthed it against his thumb– had done the job you wanted it to. It feels like this was the obvious conclusion to the system you’d worked out, the close proximity and your shared fears. He’s scared, he said as much last night. You’re scared, you said so just now.

Nowhere to go, nothing else to do except be right here, living. Alive, together. Kissing Eric, and him pulling you close by the waist, so that you do swing your leg and seat yourself in his lap. And as much as you love talking, and it breaks your heart that you can’t jabber at him, there are some things you just can’t put into words. Like the way that his hand on the back of your neck lights you up inside, or that you can’t think of anything other than all the areas where his skin is touching yours, and how you suddenly wish there was way more of them.

It’s stupid how much you like him already, really. You can feel your nonexistent friends clucking their tongues and shaking their heads, saying, “One day? That’s all it takes? You find some guy at the end of the world and you fall in love in 24 hours?” And they’d be right– maybe it’s not love. Not yet, anyways. But you could see it easily becoming that. And that fact scares you even more.

Your hands find Eric’s chest and the frantic beating of his heart tells you nearly the same thing. You break the kiss, trying to quietly catch your breath without gasping like you’re half-drowning. It’s harder than you expected.

“Been wanting to do that all morning,” Eric whispers. And just like that you’re falling again, faster this time, like he’s just melted your wings right off and sent you plummeting.

You struggle to keep from gasping aloud when he kisses your jaw, just beneath your ear. It’s the lightest touch but you swear it burns, sears your skin.

Your hands find the back of the couch, twitchy fingers digging in to keep you steady. Your mouth finds his again, his tongue tasting of coffee, and Eric kisses you a bit harder now, a bit sloppier.

Breaking away, you open your eyes to find his wide, starstruck, his mouth hanging open like he’s been shocked beyond belief. You didn’t honestly intend for this to happen– you wanted to talk. But somehow this seems better, more appropriate.

How do you get your feelings across when talking isn’t really an option? When innocent attraction becomes… whatever this is?

You press a single finger to his plush lips, signaling exactly what you mean without a word. Quiet.

Eric purses his lips, kisses your finger without breaking eye contact. His pupils are blown out so far that the barest hint of golden brown surrounds them, glinting in the sunlight from the window.

You lean forward, until your mouth touches his ear. “Your eyes are so fucking pretty, Eric,” you whisper to him, and your teeth latch onto his earlobe to tug gently. You can’t help it– you grind your hips down into his lap, without even thinking of doing it. “You’re so pretty.”

Eric whimpers. It’s a soft sound, hollow in the back of his throat, but it’s still too loud for the world that you’re in. You clamp your hand down over his mouth, and his breath comes out sharp and hot over your knuckles as he tries to regain composure.

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask him, whispering gently in his ear. Against you, he shakes his head no. “Want me to keep going?” Eric nods his head yes.

He’s shaking under you, his fingertips digging into your lower back like he can’t hold onto you hard enough. At the thought, your pulse pounds, blood positively humming through your veins.

You nuzzle his cheek, and give him the sweetest kiss you can while your hand is still clamped over his mouth insistently. “You have to be. Fucking. Silent. Do you understand?” He nods. “We can’t make a sound. Okay?”

Eric nods again, and keeps nodding until you let him go. If the rain was still pouring like earlier, you could tell him how much you want him, too. How you don’t want to be mean, you just don’t want to get hurt. This is a bad idea, all things considered. But Eric slides his hand down and cups your ass to lift you up a bit, and the words bad and idea suddenly fucking vanish from your vocabulary.

You stand long enough to kick off your sweats, your day old panties going down with them. You hadn’t dressed to be sexy yesterday, you dressed to get groceries. You don’t necessarily want Eric to see your faded cotton underwear with the stretched out elastic and multiple frayed holes. You don’t think it would add to your sex appeal right now.

He doesn’t notice the lack of a strip tease– he’s already taking you by the hips, not even waiting for you to shuck your t-shirt. He pulls until you’re stood in front of him, and then hooks your leg over his shoulder.

So. Eric doesn’t need to be asked to go down on you, he just does. The gentleman. His hands are firm on your ass as he nuzzles into the patch of hair between your legs, and the precarious balancing act makes you snatch onto the back of the couch again.

His tongue glides through the folds of your pussy slowly, methodically. You aren’t sure if he wants to take his time, or if he’s going slow so that he doesn’t make too much noise when doing it, but he latches onto your clit and sucks agonizingly softly, like he knows he should do it harder but won’t risk making you moan.

It’s so gentle, and it builds. Pretty soon, you’re having a tough time keeping your whimpers in, even when he’s basically just teasing you, flicking his tongue over your clit with even the barest pressure. Your head has fallen back on your shoulders, your hand now clasped over your own mouth to stifle your sighs.

Then, Eric’s hand glides up to splay across your lower back, and he sucks long and hard at your clit, and your hand squeezes murderously at the back of the couch while you ride out your orgasm on his tongue.

Knees buckling, you collapse into Eric’s lap. He has a doe-eyed look on his face that’s way too innocent after what he just did to you. With panting breath and shaking hands, you cup his rosy cheeks in your palms, shaking your head in disbelief.

Eric’s brows tilt in worry, like he did something wrong. He opens his mouth, but you put your fingers against his lips to silence him, and lean forward to breathe, “You’re too sweet for me, Eric.”

He traces his fingers lightly up your spine, and turns his head. “Maybe one day I won’t have to be sweet. Maybe then I can really fuck you.”

The sound of his whispering voice in your ear makes you shiver, your lust reaching a boiling point. The idea of him really fucking you– that this isn’t even him as normal, that he’s having to hold so much back– makes you burn hot all at once. That this isn’t something he’s planning on doing once. That there’s a ‘one day’ that he sees in the future with you in it.

With a nod, your breath catches in your throat. You find your way to his mouth again, kissing him desperately. You can taste yourself lingering on his lips, and your hips rock forward against his again.

Eric inhales sharply, stifling his own moan. You guess you have to take it just as slowly as he did, ease him into it. You work your hand beneath his unbuttoned fly and palm him, keeping your touch gentle against his hot skin. He shakes, his hands laid out against your spine, his eyes sparkling when he looks up at you.

You push your forehead against his as you sink onto his cock, letting yourself adjust to his size. His breath stutters as he tries to keep quiet, small puffs of air spilling out and meeting your electrified skin. You curl your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck, rocking your hips just barely, settling into his lap.

This is more intimate than you can ever remember being with anyone, but right now it just feels right. Maybe it could be cathartic to fuck like a couple of animals in the face of doom, but Eric pulls your body flush against his, one strong forearm around your waist, and his nose nudges yours, and you think this is better. This is what you both need. Closeness. Sweetness.

There isn’t a lot of movement– you can’t risk it. You and Eric seem to be in agreement on that, because as soon as you start trying to move in earnest, he just pulls you back to him, his arm around your waist and his hand petting the back of your head.

Eric rocks his hips up into yours slowly, deeply, and it’s the depth of it and the slow sensuality that keeps you floating. Your clit catches on the patch of hair at the base of his cock each time you roll your hips with him, and you have to kiss him to keep from keening aloud. He doesn’t seem to mind it.

You know he’s close when he tucks his face against your neck, his arm tightening around you. “Feels so fucking good,” comes his whine in your ear, and you gently shush him, your hand resting on the back of his head to keep him muffled against your shoulder. You want so badly to look at his face when he cums, but there’s that pesky issue of staying alive, and that hinges on whether or not he can keep quiet when he does.

To his credit, he bites your shoulder and only whimpers a little bit. It’s just a squeak, but really, he could have been much louder about it, and then you would have both been in trouble. Imagine having to run for your life with your pants down.

Ever the gentleman, he keeps you there even after he’s spent and sensitive, his hand clamped down on your thigh to prevent you from moving. His thumb finds your clit, and he lifts his head to watch you, his hooded eyes trained on your face as he brings you to the edge and over it again. He watches the way your brows tilt up, the way you struggle to keep your own eyes open, and the silent moan that threatens to break past your parted lips.

Eric claps his hand down over your mouth before it can. Your eyes fly open, your cunt clenches down around him, and he bares his teeth as you cum hard. It’s cyclical, comes in waves as he continues to stroke you through it, as he keeps his hand clamped down on your mouth to keep you quiet.

To keep you quiet.

Feverish and exhausted, you come down with your chest against his, Eric’s head flopped back onto the backrest of the couch. Your knees fucking hurt and you have yet to get off of him, and you sort of dread the moment when you have to. But this means your mouth is positioned right next to Eric’s ear, and you’re nothing if not a talker.

“Eric?” you whisper, and he turns his head just enough to let you know he heard you. “I’m glad that I met you when I did. Even if it’s terrible timing, I’m glad we met.”

