Reblogging This Bc Im Proud Of It

reblogging this bc im proud of it

It's A Beautiful Thing

summary: Emily struggles to come to terms with her sexuality and goes to Tara for help after a disastrous hookup

genre: hurt/comfort

cw: internalized homophobia, comp het (compulsory heterosexuality), implied/referenced sexual assault (NOTHING HAPPENS it's just assumed that it did), religious trauma, religious guilt, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of abortion, using sex as a coping mechanism, unhealthy relationships to sex, Jemily mentions, coming out, unrequited love (or at least it's believed to be)

wordcount: 1.9k

Emily sits on the corner of the bed and sighs as she pulls her pants back on. Her whole body feels wrong and she wants to leave. She looks over at the door to the ensuite bathroom and listens to the sound of the shower running. She shouldn’t leave while he’s still in the shower. That would be cruel. It’s not like he was bad or did anything she didn’t want, it just didn’t feel right. 

She picks her bra off the floor and looks around for the first time as she clasps it behind her back. The whole room is painfully male. She hates it. And she hates that she hates it. 

Emily closes her eyes and runs her fingers through her hair to detangle it as best as possible. Her chest feels tight and she leans forward, burying her face in her hands and tucking her head between her knees. The sound of the shower feels like it’s drilling into her skull and the smell of sex that surrounds her makes her feel sick.

She presses her hand over her mouth and chokes on a small sob. She needs to leave, she needs to get out of here. She lifts her head and takes a deep breath before picking up her shirt and pulling it over her head. She then grabs her purse from where she’d discarded it in the corner of the room and pulls out her phone. 

An idea strikes her and she slips her phone into her pocket before knocking on the bathroom door. “Jackson?” Emily calls out, keeping her voice steady with practiced ease despite feeling like she’s about to implode.

The water shuts off. “Yeah?” he calls back.

Emily squeezes her eyes shut for a moment before speaking. “I’m so sorry. I have to go. I just got a call from work.”

“Yeah, yeah, you should go,” Jackson says sounding surprisingly okay at the thought of her leaving. “Go kick some ass.”

Emily opens her eyes and pinches the bridge of her nose. “I will. I’ll call you,” she lies.

“Yeah! Yeah! Just lock the door on the way out, you can do it from the inside.” There’s silence for a moment before the shower turns back on. Almost immediately, Emily rushes out of the room and out of Jackson’s apartment, making sure to lock the door.

She takes the stairs instead of the elevator, unable to stand the thought of standing still for a moment longer than necessary. After five floors she makes it to the basement level parking lot and she thanks her past self for not drinking because her car is here and that means she can leave now. 

Emily unlocks her car and throws her purse into the passenger seat not caring that it immediately slides to the floor. She climbs inside and closes the door behind her before slamming the heels of her palms against the steering wheel. 

“Fuck!” she cries, curling her hands into her hair. She feels like she’s about to explode. Everything is so wrong and she doesn’t know how to fix it. Sex with Jackson was supposed to fix it but that just made it worse and now she feels gross and dirty through no fault of his. A strangled scream tears its way up her throat. Why does she have to be like this? Why can’t she just be normal? Why can’t she just have sex with men and enjoy it?

Tears pool in her eyes and Emily angrily swipes them away. She needs to leave, to get far away from this stupid apartment complex. She starts the car and it takes nearly all of her self-control not to tear out of the parking lot. She’s already distracted, adding speeding on top of that would be a recipe for disaster. She needs to talk to someone. She wants to talk to JJ but she won’t understand and Will and the boys will be there and she just can’t. 

Emily parks along the edge of the road and pulls out her phone, opening her texts with Tara. She stares at the screen for a moment before typing, “Can I come over?” and hitting send. Emily closes her eyes and tries to calm herself while she waits for Tara’s reply. Her hands squeeze a white-knuckled grip on her steering wheel and each breath rattles in her chest. 

Her phone buzzes in her hand and she looks down.

“Come on over.”

Emily shuts her phone off and drops it into the cup holder between the seats. She wipes away the tears that had managed to fall and, checking to see if the road is clear, does a U-turn and drives toward Tara’s house. 

