electricgoldtendercare

[electricgoldtendercare]

Stop thinking about everything so much, you’re breaking your own heart.

[electricgoldtendercare]

INCREDIBLE !!!!!!

Heavenly

You confess to your very good friend and neighbor that you’ve never had sex before and after a comfortable conversation, you ask him to be your first. He agrees, as long as you don’t catch feelings—even when he already has [ 11.1k ]

Includes virgin female reader; post prison Reid; implied age gap; Spencer’s pov; he’s a consent king; smut: expect a lot + p in v protected sex and so!! many!!! kisses!!!! This is filthy and explicit and sweet and so sexy sexy <3

  “I need you to promise me something, okay?” Spencer’s gentle voice pierced through the brief silence of his apartment. 

  He cupped the back of your knees and helped you adjust on top of him so you could straddle him comfortably. 

  “Anything.” You smiled with your whole face—an adorable scrunch of your nose and crinkling eyes. 

  Those damn eyes. There was no tragedy in them.

  Licking his lips, Spencer lifted one hand to cradle your face and you immediately leaned on it with affection. The corner of his mouth twitched into a smile; his heart dangerously fluttered.

  For the longest time, you’d been the girl next door, the one that moved in during his time away in prison; the one that after his three months and seven days in hell, welcomed him back home with a sweet smile and curious eyes; the one that after one friendly conversation outside his door late at night, offered to look after his pet fish whenever he was away on a case—Shadow was a gift from Penelope so he wouldn’t feel so alone since coming back, especially during his mandatory thirty days off. 

  Shadow helped, but ever since you started to silently sneak into his life, that genuine light that followed you left no room for his bleak loneliness. Even during the days he didn’t bump into you in the hallway, just hearing your door click brought him comfort, like his body had already grown a radar somewhere deep within him that reacted whenever you were near. 

  (The only night he didn’t hear that familiar sound messed with him—he’d felt like a creep waiting to listen to your footsteps outside at the usual time and when he didn’t hear your keys until early the next morning, a strange fire settled in him. Nothing bad had happened, you told him all about your fun night with your friends).

  Spencer cleared his voice and said, softly, “I need you… not to feel things.” 

  You replied by tilting your head like a puppy and a subtle knit of your brows. 

  Jesus, he was a wreck already.

  “I mean, of course, you’re gonna feel things” —he closed his eyes to avoid getting more lost in yours—“What I’m saying is—”

  “Oh, yeah, I get what you mean.” You then mirrored him, cradling his face with a feather-light touch. “Don’t catch feelings, right?” 

  “Don’t catch feelings,” he echoed you quietly, opening his eyes again. 

  What a hypocrite thing to say when his heart was about to flutter out of his chest. It has been like that since you came up with this proposition—since last night’s conversation at the rooftop. He never thought of you that way (not on purpose, anyway), but that didn’t mean he didn’t think you were beautiful in every way, so from the moment the word ‘virgin’ came out of your mouth, you planted a seed that spread like wildfire overnight. His heart has been answering to your presence long before that, though. The first moment his heart lost its rhythm because of you was imprinted on his mind. You’d just come back from the grocery store and bumped into him on his way out. You met halfway on the stairs—him walking down, you walking up—and instead of saying ‘hi, Dr. Reid’ as you usually did, you offered him a bite of the Snickers bar you were eating. It was the simplest gesture, but he wasn’t expecting to see you that morning, and your beauty caught him off guard every time. 

  “I understand.” You moved your hand higher up and brushed a curl away from his forehead. “I promise. I won’t feel things I—” you sucked in a short breath, “I have feelings for a friend of mine, actually.”

  His jaw clenched and he held the thought for a moment without blinking. He tried his best to sound unbothered as he said, “Does he have a girlfriend?” lacing his words with a not-so-genuine intrigue.

  You shook your head with a downcast look. “He just likes someone else.”

  To think that this person liked someone else dimmed your light briefly. How could anyone like someone else? He shifted on the couch and dragged the hand on your face down to the curve of your neck. Your skin was as smooth as a Lotus petal and he couldn’t wait to find out how every corner of your body would feel under every inch of him. 

  You perched more toward his right thigh rather than his lap itself, seemingly looking for a better position, and an instant heat radiated from your core through his pants and to his skin. A gentle heartbeat drummed over his muscle, which could only mean one thing: you were already aroused. 

  And you haven’t even kissed yet. 

  But you hid it well.

  “Can I… think about him while we do it?” You casually asked, tearing your eyes away from him. 

  His jaw clenched again. It was hard not to assume you wanted to be experienced if the time with him came. Spencer cleared his throat. You could think of him, but he was going to make sure you didn’t. 

  “Yeah,” he merely replied, purposely bouncing his leg once to feel that lustful heartbeat again.

  You met his eyes and changed the subject. “Doesn’t your mandatory leave start today?” 

  “Yeah, why?”

  “So you dress formally even on your days off?” You smoothed down the shoulders of his blazer with both hands. 

  “I don’t own many casual clothes.”

  Besides his pajamas, he only had some workout clothes he hadn’t worn in a while. Plus, he liked the feel of formal clothes better. 

  “That’s cute, it’s like you’re always ready for something.” You raised your brows and nodded with humor spread all over your pretty face. “It’s hot today, though.” Hence your very short shorts. You reached for the knot of his tie. "Isn’t this too tight?”

  “A little”—his nose twitched—“yeah.”

  You began to loosen it, your eyes lost in your hand movements while saying, “For the record, I know a lot about sex, I just haven’t had the chance to practice anything.” Your fingers mindlessly grazed his neck and chin until his tie was fully loose hanging from either side of his neck yet he still couldn’t breathe properly. 

  “You haven’t practiced anything at all?” Spencer gulped and undid the first two buttons of his collar.

  Still not enough air.

  “I have played with myself,” your brows raised to make your point. “And I satisfy my needs.” You then shrugged. Your mere presence had started a fire inside his pants—from the second he opened the door for you—and now every word that came out of your pretty mouth was fuel. Spencer shifted on his seat once more to ease the tight feeling. “Maybe that’s why I’ve never been in a hurry to do anything with anyone,” you finished saying.  

  Spencer hummed. You weren’t in a hurry yet wanted to do it with him. Why now? He wanted to ask, but you beat him with a question of your own.

  “You’ve done it, right?” 

  Your demeanor changed. Your tone felt… flirty and was joined by a barely-there smirk.

  “Y-yeah I have.” His voice came out slightly high-pitched as he nodded. 

  “A lot?” 

  No. 

  His mouth hung open.

  “Sorry.” You shook your head and frowned as if you were taken aback by your own question.

  “It’s okay.” He licked his lips but avoided the question anyway. “I, uh, need you to promise me another thing.” 

  Your eyes flickered down to his mouth, blinking and nodding and licking your lips all at once. 

  “That this will be a one-time thing,” he dared to say. 

  There was a micro-expression that took over your brows. He wanted to think it was a disappointment.

  “But what if I like it?” You slightly adjusted on top of him. This new movement brought your core closer to his, and his growing erection throbbed. “What if you like it?” 

  Of course, he was going to like it. He already liked this, having you this close, on top of him, just talking and getting to admire all of you. So he knew the sex with you was going to be unforgettable, but he couldn’t care less about his needs.

  This wasn’t about him. 

  “Then we’ll talk about it,” he replied. 

  “Okay.” You played with each end of his tie and your brows relaxed again. “So, where do we start?”

  Spencer settled his hands on your ribs and asked himself the same thing. He wanted to glue his lips to your neck, and trail kisses up until he kissed you on the mouth. 

  He licked his lips while staring at yours. “It usually starts with two people kissing each other.” 

  You did that thing again—smile with your whole face in approval.

  “You wanna do that?” He half-smiled. 

  “For a while, yeah,” you responded, lazily wrapping your arms around his neck and chuckling close to his face, and as small as the sound was, it bathed him whole. 

  Spencer sighed subtly. “Are you comfortable here on the couch?”

  “Mhm.” You nodded then whispered, “I’m a bit nervous, though.”

  Spencer scanned your face and took you all in, in case you decided to call this out at some point. It was the one rule he’d already voiced before you even hopped on his lap: if you, at any point, wanted to stop, this ended without a doubt.   

  Though you seemed very sure about it. Besides your lack of eye contact (which from the moment he met you he knew was a part of you), there was nothing else that told him you weren’t sure about this. 

  “I’m nervous, too,” he confessed.

  “But I do feel very comfortable with you,” you reassured him with your normal tone then went back to whispering, as if all of this was a little secret, “It’s just… first-time things I guess.”

  His hands slowly skimmed down to your hips to start getting you used to his braver touch. “You’ve never kissed anyone either?” 

  “Yes, I have!” You said through the cutest bubbly laugh, turning your face away from him and leaning your cheek on his shoulder. “Not a lot but I’ve made out with people.”

  Spencer trailed one hand up and rubbed the small of your back in an attempt to comfort you. His hand fitted perfectly there. 

  “See, so you have practiced some of it.” 

  You faced him again and this time ended up much, much closer. “Yeah.” Your fresh breath fanned his lips. You stayed there, close. “Are you still sure about this? I know it was a lot to ask. And bold.” 

  “It was very bold, yeah,” Spencer tried to be humorous about it yet wished you hadn’t asked. The guilt cascaded over him and he couldn’t help but feel like he was taking advantage of you, even when this was your idea to begin with. 

  “But are you sure?” You asked again.

  The golden glare of sunset casted brighter inside his living room just as you said that, and he took it as a sign. That this was okay. 

