#tagging these in case anyone would like to block it :)

[sil3ntm0thart]

art will continue as normal considering my queue goes out till sometime in february

all we can do is keep going. keep moving forward... as much as we can.

[tyrianludaship]

- Proselfship Blocklist -

[ VERY IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: NONE OF THIS IS AN INDICTMENT TO SEND ANON HATE, DEATH/RAPE THREATS, ANY ATTEMPT TO DOX/SWAT THEM OR TO BOTHER THEM IN ANY OTHER WAY. I AM ONLY LISTING THIS AS A WARNING FOR OTHER SELFSHIPPERS TO NOT HAVE THEM ACCIDENTALLY INTERACT WITH PROSHIP ACCOUNTS. DO NOT HARASS ANYONE LISTED. JUST BLOCK THEM PLEASE. ]

@/proship-mafuyu [very self-explantory; proshipper and mainly revolves around incest]

@/muttship [proshipper; selfships with teenage characters (asuka langley soryu from neon genesis evangelion is 14); ages their self insert up to their 20s in that ship (unfortunately the carrd featuring their self insert was deleted last time i checked)

@/engiewife [proshipper; misc (as in, a lot) but specifically depicts engineer from team fortress 2 as their self insert’s uncle]

@/rayday-mayday [proshipper; mainly revolves around incest]

@/burning--past [proshipper; misc but focuses on teenage characters, sh0tas, and incest]

[note: this is not a comprehensive list at all.]

[wowevenmoreloveonearth]

I really need to stop going into the general 911 tag bc some of y’all are so stupid and that’s ok but you’re also really mean and I’d like you to please keep it away from me (I have blocked so many people already)

[numberoneanika]

Honestly the roleplay blogs are stronger than I am because if I saw a post where people were saying my blog was annoying and calling me corny I would jump in a large pit and rot away

[iwonderwh0]

It always makes me go ??? to stumble upon blogs that blocked me while I don't remember ever crossing paths with them at all OR remember they liked and reblogged something from me in the past. Like bro, you used to like me and then decided that you can no longer tolerate me all of a sudden? Valid, but makes me SO curious what was the Thing

[obeymeow]

nightbringer lesson 14 FUCKED ME UP in several ways but primarily I've spent the last 48 hours making myself sad over the solomon backstory we got. specifically I have, for no reason, latched onto that one chapter in the Kids event where baby solomon cried because he felt so guilty over being responsible for that spell. and that just feels a touch more depressing in context

[neon-moon-beam]

Addressing Ableism In The Submas Fandom And Its Impact Again

The fact that I know multiple neurodivergent people who have bad feelings arise from seeing any content, including official, of Warden Ingo due to an influx people turning the Submas fandom into an ableist playground in the wake of PLA speaks volumes.

Before I continue, I want to stress: I am not calling anyone in particular out.

Unknowingly making ableist content does not make you a bad person. Everyone still has things to learn, everyone has room for change and growth. Self-education and critical thinking are very important here (and everywhere). A desire to correct a mistake, change, and grow from it is better all around than digging your heels in and refusing to budge or listen.

I am not responsible for bad faith interpretations or other potential misinterpretations of me addressing these issues that have personally affected friends, acquaintances, and myself, should people choose to make these interpretations.

I am also not responsible for the reading comprehension or critical thinking skills of others. If you don’t read the entire post and choose to be reactionary towards it, including making assumptions about what was said or putting words in my mouth, I am not at fault.

Bl*nkshippers are not welcome on my content.

I can't begin to forgive the contingency of the fandom that made neurodivergent people feel unwelcome and alienated in their own space, and made them wonder if other Submas fans, or even people in general, even see them as human.

Given that it’s widely accepted that Ingo and Emmet are autistic-coded characters, the fandom could have been a safer and enjoyable space for neurodivergent (but especially autistic) people. It could have even been a refuge for people upset by the uncertainty we were left with due to PLA being incomplete. Instead, a large contingency of fans took one look at Submas and went "how sad/unhinged/angsty can I make the train blorbos?" and decided disability, trauma, and mental illness were acceptable to use as props.

To the people who have been doing things along these lines (but with especially Emmet!);  this tells neurodivergent people that you think they're unhinged, will hurt others if given an opening to do so, and portraying Ingo and/or Emmet as never having been human, turned into something nonhuman (as in Submas is singled out as nonhuman, and NOT in something like a Pokemon Mystery Dungeon AU or other AU where everyone is not human), or otherwise being not in control of their own actions is telling neurodivergent people that you don't even see them as human. And yes, you can be sending this message even if you yourself are neurodivergent!