The turmoil Emily is experiencing makes the drive feel simultaneously seconds and hours long. She turns onto Tara’s street and parks along the curb in front of her house. She leaves her purse in the car, only grabbing her phone and keys, before climbing out and walking up the steps to Tara’s front door, locking her car behind her.

The closer she gets to the door the more panicked and ashamed she feels and by the time she knocks, she’s barely holding it together. The door swings open and Tara takes in her appearance with wide eyes and clear concern. Emily opens her mouth to speak but all that comes out is a choked sob. Tara pulls her into a hug and Emily nearly collapses in her arms. 

They stand there for a while, Emily sobbing into Tara’s shoulder, as they stand on the threshold of her house. Eventually, Emily’s crying subsides and Tara leads her inside with a hand around her waist, closing the door behind them. Tara guides Emily into the living room and onto the couch, keeping her arm around her. 

Emily leans forward to rest her head in her hands and Tara pulls her hand away to brush Emily’s hair to the side and tug on the collar of her shirt. “Emily,” Tara says softly. “Did someone—”

Emily shakes her head, recognizing the voice Tara uses when speaking to victims and realizing that there must be a hickey on her neck. That combined with the state she’s in: it’s only natural Tara assumed something had happened. “No. It was–it was consensual. It just–“ her voice breaks.

Tara doesn’t speak, waiting silently for Emily to continue. 

“It just felt wrong,” Emily whispers. She keeps her head bowed, too ashamed to look up at her friend. “How did you do it?” 

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean,” Tara says kindly. 

Emily uncovers her face and sits back against the couch, chewing on one of her nails. The tightness in her chest is still there and she doesn’t know how to say it. She doesn’t know how to ask the question she so desperately needs to ask without sounding offensive.

“You can speak your mind, Emily,” Tara says. 

Emily chuckles. Thank God for profilers.

She pinches the bridge of her nose with her free hand. “How did you let yourself be with a woman?” she whispers. 

Tara is silent for a moment. “I don’t know how to answer that question.”

Emily sighs. “I think I’m gay.” She opens her eyes and looks over to Tara to gauge her reaction. She knows she’ll be fine with it, she has a girlfriend for Christ’s sake. But this is the first time Emily’s ever said those words out loud and she’s terrified. 

Tara nods and smiles softly at her but doesn’t speak and Emily knows she can tell that she hasn’t finished saying everything she needs to.

“I’ve tried so hard not to be,” Emily admits. “I’ve had boyfriends, I’ve had sex with men.” She lets out a pained laugh. “I’ve even gotten knocked up. Did you know that, Tara? When I was fifteen and living in Italy, I dated a boy I didn’t like because I wanted to fit in and stop thinking about a girl. And we had sex that I wanted but didn’t like and he got me pregnant. My friend helped me get an abortion. All that because I didn’t want to acknowledge the fact that I liked a girl. And–and I’m doing the same thing now! I went to a bar and went home with this guy to have sex that I wanted but didn’t like, all because I want to stop thinking about a girl. Like maybe if I let enough men fuck me I’ll stop liking women. I–I know that’s not how that works and I know being gay isn’t something that needs to be fixed but I feel like I need to be.”

“Emily,” Tara says gently. “There is nothing wrong with you.”

Emily sighs. “I know that, Tara.”

“I know you know that, but I think you need to hear it. There is nothing wrong with you for liking women. I know it’s hard and it will take time but you are going to have to accept the fact that you’re gay. You can’t keep doing what you’ve been doing. It’s not healthy. And it’s not fair to yourself or to the men you’ve having sex with.”

Emily nods, leaning forward to rest her elbows on her knees. “I know it’s not. It’s just my whole life I’ve been thinking that maybe this guy, maybe this time it won’t feel wrong. Maybe this time I won’t feel gross and–and—“

She shakes her head, unsure of how to finish. 

“I know there won’t ever be a ‘this guy’ or a ‘this time’. It won’t ever feel right with a man. But that scares me, Tara. I don’t know why it scares me but it does.”