  You locked eyes for five quiet seconds, and all the while, he replied by taking off his blazer, rolled up his sleeves, took off his watch (he figured it could be an uncomfortable feeling on your skin if you decided he could touch you in special places), and leaned with you on top of him to place it on the coffee table—to grab you closer, too. 

  You ended up nose to nose.

  “That was smooth,” you teased, tugging your bottom lip between your teeth.

  “Was it?” He smirked—barely—as he leaned back on the couch again, resting his palms on your waist.

  “Can we kiss now?” you pleaded in a whisper. 

  Yeah, Spencer murmured and you didn’t hesitate much to show him well how this wasn’t a first kiss for you. You brushed back his hair with both hands first, angling your face to one side while leaning fully. Your tender lips connected to his with ease and it took him two breathless seconds to respond to it. His left arm remained somewhat wrapped around your waist while his other hand went back up to cup the side of your neck—his already favorite spot on your body.

  This was a lot like dancing—not that he’d danced much in his life—but he had no trouble following your rhythm. Slow and patient. You weren’t in a hurry at all, and for once, his mind stopped racing. He focused on every bit of you—from your lips softly molding against his, to your hands on his hair, your fingertips scratching his scalp at a gentle pace, your sweet perfume getting impregnated on his clothes, your heaving chest glued to his and even that was not close enough. You angled your face to the other side and the warmth of your tongue brushed against his own, so naturally he did that too, pulling you down to his level by the nape of your neck so he could kiss you more intensely.

  It turned into a wet kiss, his tongue gliding inside your mouth and searching for your own. The sounds your lips together made were exquisite, and he managed to get a small sound from you as a response to his sudden passion. He felt you physically melt all over him and he almost went with you. You pressed down your hips, rubbing yourself against him, and your hands that never let go of his hair now were gripping it tight. 

  It felt natural, how your bodies seem to know each other’s next move. Your hands mapped the back of his head with care while the hand on your neck dared to trail down to your left breast. He groped it once—a quiet moan from you disappearing into his mouth as a reaction—and continued the path down to your waist. 

  You withdrew from his lips just enough to say, “You have nice lips,” in a whisper then continued kissing him for a moment before breaking it again. No words came out this time. Just your heavy breathing. 

  “You okay?” He asked just as agitatedly.

  “I think I’m ready.” You breathed out loudly through your nose. 

  His heart raced faster. “Yeah?” 

  “I feel ready.” You nodded.

  “You mean aroused?” He subtly gulped and you nodded again. “With just a few kisses?” 

  Spencer pulled back to get a better glimpse of your face and got lost in how his lips left a trace on yours. 

  “You’re a very good kisser.” You brushed your thumb over his bottom lip.

  You’d grown confident and were now seducing him shamelessly which was making him impatient. 

  “Can I see?” he softened his voice and playfully glided a finger over the waistband of your shorts. “Touch you?”

  You replied with a shy nod and propped yourself on your knees at either side of his hips to give him better access. Spencer reached for the trail of buttons of your shorts with shaky hands and undid them one by one, looking up at you to keep eye contact searching for your constant approval. The lust in your eyes was undeniable. 

  Once your shorts were loose around your hips, he snuck one hand inside from the front. He didn’t want to overwhelm you by touching your bare and sensitive skin right away, so he found the source of heat over the thin fabric of your panties and pressed your clothed cunt. 

  A timid pleased sound got trapped in your throat. “Am I wet?” You brought your thumb up to your mouth and bit your nail.

  “You are.” The patch of arousal leaked to his fingers in an instant. Fuck, he needed more. “Is it okay if I touch you more?”

  “Please.” 

  He swiftly moved your panties to the side and nothing could’ve prepared him for that feeling. That much arousal just by kissing. You were soaked. His brain shut down briefly, his eyes fluttered closed and his jaw clenched. Every cell in his body moved frantically and the flush of his cheeks spread down to his neck and chest. He sucked in a breath and held onto your right thigh to keep you steady while he went for a more proper touch, smearing your arousal everywhere with all four fingers. 

  Gentle, wet sounds reached his ears and he nuzzled his nose somewhere on your chest, muffling a grunt. His balls drew up tight. 

  “Do you finger yourself?” He asked right there against your chest and spread your slippery folds open. 

  “Mh-mm.” 

  “How many fingers do you use?” He dared to look up at you again and teased your entrance with two fingers, sliding just the tip of his middle finger inside. Your velvety and gummy walls gripped it right away.

  Fuck, fuck, fuck. That was tight.

  “One.” You breathed out. “Sometimes two. Usually two.”

  He slid his finger further up holding your gaze and you sucked in an audible breath as your brows pinched together. He pumped his finger a few times and you tightened around him even more. He would’ve used two fingers but he wanted his cock to stretch you out, not his fingers. 

  Keeping eye contact, he also kept the pace. The motions were short yet he made sure the rest of his fingers kept stimulating you from the outside. There were more than ten thousand nerves down there he could play with. 

  You clammed up his finger even more and this time he couldn’t hold back a pleased but low grunt. He shut his eyes again, delighting himself with the feeling and sounds and torturing himself by picturing this very same feeling around his cock. You’d be milking his cock by now. 

  Your knees weakened and a harsh drop of your body brought you down with all of your weight to his lap again, forcing him to stop all the way.

  “You okay?” He asked, sliding his hand out. 

  “Yeah, I just… I’ve never felt like this.” You breathed out loudly. 

  “Like what?”

  “So damn horny,” you laughed a little. 

  His lips flickered into a soft smile. “Would you like to go further, then?”

  “God, yes.” You captured his lips hungrily and whispered against his mouth, “Please, would you… eat me out? I’ve always wanted that if- if that’s something you’d enjoy, obviously.”

  Fuck.

  “I’d love to.” Spencer returned the desperate kiss. “Here?”

  “Right here.”

  Spencer was at your will, so he gave you one last peck before you exchanged positions. You plopped on the couch while he kneeled in front of you and helped you take off your sneakers first, then dragged your shorts and panties down in one fell swoop, not without a bit of hesitation. His ears and cheeks were burning. 

  You glued your knees together as a reflex and with an assuring look, Spencer spread your legs open. He didn’t look down right away, building his anticipation. Then, he finally did and his mouth started to water. Your arousal was smeared all over and a milky, long drop was leaking out your sex.

  You covered your face with your palms. “Don’t look too much. This feels very… gynecologic.”

  A small laugh huffed through his nose as he leaned to dot kisses on your inner thighs. Your scent was exquisite and the further up he kissed you, the closer to heaven he was. His lips reached your groin and he planted one more kiss until his mouth hovered over your outer wet lips. He breathed you in—got drunk in your smell—then breathed out through his mouth to tease you looking up; your impatient face prompted him to place an open-mouth kiss right there against your cunt. An immediate gasp came from you as his lips got coated with a thin layer of you. He licked his lips clean to get that very first taste and went for another kiss, this time with his tongue. He hummed right there and you bucked your hips against his face whispering his name along with some mumbling he didn’t quite catch. He was just getting started so he looped both arms around your thighs and dove in nose-deep. Licking and suctioning and slurping everything.

  You were too shy to say anything. 

  Until you weren’t.

  God, Spencer

  That feels so good.

  Right there.

  Oh, shit, shit, shit.

  You showered him in praise which only made him more eager. Moving his head side to side with his tongue flat over your clit and switching motions in between to a pointy tongue flicking your nub. So all while you were shining with pleasure, he was getting consumed by pain. His cock was straining against his pants begging to be freed and it physically hurt. He let go of one of your thighs and reached for his crotch to release some of the ache, groped the outline of his cock a few times as he licked and nibbled your clit and stretched it out between his lips and gentle teeth, grunting hungrily. 

  Whiny moans escaped you. They painted every wall of his apartment and right there, with his face buried between your legs, he wished every room would be splattered with that shade. He wanted more; he needed more of that, of you, so he suctioned harder and your entire body jolted with bliss and—

  “Wait. Wait!” You gripped his hair and pulled him away from your cunt. 

  Spencer licked his lips and looked up at you. Your eyes were closed and your face was split with a pleased smile.

  “I don’t wanna come yet and—” You breathed harshly through a small laugh. “If you—”

  “Want me to stop?” He kissed your inner thigh—sucked on it. 

  “No,” you exhaled breathlessly. “I mean— I just—”

  You needed a break, and since the ache of his cock was somewhat relieved by now, he freed his hand and with his thumb lifted the hood that covered your clit. That precious shiny nub was now fully exposed to him and beautifully swollen, waiting to be taken care of the way it deserved. 

  He was aware it could be quite sensitive so he went for a soft lick first with a flat tongue.

  “Mh,” you bucked your hips and squirmed under him. 

  He licked again and your hand flew to his head, gripping his hair like you were already used to. 

  “How’s that?” He asked against your cunt between slurps and messy kisses. 

  “So good.”

  “Should I keep going, then?”

  “Mmm, yes.”

  That was all he needed. He teased your entrance and delved his tongue in and out a few times before using his finger instead. He grunted shamelessly there. For you. For your experience. Because he needed you to know he wanted to be here, nose-deep in between your legs. He hugged your thighs again with each arm and licked you harder. He looked up, the glimpse he caught of your pleased face might’ve been the most beautiful state he’d ever seen you. 

  Your breathing grew harsh, and your agitated sounds were loud now. Your legs began to shake. 

  “Shit Spencer, right there just- keep going.”

  Please, please, you politely pleaded.

  He hummed in approval and kept going as you’d asked. He licked and sucked and moaned and gripped your thighs harshly guiding you to your orgasm. He felt it. He knew it was coming soon so he didn’t do anything differently. Just lapped his tongue between strong suctions. 