A sweet, tired smile flits across Eric’s beautiful face. He nudges his nose against your temple. “I’m glad, too.”

You shift off of him, and he squeezes your thigh just at the same time as he scrunches his face. He’s such a trooper about it, you kiss his cheek as you go, leaning over to grab a pair of earphones from the coffee table.

You hand one ear bud to him, watching as confusion crosses his face. He watches you type on your phone as he tucks the bud into his ear, and you the other.

On low volume, you listen to the soft piano and saxophone intro to an old jazz standard. Eric grins, his hand finding your cheek before he pulls you in for a kiss.

And then, Billie Holiday’s voice plays for only you two to hear.

Living for you is easy living, It’s easy to live when you’re in love And I’m so in love, There’s nothing in life but you.

#eric a quiet place day one #eric a quiet place x reader #a quiet place day one #roses*#eric x reader #eric a quiet place day one x you #eric a quiet place x you #eric a quiet place day one x reader #eric fan fiction #eric x you #joseph quinn

3K notes · View notes

inkskinned · 7 months

Text

before you know about women, you hear that you do not need to love the man, just that you need to love him through his manhood. which is to say you have seen the future painted in lamb's blood over your eyes - how your mother shoots you a look about your father's inability to cook right. how your aunt holds her wineglass and says i'm gonna kill em. men, right! how your best friend bickers with her boyfriend, how she says i can't help it. i come back to him.

you learn: men are gonna cheat. men aren't going to listen when you're talking, because you're nagging. men think emotions are stupid. they think your life is vapid and your hobbies are embarrassing. men will slam things, but that's because men are allowed to be angry. if you get loud, you're hysterical. if a man gets loud - well, men are animals, men are dogs, men can't control their hands or their eyes or their bodies. they're going to make a snide comment about you in the locker room, about your body, about how you're so fucking annoying. you're going to give him kids, and he will give you the money for the kids, and you're going to be running the house 24/7 - but he gets to relax after a long day, because his job is stressful. the man is on stage, and is a comedian, and says "women!"

and you are supposed to love that. you are supposed to love men through how horrible they are to you - because that's what women do. that's what good women do. wife material. your father even told you once - it'll make sense when you're older. it was like staring down a very lonely tunnel.

it feels like something's caught in your throat, but it's all you know, so. it's okay that you see sex as a necessary tool, a sort of okay-enough ritual to keep him happy, even though he doesn't seem to care about happiness as-applied-to you. it is relationship upkeep. it is kissing him and smiling even though he didn't brush his teeth. it is getting on your knees and looking up and holding back a sigh because he barely holds you as you panic through the night. it's not like the sex is bad and you do like feeling wanted. and besides! he's a man! like... they're another species. you'll never be able to actually communicate, right. he isn't listening.

you just don't get it. you don't feel that sense of i'm gonna climb him like a tree. mostly it just feels fucking exhausting. you play the part perfectly. you smile and nod and are "effortlessly" charming. and it's fine! it's alright! you even love him, if you're looking. you could have good life, and a good family, and perfectly happy.

in the late night you google: am i broken. you google i'm not attracted to my husband. you google i get turned on by books but not by him. you google how to get better in bed.

the first time he yells at you, it almost feels like blankness. like - of course this is happening. this is always how it was going to end up. men get angry, and they yell, and you sit there in silence.

you mention it to your friend - just the once - while you're drunk. she shrugs and says it's like that with me too, i just try to forget and move on. men are always gonna hear what they want to. pick your battles and say sorry even though he's in the wrong. you play solitaire online for a month. you go to your therapist appointment and preach about how you're both so in love.

after all, you have a future to want. nobody lied about it - how many instagram posts say marriage is hard. say real love takes work. say we fight like cats and dogs but the best part is that we always make up. how many of your friends say happy anniversary to the best and worst thing to ever happen to me. if you really loved him - loved yourself too - you'd accept that men are just different from you.

the first time she kisses you, it's on a dare at a party. something large and terrifying whips through your body. you wake up sweating from dreams where her mouth is encrusted with pearls and you pick them off one by one with your teeth. fuck. you sit at the computer and your almost-finished game of sim city. you think about your potential perfect life and your potential future family. you google am i gay quiz with your little hands shaking.

you delete each letter slowly. you don't need to love him. you just need to keep going.

#warm up #writeblr #this is also about being ace btw #my identity has slowly shifted over time and maybe if everyone is REAL cool i'll talk bout it #bc it's complicated and nuanced. but this is like #trying to warn u that if you find it “relationship upkeep” to have sex with ur partner #and don't actually enjoy it or seek it for urself. u might just not be attracted to them.#which is fine ! ace ppl can be perfectly happy in any relationship they feel good in!#but also i wasn't as straight as i had expected!#> the first time i saw dick i was like. huh. oh okay that's fine i guess #> the first time i saw pussy i was like. WAIT ACTUALLY HANG ON I GET IT #i just assumed sex wasn't all it was cracked up to be ya know #but also like. btw? this IS NOT saying ''u might be gay not ace''#bc tbh i'm grey ace/demisexual #it's saying u might not be into ur partner. explore urself & ur feelings. turn inward.#TAKE THIS IN THE MANNER IT WAS MEANT> GENTLE AND KIND #AND NOT IN A WEIRD INTERNET WAY PLEASE #bc the truth is that there ARE ppl who are gay who assume that they just ''don't like'' sex #and ace ppl who might need a different partner w/different needs #and i would have REALLY needed to hear ''check in w/urself about if u actually like sex''#WAY EARILIER in my life. but nobody said anything bc they assume if ur having sex. u like it.#not just the actual act of sex. not once ur turned on. do you ACTUALLY like it. or is it a burden?#even if ur gay. check w/urself. maybe ur more ace than u realized. in which case. ADDITIONAL FLAG BB #i love collecting my flags. i'm at like 354 at this point #but also btw this is about how toxic relationships are SO normalized that u can be in one #and have everyone around u being like ''THATS JUST MEN LOL''

2K notes · View notes

celestialspritz · 4 days

Text

Why Sims 2 has been so broken the last ten years

This is down to my own research, and I'm not saying it is the one and only reason why the game is so broken these days, but I have some points worth mentioning.

So, you're bored one day. You remember this game you had so much fun playing a few years ago, or maybe as a child. It's The Sims 2!

The game has a few issues than from when you last remembered playing, so you search on google for some fixes for the tiny resolution, and among the countless posts you may find, you may find this:

Or this:

(to the creators and players mentioned here this isn't me making a dig at you, i'm just pointing out some cc that could affect the game from working properly. your stuff is all beautiful :D)

Lesya's game is gorgeous!!! Oh, how can I get it to look like that?

So you, with a clean, vanilla (ugly) game you decide to download a few mods she listed, such as:

Skylines by GCKP (you can get optimised ones by me here)

Skies by Lowedeus (you can get optimised ones by me here)

Trees by Criquette (you can get optimised ones here)

No More Blurriness by Voeille (you can get optimised snow only here)

Cool! And then you notice some cheats than can give the game that open-world, interactive feel. Even better!

And you shove them into your folder and you boot up the game. Everything's going great!

Until...

You search hundreds of posts looking for the fix. Some recommend 3rd-party tools, but they seem to make the problem worse. You reinstall, finding you only wasted your time. Something has to be causing this, but you'd never guess it'd be the mods everybody swore by.

Well, in fact, it is. Partly.

I've struggled with pink flashing since 2019, when I reinstalled Sims 2 after I got a decent computer for once. I did everything above, searched for fixes, found Lesya's blog which was my primary inspiration. It was through Lesya's guide that I was able to make my game look pretty!

These mods, which are a staple in the modding community, are beautiful indeed... but what if I told you that the reason they're so beautiful, is because they're high-quality. With textures soaring up to 4k, when, hang on--

In 2004, 4k resolution was... probably unheard of. With the leading monitor size being 1024x768, what would be the point of using such huge textures on an engine that was designed for monitors of at least this size? Would you be able to see the detail of 4k on a monitor of that size? Definitely not.

The max visiting sims, okay, a little hit or miss. If your sims are all wearing high poly alpha CC, then it's a problem. If not, good luck.

Then comes the cheats I mentioned. The lot skirt cheat expands the view distance a significant amount. With the mergenhoodflora cheat, that displays more trees. Combining the two, what do you get?

A massive view distance, blinded by trees.

With skies and skylines with large textures up to 4k, and trees with textures up to 2k, The Sims 2 will collapse. It's like forcing an old man with health conditions to do 20 situps, again and again.

It'll overexert him, by the very least. And you're overexerting the game by cramming custom content that is not optimised for the engine TS2 was built on.

So please, next time you encounter the pink soup, please check your CC folders, and research changes and cheats before you put them into your game. You will enjoy the game much more if you do this, and won't encounter this problem so often.