Because of all this, I now know multiple people who do not want to see any content involving Warden Ingo, or PLA at all due to the negative association from the fandom, and even some who have stopped engaging with Submas in varying degrees.

I've made it very clear in other posts that I don't like how fandom is on tumblr for many reasons and that I do not consider myself part of the Submas fandom. But the Submas fandom has further turned me off to fandom as a whole, and I currently do not wish to engage with PLA content outside of making reassurance posts compiling evidence Ingo will or has gone home.

My roommate barely posts Submas art anymore because the pervasive ableism got to be too much. This is saying something considering she’s the author of the Submas primer many people, probably including many of those making ableist content, reblogged. She’s also the author of a post detailing Submas as autistic-coded characters. She’s been alienated from a community that she had provided a ton of research for! Please think about that for a second.

Other people don’t want to see Submas interacting with certain characters ever again (namely Volo), because of the ableist content created around their interactions, or even ships.

And if you’ve been around since at least PLA, you may have noticed that there are a few people who frequently posted about Submas as well as the ableism, who haven’t engaged with Submas content in a long time.

Fandom shouldn’t become an alienating or even hostile space for people who just want wholesome or comforting content, or simply want to see characters they like or even find representation in NOT being treated as ableist puppets or being so ooc with angst and ableism they’ve essentially become the artist or writer’s OCs. But unfortunately that's the track the Submas fandom seems to frequently head down in the wake of PLA.

If you’d like more info about the ableism that has been going on in Submas fan content, there is a list of posts here, but this is by no means exhaustive.

This is a post I previously referenced in one of my posts about the ableism about the issue of making Emmet violent and traumatized for entertainment purposes and why it’s problematic to use trauma as a prop.

And here is a post I made (with my roommate’s addition) addressing the issue of people thinking ableist portrayals aren’t harmful or don’t have an impact on real people.

And if you’re going to continue to make ableist content of Submas (or any other fandom) without any regard as to how your work impacts others, then there isn’t much anyone can do. But don’t be surprised if people choose not to engage with you or your content.

Thank you for your consideration.

[thatchaotictiefling]

I think it's cool that some people who are recovering / have recovered from and ED post about the stuff they used to believe and all the nasty dieting stuff that surrounds us in our daily lives.

But also literally all of the triggering dieting and ED mindset things I hear in my daily life are from video like "Part 15 of horrible things people say to fat people" or "KAREN yells at me for wanting sugar in my coffee! (Sketch)" Or "exactly step by step how I and others starve themselves (this is so silly and bad haha!)"

And I 100% do not believe anyone is doing it on purpose, but as a fat person who has not developed an ED but has some disordered thinking when it comes to food, this is so the opposite of helpful. Often these types of tiktokers try to promote anti-diet culture and that's cool to see sometimes, but at the same time 75% of their videos are full of talking about exact disordered eating habits (gives my brain ideas to latch onto) and showcasing societal pressures and justifications for EDs (giving my brain logic to think this is normal).

Like it doesn't matter if you are "making fun of the silly logic of diet culture", you are still putting that shit out into the world. As a person with intrusive thoughts it extra sucks since my brain really latches onto it. Idk. Tiktok bad I guess.

[xannerz]

hiii i love seeing people get into tts esp since the fandom's quieted down after the finale but can we pls use dedicated tags when liveblogging ty 🙏!!

[watatsumiis]

My computer is fucked frfr :((

[halfdeadwallfly]

So the dining hall near my dorm changed their food and their ordering method and it is seriously messing with my head, bc I had a specific order established that was safe + the same for when I dont have the energy to try something new and prepare myself for the potential consequences of said new thing (which is most of the time) and now it's different and you can only get a brioche bun which I hate because it's sweet and sidkdjjsjdjdn and the burger patty tastes like this weird seasoning now and it's all just so unpleasantly different and I feel like I'm making too big a deal out of this but also it's really fucking with my routine

Like I just really hate when things--especially things that I rely on to ground me and come to as a safe sort of constant--change up without me having time to expect the change and plan for it

:((((

[cherry-shipping]

hrhrrrhhg. wwuz lookin 4 kissing gifs here on tumblr to put on one of eebs posts & one of them was a. s*riel animation ive seen before and i closed my eyes and scrolled past But even just that one look at it made me be like. ok Time 2 b on the verge of tears for a good 30 minutes now 👍 like ok. fucking loser.