  You began to grind his face, holding his head still with both hands. Then, desperate sounds bounced around while your legs tensed. Your gummy walls began to spasm around his finger and he finally slid a second one, and your whines increased and— 

  “Wait! Wait—” You gripped his hair harsher than before and yanked his head away from your cunt. 

  That grip sent tingles all over him.

  “I… I don’t wanna… come yet I…” you trailed off agitatedly. So you liked edging, and he couldn’t help but imagine you, in your room, all alone, torturing yourself not to come. “Just come here,” you said.

  He obeyed the best he could given the not-so-comfortable position—you were still with your ass close to the edge of the couch and your legs spread up—and towered over you. His clothed erection lined perfectly against your wet cunt and he bucked his hips once almost as an impulse. You gasped, fluttering your eyes open. Your pupils took over your irises and he was sure his eyes were the same.

  “Is this okay?” He asked close to your lips as he gently thrusted his hips again. 

  “Yeah.” You looked down where your bodies almost met fully and nodded. “I might come like this.”

  Your arousal started to leak through his pants the more he stayed there pressed to you, so he did it again, grinding against you and rubbing your clit with the harsh fabric.

  You gasped again through a smile. 

  “That’s okay.” He captured your mouth to now ruthlessly stimulate you. “I want you to come like this. Do you wanna come like this?”

  You’d been dragging out your orgasm for a while so, after you nodded in approval, it only took eight seconds to have you trembling again, this time until the very end of your release. A shaky breath came out first, that slowly grew harsh and harsher until you began to shamelessly whine into his mouth. You moaned his name and your breathy voice echoed between your lips and his own as you clung onto him with arms and legs and met each of his thrusts, rubbing yourself against his erection like the desperate little thing you were. 

  He tenderly shushed your voice that was breaking through your orgasm, to comfort you. That’s it, he encouraged you, and dotted feather-light kisses all over your cheeks until you somewhat were out of it. 

  “Was it too much?” He asked between more messy kisses. 

  You didn’t answer but a small and tired groan got caged in your throat.

  “Hey, you okay?” He asked again. He needed to hear you speak.

  “My mouth is dry,” you managed to reply in a raspy whisper while nodding. 

  Spencer dared to sneak one hand between your legs and gently grazed your clit and your entire body jerked. You were very sensitive, so he focused on massaging everywhere but there with his entire hand almost to help you ease that feeling. A soft and blissful whine escaped you as you rolled your lips together and closed your eyes. It was helping. He was in an incredible amount of pain again, though. His cock and balls couldn’t be more tight and the way it strained against his pants was torturous. But he would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy this particular pain when your post-orgasm glow was radiating straight through him. 

  “Do you still need a moment?” He murmured, his lips ghosting yours as he spoke. “It’s okay if you want to stop here.” 

  “I don’t want this to stop.” You gave him a soft peck. “Ever, but I think I need a moment but… I don’t want you to stop.” You then cupped his face and planted a messy kiss over his top lip. “I want you to fuck me, Spencer. Really fuck me.”

  Spencer returned the kiss with the same hunger before finally settling himself in a more comfortable position, kneeling over the carpet and between your now more relaxed but still shaky legs. Your exquisite scent was everywhere on him—lips, chin, hands, and pants. 

  “We should go to my room,” he suggested, standing up. “We’ll be more comfortable there.”

  He helped you get up (smiled to himself when he noticed how your legs wobbled as you stood) and reached for your hand, leading the way to his room. Once the door was locked—a habit—he strongly captured each side of your face with both hands and leaned for a kiss. 

  “Can I see you now?” You palmed his erection over his pants. 

  A grunt from him got imprinted on your lips. Your touch was gentle yet woke up the side of him he feared to show you too soon. He guided you to his bed rather hurriedly and you understood with just a glance that you had to sit there, expectant, as he began to undo his belt. Your eyes followed every move his hands did; the clink of metal building your anticipation. You shamelessly bit your bottom lip once he unbuttoned and unzipped his pants for you. 

  Then he stopped.

  To cup your chin and angle your face up so you’d look at him. “You wanna feel it first?” he said just above a whisper. All you did was nod once. “Give me your hand.”

  He took a step closer lowering his pants just enough to tug out his still-clothed cock, for you to feel but not see yet. He guided your hand and you immediately skimmed over his erection that he’d adjusted straight to one side. Spencer let go of your chin and let you look down. You gulped and looked up at him again. 

  Your brows pinched together. “Can I take it out?”

  Spencer nodded as he undid all the buttons of his button-down and left it open. A fire blossomed at the pit of his stomach the moment your lips connected to his skin right next to his navel and went low, low, and lower until you were kissing the head of his cock over the underwear. You hooked one finger on the elastic band and dragged his boxers down, freeing his erection at last. It sprung free, your hand immediately went to keep it steady by the base. 

  “Oh,” you breathed out. 

  You caressed his trimmed wiry hairs and took a moment to really stare at it. You somehow studied it at first—bright-eyed—as if you wanted to take in all of it. And you did. You gulped and began to trace delicate lines across his length with your fingertips and over every throbbing vein that poked. You glanced up at him through your lashes and rewarded him with a smile, and holding his gaze, you leaned, stuck your tongue out, and traced a long line the underside of his shaft with a flat tongue. His glutes and thighs tensed. 

  “Is this okay?” You asked.

  “It’s perfect.” He brushed the top of your head. You were perfect. 

  You fisted his length with confidence and pumped it a few times until the skin covering the head was all the way back. You looked up at him again, and wrapped your lips around his leaking, flushed tip. He died a little at that exact moment. Your lips were silky smooth and he didn’t expect the feeling to relax him this much. His heart rate went down, his eyes closed shut and the hand stroking your head stayed there, still. You took more and he looked down, chin pressed to his chest to watch his cock slowly disappear into your pretty mouth.

  You hummed, shutting your eyes with pleasure, and wrapped your hand around what you couldn’t fit into your mouth—a little too hard for his liking. 

  “Gentler,” he said in a harsher tone than intended but balanced it with a soft stroke on your cheek.

  You looked up at him with your mouth still barely full and blinked slowly as in ‘understood’, doing as he said—gentler. You caught a good rhythm and began to bob your head, your cheeks hollowing each time you withdrew. Soon, it became a lot for him to handle. Too much pleasure and he was about to explode any minute. Even if you weren’t experienced in this, just the thought of having your lips wrapped around his cock was enough to make him come. 

  You were getting too eager—moaning and whining right there around his cock—and if the plan was to fuck you, this had to stop right now but god, every new thing you experienced became more beautiful to look at. This time, your eyes closed enjoying the taste and feel of his cock filling your mouth was his favorite view.

  He bucked his hips ever so slightly once, then withdrew all the way. Your lips were glistening with spit and he leaned down to cup your jaw and capture your lips with an open mouth kiss. He could taste himself very well.

  “Lie down,” he ordered in a whisper.

  The hint of a pout took over your lips but you crawled to the other side of the bed without a protest. You’d left a patch of arousal over his duvet right where you were sitting; a beautiful reminder of how aroused you still were.  

  “Do you feel comfortable over the bed covers?” He asked and began to undress fully.

  “Yeah.” Your eyes scanned his body. “Is it okay?”

  “Yeah, yeah.” 

  He left his underwear for last and the moment he joined you, your eyes skimmed down the length of his now naked body. 

  “Should I undress completely too?” You asked. 

  You only had your shirt left. The oversized shirt of your favorite band that looked so good on you; the same shirt he teased you about how you wore it too much; the same shirt you were wearing the very first night he confessed to you about his time away in prison. The first night he allowed you to see through him. He really liked you in that shirt. 

  He raked his hand over your upper thigh and stopped at the hem of your shirt. “If that’s what you want.” 

  You hesitated for a moment, lifted it over your head, and immediately braced yourself, lying back. 

  Spencer smiled.

  “What?”

  “You’re very pretty.” He trailed his hand higher up and laid his hand flat over your lower stomach.

  You brought your thumb up to your mouth and bit your nail to hide a shy smile. “Thank you.” You then relaxed your arms and exposed your breasts to him. Your nipples were hard and perky, and he wanted to tweak them. Bite them. Suck on them.

  He traced delicate lines over your stomach. “Is there anything in particular you want to try now?”

  Your gaze drifted down his body too and stopped at his cock for a moment before taking his hand and guiding it to your breasts. 

  “I really like this.” You enveloped the back of his palm and made him grope your right breast.

  His cock twitched. 

  “You do that while touching yourself?” He asked even when he already knew the answer. He’d caught you pinching your nipples over your shirt while he was eating you out just a few moments ago. 

  “Sometimes.” Your voice came out small. “It feels nice. Both things happening at once.”

  Spencer rolled your nipple between his fingers then pinched it gently, stretched it out just to let it go and watch it bounce back into place. Lowering himself, he licked his lips and leaned down closer—close enough to have your breasts at the level of his mouth and just a few centimeters away. 

  “Will you use your mouth on them too?” You asked in a teasing tone staring down at him.

  “Is that what you want?” He raised his brows ever so slightly.

  “I think that’s what you want.”

  “This isn’t about me.”

  “I know but…” You reached for the side of his head and stroked his hair. “I want you to have a good time too.”

  “Believe me”—he planted a soft kiss right next to your now softer nipple—“I am.”

  You squeezed your thighs together and murmured, “Then do whatever you want with me.”

  “Don’t”—he shut his eyes—“say that. Not like that.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like… you’re giving me permission to use you.” He frowned softly. 

  “But I am.” Your gaze brightened. 

  “Don’t.”

  “Why?”

  Spencer gulped. He didn’t want to take out everything he’d been accumulating on you. It’d been years since he last had sex and if you allowed him to do anything he wanted— 

  “I don’t want to overwhelm you,” he merely replied. 