Don't use Graphics Rules Maker

Instead, opt for a maxis original Graphics Rules uploaded here by Veronavillequiltingbee. It's essentially a rewrite of an old tutorial I made a long time ago.

Once you download the file from VVQB, open DXDIAG by pressing WinKey+R and typing 'dxdiag'.

This value I've underlined is what you need to put after seti textureMemory. Open the sgr file and do CTRL-F and input seti textureMemory.

Add the value from DXDIAG and then save it.

You can use GRM for adding your GPU to the game, but I do not recommend it for anything but that.

Optimising the game... inside the game

*shoves GRM off the table*

We're going to go into TS2 in-game settings for this one.

These settings are optimal if you play CC-heavy households. It will ease the load on your game to make space for the heavy CC you have in your current household. You can tweak these when you want to take photos outside, but for playing I recommend them all to be off - especially at community lots as there are lots of sims there.

I never see anybody talking about Object Hiding.

Object Hiding hides objects from floors that aren't in view. If you're playing downstairs, objects upstairs won't be rendered, thus minimising the load on your game.

I have reflections and smooth edges off because I use ReShade.

Snow on Ground is optional. Sometimes snow can cause pink flashing, I believe it's due to texture replacements that are huge in size too, Voeille's is 2k. I've linked a resized one above.

This post will be updated with later findings. I hope you all found it informative :]

#ts2 pink flashing #ts2 guide #ts2

730 notes · View notes

alwaysmoncheri · 6 months

Note

hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣

hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3

cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k

Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.

“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.

“No, we don’t.” Peter replies quickly, before biting your neck, causing you to let out squeak.

“Peter,” you practically whine, and the chuckle that falls from Peter’s mouth vibrates onto your neck, causing you to squirm in his lap. When Peter lifts his head from your neck, you’re pouting. Lips jutted out and eyebrows pinched together with pleading eyes. Oh, Peter could die right here with you in his arms. He pulls you closer, biceps and hands pressed into your sides and forearms into your stomach.

“You’re going to be fine,” Peter offers gently, pressing a much softer kiss to your cheek, allowing you to release the tension from your face, “You’ve studied plenty already.”

“But–”

“No, buts,” Peter shuts you down, gently rubbing your sides in an attempt to silence your worries. He wants to kiss you so bad, but he would never do it without your permission. And if you want to study, he’ll let you, but he doesn’t think you really do, “Kiss me?”

Peter hears you release a long, dramatic, sigh before shifting yourself in his lap so that you’re straddling him, his hands now stabilizing you by your waist. For a moment your face is expressionless and Peter can’t read you. He worries that you’re unhappy with him but when he sees a giddy smile creep onto your face, he instantly reciprocates and his worries melt away.

You lock your hands around Peter’s neck before leaning in to kiss him. At first, you kiss him softly, tenderly just because you love him. But when you lightly tug on Peter’s hair at the nape of his neck, he takes it as a sign to tug on your hips, pulling you flush against his chest and deepen the kiss. But when the bridge of you nose knocks into Peter’s glasses, you groan in momentary pain, causing his eyes to widen, hand reaching up to gently hold your cheek, the action asking if you’re okay. When you nod your head and meet his gaze, you notice his concern before it’s quickly replaced with frustration. Peter quickly tears his glasses on his face and tosses them towards his bed without sparing a glance in that direction. But when a soft crack echos from across the room, you snap your gaze towards the glasses that now lay broken at the bridge on the floor.

“Peter!” You gasp, shifting your gaze between him and the broken glasses, but no concern seems to be etched on his face.

“Don’t worry, I can get new ones,” Peter assures you, kissing the corners of your lips while his nose delicately brushes the apples of your cheeks, “I just wanna kiss you.” Peter whispers and you feel a rush of warmth spread across your face at his tone.

“Aunt May isn’t going to be happy.” You state, nervously glancing towards the door that Peter probably forgot to lock again.

“Shush, less talking, baby,” Oh god, you melt completely at the way his says baby and presses his finger to your mouth, before replacing it with his lips, “More kissing.” He adds in between a few quick, hard, presses of his lips on yours.

“Oh whatev—hmph!”

Peter kisses you long and hard, successfully getting you to stop talking. You feel hot all over when he kisses you again and again. And when you rank your fingers through his hair, lightly tugging on the ends, while simultaneously gently biting his bottom lip, Peter makes a sound between a gasp and a groan that makes you want to do it again just so you can hear the sound once more. There’s a kiss, another, and another, you’re so caught up in the feeling of his mouth against yours, carefully sliding your hands up and down his chest before lightly gripping a fist full of his shirt to keep him near you.

The way Peter touches you is like muscle memory, he knows how to make you gasp and what makes you shiver. When, his hands slip under the material of your shirt and caress your skin, your body reacts exactly how he knows it always does. Then, he lifts you up, your legs wrap around his waist, and with his lips still on yours, he gently lowers the both of you onto his bed. He seems so far away now and you can’t handle it. Before he even has the chance to lower himself further down onto the bed, you grab his biceps, which are tensed from holding himself up, and tug him towards you. Peter practically falls and suddenly the weight of his whole body is on top of you, Peter worries for a moment, breaking the kiss, but you make a noise, reminiscent to a childish whine before grabbing his jaw with both of you hands and pulling him back. With his lips on yours, his tongue slides into your mouth while your thumbs trace the outline of his jaw and his hand slides behind you back and into your shirt.

“Hey, do you two know where—Oh my goodness!” You and Peter are quickly pulled apart, turning your heads in the direction of Aunt May’s loud gasp. She stands just outside the bedroom with one hand still on the doorknob, her expression loudly displaying her shock. Peter stays on top of you for a split second, before May’s gaze shifts between his hand in your shirt and both of your disheveled appearances, “Peter Benjamin Parker!”

With that, Peter immediately jumps up from on top of you, quickly grabbing your hand to stand next to him. Both of your faces are flushed red from being caught, even if all you were doing was kissing. Aunt May stands by the door, both of her hands placed firmly on her hips, presumably awaiting a reasonable response while you and Peter glance at each other in search of something to say. When Peter’s gaze returns to his aunt, he finally opens his mouth to speak.

“Aunt May—We were just—” Peter pauses as he stumbles over his words, feeling pathetic under the eyes of both you and his aunt.

“Studying.” You finish with a somewhat convincing smile and when Aunt May turns to you, her gaze softens, but when she notices the broken glasses laying forgotten on the floor behind you, her questioning expression returns.

“And what happened to your glasses?” Aunt May asks, a triumphant smile crossing her face as she knows she’s caught the two of you red-handed in your obvious lie, “Were you studying when that happened?”

You and Peter hesitate, he sends you a nervous smile and the both of you bite your tongues, not trusting yourselves to speak. After a moment, the two of you nod, heads hanging low.

“Mhm, right,” May hums before sending Peter a look that says, ‘we’ll talk later.’ Then, she takes a few steps into the room, causing you and Peter’s eyes to widen, but May only steps around you to pick up the broken glasses before walking back towards the door, “Well, dinner is almost ready, you two better behave.”

“Okay, yeah, thank you, May.” Peter says, and you can tell he’s beyond flustered by the situation as he runs a hand through his hair, then brushes a finger along his bottom lip, “We’ll be down soon.”

May nods before sending the both of you one final look, this one a little more playful than the rest. She exits the bedroom and closes the door behind her, leaving you and Peter alone once again.

The both of you share a glance before breaking out in a fit of laughter. Peter falls back onto the bed, tugging you down with his so that you’re laying on his chest.

“I told you she’d be mad.” You tease, running your hand up his chest, eventually reaching the back of his neck, while leaving a gentle kiss on his jaw.

“It was so worth it.” Peter smirks before flipping you over and kissing your face

masterlist . tasm!peter parker masterlist . taglist

thank you for reading, my darling! remember to like! reblog! and comment! i’ll give you a smooch if you do, ily! send requests to my inbox!

tags: @googie-jeon, @Kevia1000, @annoyingmidgetwhowrites, @averyhotchner, @marauderswhxre, @vixparker

2K notes · View notes

yellowjestertfs · 2 months

Text

The Seed is Strong

"Alright fuel up troops! We got more work to do after this." Mr. Walker dumped the contents of the large paper bag he held onto the table, scattering plastic forks, soy sauce packets, and fortune cookies. One cookie skittered across the table coming to rest directly across from Alex.

"Look at that," his colleague Levi said clapping Alex on the shoulder. "It's fate you gotta eat it now!"

"Really? Alex asked nervously. "But I haven't even had my meal yet, and what if there aren't enough for everyone."