“Because it’s a scary thing. Realizing and accepting a part of yourself you tried to push away is scary and it’s hard. Especially if you’ve spent a good portion of your life hearing that that part of you was wrong like I suspect you have.”

Emily nods. “Catholic guilt,” she whispers.

“Catholic guilt,” Tara echos. “I don’t know if you still believe in God, Emily, but in case you need to hear it: you wouldn’t be gay if it wasn’t God’s intention. He made you exactly the way you’re supposed to be.”

A violent sob forces itself from Emily’s chest and she can feel her whole body shaking with the force of her crying as Tara pulls her against her chest. Emily doesn’t know if she believes in a God anymore either but knowing He doesn’t hate her fills her with relief.

Emily doesn’t know how long she and Tara stay like that, holding each other close as Tara runs her hands through her hair. But eventually, Emily’s sobs subside into sniffles. 

“It’s JJ, isn’t it,” Tara asks softly.

Emily stiffens and sits up. Tara’s hand falls into her lap. 

“What?”

“The woman you’re trying not to think about. It’s JJ, isn’t it.”

Emily opens and closes her mouth before slowly nodding. 

Tara looks across the room to a photo of her and her girlfriend. “It’s a beautiful thing, loving a woman. Don’t you think?” 

Tara looks back over to Emily, who is still looking at the photo. 

Eventually, Emily nods.

__________________

Tag List:

@lover-of-books-and-tea

Fill out this form if you want to be tagged in future fics!

Bro is fucking up that donut in the first image

Series 12 Episode 3- Taboo

FOOD SIGHTING

Emily's back and she's brought Reid his favourite doughnuts.

Bc I have an idea for a fic where Spencer meets reader for the first time and it makes more sense to do it from his perspective at least partially. I might switch povs or do omniscient pov for the first time lmao

He’s so right for this

this video 😭😭😭 shemar is such a mood

hii. Idk if this is too weird/confusing… but

I have this idea of post prison reid and bau agent reader.. We all know that post-prison, reid is like different.. he’s more rough looking (??That beard, rolled up sleeves and disheveled look) but also carry himself with so much more confident? And how he gets more muscle. Overall just getting sexier. But we also know he’s got a lot of trauma bc of what happened. Maybe the reader is loving this whole changes, but as a gf, she’s also kind of worried about his wellbeing. Maybe when he caught the reader eyeing him and got distracted by how good he looks given everything (you can get a little suggestive), but it turns to a conversation about this whole ‘change’ thing??? you can go with it however you think best.

I just.. i think a lot about post-prison reid, how it feels like he burried most of his discomfort/trauma so quickly and idk maybe just started to put up this tough guy kind of ‘persona’ (at least for what i felt watching him in s13-s14 ish lol)

Anyways! You can write however you think best with this. Thankyou so much!! Love your work🫶🏻🥰 💜

Not Strong Enough

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader

Category: angst, hurt/comfort, fluff

Warnings/Includes: post prison Spencer, crying, showering together, prison flashback (kinda)

Word count: 1.7k

a/n: this was such a good request omgggg i hope you like it 🫶🏻 and thank you so much for trusting me to write it ! <3

main masterlist

The evening sun cast a warm, golden hue across the apartment you and Spencer shared, the place you had carefully maintained while he was away. The familiar scent of his cologne lingered in the air, mingling with the subtle aroma of the dinner you had prepared earlier. You were in the living room, absently flipping through a book, though your eyes kept drifting toward the doorway where you knew Spencer would appear any moment.

When he finally did, your breath caught in your throat for the hundredth time since his return. Spencer leaned against the doorframe, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, showing off those arms that had grown more defined during his time away. His hair was a bit longer, tousled in a way that seemed deliberate, and the beard—God, that beard—framed his face in a way that made him look both dangerous and irresistible. He had always been handsome, but now there was something different, something more rugged, more raw, about him.

You loved it. You couldn’t deny that every time you looked at him, a heat blossomed in your chest, and you often found yourself getting lost in daydreams that weren’t always appropriate. But beneath that attraction was a worry that gnawed at you, a concern for the man beneath the changes.