[nexus-nebulae]

does anyone else get like. ghost notifications. where it says you have one but then nothing new is there when you check. does anyone know what those are

[magnecalliope]

I was once trying to talk about alternative interpretations of fizzarozzie as a potentially toxic codependent relationship for like... transformative fanworks purposes, because sometimes you just want to see your faves become obsessed with each other to the exclusion of all others until mutually assured destruction, y'know? And someone condescended to me about not understanding canon. I was really upset about it at the time because I wasn't trying to say that's what was being depicted in canon or the message the audience is meant to get from their relationship, but in retrospect I think they were taking me as a bad faith anti because "fizzarozzie is a toxic codependent relationship in canon" is an actual take they have.

I hate the fact that we need to put a million disclaimers whenever we want to talk about a character’s flaws because antis have tried so hard to ruin our fun and now we’re conditioned into believing we’re dealing with bullies and trolls every time someone mentions Stolas has a selfish side and Octavia’s not great at empathy and Blitz is a weirdo.

[eimiette]

minutes

࣪♡ ۪ ݁ 𓈒 ── SPENCER REID

SUMMARY: during a high-stakes stakeout, spencer reid and his partner turn their limited time into a distraction from the case at hand. GENRE: smut with plot, idiots in love CW/TAGS: soft!dom spencer (ofc), quicky, piv sex, fingering, lots of banter, est!fwb relationship, reader is referred to as a girl. this is my first spencer reid smut so b nice pls !! <3

the night had settled into a quiet lull, the kind of silence that stretched on and made time feel endless. you’d been parked outside the suspect’s house for hours, watching the shadows play tricks on your eyes while spencer sat beside you, deeply engrossed in a book he’d brought along—one that had nothing to do with the case.

you glanced over at him, unable to resist a little teasing. “you know, we’re supposed to be watching the house, not reading ‘war and peace’ for the millionth time.”

“it’s ‘the brothers karamazov’,�� he corrected without looking up, his tone dry but familiar. “and i’ve only read it four times, not a million. it’s called multitasking.”

you chuckled, shaking your head. “right. because when i think of multitasking, i think of spencer reid reading existential russian literature while catching criminals.”

he looked up then, a small smile tugging at his lips. “well, it’s a good thing i’m here to broaden your definition of multitasking, isn’t it?”

you rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the grin spreading across your face. “sure, sure. meanwhile, i’m stuck doing all the actual work. keeping an eye out, staying alert… maybe you should take notes.”

he made a show of sighing, marking his place in the book before setting it down. “i hate to break it to you, but i’m perfectly capable of watching and reading at the same time. some of us can do more than one thing.”

“oh, is that so?” you arched a brow, leaning in slightly. “then tell me, genius, what’s happening at the suspect’s house right now?”

spencer paused, his gaze shifting to the darkened windows across the street, then back to you. “the lights in the living room went off about fifteen minutes ago. bedroom lights turned on shortly after, but no one’s left the house since then. there’s a dog barking a few houses down, and someone two blocks over keeps playing the same verse of ‘take on me’ on the piano. badly, i might add.”

you blinked, momentarily stunned. “okay, first of all, how do you even—never mind, i don’t want to know. and second, why would anyone ever play just one verse of ‘take on me’? what kind of psychopath are we dealing with here?”

spencer chuckled, a real laugh that lit up his face in a way that made something warm bloom in your chest. “now that’s the real mystery,” he agreed. “maybe we should call in a second team to handle it.”

you snorted, shaking your head. “only if they’re prepared for a psychological profile of a frustrated piano player. that’s definitely outside my area of expertise.”

“mine too, surprisingly,” he said, his smile softening as his eyes met yours. “though i’m sure we could figure it out together.”

your smile matched his, and for a moment, the banter fell away. it was always like this—easy, comfortable, like you’d known each other forever. bickering was your default, but underneath it, there was something else. something steady. something you never quite acknowledged.

“hey,” you said, breaking the quiet but keeping your voice low, almost conspiratorial. “be honest. are you actually glad we got stuck on this stakeout together, or are you secretly wishing morgan was here instead?”

spencer tilted his head, pretending to consider it. “hmm, well, morgan wouldn’t keep up a running commentary of every single shadow that moves, so that would be a point in his favor.”

you scoffed, nudging his arm with your elbow. “you love my running commentary. admit it.”

he grinned, his eyes crinkling at the corners in that way that always made your stomach flutter. “okay, maybe i’d miss it a little,” he conceded. “just don’t let it go to your head.”

“i knew it!” you crowed, leaning closer with a triumphant smile. “you’re not as tough as you pretend to be, dr. reid. deep down, you actually like having me around.”

his smile turned softer, almost fond, as he met your gaze. “maybe more than i let on,” he said quietly, the teasing edge slipping from his voice.

“you know,” you murmured, voice just above a whisper, “for a genius, you can be pretty slow sometimes.” he turned a page slowly, clearly fighting back a smile. “you’re just jealous because you didn’t think to bring a book.”