Levi rolled his eyes. "I think it will be ok Best Buy. Just eat the damn cookie." Alex nodded and pinched both sides of the crinkly plastic, pulling it apart with his meager strength and freeing the cookie inside. The nickname “Best Buy" was a reference to Alex's job in IT and was one of the tamer things he had been called in his life. Fresh out of college with a computer science degree Alex wasn't exactly a loser but he also wasn't the envy of many. His life was painfully mundane, except for what he had done last year, he shivered at the thought.

All through college Alex had a girlfriend named Stephanie. He thought he was going to spend the rest of his life with her until he got his heart broken. In an attempt to cheer him up Alex's idiot friend had gotten him a hooker. He had ended up mostly just crying in her lap but at the end of the night, the two had rather pathetic cry sex. The memory still haunted him.

Alex broke the fortune cookie in half and fished for the piece of paper resting in one of the halves. His lucky numbers weren't of much interest although 5 of the 6 numbers were prime. Neat! The words on the front made much less sense.

"The seed is strong," It said in simple black text.

"The seed is strong?" What the hell does that mean Alex thought to himself trying to puzzle it out? As in the earth? Was it saying he was going to have a good harvest? Or maybe it was a metaphor, to say that the good he did would become a seed and flourish that way? The whole thing was far too cryptic for math and science-minded Alex and yet the words somehow felt resonant, right.

Levi leaned over Alex's shoulder to try and see what message had been inside the cookie. "The seed is strong." Alex read for him seeing his coworker could puzzle it out.

"Yeah man, I know that's right!" Levi said a grin spreading across his face. He extended his hand in the way of the former frat bro expecting Alex to dap him up. Alex was not versed in those foreign ways and so ended up shaking his coworker's hand awkwardly. Levi smirked but turned away so Alex wouldn't see him laugh.

Alex didn't have time to dwell on Levi's reaction or the awkwardness of the interaction as Delana, Mr. Walker's assistant began to call out orders. "Who got the beef and broccoli?"

Five minutes later a steaming box of orange chicken sat open in front of Alex. Yet despite the food, Alex found his mind wandering. "The seed is strong" "The seed is strong" What could it mean? And why did his groin feel weird? He felt a strange heaviness that he was not used to. Alex adjusted his legs trying to give more room for his package to breathe. Yet the pressure only built. Suddenly his off-the-rack trousers felt horribly constricting.

As subtly, as he could Alex examined his pants and found a bulge protruding from his crotch, the size of which he wasn't used to. His immediate thought was of a cancerous tumor but he didn't think those grew spontaneously. No this felt like well, like his balls were bigger. Much bigger. But that was impossible, right?

The seed is strong.

That couldn't be what it meant. Were fortune cookies allowed to be explicit? It would explain Levi's reaction. But no there had to be some other explanation. He was saved from his introspection by Brenda in accounting who waved him over.

"Hey there Alex, it seems I'm having some computer troubles."

Brenda had her caps locked on.

"Glad I could help Brenda," Alex said graciously. It was not the first time she had made this mistake.

"Thanks again. Guess it's back to the old grindstone." The company had been audited which meant all hands on deck.

"Hopefully we can get this done by 5:00," Alex said starting to make his way back to his seat at the other side of the conference room.

"I sure hope so, gotta pick up the kids pretty soon. What about you Alex, got your kids covered?" Alex's eyes bugged so far out of his head that he was afraid they would fall out of his head and roll around on the carpeted floor. His mind was at war with itself. Most of him was loudly screaming that of course he didn't have kids, he wasn't even married. Yet a small voice said differently.

The seed is strong

He had three kids, two from his college girlfriend and one from Debby the sex worked he had slept with. No no no that wasn't right that couldn't be. He wasn't a father. He always used protection and besides he couldn't support a family on an IT salary. Yet Alex couldn't get the faces out of his head. Two toddlers a boy and a girl and a newborn baby.

In a panic, Alex burst out of the conference room and rushed into the men's bathroom. He tried to splash cold water on his face like in the movies but just ended up with water in his nose and stains on his shirt. Checking to make sure no one was in the stalls Alex undid his belt, unbuttoned his pants, and pulled down the zipper.

Balls. What the fuck was wrong with his balls. They were huge, fist-sized swollen things.

The seed is strong.

No. Alex could feel them churning. Could feel his body producing seamen. Inside millions of sperm swam inside begging to be free. Begging to serve their purpose and impregnate. What the Fuck?

The seed is st-

NO. Alex put his pants back on not even bothering to tuck his shirt in. He left the bathroom and started walking not even sure to where. He ended up at his desk. Action figures in their boxes, iPad charging on the window, and framed photos of his children. That was new. That couldn't be. And yet the physicality of it made the reality undeniable. His children.

The seed is strong.

Of course, he had children. For men with the last name Holden like himself, it was practically inevitable. Oh sure, you could try your best, birth control, and condoms for the whole nine yards. Yet very few things can stop the seamen of the Holdens. His father always said their swimmers just kept on swimming, that's why all the men of his family had such large balls. The hyper virility of their family accounted for why Alex was the youngest of 9 children, his poor mother. She often joked that his father was the most expensive fuck in the world, one night with him meant a mouth to feed for 18 years.

For a moment Alex had the image of himself as an only child but that was ridiculous. The seed was too strong for that.

Alex had tried to be careful, he really had. Yet the very first time he and his college girlfriend Stephanie had slept together, taking each other's virginity, she had ended up with a positive pregnancy test two weeks later. He had apologized profusely and suggested they might get rid of the child but Stephanie was religious and insisted on keeping it. Thus his first son, Liam, was born to an 18-year-old father and mother. Parenting in college was tricky but the two made it work.

While Stephanie was pregnant the two had been able to be intimate, with some care of course. Yet once she gave birth Alex knew they had to stop. He had tried to explain the risks, that no matter how much protection they used the seed was strong. Stephanie hadn't believed and so their second child was born only 10 months after their first. Her name was Lila and she was a fussy enough baby that Stephanie took his words seriously. The two had parented together all throughout college and still remained close but the lack of intimacy doomed the relationship ultimately.

Alex resigned himself to never having another sexual encounter after Stephanie, two kids was enough for him. That was until his friend hired a hooker. Her name was Debby. He had explained to her his plight and maybe cried a little, feeling down from a lack of intimacy. She had understood and offered to let Alex do butt stuff instead, something Stephanie had never allowed. Alex was all too happy to take her up on that offer and the two had gotten intimate. Alex was thrilled thinking he had found a loophole. That was until he got a call from Debby telling him he was going to have another child. He wasn't sure exactly how it worked. Maybe some of his spunk had somehow dripped down or maybe his sperm were so enthusiastic that they had swam the distance. Whatever the case Alex ended up a father of three from two different women.

Ding

Alex got a text on his phone from someone named Christopher. "Miss your seed baby."

What the hell? Who is Christopher? He almost texted that exact question to the number before he saw that this wasn't their first text. In fact, as he scrolled up and up and up it seemed their conversation went on seemingly forever. Alex's cheeks reeded as he saw quite a few naughty pictures of this Christopher, a handsome man with a prominent backside, he found he quite liked the photograph. What's worse Alex saw his own pictures sent on Christopher's request, specifically close-up pictures of his huge balls.

Three dots appeared showing Christopher was typing again. "I need you to load me up, Daddy." This text was followed by two eggplant emoji and a squirt emoji. Whoever this Christopher was he sure was persistent. Of course, most of the men that Alex slept with grew somewhat addicted to his seed. Wait that's not right he wasn't gay?

The seed is strong

Of course, he was. Or at least he slept with exclusively men now. It was being with Debby that had made him realize. His dick just felt right sitting in the tight confines of an ass. That moment of self-discovery had been life-changing for Alex. He had gone on something of a sexual rampage after that. It felt so good to be able to finally let loose and fuck with abandon. His seed yearned to be spread, and he had done so, thankfully without the risk of a new life emerging from it.

Christopher was the closest thing Alex had to a boyfriend, although he was more like a long-term fuck buddy. Christopher often joked about how the two had first met. He said he could smell Alex's potent seed from a mile away and that he followed the scent like a cartoon character, nose in the air feet off the ground.

Alex had been told he had a particular scent. It was his seed, of course, leaking from his balls like steam from hot soup. Not everyone had a nose for it, but to those who did it was like a drug. Christopher was something of a bloodhound for it.

One night when Christopher was going on and on about how much he loved Alex's seed and how good it smelled and tasted, like "the raw essence of a man" were his exact words, Alex had told him of his father. He was a waterfall to Alex's trickle. Their house used to reek of seed and testosterone, especially when the 7 boys of the family reached maturity and grew Holden balls. Christopher had cum on the spot. Ever since he had been begging to be invited to a family reunion.