Spencer caught your gaze, his lips quirking into a small, knowing smile as he pushed off the doorframe and walked over to you. “You’re staring,” he teased, his voice low, a hint of amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help the blush that crept up your neck, but you didn’t look away. “Can you blame me?” you replied, letting your eyes travel up and down his body with unabashed appreciation. “You look… so good, Spencer. God. Really good.”

He chuckled softly, sitting down next to you on the couch, his presence commanding your full attention. “Is that so?” he asked, leaning in closer, his eyes darkening as they locked onto yours. “What’s so good about me?”

Your breath hitched at the proximity, and for a moment, you forgot the concern you had been harboring, lost in the way his presence seemed to envelop you. “You know exactly what I mean,” you murmured, your hand coming up to trace the line of his jaw, feeling the roughness of his beard against your fingers. “You’ve… changed. Not just how you look, but how you carry yourself. There’s this confidence, this… edge.

Spencer’s eyes softened, the playful glint fading as he turned his head slightly to press a kiss to your palm. “I’m still me,” he said, though there was a note of uncertainty in his voice, as if he was trying to convince himself as much as you.

You nodded, your heart aching at the vulnerability you could sense just beneath the surface. “I know you are. But… I’m worried about you, Spencer. You went through so much, and I know you’re strong, but sometimes… it feels like you’re trying to be someone you’re not. Like you’re putting on this tough exterior to hide what’s really going on inside.”

He sighed, his shoulders slumping slightly as he leaned back against the couch, his hand slipping into yours. “I guess… I had to be tough in there. It’s not easy to just turn that off, you know? And maybe… maybe it’s easier to pretend I’m okay than to face everything that happened.”

You squeezed his hand, your heart breaking a little at his words. “You don’t have to pretend with me, Spencer. You don’t have to be strong all the time. I love you, and I’m here for you, no matter what.”

Spencer looked at you, his eyes searching yours, and for a moment, the mask he had been wearing since his return slipped, revealing the hurt and the fear that he had been burying deep inside. “I’m scared,” he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. “Scared that if I let myself feel everything, it’ll break me.”

You leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to his lips, hoping to convey all the love and support you felt for him. “Then let me help you carry it,” you whispered against his lips. “You don’t have to do this alone.”

He kissed you back, deeper this time, his hands coming up to cup your face as if grounding himself in your presence. When he pulled back, there was a softness in his eyes, a vulnerability that you hadn’t seen in a long time. “Thank you,” he whispered, resting his forehead against yours. “For being here. For loving me, even like this.”

You smiled, brushing your thumb across his cheek. “Always,” you promised. “No matter what, I’m here.”

Spencer pulled you into his arms, holding you close as if you were the anchor keeping him from drifting away. And in that moment, you knew that no matter how much he had changed, no matter how much he tried to bury his pain, he would always be the man you loved. And you would be there, every step of the way, to help him find his way back to himself.

—

The sound of the shower running had become a comforting backdrop in your shared apartment, signaling Spencer's return to some semblance of normalcy. But tonight, something was different. As you passed by the bathroom, you heard the faintest sniffle, a sound so soft you almost dismissed it. Almost.

You paused, hand hovering over the doorknob as concern twisted in your chest. Slowly, you opened the door a crack, peeking inside to see Spencer standing under the spray, his back to you. His shoulders were hunched, and you could see the subtle shake in his frame as he tried to keep himself together.

"Spence? Baby?" you called gently, your voice barely above a whisper.

He gasped, the sound muffled by the water cascading over him. "Hi, darling. What's up?" His voice was strained, an obvious attempt to mask the turmoil you knew he was feeling.

"Are you okay?" you ventured, your heart aching as you waited for his response.

There was a long pause, the sound of the water the only thing filling the space between you. Finally, he sighed, the weight of it heavy with unspoken pain. "...No."

You stepped into the bathroom then, your concern outweighing any hesitation. "Can I come in?"

"In the shower?" His voice wavered.

"Yes, baby," you replied, letting a small, reassuring smile creep into your tone, hoping to ease his mind even just a little.