  “Why?” Half a smile tugged at your lips. “Because you’d be rough?”

  He shut his eyes again. “No? I—”

  “And if I want you to?” You cut him off. “Would you? Be rough?”

  “If you want me to I— I… I could. Yes.” You bit your lip and it only drove him more insane. He tried his best not to stammer as he continued, “But let’s take it slowly, okay?”

  You leaned for a kiss and murmured, “Okay,” against his lips.

  This was just sex, Spencer repeated in his head. Just sex. His heart shouldn’t be doing this. Fluttering because of a kiss. He put every tender thought he felt for you inside a vault inside his mind and kissed the underside of your jaw while tweaking your nipples, then dotted more kisses down to your chest, and the curve of your left breast. He stuck his tongue out with each kiss and the moment he reached your nipple he wrapped it with his mouth. You squirmed under him and made a small pleased sound, something between a hum and moan. It only encouraged him to keep going, so he sucked on it more and scooted closer to you so his cock would touch you. Somewhere. Anywhere. He needed it. The head drifted over your thigh, which was enough for him.

  He grunted and sucked on your tit even more while groping the other gently. One of your hands flew to the back of his head and prompted him to dive deeper, nuzzling his nose into your soft flesh and adding soft movements. He kept going for a long while until he decided to let it go with a gentle sound. 

  “It’s probably going to get bruised. It’s normal by how much I’ve… sucked them.”

  “Can you make them even, then?” 

  Without a second thought, he towered over you and went for the other one, capturing it with confidence. This one felt a bit fuller than the other inside his mouth. He sucked on it and swirled his tongue around your nipple. Nibbled it between gentle teeth. Just like the other, he gave it a lot of attention and spent a good amount of time there until you began to breathe harshly, and your chest heaving in and out allowed him to go even deeper. 

  Spencer, you cried out his name and he took it as a sign to stop. 

  “How’s that?” He looked up at you and only then he noticed you’d been touching yourself. “Let me.” He moved your hand aside and continued what you were doing and went back to suck on your tit. 

  As soon as he touched you there he met a ridiculous amount of arousal. More than before—so much more. He let go of your breast and propped himself over his elbow to get a better glimpse. His breathing hitched. Some of it had started to reach his bedding and your thighs acted as walls between the thick strings of your arousal. 

  He’d done that. He’d made you this wet—kept you this wet.

  “Is it a lot?” You asked. 

  “It is.” He looked up at you. “Which is good. Means you’re still aroused. Very aroused so… it shouldn’t hurt much when I…”

  “When you fuck me?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Are we doing it now?” 

  “Do you want to?” 

  You nodded.

  “Do you feel ready?” He asked.

  “Yeah. Do you?” You teased him.

  “Y-yeah. I, uh, I’ll put on a condom.”

He stretched his arm to reach his nightstand drawer and got the single condom he’d bought this morning (along with a Snickers bar for you for later). Then while sitting down, he tore the foil open—feeling your eyes on him the whole time—and rolled the latex down his length with ease. 

  “Could you tease me a little more?” You scooted closer to him.

  He looked up at you. “Yeah, come here.” He lay on his side and you did the same, closing the gap between your bodies. Burning heat radiated through both of you. “Keep your legs closed,” he softly instructed as he lined his cock right between your thighs and below your cunt to slide it in.

  An in-sync gasp filled the space between your lips and his own, and as he began to buck his hips in and out, you started to share the same agitated breath. 

  You held onto his bicep and met one of his thrusts. 

  “Is this okay?” He had to ask and slung his arm over your waist in a way where he could still admire your body. 

  “Mhm.” You pinched your brows together. “Feels so nice.”

  “It does.” He gave you a lopsided smile. 

  Your eyes darted down to his lips and he couldn’t hold back the urge to capture your mouth and kiss you hungrily. You moaned into his mouth, bucking your hips to his rhythm. This felt so damn good, warm, slippery. He forced himself to think of anything else, but with the beautiful sounds you kept making, it was hard to let his mind go elsewhere and his thrusts soon turned sloppy. 

   He grunted against your mouth. “If I keep going, I might—” 

  “Then stop.” You cut him off and hastily rolled on top of him. “I wanna feel you inside me.”

  “Y-you want to be on top?” He held onto your hips.

  “Yeah.” 

  You sat upright and pressed his cock against his stomach with your cunt. Your folds wrapped the underside of his length perfectly and began to slide back and forth a few times, coating the latex with your juices. He threw his head back in pleasure for a second before delighting himself with the sight again. Your hips had an adorable clumsy rhythm and both of your hands pressed flat against his chest for support. He was sure your palms were receiving every frantic beat of his heart but you were so immersed into this new position you probably couldn’t care. 

  You collapsed over his chest after a few more strokes.

  “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear as he spoke. 

  You lazily obeyed, freeing his cock and from behind you, he reached for it and lined up the head at your entrance. Just as his mouth was next to your ear, yours was next to his, and the soft whine you let out as he pushed the head in sent him to another dimension. He groaned right there in your ear, too.

  “If at any point you want to stop just tell me and we’ll stop, okay?” He somehow managed to say, his cock sliding in just a bit more. 

  “I don’t think I’ll ever want to stop.” You pulled back enough to be nose to nose. “The way you talk to me. God, the way you look at me,” you whispered against his lips. 

  “I’m right here,” he murmured back and captured your lips into a wet and open-mouth kiss. 

  You bucked your hips down and took more of him. It was the perfect tightness, where it didn’t feel forceful but still was a warm and strong grip. 

  “How’s that feel?” He asked immediately.

  “I need more but-” You lowered your hips more, taking another torturous inch. “Sh-shit. I feel so full already. What if it doesn’t fit?”

  “It will. We’ll make it fit. Don’t worry.” He reached for his cock again to feel how much you were taking. It was barely in. “A bit more, sweet girl, I’ve got you.”

  You blinked tiredly and adjusted your upper body more to his left side, bucking your hips down silently. 

  Then a lot more. 

  “Th-there, there,” he muttered while you muffled a whine into the crook of his neck. He planted a lazy kiss on your temple. “That’s good, so good.” Spencer groaned. “Fuck, you feel incredible.”

  “I do?”

  “Like heaven.”

  You laughed a little and languidly sat upright supporting yourself with both hands over his chest and taking what was left of him at last. 

  Wiping the sweaty pieces of his hair away from his forehead, he stared down where your bodies met. His cock was fully gone inside you. 

  “You don’t have to move right away if you don’t want to.” He looked up at you.

  God, you looked angelic there on top of him, sitting still for a moment with your eyes closed and breathing in through your nose in apparent deep thought. 

  “Can you… move? Under me?” You winced. 

  “Yeah, come here,” he opened up his arms and gestured for you to lay on his chest again. You lowered yourself and rested both elbows on either side of his head. Your breasts ended up at the level of his chin. “You’re gonna have to lift your hips for me. Can you do that?” 

  You indulged without a sound. Fuck. Your grip turned even tighter. 

  “Like that?” You asked. 

  “Exactly like that.” Spencer’s face quivered with pleasure. “I’m gonna start moving now, okay?”

  “Mhm.” You nodded. 

  He cupped your ass with both hands to keep your hips still and spread your cheeks open just a bit. He thrusted his hips gently, too gentle to drill his cock all the way inside you again, so he thrusted once more and managed to get a small sound from you as a response.

  “You okay?” He had to ask mid-thrust.

  “Yeah.” You collapsed on top of him and found comfort on his torso, keeping your ass up. “Feels good.” 

  Every subtle movement stretched you and feeling how your cunt was gradually getting used to his cock prompted him to go for another thrust. A deeper one. He wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you close into a tight hug. 

  “I’m gonna move a lot more now.” He angled his face up searching for your lips. You had a soft mist of sweat above your top lip that he gladly kissed away. “Hold onto me.” His lips brushed your own as he spoke. “I’ve got you.”

  I’ve got you, he repeated before taking full control. 

  It was sloppy at first. Messy thrusts with tense thighs that barely allowed his cock in but he felt you stretching. Really stretching. He held back every moan but that didn’t mean he was silent. He breathed harshly, panted against your lips and soon you were breathing the same desperate air. 

  Right then, as he fucked you, he discovered something new about you: during sex, you were strong on eye contact. A subtle knit of brows and your smile—god that smile—he wondered what you were thinking. He needed to know what you were thinking, but for now, that smile and gentle pleased sounds that escaped through it was enough for him. He captured each of them with a never-ending kiss until a strong tension began to build at the base of his cock and he knew it was already time to shift positions. 

  Or was it too soon?

  “My thighs are getting tired,” You said through a small laugh as if you’d read his mind. 

  “That’s okay,” he was quick to stop his thrusts and trailed his hands up to your waist. “Do you want to lay on your back?” 

  “Yeah, I wanna feel you on top of me.” 

  Without another thought, Spencer settled between your legs in a few swift movements, always careful not to support his weight too hard on any part of your body, and in the process, he deliberately let his cock slip out. Being inside you was all-consuming and he needed to recover some of his clarity. To remind himself that this was temporary.  

  His gaze darted down to your body. A thin sheen of sweat spreaded over the skin under your eyes, chin, and across your chest. It gave you a romantic type of beauty. 

  “Please?” you muttered tiredly. 

  “What is it?” 

  “Need you now.” You spoke in a whiny tone and reached for his cock.  

  He let you, and you used him to tease yourself. He stuck the tip of his tongue out of the corner of his mouth trying to hide a smile and smeared your entrance a few times before pushing the head in. His mind went hazy in an instant all while a rush of pleasure weakened his limbs. He almost crumbled on top of you but he was quick to support his weight on his hands. 