Ding

Another text. Alex expected it to be Christopher with more pleading for his seed but instead, it was from Stephanie. A picture of their son, Liam, dressed in a football uniform standing on a grassy field. How cute, must be at one of his Little League games. Yet something felt off. As he stared at the pixels on his screen he could swear he watched them move, shift. The kid in the picture was far too old. He looked more like he was in middle school. No that wasn't a middle schooler in the picture, he had the body of a grown man, and was that a college logo on his uniform? Alex's eyes widened as he noticed the sizable bulge in the football pants. He shut off his phone.

The seed is strong.

Where was he? He had been at his desk, right? It was a tiny thing, shoved at the back of the office with no windows, mostly just a box for him to wait at until people could come to him with their IT concerns. Except he wasn't there now; no IT person had this nice of a setup. He was in a corner office, two walls made up entirely of glass, showing off the expansive city skyline that their tall building afforded. Alex blinked. His belongings were on the desk, mahogany rather than plywood. Action figures in their boxes, an iPad on the window, and pictures of his children in their frames. Liam and Lilia at their high school graduations and a picture of his youngest at prom, Brandon. It felt like just yesterday Debby had given birth to him, so why did that kid look so old?

"Mr. Holden they're on the line," Delana said poking her head into the office. Wasn't she Mr. Walker's assistant, his boss? But no he didn't have a boss, how could someone with an office this nice have a boss? Hesitantly Alex picked up the phone and was met with a cacophony of greetings.

"It's good to have some senior management on this call." A man said, voice slightly distorted from the phone.

"Yes thank you so much for your time, Alexander. We will be brief," said a woman who he felt like he should know.

The two went back and forth talking about shareholders and market strategy all of which went over his head. He instead spent his time scratching his balls which seemed to have swollen even larger. He would need to empty them soon. His seed was made to be spread and got impatient rather quickly. Maybe he would take Christopher up on his request. He could leave work a bit early today, who would stop the boss?

"Mr. Holden, are you still with us?"

"Oh umm yes yes. Everything sounds great keep up the good work." With that, he hung up the phone. He felt knowledge flooding into his brain, business experience, and social contacts that an IT person had no business knowing. Only he wasn't IT, he hired people to be his IT. He was the top dog of this company. The company that did"¦ he couldn't remember. He would do work tomorrow, right now he was feeling strangely out of sorts, like he didn't belong.

Alexander stood up on legs that felt too long. He had always been tall but now he felt like a lumbering giant. He was glad for his height, Liam and his other son Brandon were getting far too tall for his liking. Not quite the height of good old dad but definitely too tall for him to put them on his lap. Lila wasn't a slouch either, 5'10, and nearly her brother's height when she wore heels. The thought of his children made him smile, they really were his pride and joy. They had inherited his blond hair, did he have blond hair? Of course, he did, although it was turning silver with age. The rest of his siblings had dark hair like his father but he had inherited his mother's golden locks and passed them onto his children, along with his angular face and tall stature. That wasn't to say that the children didn't have anything from their other parents. Liam had his mother's heart-shaped face, freckles, and warm green eyes, while Lila had inherited Stephanie's wavy hair and intelligence. Brandon his youngest had gotten his other mother's darker complexion and her rebellious spark.

He was something of a bad boy. With tattoos up one arm a handsome face and the soul of a tortured artist, Alex always knew he would be swimming in sexual opportunities. He had tried to explain to him the Holden inheritance. Alex tried to give the same speech his father had, telling his youngest about the strong seed of their family. Alex hadn't listened and neither had Brandon, at least not until he had gotten two girls pregnant. He had been sticking to sex with men ever since, the perks of bisexuality, although Alex suspected there would be a few more grandchildren in his future before his youngest got it all out of his system.

It felt right to be a grandfather, although it seemed only a few hours ago he didn't even have children of his own.

The seed is strong.

Liam his oldest also had children. He was far more restrained than his younger brother though. Liam had settled down with a nice woman a few years older than him who had been married before. She had tried for children with her old husband but after years of trying had resigned herself to being unable to have children. That was until she was with a Holden man. Now they had three children and she was pregnant with a fourth. Liam had confessed to Alex that his wife had gotten pregnant the first time the two had ever been intimate which didn't surprise Alex in the slightest.

That left only Lila without children of her own. Where Liam had heart and Brandon had soul Lila had gotten all the brains. With a razor tongue and a mind for business, Alex suspected her only child would be the company she was building. Yet who was to say, maybe one day she would end up having children? If she had a boy someone would have to warn her to expect quite a few grandchildren of her own.

Alex- no Alexander made his way out of the office. He was far too dignified to go by a childhood nickname. Three grown children, how had he become an old man? He passed a mirror and examined his reflection. Square had handsome features, a tall frame, and muscles that pushed out his suit pleasingly. Maybe not quite an old man yet. He puffed up his substantial chest. How many grandfathers could bench 250 lbs?

Come to think of it all brothers currently could, even his oldest brother Mark, who was a great-grandfather at only age 60. Ha. Yet another thing passed on by the Holdens. High metabolism and the genetic potential for substantial musculature. Alex had always suspected it had something to do with their over-productive testicles pumping in an excess of testosterone, although Lila was surely no slouch. Alexander fondly remembered how she could beat both her brothers in arm wrestling contests as children whenever it was his turn to have custody of the kids.

Still, it was his sons who had inherited the rippling muscular physique of the Holden men. Liam was the larger of the two mostly due to playing football in high school and college. After he graduated Liam started taking his physique seriously and competed in a few bodybuilding shows. Alexander remembered the horror of realizing his 220 lbs son was bigger than him. That caused Alex to redouble his efforts at the gym. That coupled with the fact that Liam stopped competing after he settled down had restored Alexander to the top of the food chain where he belonged. That wasn't to say that Liam let himself go. Liam maintained an admirable body, one that he had confessed to his father made fitting in with the other dads difficult, a sentiment which Alexander could relate to.

"Dad, it's like every dude either wants to feel me up and ask me to be their personal trainer or takes it as an insult and acts like a dick". In Alexanders case, most of the dicks had ended up sucking his but that type of advice could never work for noble pure-hearted Liam. Brandon on the other hand rated perfectly to his father's more horny tendencies. While he didn't have his brother's brutish size Brandon was toned good arms adorned with plenty of tattoos and the abs that only a young man could have. He had done several perfume commercials displaying those abs and his notable bulge across billboards in Times Square to Alexander's shock and secret pride.

The seed is strong.

"Are you heading out Mr. Holden?" A young man holding a clipboard asks as Alexander makes his way to the elevator."

"I am Shayne. nature calls, I’m sure you understand." A wide grin split the youth's face and he nodded. Alexander had long suspected Shayne's lineage but looking at him now it seemed undeniable. Tall with a brawny build, Shayne had brown inquisitive eyes, short sandy blond hair, and a well-trimmed dirty blond beard covering his square jaw. To put it bluntly, he was the spitting image of Alexander in his youth. The final clue of course lay beneath the kids well ironed slacks.

Without violating company policy or his own ethical code as a boss Alexander had tried to check out his new intern's package. Sure enough, he had gotten confirmation at the urinal last week. The kid was sporting an abnormally large pair of balls that could only belong to a Holden man.

Alexander supposed he shouldn't be surprised. He had started being a sperm donor in college to make a little cash. One test of his seed and the clinic had been positively feral to milk him dry. Once he started moving up in the company the money had meant less to Alexander but he still would occasionally pay a visit to the clinic to donate. He liked the idea that he could help a woman struggling with fertility or allow someone to start a family without relying on a man. He would also be lying if he didn't think it a little hot they have a bunch of mini me's running around as well. His only request was to warn any potential sons of their fertility as odd as that seemed. With the amount he had donated Alexander was bound to come across one of his children at some point although it was still thrilling. It warmed his heart to think he had another son, and one who had grown up to be as responsible and respectful as Shayne.

He would have to ask Shayne about his father sometime or get him a DNA kit for the holidays. Something that might tip the kid off without coming on too strong. Just because they shared blood did not mean Alexander had a right to be part of his life yet if he would have him, Alexander would gladly have a relationship.

"We should be all good with preparing for the audit without you. Have a good night sir."

The elevator doors closed blocking sight of his potential son. Alexander took out his phone and brought up messages to Christopher. In the dark elevator, he had trouble reading the screen and even more trouble finding out how to raise the brightness. God if only he could trade his buffalo balls for some IT skills he joked to himself. Eventually, he figured it out and typed out a message.

"How could I refuse? My place in 20?"

Christopher sent a gif of a mouth watering then an emoji of a man running. Would it be so hard to type out a yes? Alexander wasn't worried about Christopher being busy. Besides the fact that he suspected the man would push his own mother off a cliff for the contents of Alexander's balls, he was also a writer, a job which gave him the luxury of making his own schedule. He mostly wrote YA fiction, some of which were quite well-known. His biggest series was all the rage when the kids were in their teens, meaning they had thought Christopher was the god on earth. Now though Christopher was working on something more adult. An erotica that he claimed was loosely based on his and Alexander's romance. He told the family proudly a few months back he was going to call it "The fountain of eternal cum". Alexander's PR team told him it would be a nightmare if it was published and Lila threatened to take a box cutter to her eyes, and ears too if an audiobook version came out. Still, Alexander had let the project continue, he thought it funny and maybe a little hot.