“why would i bring a book when i could spend my time annoying you?” you shot back, grinning when he finally glanced over at you, his eyes alight with a mix of amusement and exasperation.

“mission accomplished, then,” he replied dryly. “you’ve certainly succeeded in distracting me.”

you let out a laugh. “it’s a talent, what can i say?” you leaned in a little closer, your voice dropping to a lower, more playful tone. “admit it—you like it when i distract you.”

he hummed, pretending to consider your words as he closed his book and set it on the dashboard. “i suppose it does have its perks,” he said, turning his body slightly to face you. his knee brushed against yours, a casual touch that sent a familiar thrill through you. there it was—the shift. you’d felt it countless times before, that subtle change in the air between you. it always started with harmless banter, a little back-and-forth that led to lingering touches, heated looks, and eventually, lips pressed together in the dark of the car or the shadows of a motel room. friends with benefits, that’s what you called it, though even that seemed too formal. it was more like an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that sometimes, the line between friends and something more blurred when the nights got long and lonely.

you arched an eyebrow at him, leaning in even closer. “and what perks would those be, exactly?”

spencer’s eyes flicked down to your lips, his smile turning a bit more mischievous. “the kind that gets me out of reading the same case notes for the third time.”

you chuckled, your heart picking up its pace as you closed the remaining distance between you. “if that’s what it takes to keep you from quoting tolstoy at me again…”

before you could finish, spencer’s lips were on yours, warm and insistent, like he’d been waiting for this. his hand slid up to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer as he deepened the kiss. it wasn’t the first time, not by a long shot, but it still sent a shiver down your spine the way it always did. he kissed you like it was something he needed, not just something to pass the time.

you tilted your head, smiling against his lips. “so, is this how you imagined the stakeout going?”

he pulled back just enough to murmur, “it’s a pretty standard ending for us, don’t you think?”

you laughed softly, your breath mingling with his. “i guess we have a type, huh?”

“apparently,” he replied, his voice low and teasing as his thumb brushed along your jaw. “can’t say i’m complaining, though.”

you hummed in agreement, fingers finding their way into his hair as you brought his lips back to yours. “good. because i’d hate for you to get bored out here,” you whispered between kisses, your words half-teasing, half-sincere.

“i can think of worse ways to spend a stakeout,” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. his lips trailed down to your neck, and you let your head fall back, a satisfied smile spreading across your face.

you felt spencer’s lips brushing against your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. his kisses were warm and deliberate, a welcome distraction from the long hours of the stakeout. you leaned into his touch, but a nagging thought pulled at the edge of your mind, breaking through the haze of pleasure.

“spence,” you murmured, pulling back just enough to meet his gaze. “should we really be doing this right now? i mean, we’re on a stakeout. there’s a chance the unsub could show up any minute.”

spencer’s eyes flickered with amusement, a faint smile curling at the corners of his lips. “oh, come on,” he said softly, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “we’ve been monitoring this place for hours. we’ve got approximately 48 minutes before the unsub’s next predicted move.”

you raised an eyebrow, trying to read his expression. “48 minutes? and how do you know that?”

he leaned in, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “based on the patterns of his previous crimes, the time between his actions has been pretty consistent. it’s a safe bet we’ve got a little leeway.”

you let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “so, you’re telling me that you’ve calculated the exact amount of time we have before we need to get back to being all business? kinda sexy you’ve calculated the timing on this out i must say..”

spencer’s eyes widened slightly, and he blinked at you, momentarily thrown off. “sexy? you find profiling talk sexy?”

you nodded, your gaze never leaving his. “yeah, it’s like you’re making crime analysis sound intriguing and… well, a little hot.”

he chuckled, a warm, genuine laugh that sent a thrill through you. “i’ll have to remember that. maybe i should include more of that in my briefing sessions.”

you grinned, leaning in to press a quick kiss to his lips. “just don’t let the team catch on. we don’t need them getting ideas.”

spencer’s fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt, his touch lingering with a hint of teasing. “you think they’d actually believe it’s my secret weapon?”

“oh, absolutely,” you replied with a smirk, helping him with his shirt. “morgan would probably have a field day with that.”

spencer’s shirt joined yours on the floor as he flashed a mischievous grin. “if that happens, it’s on you. you’re the one who brought up the idea of sexy profiling.”