  “Oh, fuck,” he breathed out. 

  Your hands reached for his flexed biceps, groped them, and with a gentle thrust you took more of him with much more ease. Your chest rose and fell when releasing a pleased sigh then you braced yourself, cupping your breasts and rubbing your nipples with your thumbs.

  “More?” He asked.

  “Mh. All of it.” 

  He gained back some of his strength and leaned slightly up to hold onto your slightly bent knees and buck his hips. His erection slid in with less friction in the way and once it was halfway in, he towered over you again, pressing his forehead against yours and pushing the rest of him inside you with a subtle roll of his hips. 

  He captured your lips at the same time he started to move with languid thrusts, almost massaging you rather than fucking you. Each time he felt how he stretched you, how your body got used to his size.

  His forehead landed on yours. 

  “Oh, Spencer that feels—” your voice faded.

  “Tell me.” His breath ghosted your lips. Your Foreheads, noses, and lips brushed together with each gentle thrust. 

  “Feels so good.” Your hands found their place on his body, one at the nape of his neck while the other stroked his back. 

  “I’m gonna move a lot more now.” He stole a quick kiss. “And I won’t stop. U-unless—”

  “Spencer—”

  He withdrew his hips and slammed into you once. A loud clash of skin against skin blared around.

  You let out a startled gasp through a smile.

“Was that okay?” His lips never stopped brushing your own.

  “Yeah,” you laughed a little. “Yeah, keep going.”

  So he did it again, and again and again, until you were nothing but a beautiful whiny mess under him. He was really fucking you now and his bedroom became the only witness of the symphony of sounds your bodies created together: The clash of his thighs slamming against the back of yours, the constant wet kisses, his low groans blending with your sweet moans… God, he was enjoying this too much. He had to force his mind to go elsewhere but the occasional bolts of pleasure reminded him where he was. 

  Too close to heaven. 

  Your tits bounced under him every time he plunged into you and he’d feel your fingernails scraping his back every now and then. He wouldn’t mind having some scratches as a reminder of how deep he’d been inside you.

  How deep he still was. 

  This wasn’t nowhere near ending and Spencer was already craving this. You. This bone-deep connection. He missed you. Right now, while he still was fucking you and making you moan his name, he was looking back to this moment. 

  He missed you so much already. 

  You brought him back to the present by kissing him without a sound then mumbled something he didn’t quite catch.

  “What was that?” He panted, slowing his pace just a bit to hear you better.

  “That— that’s so deep,” you managed to reply.

  “Need me to stop?”

  “Mm, no,” you met one of his thrusts. 

  Another silent yet wet kiss got in the way. 

  “Can you take it harder, then?” Spencer spoke in the middle of it. 

  “Yeah.” You kissed him again. “Yeah, I can.”

  He returned the sloppy kiss and drilled into you with more force. His bed creaked and the mattress dipped like never before. 

  “Yeah?” He kissed the underside of your chin and nuzzled his face on your neck.

  Slam.

  “Y-yeah.” A moan broke through your chest before you clung onto him with arms and legs. 

  From there, it became desperate. He became desperate, to have you closer even when he physically couldn’t anymore, desperate to kiss you at all times, to touch you, to tell you how beautiful you looked and sounded. And you became desperate, for his cock, meeting every single one of his thrusts. 

  “Kiss me,” you muttered agitatedly. “I like it when you kiss me.”

  Fuck.

  Spencer unglued his face from the crook of your neck, searching for your lips. He swallowed every single sound you made and allowed himself to be even more rough. He wasn’t planning to but the way you blissfully responded to his more coarse version—cursing against your lips every now and then because, fuck, you felt good—was enough reason to simply let himself be.

  At some point, he slowed his pace and took a moment to check on your facial expression. You’d reached a state where you seemed… lost, somewhere in your mind and your words came out slurred.

    “You okay?” He asked in your ear, going from frantic hips to stillness in one second.

  “Mhm,” you nodded eagerly, “yeah, sorry, I- I’m more than okay I feel… drunk in sex this is just so- I don’t know how to describe it, but” —you let out a breathy laugh— “I’m loving it. I can’t believe what I’ve been missing.” Your eyes had a glimmer that wasn’t there before. “With you.”

  Spencer gulped and disguised it with a loud sniff. His sweat was everywhere.  

  He began to move again, tenderly, and your mouth parted in pleasure while your drunk-in-sex face returned. 

  “Oh, Spencer I-” Your eyes fluttered shut. 

“What,” He caressed your cheek with the tip of his nose, “tell me.” 

  “It feels so good I— you feel so good, your cock feels so good.”

  “Yeah?” He rolled his hips again. 

  A tiny laugh came as a very positive response, pulling a soft chuckle from him on his way to kiss you on your lips again. 

  “Is sex supposed to last this long?” You panted. 

  Oh. 

  “You want me to finish?”

  Because he could. Small drops of cum had been dripping out of his tip for some time now, so if he wanted to he could come at any point. If you wanted him to. 

  “No?” you shook your head. “I love it here, but if you’re tired and want to come—”

  “Not tired,” he quickly said. 

  He loved it here too, but he had to admit, his cock was getting too sensitive. 

  His thrusts picked up a rhythm again, not as ruthless as before but still reached you very deep. The spongy texture of your cunt molded around every curve and throbbing vein of his cock too perfectly and now since you’d subtly told him it was alright to finish, he didn’t hold himself back much. 

  “Wanna feel it?” He said in your ear.

  “Mm?”

  “When I finish. Do you wanna feel that?”

  “H-how?”

  “Wrap your hand around me. By the base.” He withdrew his hips enough for your hand to fit around it.

  “Now?”

  “Now.”

  You obeyed, sneaking your hand between your bodies, and did as he’d instructed, wrapping your hand around the base of his cock the best you could. 

  “That’s… so wet,” you sort of laughed.

  “That’s all you, sweetheart.”

  All you, he repeated as the rest of him kept slipping in and out of you. You gripped his cock tighter, even stroked him at the rhythm of his hips, and gradually, the pleasure started to build to that point where there was no going back from it so he decided to chase it. His thrusts became uneven and even more desperate while everything turned hazy, every muscle tensed and a rush of ecstasy took over him. His head landed over your shoulder, his heartbeat drummed fast in his ears but he was aware he was grunting loudly in release against your skin. His teeth grazed your skin when you tightened your cunt around him as his cock kept twitching with every spurt he spilled inside the condom and for a quiet moment, Spencer thought he might’ve died. Or at least, leaped into another dimension where he was nothing but dumbstruck. 

  Then, the part he feared the most came. The clarity. The afterthought. He feared this, wanting to find you in every lifetime while being at the peak of vulnerability. 

  You’d pulled him into your loving embrace and his face was now buried in your neck. He was so cozy there but he had to move before the sleepiness was too much. He peeled himself away and dared to look at you. 

  “Hi.” You cupped his face and brushed his sweaty brows with your thumbs, bright-eyed. 

  He huffed out a small laugh. “Hi.”

  “You okay?” You slightly frowned with concern.

  “Yeah,” he nodded.

  A teardrop was dripping from the corner of your left eye—or it might’ve been sweat. You dragged your thumbs down to his cheeks and pecked his lips lazily. He returned it and then dotted many more. Slow, casual kisses—eight to be exact—all while still being inside you. 

  “Talk to me,” he whispered.  

  Hot, he thought he heard you say.

  “What was that?” He brushed a drop of sweat from your forehead with his thumb.

  “It’s… hot here. I feel hot. A little… suffocating?”

  “Want me to open the window?”

  You nodded. “Some fresh air would be nice.”

  He kissed your temple, caressed you with the tip of his nose, and subtly inhaled you as he already knew it was going to be the last time he’d be this close to you. 

  “I’m gonna slip out, okay?” he said while pumping slowly a few times. He hissed between clenched teeth. 

   “Can we keep going?” You whined and met one of his gentle thrusts. He leaned down to kiss you once more and thrusted again to torture himself, almost. “Like that, yeah, please?”

  “I would love to,” he began, then continued between more soft kisses, “but believe it or not, this is physically uncomfortable to me. It’s… very sensitive and I need a moment to… recover before going again.”

  “Okay,” you softly replied. 

  He sighed deeply, bumping the tip of your nose with his own, mourning this moment, then slipped out for good, plopping on his back next to you. His hand lifted to caress your cheek with a mind of its own. He’d grown a need to be constantly touching you and the worst part was that you didn’t seem to think much of it. You leaned to his touch with affection and enveloped his wrist with your palm to keep him there, close to you.  

  “I- we need to get cleaned,” he said. 

  “Yeah, I’m so incredibly wet down there.”

  “Would you like to shower?” He asked.

  “I… I can shower at my place, don’t worry.”

  “Oh, okay.”

  You rolled to your side, bending one leg higher up and said, with your eyes closed, “It’s not that I don’t want to, I just… I have all of my stuff there and… I like my shower.”

  He brushed your cheek one last time. “That’s okay.” 

  He then finally stood up, was in and out of his bathroom to discard the condom and get you some water wipes, helped you get cleaned up and didn’t bother to get dressed to languidly open the window. 

  The fresh summer evening flowed in around, taking away the warmth your bodies had created together, and right there from the window, he glanced at you. 

  The most beautiful creature that’s ever laid on his bed.

  “Come back here,” you called and his heart fluttered. 

  He dragged himself back to bed and turned his bedside lamp to admire you better. You’d chosen to lay on your stomach, facing him. 

  “How are you feeling?” His hands found their way to your body again, this time his knuckles casually stroking your upper arm.