20 minutes later Alexander reached his building courtesy of his driver and made his way up to his penthouse apartment. Christopher was waiting for him splayed out on a $30,000 couch like a house cat.

"Smelled ya coming." He said, rising from his lounging position and making his way over to his lover. With practiced hands, he pulled Alexander in using his tie as a leach and placed one hand on his broad chest feeling the warmth of Alexander's body through the thin Oxford and undershirt.

When Alexander had first met Christopher he was something of a twink, young with ample curves and smooth skin. That had been over 20 years ago. Now Christopher was more the scruffy writer type, with a cute face adorned with a few wrinkles, thick glasses, and a layer of scraggly stubble. His body wasn't as tight as it had once been but Christopher still had enough in the back, where it really mattered. Alexander didn't begrudge his lover the changes of age. He wasn't the same muscle bull Christopher had fallen in love with either. While he had retained much of his size his age had left him sentimental, the wild bull, been tamed, although it still came out on occasion when his lover was involved.

"I needed this" Alexander purred leaning into the embrace and planting three long kisses onto Christopher's neck. Christopher pulled his head back savoring the touch. We need to get this off he said, peeling Alexander's suit jacket from his frame. Alexander's back and arms proved too large and made what might have been a sexy process rather unsexy as the two struggled to peel off the garment. Once that was done Christopher went to work on the buttons starting from the stop and working his way down until Alexander stood in an open shirt with only a white sleeveless undershirt beneath.

"Ugh, why do you wear so many clothes," Christopher said eager to get to his prize.

"I could say the same thing to you" Alexander rumbled. He took the opportunity to pull off Christopher's chunky cable knit sweater, a process Christopher assisted in by raising his arms. Alexander tried to make things more even by fully removing his button-up shirt but he was still left in a white tank top. His arms were thick solid things bulging with mature muscle, and the lower half covered a dusting of nearly transparent blond hair. His chest pushed out the undershirt significantly, then fell loose around his still mostly flat belly.

"Will you do the thing?" Christopher asked excitedly, a kid asking to go on a roller coaster again. Alexander plastered on a gracious smile then put both hands on either side of the shirt's collar and pulled. It ripped clean down the middle revealing his toned body. Christopher clapped and giggled then and went in for another kiss, their now shirtless bodies rubbing against one another. Alexander suspected hundreds of shirts over the years had perished to Christopher's "favorite trick" but it was worth it to see that look of glee on his face. Besides undershirts weren't particularly expensive, at least he assumed they weren't. His assistant did most of his shopping for him.

"Shall we take this to the bedroom Mr. Holden?" Christopher asked, knowing how formal talk turned Alexander on. In response, Alexander picked his smaller lover up in a fireman's carry and made its way across the penthouse to the bedroom. Along the way, they passed countless family photos framed on walls and coffee tables. Liam was the lead of the high school musical, Lila won the state debate championship, and Brandon posing proudly with graffiti art that spelled out his name. There were picnics and football games, thanksgiving dinners, and volunteering. Three smiling happy golden-haired children, all made from their father. Made from his potent seed, the seed Christopher was about to receive.

Alexander threw Christopher down on the bed and caused him to bounce on the springy mattress. With his manly hands, he gripped Christopher's pants and tried to force them over his voluptuous bottom, getting to his prize at all costs. He could have ripped them off nearly as easily as he had his shirt if not for Christopher's pleas about how much he loved these pants. It felt like it took forever for Christopher to undo his belt, unbutton his pants, and pull the zipper down, only then allowing Alexander to rip them off, taking underwear with it. Christopher had a respectable dick and balls that were he with a different company might be considered large. Yet when with a Holden man it was like comparing an ant to an elephant. Besides, there was really only one thing below the waist Alexander carried about. Not that he was a selfish lover, but rather the two after years of making love had experimented enough to know what they really wanted. "Roll over," he said breathily, his excitement getting the better of him. Now it was his turn to take the time with his pants.

Plop

His package flopped out into the open like a hot man to a pool. He looked down at his balls and for a moment they seemed obscene. Baseballs attached to the underside of a penis that really wasn't that remarkable.

The seed is strong.

9 inches was at the lower end for size in his family but he really didn't have anything to complain about. Yet another perk of being a Holden man. With their large balls, it only was natural that they have the dick to match. It was a subject less commonly talked about for obvious reasons yet Alexander was no idiot. He had seen his brothers dicks through their pants plenty of times and heard stories from their wives. And his children, well a father can't help but see these things even if he tries not to. Once back when Alexander had still been in college and with Stephanie his father, the patriarch of the family, had gotten a bit too drunk on old fashions and whiskey on the rocks. He had launched into a bit of a rant.

"Oh I had some big dicked brothers, but of all them, mine was the thickest. No, it wasn't the longest, that would be my brother Kendall. We used to call him pencils dick Kendall you know. Foot long but thin as a finger. Looked ridiculous with his big balls. He ended up having eight children though so I guess someone liked that pencil dick."

The whole family had erupted in laughter at that, much to Stephanie's horror and Alexander's delight. He had inherited that thickness, thickness which Christopher revealed in, tentatively licking the head from his ass up position before taking the whole thing in his mouth. Giving a blow job to someone of Alexander's size wasn't easy but Christopher had something like 20 years of practice. It wasn't just that he could take the whole thing that made Christoper blow jobs great, although that was nice. Rather it was the way he played with Alexander's balls, tickling them caressing them, even taking a break from his dick to suck on them. Alexander always thought he was trying to cut out the middleman and get right to the source of his addiction. He suspected his lover would hook up an IV bag of his seed to drip into his bloodstream if he had the supply.

After a few minutes Christopher got impatient. "I'm ready," he said excitedly turning to face away from Alexander and presenting his ass like a target for practice. Alexander took a bottle of lube from his bedside table and applied it generously to his dick and his lover's hole. There was no point in a condom, they both were clean and besides those did little against determined Holden spunk. Yet lube was essential even after all these years for accommodating his dick. Slowly he inserted his dick, being careful at first. Once he was halfway in Christopher gave him a nod and he sped up, ramming the rest of his member in and then pulling it out almost all the way out with a wet squish. Christopher moaned a high-pitched whine of pleasure and pleaded for more. As Alexander began to thrust he answered with his own sound, a mix between a bellow and a grunt. God, how did he keep his hole so tight?

"Harder" Christopher panted. Alexander went harder.

Harder!" Christopher said again. Alexander thrust with his hips impaling his partner with all his substantial strength. His full balls slammed against round butt cheeks, the sound keeping time with his thrusts.

"Harder daddy, breed me. Fucking breed me. Fill me with your seed till I have your fucking baby." Alexander gave it all he had. If Christopher wanted to be bred so bad then he was all too happy to oblige. He obliterated him, pulverized his fucking hole. Pleasured him so thoroughly he might never walk again. He showed his lover how he had created three children, the reason why his family was so prolific. The seed is strong. The seed is strong. The seed is strong.

"The seed is strong." He screamed as he climaxed. His vision went white as his balls emptied like a dam bursting. His dick became a fire hydrant for the torrent of seed that he pumped into Christopher. The two collapsed onto each other, sweaty bodies reveling in the heat, the smell, and the pleasure. They just sat there for a moment, slowly winding down from the passion of the experience. It had felt for a moment like those times back so long ago when Alexander had conceived his children. He knew even then as soon as he had climaxed his seed would quicken. He had felt it in his bones, in his balls. Only obviously that couldn’t be, a figment of his horny imagination perhaps.

With a start, Alexander realized his dick was still inside of Christopher, half hard and plugging his hole like a drain stopper. He removed himself with a popping sound and caused a torrent of cum to spill out of Christopher. Christopher reached around and scooped it up onto his hand before licking them clean and moaning like he had just had a cold cone in the summertime. He went in for a kiss and Alexander got a taste of his own seed. It was indeed strong, like raw masculinity. Salty musky and somehow sweet, Alexander understood why Christopher had developed a taste for it. He could somehow tell that every single swimming sperm in his mouth could create a child if given a chance, ones who would be as beautiful as the ones he had now. The thought made him feel like Chronos from Greek mythology gobbling up his children whole.