“guilty as charged,” you said, pushing his trousers down with a playful nudge. “but you have to admit, you’ve got a way of making it sound pretty compelling.”

he raised an eyebrow, his fingers brushing against your thigh. “compelling, huh? is that the new standard for our stakeouts?” “maybe,” you said, leaning in closer. “or maybe it’s just a nice change of pace.”

spencer’s lips curved into a grin as he pulled you in for another kiss, his hands sliding around your waist. “i can live with that.” you responded with a playful glint in your eye, your fingers brushing against his chest as you shifted closer. with a confident move, you straddled his lap, your body aligning perfectly with his. the shift brought you eye to eye, a spark of heat dancing between you. spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips as he adjusted to the new closeness. “i see you’re not wasting any time,” he murmured, his voice a low, appreciative rumble.

you chuckled softly, your hands sliding up to rest on his shoulders. “why wait? we’ve got a limited window here.”

spencer’s breath hitched slightly, his hands finding their place on your hips. as he adjusted to the new closeness, his fingers slowly slid down, grazing the fabric of your skirt. the sensation of his touch against your skin made you shiver with anticipation. his hands wandered gently, exploring the curve of your hips and the edges of your skirt. his touch was light but deliberate, moving with an almost curious intensity as he traced the contours of your body. you could feel his fingers inching upwards, brushing softly against the bare skin of your thighs.

you pouted, a playful frown tugging at your lips as you looked down at him. “you’re really going to tease me like this?”

spencer met your gaze with a mix of amusement and warmth. “need you to use your words pretty girl.”

you raised an eyebrow, a smirk forming on your lips. “oh, is that how it’s going to be?”

he nodded, his touch growing more deliberate but still teasingly slow. “absolutely. tell me what you want.”

you bit your lip, the playful challenge clear in your eyes. “i want you to stop teasing and actually—”

before you could finish, spencer leaned in, his lips brushing against yours as his hands continued their exploration. his touch finally met your soaked core over your underwear, sending a jolt of sensation through you. his whisper against your lips was soft but insistent. “use your words. tell me exactly what you want.”

you parted your lips, your breath coming in soft, needy gasps. “touch me… please.”

spencer’s eyes darkened with desire as he heard your plea. his fingers slipped under the edge of your underwear, meeting the dampness of your core. he let out a low curse, his breath hitching. “fuck, you’re so wet. i should really explain the time management of our cases and unsub patterns more often if-” realizing he was losing focus, spencer shifted his attention back to you. he let out a soft curse, his fingers slipping inside you with a deliberate, smooth motion. the sudden, intimate contact made you gasp, the sensation warm and intense. spencer's fingers moved with a focused precision, sliding inside you with a smooth, deliberate motion. the warmth of his touch and the rhythmic pressure made your breath hitch, a soft whine escaping your lips as the sensation intensified.

he pressed his fingers deeper, his hand moving with a steady, measured rhythm. each thrust was controlled and purposeful, designed to maximize the pleasure that rippled through you. his palm rested firmly against your core, the heat from his hand mingling with the warmth of your skin.

as you whimpered softly, your breath coming in short, shuddering gasps, spencer leaned closer, his breath hot against your ear. “you’re doing so well,” he murmured, his voice a low, intimate rumble that sent a thrill down your spine. his thumb brushed lightly against you, adding a delicate pressure that made you whine again, the sound filled with both need and satisfaction.

you bit your lip, struggling to find the words through the haze of pleasure. “spence… i want to feel you. i want—”

he cut you off gently, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered, “i know. just give me a moment.” his fingers continued their rhythmic dance, his touch a tantalizing blend of warmth and pressure.

but as your need became more urgent, your voice grew more insistent. “please, i need to feel you inside me.”

spencer’s gaze grew more intense, filled with a deep, hungry longing, and he pulled his fingers away slowly, his expression a mix of affection and eagerness. “alright,” he said softly, his voice thick with desire. “i’m here.”

he reached into his wallet, retrieving a condom with a practiced ease. his lips curved into a small, knowing smile as he prepared it, a thought crossing his mind. it was probably because of you that he’d made it a habit to carry them during cases—an adjustment made in response to your playful insistence on being prepared. he tore open the wrapper and readied himself, then guided you gently but firmly into position. his hands were steady on your hips, helping you align perfectly.

as you settled into position, your breath quickening with anticipation, you glanced at him, a playful edge to your voice. “how much time do we have left?”

spencer’s eyes remained locked on yours as he checked the time. “forty minutes and thirty-two seconds—oh fuck.” the expletive slipped out as you slid onto him, the sudden, intense sensation making his breath hitch.

you leaned in closer, your breaths coming in short, heated bursts as you adjusted to the rhythm. the space between you was charged with electricity, each movement synchronized with a growing intensity.