  “Like I ran a marathon and you did all the work.” Your blinking slowed down. “How long have we been here?”

  “Over an hour.” He kept stroking your arm. “Close to two, actually.”

  You hummed and kept your eyes closed for as long as he kept caressing you, in silence. There was nothing casual about this. 

  “Are you sore?” He broke the brief silence. 

  “Should I be sore?” You squinted one eye open, quirking your brow.

  “Maybe not yet.”

  “But I’m gonna be?”

  “Most likely.”

  You smiled. “Can’t wait.”

  He huffed out a small laugh. He was probably going to feel a bit sore in some places, too, considering he hadn’t worked out recently and this was the closest to some cardio he’d done in a while. 

  “You must be hungry.” From his drawer, he took the Snickers bar he’d bought and saved for this exact moment and opened the packaging for you.

  Your face lit up and said, mid-bite, “Oh, I think I just had another orgasm.”

  You chewed on it while offering him a bite. He had to admit, he wasn’t a fan of it (mostly because of the way it stuck to his teeth) but accepted it anyway because what if he never had a moment like this ever again? 

  “This is nice,” you said.

  “The Snickers?” 

  You stared at him, taking another bite. “All of it.” 

  “Did you feel comfortable?” He asked a little self-consciously.

  Your gaze softened. “Yeah.” You scooted even closer and caressed the back of his hand with your knuckles. “Yeah, I… it was perfect. More than perfect.”

  Spencer rolled on his side and mindlessly began to scratch your back. 

  “Are you okay?” You asked him after a moment.  

  “I am. I was just worried.”

  “Throughout the whole thing?” You quirked a brow.

  “No?” He laughed a little. “Not when I could, uh, tell you were having a good time.” Heat rushed quickly to his face but you didn’t seem to notice. 

  “I had a great time.” You did that thing he adored so much. When you smiled your entire face knew about it. Your eyes and nose crinkling. Though it quickly faded into a soft frown when you added, “And I know it was my first time but I could assume I put some pressure on you.” 

  “A little.”

  “Sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I had a great time, too.”

  “Yeah, I could tell, too.”

  More heat rushed to his face and this time he couldn’t hide it. “I, uh, I’m gonna bring you some water.” He stood from your side. 

  “Can I have a cup of tea?”

  “Tea?”

  “Is it bad after sex?”

  Spencer frowned his lips. “Not necessarily, but you need to hydrate. You shouldn’t replace water with tea.”

  “Can I have both, then?” You smiled. 

  “Water and a cup of tea right up.” He gave you a lazy thumbs-up. 

  Throwing on a T-shirt and his pajama pants, Spencer headed to the kitchen. He stopped by the living room on his way and picked up your clothes from the carpet. Longing tugged on his chest, the very vivid memories of what had happened on his couch playing in his head like a movie. He liked having your clothes scattered in his living room. 

  “Can I have those back?” Your voice came from behind him.

  “Oh, hey,” Spencer turned on his heels. You’d put your band shirt back on. “I was gonna bring them to you.”

  “It’s okay.” You approached him barefoot and took your panties and shorts from his hands. “I- I think I should go. I don’t wanna seem ungrateful because I really enjoyed it and I’m so glad I did this”—you gulped—“with you. Specifically with you.”

  “No, yeah, of course.” Spencer tried his best to sound understanding but his longing for you soon turned into sadness. You were already leaving. 

  You gave him a tight-lipped smile and finished getting dressed right there in front of him. You then picked up your sneakers and walked barefoot to Shadow.

  “Bye, angel,” you said with the soft tone you used when talking to her only, gluing your nose to the tank and Shadow swam to you right away. You and Shadow had a special bond Spencer often was jealous of. Not because of you, but because he wished—even after this afternoon's events—he could be a fish and tenderly bump noses with you through a glass. “Do you think she saw everything we did over there?” You gestured at the couch as you made your way to the door.

  “Probably.” He followed you. “But they don’t think like us. It’s not… perverse.”

  You reached for the doorknob and held onto it for a second before stepping one foot out his apartment. “Thank you, again.” You looked up at him and smiled with your eyes. Only then he noticed the mark he had left on your neck.  “I really enjoyed it.”

  Spencer’s nose twitched. “Of course, yeah I— I enjoyed it too. Thank you, for trusting me.” He gestured at you with a lazy hand. 

  You lingered by the door, looking up at him with some sort of anticipation. “You said we’ll talk about it if we both liked it, so I guess this is the moment.” You gulped. “We could do this, right?” You finally asked. “Have sex. No strings attached?” 

  His mouth hung open. “Uh-”

  “Would you be willing to show me more?” You walked inside again and dropped your sneakers. “Teach me?”

  “I–” Spencer shut the door and looked around his apartment as if he was searching for his answer. “I’m not as experienced as you think I am.” He tried to dodge your proposition. 

  If this didn’t end here, it was going to at some point in the future and if that happened, a heartbreak would eventually come.

  “Well, you felt very experienced.” He did? “But I don’t know,” you took a step closer. “We could learn together?” Then another step. “If you think you can’t teach me or show me more than what you already have.”

  This was bad, because how could he reject that?

  Spencer paused for a moment before giving in and slowly closed the gap between you two. You subtly tugged your bottom lip between your teeth.

  “I guess, we could do that, yeah,” his voice came out slightly high-pitched.

  Just as his hand raised to stroke your cheek, you clutched his shirt by the waist.

  “What if one of us catches feelings?” You immediately showed some hesitation.

  Leaning down, Spencer confidently whispered against your lips, “Then it’s game over.”  

  Even when he knew damn well he’d lost the game before it even started.

HEHEHE 👹 What do you guys think? decided to go back to my roots and write a virgin reader but this time with my most recent love, Spencer. Got inspired by @imagining-in-the-margins monthly challenge ‘friends with benefits’ 🩷 I really like writing smut in the guy’s pov and I wanted to give it a try with Spencer😇

Anywayyyyy thank you so much for reading! If you liked it please don’t be scared to show me some love and to let me know. With a comment, or an ask bc they make me very happy and because I need validation to live, I fear. Or just reblog, but I’d love to read your thoughts on it <3

MAIN MASTERLIST | SPENCER MASTERLIST

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Loving star wars is a curse and perhaps a mental illness of some kind

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i think i’ll daydream about being loved for the rest of my life

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The gas statioj has a drinks store because it helps the car/owner bond if you eat fluids together

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The older I get the more I admire people who are earnestly, genuinely into whatever their thing is. I know it sounds like an annoying cliche but unless you're being cruel or hurtful there is really no need to be normal about things. The dude with the bad fake accent at the renaissance faire is having the time of his life. The people having photoshoots with their fashion dolls are loving it. The old lady with a yard unreasonably full of tacky ass lawn ornaments is having a blast, HOA be damned.

Don't waste your time being too cool to have fun, y'know?

[electricgoldtendercare]

[electricgoldtendercare]

sorry I always felt undesirable my entire life and it gave me kinks of wanting someone to desire me so extremely it's uncontrollable for them as if that's my fault

[electricgoldtendercare]

you know the killer doesn't understand

in which spencer is so terrified he's going to hurt you after he gets out of prison that he can barely touch you. an argument ensues.

angst (+ comfort) warnings/tags: established relationship, fem!reader, mentions of violent intrusive thoughts (non-specific), arguing, yelling, use of the word rape, nightmares, happyish ending, mention of showering together, it's a bad time but it's also a good time for us woo i love angsty angst a/n: i miss posting for real so bad i dug up this draft which was mostly finished and polished it up. i think i really like this one and it was based on a request but i lost it:( i hope u guys enjoy this, pls lmk<3

Spencer is by no means happy with his sudden fear of touching you—it makes everything in his life significantly harder and less convenient and he hates that he’s constantly afraid he’s going to break you. He hates watching you hold back from attacking him with a hug when he enters a room like you used to, and he feels terrible every time you ball up on the opposite side of the couch as he reads, waiting for an invitation into his lap but too scared to ask for one (he’ll always hold out his arm for you, though—he’s not cruel.)

You’re adorable in the way you stand at the foot of the bed in your pajamas, arms behind your back like it’s not your bed too, but it makes him feel terrible. This isn’t at all what he wanted for you, and in all honestly he’s thought about ending the relationship because he knows he’s being an absolutely awful partner—but he just can’t bring himself to. Instead, he gestures for you to get into bed, and you curl up under the covers close to him but not against him, and he’ll play with your hair and read for a while because he can’t sleep very well. Eventually he’ll assume the position of sleep, but some sick part of him doesn’t know what to do with the sounds of the city and the fan instead of the sounds of a hundred men rolling and sniffing and shuffling around their echoey cells. He doesn’t understand warmth anymore, or softness, or nice pajamas or fluffy pillows. He’s starting to think he doesn’t understand you. And that’s the worst thought of all. 

So he essentially dozes for the first week, on and off, always exhausted in the mornings but what’s new. When he can’t sleep, he turns his head to watch you breathe—some beautiful, sweet creature dreaming in his bed, unwaveringly loyal to him even though he can hardly stand to touch you for fuck’s sake. You’re beautiful, and it makes him feel better to watch you, even if he can’t touch you. Not now that he knows what he is capable of doing to another person. What if he has some sort of PTSD—PTSS, thank you, Luke Alvez—induced dream and does something terrible to you in his sleep? It’s not like you’re tiny, but he’s stronger, he knows he is, and lately every time you get too close he remembers exactly what it feels like to exert the full force of that strength, and what it feels like when someone else unleashes their own onto him. 