You heard his quiet "yeah" before you quickly stripped down, the urgency to comfort him overriding any other thought. When you stepped into the shower, the warm water cascading over your skin, you found him standing still, his hands clenched at his sides, as if he were trying to hold himself together by sheer will alone.

Without a word, you wrapped your arms around him from behind, pressing a soft kiss to his shoulder blade. You held him close, your touch gentle but firm, grounding him in the present, away from whatever memories had resurfaced.

"Do you want to talk about it?" you asked softly, your voice barely audible over the sound of the water.

Spencer's chest heaved with deep, shuddering breaths, the kind that come right before a sob breaks free. "I guess…I was just remembering what it was like to shower…there."

He didn’t need to say more. You knew what he meant, the horror of those confined spaces, the fear that had accompanied every moment, the helplessness that had seeped into his bones. Your heart ached for him, for the pain he was carrying, the trauma he was trying so hard to bury.

Gently, you spun him around, cupping his face in your hands. His eyes were squeezed shut, tears already mingling with the water on his face. You brought his head down to yours, pressing a tender kiss to his forehead, lingering there as if you could somehow kiss away the memories, the pain.

"You’re home, you’re safe, and you survived," you whispered against his skin, your voice filled with all the love and reassurance you could muster.

He nodded, his breath hitching as the first sob escaped, his tears flowing freely now. You held him as he cried, his body shaking with the force of his emotions. He clung to you, his hands fisting in your hair, as if afraid to let go, afraid that if he did, the memories would swallow him whole.

But you held him, strong and steady as you whispered soothing words into his ear. "I’m here, Spence. I’m not going anywhere."

Minutes passed, or maybe hours, you weren’t sure. Time seemed to stand still as you held him, the water now running cold but neither of you caring. Eventually, Spencer’s sobs quieted, his breathing evening out as he rested his head against your shoulder, utterly spent.

You kissed the side of his head, gently guiding him to turn off the water. "Come on, let’s get you dried off."

He nodded, his movements slow, almost reluctant, as if he feared the weight of the world would crash back down the moment you let go. But you didn’t let go, not even for a second. You wrapped him in a towel, guiding him to the bed, where you both sat down, still wrapped around each other.

As you pulled the covers over you both, Spencer rested his head on your chest, his arms around your waist, holding you close. "Thank you for being here," he murmured, his voice hoarse from crying, but laced with gratitude.

You stroked his damp hair, pressing a kiss to his temple. "Thank you for coming back."

And as you held him close, you knew that no matter what demons he faced, no matter how broken he felt, you would be there, every step of the way, helping him piece himself back together. Because you loved him—every part of him, even the broken ones—and you would never let him face the darkness alone.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle

hello hello!! I absolutely adore your work!!:) I was wondering if you could write smut with overstimulation of sub! Spencer!

One More

I got you, bestie! Thank you so much for the request!

genre: smut

cw: 18+ mdni! sub!spencer, softdom!reader, dirty talking, praise, use of good boy, handjobs, oral sex (spencer reviving), nipple play, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, completely gn!reader (reader is not described at all), no use of y/n, autistic!spencer (because every spencer is autistic!spencer), aftercare, cuddling

wordcount: 1k

Spencer writhes on the bed beneath you. His head is thrown back and his face flushed bright red. There are tears pricking at the corners of his closed eyes. He whimpers and mewls pathetically trying to move both closer to and farther from your hand on his cock. 

You chuckle at him condescendingly and continue to stroke him, using the cum from the orgasm he just had as lubrication. 

Spencer pants heavily, his flushed and cum-splattered chest and stomach heaving with the force of each breath. He tries to whine your name but is interrupted by another moan as you run your thumb over the head of his cock.

“Aww, baby,” you coo teasingly. “Is it too much?” 

Spencer opens his eyes to look at you and moves his head in a strange cross between a shake and nod, seemingly unable to decide. “Feels so good!” he gasps.

“Yeah?”

He squeezes his eyes shut as his face contorts with pleasure and he nods. He babbles incoherently, unable to form a complete sentence, and the thought drives you crazy. This normally so intelligent and articulate man, reduced to this. 