“don’t stop,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly with pleasure.

spencer’s fingers dug into your hips, his movements becoming more deliberate as he matched your pace. “so pretty like this…” he replied, his voice low and intense. “so fucking pretty.”

as the urgency and desire between you built, spencer’s breath quickened, his hands guiding you with a steady, firm grip. each thrust was met with a soft, satisfied gasp from you, the rhythm between you becoming a fluid, intimate dance.

“doing so good for me baby,” spencer murmured, his voice barely more than a breath as he leaned in to kiss you, his lips brushing against yours with a heated, passionate intensity. his touch was everywhere—his hands on your hips, his fingers trailing along your sides.

your fingers tangled in his hair, pulling him closer as you both lost yourselves in the sensation. the car’s confined space only seemed to heighten the intimacy of the moment, making each touch and movement feel more intense, more immediate.

with each passing second, the urgency of the situation only added to the thrill. spencer’s focus was entirely on you, his eyes locked onto yours as he pushed you both towards the edge. “we’re almost there,” he breathed, his voice thick with desire and determination. “just a little longer.”

the combination of his touch, his kisses, and the urgency of the moment drove you both closer to the peak. the pleasure built steadily, every sensation amplified in the charged atmosphere. you could feel yourself unraveling, every nerve ending sensitized and every touch magnified. the sensation of him inside you was electrifying, a wave of intense pleasure crashing over you with each movement. your breaths came in ragged gasps, your body trembling as you felt yourself falling apart.

“spencer,” you gasped, your voice breaking with the intensity of the experience. your grip on his shoulders tightened, your entire body tensing as the pleasure reached its peak.

spencer’s eyes were locked onto yours, a mix of awe and desire reflected in his gaze. “i know, i know, i’m almost there,” he murmured, his voice a low, reverent whisper. his hands moved with careful precision, his touch both guiding and responding to your reactions.

as the climax hit, you felt a powerful release, your body shuddering and trembling with the intensity of the moment. your voice broke into a series of breathless cries, each one a testament to the overwhelming pleasure you were experiencing.

as the intensity of the moment enveloped you, spencer’s grip tightened on your hips, his breaths coming in sharp, uneven gasps. the way you had fallen apart, your body trembling with pleasure, had driven him to the brink.

his movements became more urgent, his focus solely on the sensation of being inside you, feeling your warmth and responsiveness. you could see the struggle in his eyes, the way his expression shifted from focused desire to complete surrender. “god, i’m close,” he gasped, his voice thick with a mix of urgency and satisfaction. his hands moved more fervently, his rhythm driven by the overwhelming sensations coursing through him.

as you clung to him, your body still trembling from your release, spencer’s movements became erratic. the pleasure built within him until he could no longer hold back. with a series of deep, shuddering breaths, he finally came undone, his body shivering with the force of his climax.

he buried his face in the crook of your neck, his breaths ragged and hot against your skin. his hands still rested on your hips, holding you close as he rode out the final waves of his release.

as the intensity of the moment gradually faded, spencer’s touch softened. he pulled you close, his hands gently brushing over your skin as he helped you both come down from the high. his breath was still uneven, but his touch was tender and reassuring.

“are you okay?” he asked softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from your face with a mix of concern and tenderness.

you nodded, a contented smile forming. “yeah, i’m fine. you?”

spencer chuckled, slipping on his shirt. “well, we’ve got approximately 22 minutes to spare.”

you raised an eyebrow, pulling on your top. “and what are we going to do with those 22 minutes?”

he smirked, buttoning his jacket. “well, i could use a quick breather. maybe we can discuss how i should properly schedule my case briefings.”

you laughed, adjusting your clothes. “sounds like a plan. just make sure you don’t forget to factor in the importance of effective timing.” spencer’s grin widened as he straightened his collar. “duly noted. next time, i’ll make sure to account for every possible variable.”

-

꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱

[rumplereids]

hii!! i’ve read some of your docs and they are just awesome !!

i wanted to ask you if you could write a fic (paring Spencer x fem!Reader) about the BAU chasing the unsub and they manage to catch him, tough he did fire some shots that didn’t hurt anyone except reader but reader doesn’t realise it until she starts to feel dizzy and feels her shirt wet only to find a gun wound on her side, spencer is really worried etc etc.. you know an hurt/comfort !! :3

sorry for my bad english 😞😞

take your time !! :33

tags: spencer reid x fem!reader. hurt/comfort. reader gets shot. blood. reader using sexual jokes as a coping mechanism. a/n: unedited! set around season 12, bcos i just rewatched the s11 finale lol. i also took some creative liberties but i hope u still like this :) masterlist. requests are open !

There’s something Spencer always did before the team goes out to take down an unsub.