They’re just intrusive thoughts, and in them he doesn’t hurt you intentionally, but he always feels a little bit sick now. He is so, so sick. A bull in a China shop. Spencer knows exactly how breakable humans are—it’s his job to know. If he left so much as one red mark on you by accident, he’s quite sure he’d drill down to a previously unknown rock bottom. And if he reaches that point, he doesn’t know if he’d ever deserve to come back. 

Every day it seems to become clearer that the only humane thing to do is break up with you. But for now he’ll watch you sleep—the delicate rising and falling of your chest, the way you curl in on yourself because you can’t curl into him. In sleep you look so peaceful and content. You never look that way awake, anymore. Not when he’s around, which is pretty much always. At least he can’t disappoint you while you’re asleep. 

Or so he’d like to think. 

Until one night, about a week and a half after he gets home; you whimper in your sleep. It’s so quiet he could’ve missed it, but he doesn’t, and then he watches your smooth brow furrow with worry and he knows you’re having a nightmare immediately. 

Spencer panics—before, he would have woken you up and held you and comforted you until you fell back asleep and it would have been so simple. Now he’s frozen, afraid to touch you but not sure if he can just lie there watching you so afraid and not do a thing about it. 

In the end, you choose for him—and it only takes a few moments. You’re close enough to him that it’s easy for you to close the few inches even in sleep, and maybe you’re slightly conscious but not enough to remember you’re not supposed to touch him. 

He stops breathing as you fold yourself against him, muttering worried nonsense—he catches his name, once—nestling against his chest, one searching arm gently draping over his waist. Every muscle in his body is rigid, and his thoughts—his mind goes… completely fucking blank. 

Suddenly, all he’s known, all he’s ever known, is the smell of your hair, the warmth of you seeping through layers of clothing, and the weight of your arm over him. Everything he ever was ceases to exist, and he’s just this, right now. The person you’d turned to unconsciously for comfort, so sure, so trusting that he would keep you safe. He can feel your breath for the first time in months. Slowly every tense muscle unspools. For the first time in a long time he doesn’t feel dangerous. He doesn’t feel like his entire body is spring loaded and ready to attack at the slightest provocation. Spencer allows himself to hold you, and part of it feels like betrayal because he knows how badly you need this from him while you’re awake but mostly he feels like he could cry. His thumb rubs circles into the middle of your back and your head tucks so perfectly under his chin while he studies the rumpled sheets where you’d been lying a moment ago. He almost feels like sticking his tongue out to gloat at your half of the mattress—haha, look who gets to hold her now—but instead he sighs, shakily, and squeezes his eyes shut. 

You don’t make another sound for hours. 

He’s reluctant to let you go when you begin to stir around six AM, but forcibly holding onto you is so far from what he wants to do that he manages. You roll back over to your own side of the bed, and he continues admiring you from afar until he falls asleep. It’s the best three hours of sleep he’s had in a very long time. 

Of course, you don’t remember it. When you wake up your sadness resumes, and so does the pretending like you’re not sad, but you’re a very good sport—and it helps that he’s feeling much better this morning than he has since he got back. 

“Good morning,” you whisper faintly, still blinking as you watch him longingly from your spot. 

Spencer pushes himself up onto an elbow, and you watch with big eyes as he leans over you, stroking your cheek with his free hand. 

“Good morning. You sleep okay?”

Your brow flickers, and he realizes it’s not a question he asks every morning, and you’re probably distracted by this overt display of affection, but you answer it obediently anyway. 

“I think so. I had weird dreams.”

He hums. 

“About what?”

It’s quiet for a moment as he takes in the exact spattering of microscopically fractured pigment over your irises. Your voice is small when you finally speak. 

“Do I have to tell you?”

That hurts. 

“No. But it might help.”

Coming from him? Ironic doesn’t even begin to cover it. 

You acknowledge him with a small hum of your own, studying him with soft, mistrustful eyes. 

He can’t help it anymore—Spencer leans down and gently kisses you, so tenderly, so chastely, it makes his own head spin. He hasn’t kissed you like that since you picked him up from Milburn. It’s long overdue. 

Which is why he’s not expecting you to start crying. He pulls back immediately, not far, just enough to assess your expression. 

“What’s this? What’s wrong, angel?” He frowns. Your lip quivers in a way that feels like a blow to the chest. 

“That’s not… you’re…”

“What? What is it?”

A fat tear finally traces a path down your cheek and when you speak your voice breaks in the most fragile, devastating way. 

“You’re not being fair.”

He has no neat question to summarize all the bafflement your accusation inspires in his lately cloudy head, but the wildly confused look on his face must be prompt enough.

“I’m trying really hard to respect your space and boundaries and not upset you but my feelings are hurt, Spencer, I don’t know how they couldn’t be. I feel like you don’t even like me anymore. I’m embarrassed around you because I feel like I care about you so much more than you care about me. And then you—and then you wake up one morning and you think it’s okay to act like you love me again but I can’t—I c—” you stop, obviously frustrated—now crying in earnest and lacking the words. “You can’t be mean to me. I know you’ve been through a lot and I’m sorry but you can’t treat me like that. I’m a person, too.”

His chest aches and he swallows down barbed wire.

“I’m not acting like I love you. I do love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone or anything in my life. That’s not an act.”

It’s not an adequate response, but your words are still spinning in his head until he can’t keep up with them. He’s not used to this, anymore. The language you two had developed is so foreign now. 

Maybe he just doesn’t know how to talk to you. 

Resignation—a too-calm recognition softens the stormy look that has brewed on your face. As soon as it’s gone, and you’re looking at him placidly, he realizes he’s afraid. 

“Well, that’s not enough,” you whisper. 

Spencer feels like he’s been shot as you push the covers aside and slip out of bed. And he knows what that feels like. 

“Where are you going?” And then louder, when you don’t hear him because you’ve already left the room, “Where are you going?”

He follows you through the apartment as you march purposefully for the door, slipping shoes on and grabbing your keys and coat. 

You barely look over your shoulder as you leave, slamming the front door behind you. Things shake from the impact. A mini earthquake. 

Spencer is too stunned to follow you. 

It’s not until a few minutes later when he goes to call you that he realizes your phone is still sitting on your bedside table. He stares at it, tasting metal, because he has absolutely no way to reach you or guarantee your safety. There’s no way for you to call him, or anyone, if you get in trouble—and he fears that you’ll retaliate against him by doing something stupid and dangerous. 

He only just manages to stop himself from calling the police and asking them to start looking for you. Only just recognizes it to be an overreaction. 

Besides, he’s not feeling particularly fond of the criminal justice institution these days. If it came down to it, he’d trust himself and his team over the cops any day.

The team. They’re always a resource. If worst comes to worst, he thinks, robotically making coffee as he tries to talk himself down, and she doesn’t come home before dark, I’ll call all of her closest friends. If she doesn’t come home before the morning—the thought makes him feel sick—I’ll deploy every fucking resource at my disposal. 

Maybe that’s an overreaction, too, but he has to find a way to self-soothe somehow. Planning makes him feel better. Being prepared for the things you never see coming makes him feel better. It’s impossible, of course—but the illusion of control is stubborn and so seductive. 

Thankfully, it doesn’t come to that. 

At around 2 PM, he receives a couple of texts from Garcia that are a massive relief. 

Penelope: She’s at my apartment

Penelope: BE NICER TO YOUR GIRLFRIEND!!!!!!!

The series of emojis that follow (including an octopus?), he doesn’t even try to decipher. He simply drops his phone and sighs deeply into his hands, releasing an extreme amount of paranoid tension that had been tying him into knots. Lately, he’s had this sense that everything is fleeting—that the things he takes for granted are painfully, violently impermanent. It doesn’t take anyone with a degree to figure out why he’s been feeling that way, but it’s so all-consuming he’s not sure how to cope with it. Just a few days ago, he’d been wondering how to break up with you. Now he’s asking himself how the fuck he thought he’d be able to do that when he’s barely functioning after a few hours without you.

It’s a question he still hasn’t answered by the time the front door opens at 10 PM. It’s clear by the deer-in-headlights look on your face that you hadn’t been expecting him like this—leaning over the counter, half-empty mug by his hand, staring at nothing in particular and waiting for you to come home. Neither of you have changed clothing since this morning—not that you could—but you look apprehensive as you close it behind you, never facing away from him. The whole thing is like a teenager being caught sneaking back in by a weary parent. 

For a moment the silent confrontation stretches into the horizon, a non-specific point as neither of you seem inclined to be the first to talk. You just watch him watching you—leaning against the door rigidly as if you can’t get far enough away. But he’s too tired for this. Too worn out. 

“How’d you get home?”

You swallow. 

“Penelope.”

Spencer nods slowly, rolling his bottom lip between teeth and finally looking away. 

“You really should have brought your phone.”

You scoff, peeling yourself from the door. 

“Of course that’s what you’re worried about.”

It’s the same situation as this morning, but in reverse—him following after you down the hall as you storm toward the bedroom. 

“Wh—should I not have been? You scared me—” he says your name, barely catching the door before it can slam in his face. “I was worried about you.”

“Why?” you face him, laughing bewilderedly as if the situation were at all funny. A kind of manic energy crackles from the surface of your skin and in your eyes that renders him unable to think of a reply. “Because you thought I would get raped and murdered and then you’d be sad?”

“Yes!” Spencer yells, eyes widening as he fails to contain his frustration any longer. “That is fucking exactly why I was scared!”

You step forward, getting in his space. It jars him, momentarily—he wants to get away from you. Being angry and so close to you is terrifying. What if he lashes out? What if he hurts you? He’s seen crimes of passion. His blood is freezing in his veins. 