"Even more amazing than usual," Christopher said once the two had broken their kiss. "I swear Alexander you are a fine wine. You just get better with age." He excused himself to use the bathroom leaving Alexander lying alone on his spoiled sheets. It was funny how much sex defined his life. It was sex that had brought him his children, the lights of his life. Sex that had brought him Christopher, his life partner and husband. Even his business, the largest contraceptive company in the country. It would be quite the scandal if it came out that their CEO could bust right through their condoms with his seed. Alexander supposed it was inevitable that his life revolved around sex. He had always been told the seed was strong and had always taken it literally. Yet it went beyond hyperactive balls. The men of his family seemed practically bred to breed, with their faces and their bodies not the mention the dicks and strong libido, it was inevitable that the Holden men lived and breathed sex. He wondered what in the family's past had happened to create such a strong seed. Was there some kind of curse placed on their family by a disgruntled prehistoric witch? Or maybe one of Alexander's ancestors was some kind of genetically mutated freak. Could they be a different species? With the rate they were going the whole world might be Holden men in a few centuries.

Alexander had to laugh. The things he thought about in his post-nut state were always strange but he must have really needed this if he was thinking about witches and a future of only Holden humans. Besides Alexander had found a loophole, homosexuality. Not of course before before he had spawned three and potentially hundreds more through donation. Still with Christopher at least he knew he was safe. The seed was strong but it wasn't that strong.

"HONEY. I think I'm pregnant" Christopher yelled from inside the bathroom waving a positive pregnancy test excitedly.

Shit. The seed is strong.

Hope you enjoyed, been sitting on this one for a while. I wrote an epilogue too that more comedic then hot, but i would post that too if anyone is interested.

#straight to gay #male tf #male transformation #musclegrowth #tf #age progression tf #reality change #ai image

550 notes · View notes

tiny-space-platypus · 2 months

Text

Small problem

BIGGER PROBLEM

Part 5.5

Jason had placed the girl down on his couch. Not a big problem, he'll just wait till she wakes up to bring her home or something. He even put a blanket over top of the kid assuming she would get up on her own soon. Bigger problem, it's been 2 hours and she has not moved actually she looks to be getting worse. Like a lot worse. Gradually over time the red whatevers along her face and neck spreading across her little body as she proceeded to get sicker and sicker. Jason's seen something like this before, it was like Superman or Superboy around kryptonite. The kid was burning up and breathing rapidly.

Jason watching the kid get worse after about 2 hours decided fuck it, there was a kid dying of.. something! On his couch. The first thing he did was call his brother. Dick knows about aliens, hell he's fuck at least one. Fuck it, Tim's and Damien's boy toy or whatever is a Kryptonian maybe they'd know what to do? Fuck it he's texting the group.

------------------------10:15 am------------------------

Dead-one: Yo, what do we do about kryptonite poisoning?

Acro-bat and 4 others is typing...

Acro-bat: Contain Kryptonite and watch to see if more medical attention is needed. Why?

Coffee-Monster: Who??? The Kent's are all with me???

Computer: where are you?

Dead-one: (sends photo of Dani) k well I don't know what's poisoning her

Computer: I'm sending Lesslie to you

Acro-bat: isn't that Danny's sister?

Blood-heir: Her name is Danielle and yes. Where are you Todd?

Dead-one: my apartment the kid's burning up

Jason looked up from his phone to the child still burning up on his couch. He had no real idea what to do for the kid besides waiting for the others and trying to keep the kid's temperature down. Damian got there in 15 minutes. Lesslie about 10 minutes after that. Neither of them seem to know what to do. Though Lesslie seemed to have more of an idea than the boys did at least. By the time Lesslie finished the girl was stable though still showing no sign of waking up.

Damian sat next to her as Jason prepared for patrol. Apparently the Demon brat had been sidelined from patrol By Alfie because of the broken ribs and popped arm this kid gave him. So now Damian was watching over the girl while Lesslie packed up telling them to call her if anything happens and especially if she wakes up. Both adults having places to be.

Where is Danny during all of this? Danny's in his college class none the wizer to his sister almost dying on a stranger's couch.

#dc x dp #the robins #danny phantom #dcu #jason todd #tim drake #dick grayson #danielle fenton #damian wayne #barbara gordon

517 notes · View notes

certaimromance · 2 months

Text

𝜗𝜚 You Says.

Post prison Reid x Reporter!reader

Read part one here!

Summary: After a rough night and some misunderstandings, Spencer needs to do everything he can to make things right with you and get his relationship back on track. The problem is, things aren't so easy for you, and he's willing to do anything you ask, even take care of you when no one else will.

Words: 3,1k.

TW: mentions of crime and trauma (normal warnings in the serie. angst+comfort. the reader gets sick (nothing serious, just a normal cold). a little mention of spencer's past traumas. english isn't my first language (sorry for my mistakes, be kind please).

Note: Ok, I didn't think of doing a second part before, but reading my own work made me so sad😭 the cat deserves happy parents (we are the cat) but I warn you that I do not believe in magic apologies.

As an interesting side note, both parts of this story are named after children's games. In this case, it's for "Simon Says," which I thought was pretty cool because in this part, Spencer literally does whatever the reader wants.

I also want to thank you for the support you gave to the first part and for the 300 followers💝 I could not say it before but it makes me very happy.

♡ Enjoy! ♡

Spencer had been losing his mind since the last time he saw you in person, and it was all his fault. From the moment the door to his apartment closed behind you and the oven beeped, he began to feel the broken pieces of his heart that you had once held together unravel and shatter even more. He hated himself for letting his insecurities get in the way of the one good thing he had managed to have over the past few years, and for pushing you away when you didn't want to. You had been his exception among all the bad things that had happened in his life for as long as he could remember, the only one that didn't seem to want to be temporary and left him when he least expected it. And he himself had forced you out of his life, even when you didn't want to, begging him with tear-filled eyes for a little remorse that he didn't give you.

Just a few hours after the incident, he tried to go to work as if nothing had happened to clean up the mess the leak had made and put the killer in jail. He brought Penelope the promised cookies and your computer for her to examine because it felt right at the time. Part of him needed her to find real proof of your betrayal so he could stop feeling bad about making you cry and saying such ugly things to you.

Then he found out that you were telling the truth and that your computer contained nothing but photos of the two of you, all the articles he had ever written or been mentioned in your searches, and a few writings in which you poured out all your love for him in the cheesiest and most poetic way possible. You loved him, you really did, and there was no evidence to the contrary, because even Garcia could later assure him that the information had come anonymously and had been bought for five hundred dollars. But it was too late, because he had given you a conviction without even knowing it.

That's when he started to fixate on making amends for what he'd done. Every time you left work, bouquets of your favorite flowers with notes asking for forgiveness and wishing you a good night began to appear in your car. He also made a point of stopping by to talk to you and repeat how sorry he was. You knew this would happen when he realized his mistake. You had told him before you left, and that's why you refused to see him. It was good that the security guards at your workplace didn't let him in, even with his FBI credentials. The tricky part was your building because the doorman already knew him and let him in normally thanks to the excuses Spencer made up, even though you said a thousand times that he shouldn't have.

And that was happening again, for the fifth or sixth time in the last few days.

“Please, just let me talk to you and tell you how sorry I am. Listen to me for a moment.” You could hear Reid's voice from the other side of the door.

You didn't say anything. You just sat with your back against the door and one hand on your heart, as if you were trying to hold it. It didn't even cross your mind that he was in the same situation.

“Just a few minutes, please."

Once more, you remained silent.

Silence was the worst answer someone could give. You knew it, and it hurt to have to do it with him. But you had no choice because you knew that by looking into his eyes for just a few seconds, all the bad things would dissipate and maybe you would even forgive him without thinking just because of the love you had for him. You didn't like being this vulnerable and having so many feelings for someone who didn't trust you.

Lately, you've been spending every waking moment wondering what you could have done to make him believe that you were really capable of betraying him in such a cruel and selfish way. You were the one who woke up in the middle of the night to try to comfort him every time he had a nightmare or couldn't sleep. You drove to his apartment no matter what time it was to make sure he was okay. You lost your breath repeating that he was safe with you. You drank many cups of coffee the next day so you wouldn't fall asleep on the job every time the situation repeated itself. That's why you started sleeping in his apartment, wrapped in his arms because he said it made him happy to wake up and see you. And even with all that, Spencer was able to believe that you didn't love him.

You were running your hands through your hair and sighing, trying to block out all the thoughts running through your head, when you heard his phone ring. You could tell it was important by the way he spoke and changed his tone of voice, so you got up from the floor at the same time he did to put your ear to the door.

“I really have to go now, but could you open up a little bit so I can take a quick look at you?” He asked in a pleading tone after hanging up the call. “Please, I know you can hear me. I can see the shadow of your feet under the door.”

You really thought he didn't know you were there, feeling like a fool for listening to every word he said.

“If you want to see me, turn on the TV.” Your voice finally reached Spencer, and it gave him a glimmer of hope. It was the first time you had spoken to him since that night, and even though there was a door between the two of you, you were talking to him.