First, in the car, in the calm before a probable storm, he would take two fingers into the collar of your bulletproof vest. He’d tug on the back, checking the tightness of the straps while confined in the SUV’s backseat. And then, the same hand would run down your back. A comforting gesture that grounds him more than he’d admit. And lastly, he’d take your hand in his. Squeeze it three times in a silent ‘I love you’. He’ll wait for you to squeeze back, and your eyes would meet for a second, words unneeded as your gaze tells each other to take care.

It’s a routine done even before you officially got together. Tonight was different.

You were on the way back to the station after re-interviewing a witness with Rossi. You’re sat on the passenger seat, notepad in hand, attempting to arrange your thoughts on the case. A ringtone coming from the car speaker distracts you from your musings. Rossi reaches over to accept the call.

“Yeah, Hotch?”

“We found him. Garcia sent the location to your cells. You’re 20 minutes away from the address, but do not engage. Keep your distance and wait for the rest of us.” Hotch drops the call after you reply with an “On it, boss.” You flip a switch on the console, turning on the sirens.

“I still hate how loud these things are,” you make a passing comment.

Rossi spares you a glance, a bemused look in his eyes, “I haven’t gotten used to it either.”

You turn to reach for your vest behind the passenger seat. After putting it on, you triple check the straps. And then, you unholster your standard issue pistol, thumb on the catch, before you check your mag.

Rossi’s turning the corner while you holster your gun, reaching over, you turn off the siren. Based on the profile, this unsub will not hesitate to draw guns if met with law enforcement. Best not give him a heads up. A few blocks ahead, you see the bright neon sign of the motel the unsub is hiding in. Rossi shifts the SUV into a slow crawl. He stops a block away, a safe distance that still gave you a good vantage point of the motel. You keep a lookout, Rossi putting on his vest while your eyes pass over each entrance, exit, and window on the two-storey building. You notice movement on the first floor. A shadow behind a curtain on the second floor.

You’re starting to get antsy when the rest of the team, and the local cops arrive. You quickly open your door, walking toward where Hotch, Tara, and Spencer were huddled by the trunk of a precinct car.

“Are you attempting to negotiate?” Rossi asks from your side. Spencer’s eyes meet yours from where he’s hunched over a map. Embedding the floorplan into his mind. You watch his eyes rake over your body twice. Eyes running to each strap on your vest. Your heart warms at the gesture.

“He has hostages,” Hotch’s voice breaks your eye contact with Spencer. The sheriff walks toward your team, a megaphone in hand. Hotch thanks the sheriff, turns on the speaker, and begins to call out for the unsub.

“Bryan Masen! FBI! Come out with your hands above your head!”

You see the shadow shift on the second floor. And then, a loud bang. Bryan Masen has an assault rifle, shooting out of the windows of the motel lobby, while a second unsub shoots their own rifle from the second floor. In all the chaos of gunshots and screams, your mind rotates through three things; Is Spencer okay? A partner wasn’t in the profile. My ribs hurt. Is Spencer okay? A partner wasn’t in the profile. My ribs hurt. Where’s Spenc—

The following silence was deafening.

And then, a group of uniforms led by Hotch and JJ move in on the motel. You begin to stand, intending to join the second group of uniforms with Luke and Rossi. Subconsciously, your hand presses against your side. It’s warm. And wet. You take one step forward. Hear Spencer call out your name. And then, it all turns black.

Spencer’s hands won’t stop shaking. He stares at it. The red on his palms. It’s drying, and all he can do is stare blankly at it. His knee jerks. It won’t stop. He feels a hand on his shoulder. Heavy. Comforting. Unwanted. He hears Luke ask him if he needed anything. He can’t hear his own reply. Hunched over his bloodied hands, he sees the boots peeking between his fingers. Black. Leather. Heeled. JJ tries to get him to wash his hands. He feels hands guide him to a sink. That same hand on his shoulder leaving when smaller hands take his in their own. The water is cold between his fingers. The hand scrubbing his knuckles is warm. He can’t afford to look away. Can’t risk his eyes closing for more than a blink. He needed to be distracted by something. Knowing that if mind was preoccupied by any other menial thing, he won’t be forced to see your body falling onto the sandy ground. Over and over. The scream in his throat. The thud. The frantic hands. Red, red, red. Pale lips and eyes closed. Over and over.

He has half a mind to stop JJ from cleaning his hands. But then, the faucet turns off. Paper towels are pressed into his hands, and JJ guides him back to where the rest of the team are waiting. Their silence tells him that there hasn’t been anything new. He falls into a chair. Numbers. Statistics. That can help him focus on something else.