You lean forward and kiss a trail up his stomach to his chest, not slowing your hand once as you latch your mouth around one of his nipples. Spencer lets out a cry as he cums for a second time all over your hand and his stomach, adding to the mess that’s already there. 

Spencer whimpers softly when you remove your hand from his cock but the sound quickly shifts to a moan when you bring your hand up to the nipple not in your mouth. Spencer has always been incredibly sensitive everywhere and you love to use it to drive him crazy. 

You toy with his nipples with your tongue and fingers and revel in the way you can feel Spencer’s chest heave beneath your hands and mouth and feel his hips buck against your still fully clothed body. Part of you is tempted to grind down against him but you push that thought aside. This is about Spencer. This is about him allowing himself to be vulnerable and taken care of. The disparity in your level of dress adds to that, and it’s not like you mind him getting your clothes a bit messy, this is far from the first time he’s done so.

You pull away from his chest and Spencer opens his eyes to look at you, his pupils blown so wide that they almost eclipse the iris. You bring your clean hand up to wipe away the tear slipping down the side of his face and Spencer presses his head into your hand. “Sweet boy,” you mutter fondly. Spencer hums and smiles up at you. “You think you can give me one more, baby?”

Spencer’s eyes widen even further and you can feel him squirming beneath you as he nods.

You lean down to kiss him and whisper, “Good boy” against his lips.

Spencer’s breath hitches as you slide your way down his body until you’re settled between his legs, your face inches away from his cock. You wrap your arms around his thighs and grab onto his hips, pressing him further into the mattress with enough force to leave the small bruises you know he loves.

“W-wait,” Spencer stutters as you start to lower your head. You look up at him to see his hands, which had previously been curled into the sheets hovering in the air between you. “Can-can I touch now?”

You smile at him. “Of course, baby. Did so good asking for permission. Such a good boy,” you coo.

A dopey smile forms on Spencer’s face and he rests one hand on the back of your head and the other on one of your hands, not applying any pressure, simply enjoying the contact.

You drop your head and wrap your lips around him. Spencer gasps and his hips buck unsuccessfully into your hands as his cock starts to harden again in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around the head of his cock before slowly sinking down until your nose presses against his hips. You trace the underside of his cock with your tongue and hollow your cheeks. You hum softly around him and Spencer moans loudly. You pull back slightly and start to bob your head. 

Spencer’s cock is fully hard again almost instantly and you continue your ministrations, maintaining your grip on his hips to prevent him from thrusting into your mouth. 

Spencer’s hand curls around the top of yours, gripping it the best he can while it’s upside down. He writhes beneath you, broken moans and cut-off gasps escape his lips with every movement of your tongue and bob of your head. 

He’s already sensitive from his previous orgasms and you can tell that he’s close again already. Your theory is confirmed when Spencer gasps, “‘M close. Fuck. ‘M close.”

You hum around him in acknowledgment, gently scraping your front teeth along his cock, and Spencer cums with a weak shout. His whole body shudders and an almost pathetically small amount of cum shoots into your mouth. You swallow it down around him and keep your mouth on his cock until Spencer gently pushes you away. You release his hips and unhook your arms from around his thighs to wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. You gaze up at him and smile at the fucked out look on his face.

“You done, baby?” you ask.

Spencer nods weakly and holds out his arms. You chuckle fondly and slide up next to him to pull him into a hug. He curls into your chest with a hum. You reach over to the nightstand to grab some of the wet wipes you keep there and gently wipe Spencer clean. 

He whimpers at the contact with his oversensitive cock and you murmur a soothing, “I know, baby. It’s alright. I’m right here. I’ve got you.”

Spencer presses himself further into your side and you hold him softly, pressing gentle kisses to his head and whispering soft praises into his ear.

_____

REQUESTS ARE OPEN!

Taglist!: fill out this form if you want to be tagged when I post fics

@daryls-crossbow16 @roboticsuccubus83 @nemobee777 @kittensandkrows @dorcas4meadowes @spenciesslut @Idfk17 @pleasantwitchgarden @angeliccss @novaana @moonysreid @cynbx