“It's not enough.”

“And it's not my problem.”

That was more hurtful than your silence.

“I know, it's mine.” He replied after a couple of seconds, trying to process everything. “And I will do everything I can to fix it...I have to go now, but take care of yourself. The nights have been getting colder lately, so wrap up warm.”

You knew it was a bit silly to think of that now, but his attention to detail was impressive. Since you did the evening news, you used to get off work very late, and the change from air conditioning to the city cold was quite a lot. Spencer had cited scientific studies to you many times to make you aware and know what kind of clothing materials to use to avoid a cold. You missed that a lot.

If he had the same attitude as the night of the conflict, it would be easier. You could hate him and stop loving him so strongly.

“I love you, William misses you and so do I.”

You frowned because you didn't know anyone by that name.

“William?”

“Our cat.” He answered simply. “When we talked about how we would name him, you said that a lot of people name their pets after their favorite characters. You love the movie ‘Notting Hill’ and whenever we watch it, you always say you like Hugh Grant's character named William. It also means strong-willed warrior. I just thought you would like it.”

You didn't say anything at the time because you had to cover your hand with your mouth to keep from doing so, but you liked it and you liked it too much. Once again, he focused on the details.

“You can change it if you want because I don't know if he likes it, but what I do know is that he misses you. He lies on your blanket and starts meowing, and he also looks at the door. I certainly think that every time I come home he expects it to be you.” He kept talking as he received no response from you. “It sounds like I'm talking about myself. And it's true because it happens to me the same way.”

When he paused, a tear escaped and fell down your cheek. It wasn't fair for him to say those things now.

“If you want to see him and me not being there, you can send me a message...but I'd really like to be.” He paused again, as if searching for the perfect words.

What did it cost him to have searched for the perfect words the night he distrusted you?

“I must go, I love you.”

The last thing you heard before he left was Spencer's footsteps heading towards the elevator.

Just two weeks later, you realized that maybe you should have listened to Spencer when he said the nights were getting too cold. If you had, now you probably wouldn't be lying on your bed with an unbearable flu and no one there to bring you soup or a cold washcloth for your forehead because your mother was taking too long to get to city.

When you were younger, you thought it was a great idea to get as far away from your hometown as possible. Now, however, you realize that you need a familiar face to take care of you because you can't do it alone all the time.

You felt a sense of relief when you heard the door to your apartment open.

“Mom? I'm really hungry and the soup is all gone.” You spoke in a tired tone as you heard footsteps approaching. But at that moment, you watched as the cat you shared with Reid jumped onto the bed and started purring at you.

You thought you were hallucinating from the fever until you saw Spencer walking into your room with a couple of bags.

“I know you were expecting your mother, but we brought you soup and medicine.” He said, sitting up in bed to look closely at you and put a hand on your forehead. “You're burning up.”

“What are you doing here?” You asked, trying to pull away from his touch.

“Your mother called me because she couldn't find a flight today and was very worried. She asked me to take care of you.”

Of course she did, because she adored him and didn't know that things were bad between you two.

“I don't need you to take care of me.” You barely settled into bed and petted the cat. “Go to work, make sure no one leaks information.”

Oh, that was a low blow for him.

“I asked for a few days off because you have a high fever and someone needs to take care of you.”

“You don't have to...”

“I want to.” He said, interrupting you and putting a cold cloth on your forehead.

“Just because you're looking out for me doesn't mean I'm going to forget everything and forgive you.” You clarified right away, trying not to lose focus because of the relief you felt thanks to the cold compress.

“I know, and I don't expect you to. Just let me take care of you now, forget you hate me until you get better. I won't take advantage of this, I swear.” He looked at you with a serious gaze, as if he were swearing an oath. “Please.”

God, not puppy dog eyes now.

You used to love it when he looked at you with those sparkling eyes. Now, though, you felt manipulated by it.

“Fine, give me the soup.” You finally agreed, knowing you didn't have much of a choice. “Just a warning, please don't answer any calls near me. I can listen in and use the information to hire a nurse.”

He ignored the comment and didn't bring it up to make you uncomfortable. He sat on the edge of the bed, brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was light, and his eyes searched yours as he spoke.

“Is there anything else besides soup I can bring you? More tissues, or maybe some medicine?” He asked in a soft, soothing voice.

You shook your head, still a bit dazed by the situation and your stomach rumbling. You watched as Spencer disappeared into the kitchen, and you could hear his footsteps echoing throughout the house, followed by the clatter of pots and pans and the sound of the stove being turned on. You could only lie back on your bed, feeling a wave of tiredness wash over you.

A few minutes later, he came back with a bowl of chicken noodle soup and sat down next to you on the bed, being careful not to spill anything.

“Are you planning to feed me soup?” You asked, with a hint of irony in your voice, as you watched me hold the spoon and watch you.

“If you wish, I'll be happy to.” He replied simply and brought the spoon gently to your mouth.

“I'm not a baby.”

Especially not his baby.

“You hate me, I know. But I really want to take care of you, and I won't leave until at least your mother arrives.” He paused for a second, as if to catch his breath. “If you don't want me around, that's okay, I'll just sit in the corner of the room or in the living room in silence. It hurts, but I'll take whatever you want.”

You remained silent for several seconds, dedicating yourself to stroking the cat to avoid Spencer's gaze.

“I don't hate you.” Was the only thing you could say at the time.

Something inside you was expecting a more exaggerated reaction for letting your guard down a bit, or maybe you were just too feverish. The thing was, he had only given you a small, almost non-existent smile.

“I know.” He finally spoke and gently adjusted the cold compress on your forehead. “And that's why I hate myself.”

At that moment, while you were trying to make sense of how things had changed so much in just a week, he was watching you.

Spencer was waiting for you to explode, to tell him how sorry you were for getting involved with him and his complicated world, that it was all one big mistake that you would regret forever. He was expecting disaster, pain, tears, and a lot of chaos.

But you didn't give him any of that.

Just a sweet nothing.

He could tell at that moment that even though you were in a feverish state and had many reasons to be cruel, you would not be. He realized that you would never yell at him or do anything to hurt him, that the most painful thing you could give him was your silence. And it was then that he confirmed that you loved him the way he thought he did not deserve to be loved: honestly and genuinely.

“Why?” You whispered after a few minutes of silence. “Why are you with me if you don't trust me?”

“I trust you.” He looked you straight in the eye as he spoke, trying to show that he was being completely sincere. “I just don't trust myself.”

You frowned and let out a groan from the discomfort in your forehead. You weren't sure if you were hallucinating because of the cold or if Spencer was really shivering.

“I don't think I'm good enough for you, or deserve you, or that you love me because you want to.” He finally admitted, his voice slightly shaky. He seemed to be in a worse state than you. “It's silly because you've never given me a reason to distrust you.”

“I know you thought I was going to leave. But I didn't want to leave until you asked me to.” You were close to crying, so you pretended to sneeze to hide your watery eyes. You didn't want to show how vulnerable you were. “It was easier to distrust me and blame me like I was just another bad person you catch.”

“Yes, but...” He replied, trying to answer your question.

“Don't talk. It's my turn.”

He nodded after a few seconds, watching you with concern. “Just be careful, you're still sick.”

You already knew how sick you were and how deplorable you probably looked, but you wanted to say it all and stop feeling a lump in your throat.

“You say you trust me, but you really don't, and I've been trying to understand you for almost a year, Spencer. It's been eleven months of trying not to invade your space, avoiding topics that make you tense or your eyes glaze over.” You had to stop to catch your breath and drink some water with his help. “And you think I don't understand you or really know you, but I do. I know how all your dishes are arranged, I know how you like to fold clothes and eat toast, I know that chess reminds you of someone because your eyes get watery every time we see a board, I know about the book signed by Maeve that you hide in your closet and about which you tense up every time I'm near, I know about your nightmares about prison that you don't like to talk about, and about your mother's favorite colors that change every day. I know so much about you, and yet you think I know nothing.”

Once more, there was a long, quiet pause.

“I'm so sorry.” He held your hands as he repeated the same thing, this time with a truly sincere tone. The whole room was still tense as his knees touched the floor, and the apology he gave you seemed like a plea. “I'm really sorry. I know you don't want apologies, you want trust, and I'm going to show you that.”

You didn't say anything as he sat down next to you on the bed.

“I trust you, that's why I always tell you about my cases. And I will tell you about all my past, if you want, because for me you are my present and my future...of course, only if you still want to.”

The eyes of both of you were fixed on the cat you shared, who was purring and lying very comfortably in the middle of the bed. It was nice to know that at least one of the three of you was happy.

“Tell me.”

And just as you asked, he told you everything because he wanted to show you that he trusted you.

This time he really trusted.

#criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #spencer reid x fem!reader #matthew gray gubler

703 notes · View notes