The number of GSWs treated per biennium increased from 1,349 in 1996-1997 to 1,484 in 2014-2015, with a 59% increase occurring from 2010-2011 to 2014-2015. Overall mortality was 14.6%—

An unfamiliar name calls out your name.

He stands before anyone else can react. Like a wolf descending on a prey, he begins a barrage of questions; “Where is she? Is she okay? Is she ali—”

“She alive and well. The shrapnel missed any major arteries, and we were able to take every fragment out. Major bruising around her ribs. She’s currently sedated, but you can come and see her.”

Spencer bites back an attempt to snap, wanting to raise his voice and demand that they bring him to her already. But he doubts you’d let him get away with such a behavior. And so he silently follows after the doctor, fists pressed against his sides, thumb popping a knuckle.

When he enters your room, it’s dimly lit. But he can see your face, and the bruise on your cheek from when you fell unconscious. His eyes take you in, every inch of you. The hair pulled behind your ears. The medical gown covering pallor skin. The tube connected to the crook of your elbow. He reaches a hand out, smoothing your hair, before taking a deep breath in. He remembers your comment about the smell of hospitals.

“I’ll stay with her,” he mumbles. Two fingers pushing down the collar of your hospital gown. You don’t like it when your clothes bunch up around your neck. His fingers subconsciously move to trace the side of your throat. Moving to feel the beat of your pulse beneath his fingertips.

“I’ll bring your bags back in an hour,” he nods once to acknowledge JJ’s words.

“Thank you,” he coughs away the lump in his throat. You’re alive. You’ll be awake in a few hours. You can go home by the end of the week. He forces himself to feel optimistic.

“Get some rest if you can, Reid,” Hotch speaks from where he’s standing nearest to the door.

He nods, opting not to say anything. Unable to make promises.

Your eyes are heavy when you come to. You can feel the crust on your lids. The cool of the AC against your cheek. Slowly, you open your eyes. There’s a painting of a grassy field on the wall in front of you. You turn your head. Spencer has his socked feet up on the armchair. Curling into himself to fit better. He has his focus on your copy of Pride and Prejudice. You can tell it’s yours by the sticky tabs peeking between the pages.

“Spence?” your voice is throaty and hoarse. Struggling to crawl out. He still hears it, anyway.

“Oh, baby,” he drops your book on the chair, moving to sit by your side. His forehead presses against yours, his hands cup your jaw. Spencer presses a kiss on the apple of your cheek.

“You scared me,” he confesses with a whisper.

“I’m okay now,” you bring a hand into his hair. He moves his kisses down to your jaw.

“I was so afraid of losing you.”

You take his kisses as he freely gives them. He hides his face into your neck, kissing where it meets your shoulder. You move your hand down to scratch where his hair ends before his nape. “You could never get rid of me,” you say with a small smile. He presses a kiss where your neck meets your ear.

Right hand on your cheek, left hand going down to grip the flesh below your scapula. Slender thumb and finger pinching the softness behind your armpit. He breathes in the scent of you. Your hand starts to massage the muscle where his neck and shoulder meet. You know that he feels heavy there whenever he gets stressed out. You want to crack a joke at how tense he is, but keep it in and choose to give him comfort instead.

“I love you,” his lips whisper against your skin.

You sigh, the sound making him look up to meet your eyes.

“I was so scared too,” it was your turn to confess.

“You’re okay. We’re both okay,” he moves his hands to take yours into his. You squeeze his hands thrice.

“I asked Hotch to give me time off while you’re on medical leave.”

“You did?”

He squeezes your hand back. Three times like you both always have, and always will.

“I also had to call your family,”

He watches you grimace, “How did they take it?” He gives you a slight wince of a smile.

You let out a sigh, “I’ll call them in a bit.”

“Your mom is taking a flight to Washington,” he informs you.

“That sucks. We won’t have the house to ourselves for at least a month.”

He raises a brow at you, “Why would it matter? You’re not allowed any strenuous activity for three.”

You give Spencer a little pout, chastised that he easily called you out, “That’s just mean.”

He gives you a withering look, “Behave.” He gives you one more kiss on the cheek, moving to stand from your bed. He has to tell the team you’re awake. Taking your phone from the end table, he begins to draft a text.

“I still have my hands, you know.”

He turns to you, caught off guard. Disbelief painting his features.

“You did not just say that,” he says.

You stick a tongue out.

“Stop it. You’re injured,” he says with a slight reprimand.

“So? That didn’t stop us when your knee got shot.”

His mouth falls open, “I can’t believe you.”

“Three months is just a recommendation. You would know.”

You grin at the blush that takes over his face.

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