“Of course you didn’t give one single fuck that I left you. You didn’t think for one fucking second that I might be tired of this. That wasn’t what you were scared of at all.” For every inch you near, he backs away. Another scorned, bitter laugh from you that feels like poison coursing through his entire circulatory system. You notice everything, eyeing him up and down as he cowers from you. “What is this, Spencer? If you hate being near me that much, just fucking break up with me.”

You’re close enough that he can see the tears welling in your eyes, but he’d know they were there even if he couldn’t observe them. He would hear it in your voice. He would feel it. But he can’t do anything about it. Right now, he’s paralyzed. 

“If the only thing holding you back is wanting to spare my feelings, just fucking do it. This isn’t better. I don’t give a fuck if it’s hard for you. It’s hard for me, too, but I’m not just going to ignore it anymore.”

There’s no more room. The wall is at is back. 

“Honey, please back up,” Spencer breathes. Last time his back was to a wall, he’d been gagged and beaten. Don’t lash out. She never hurt you. It wasn’t her. 

“Don’t tell me what to do!” you shout, as tears begin to spill over your cheeks. “Either break up with me or stop telling me to go away!”

At that moment, as you break down and your words become muddled with sobs, you raise your fist. 

Spencer watches it approach his shoulder as if in slow-motion. 

On instinct, he catches your wrist.

There’s a lull as he waits for something to explode, for something to go terribly, deeply wrong—

But it doesn’t. 

He realizes his grip is gentle. He realizes you’d never actually hurt him like that. He realizes how little resistance he’d found when he stopped what was sure to be nothing more than a petulant, petty bump against his shoulder—a maneuver that wouldn’t have hurt in the slightest. It was nothing more than a desolate, childlike display of feelings bigger than you know what to do with. 

In the second that it takes him to realize all of this, to realize he is not endangering you in the slightest, nor you him, you’ve begun to truly sob. Standing just inches from him, head angled down as he holds your wrist carefully, you are the picture of a girl who has been running on empty for a very long time and has nothing left to give. Spencer twines his arms around you, tucking your head under his chin and slowly rubbing your back like he’d never forgotten how to hold you. It stuns you, and the tears pause for just a second—before you’re wrapping desperate, weakened arms around him and sobbing even harder, albeit silently, into his shirt. 

“I don’t want to break up,” he whispers, his own voice shaky with understated emotion. “I’m sorry. Please don’t say that. I don’t want that.”

“What’s wrong with you?” You cry, a desperate plead caught between sobs that wrack your body against his against the wall. And he knows it’s not an accusation. It’s not an insult. It’s a question born of confusion and fear. It’s what a child might ask a sick dog while tears stream down feverish cheeks. And it’s completely appropriate, considering he never tells you anything anymore and he’s only just realizing how scary that must be. Spencer is back from prison but you may as well still be living alone for all that you know about him. He tangles a hand in your hair and holds you against his chest, breathing you like nitrous oxide. 

“I don’t know,” he whispers. The room beyond blurs as he stares at nothing, focused only on the tingly euphoria of feeling you under his hands clashing with the ever-present and crushing shame that he couldn't do it sooner. “I don’t know. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t want you—to be sorry.” Shuddering breaths and gasps still cleave your sentences in half, and Spencer listens so intently he thinks there might be harmonics hidden in the layers of your voice. He clings to every syllable like you’re wielding the word of god in a five-foot-something body. “I just miss you so m—much. I want you to—to love me.”

“I do,” he promises immediately, lips pressing to your ear. “I do love you. So much. So much.”

When you don’t respond, he’s not exactly surprised. He almost asks what he can do, what you need—but is quite sure that’s not the right move. Instead he doesn’t say a thing. Only holds you.

Later, you’ll pull back and he’ll swim in your teary gaze, and then kiss you. He’ll trace silent apologies into every inch of your skin under the torrent of the shower, and he’ll do whatever it takes to make you understand. But for now, for the first time in months, you’re holding each other, and that’s all either of you need.  

[electricgoldtendercare]

INCREDIBLE !!!!! BEAUTIFUL beautiful writing, will definitely be coming back to read again and again 🩷

𝗶𝘀 𝗶𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗮𝘁 𝘀𝘄𝗲𝗲𝘁? 𝗶 𝗴𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘀 𝘀𝗼!- 𝘀.𝗿.

wc- 5k

pairing- later seasons!spencer reid x plus size!liason!reader

summary- rossi throws a pool party for the team and spencer has a very difficult time keeping his eyes off the new bau hire

warnings- alcohol consumption, it’s late seasons spencer but the og team is there cuz i said so 😚 dating experiences as a bigger girl (mentioned), insecurities as a bigger girl mentioned, but we’re on the self love healing journeyyy 🌈✨🩷, spencer’s a teensy bit insecure of his post prison bod, so much sexual tension??, cute team antics with the girls!!!! making out!!!!!! so much making out!!!!!! touching!!!!! a lil grinding!!!! but no fr fr smut sry yall im a teacher

a/n- besides the fact that the reader is plus size and a woman, there are no other physical descriptors in this fic :D pic is just for bikini reference 😚 dividers from @saradika-graphics !!

you can’t remember the last time you’ve been this relaxed. your skin shines under the golden warmth of the sun, your head spins just slightly from the frozen daiquiris you and penelope have been drinking all afternoon, you’re in your new favorite bikini- hot pink floral print with a matching sarong draped over your hips. your perch yourself on your boss’ teakwood chaise lounge in the midst of his crowded backyard, one of david rossi’s infamous pool parties in full swing.

you lean back and sip your drink, head turning towards commotion at the front gate. cheers and happy greetings are exchanged as someone enters, though you can’t see who behind the partygoers who’ve gathered to say hello. your large sunglasses thankfully disguise the anxiety laced in your gaze, a knot tightening in your stomach when you see who’s arrived- spencer reid. he’s become quite elusive in your time at the bureau, seeing as you were hired on while he was wrongfully imprisoned. he barely talks to you, won’t do so much as look at you when there’s not a case. you still think he’s the most beautiful man you’ve ever seen.

his silence is never offensive, just reserved. when you’d first met him, he was stunned at the fact that they’d hired someone new in his absence, very untrusting of outsiders since his time behind bars. it’s understandable, you’d probably react the same way if you were in his shoes. you can’t help but long for his affection, his friendship. hell, you’d take a civil conversation by the coffee pot at this point if it meant getting to know more about the dr. spencer reid.

you see the way he moves with ease throughout the swarm of people at the gate, greeting him with open arms and wide smiles. he’s comfortable as he responds to these people, you can tell from his relaxed shoulders to the smile lines arching his cheeks. you ache to be a part of that, down to the bone.

you shift in your seat, gaze turning to your lap as you awkwardly sip your drink. his presence burns into your stomach, looming over you like a ghost haunting a child in the night. he floats across the pool deck, his shadow leading to the very center-the prime tanning location, penelope insisted- where you two still lay on your chairs.

“spencer!!” penelope squeals, jumping up to give him a hug.

“hey, penelope,” you hear him breathe out, hushed and tender, lips pressed to her forehead.

you adjust yourself to sit up, your feet now slipping into your sandals laid out on the concrete. your palms lay flat on the tops of your thighs as you fidget in your seat. awkwardness twists up your insides as penelope finally lets go of the man, his bright smile fading into a soft grin.

“hi,” he chirps, and it’s the most animated you’ve ever heard his voice. it’s nice, like the soft ring of birds early in the morning.

“hello, dr. reid,” the formality slips off your tongue before you can remember you’re not at work. the title pushes a laugh from deep in his chest, the apples of his cheeks tinting pink.

“oh! oh no, it’s- you can call me spencer,” he presses his lips together in an endearing half smile.

“ok…spencer,” you try the name out. it’s sweet on your tongue, absorbing the flavor of him like a hard candy. you wonder briefly if there are any other sweet parts of spencer that you can sink your teeth into.

you shake out the thought as quickly as it came, once again fidgeting in your chair so you’re facing the pool, and not your intimidatingly tall coworker.

“you should come sit with us, spence!” penelope suggests, eyes wide as she pulls over another chair. three now lay in a row, yours in the middle, and you’re entirely certain you won’t be able to last a millisecond with a shirtless spencer reid tanning next to you.

you lift your sunglasses, piercing penelope with your fiercest glare. she just smirks, cozying back into her spot as she innocently sips her drink. you let your shades fall back onto the bridge of your nose, masking your eye roll. her, emily, jj, and tara all know of the secret flame you hold for your teammate, thanks to a girls’ night featuring too many margaritas.

you couldn’t count on all your fingers and toes the amount of times they’ve all insisted that he’s just shy, that he’s never been good with beautiful women. you know what they’re trying to tell you, you just can’t let yourself give into the thought unless you hear it from him. you’ve grown to love your body, every dip and curve, your stretch marks and cellulite. still, that hurt young girl who never had a date to the school dance lingers inside, deep in a pit in the bottom of your stomach. she can’t let go of the possibility that he can’t look at you because he’s repulsed, turned off.

penelope reaches over and squeezes your hand, somehow able to read your mind. you suppose it might have something to do with the pout weighing down your lips.

“i guess bringing wine was a bad call,” you hear from beside you, and you whip your head towards spencer, nodding towards your frozen drink.

“oh!” you gasp as you connect the dots, “oh, i don’t think so!” your cheeks burn under his gaze, a hint of uncertainty in his big brown eyes, as if he wasn’t sure if you’d want to talk to him when he’d opened his mouth. you see the risk he’s taking, your heart pounding in your ears. you immediately jump to validate his worry, “rossi’s never going to complain about alcohol, you know that.”

he softens, his brow relaxing, mouth ticking upward at the corner, “that’s true, though it’s useless bringing any other type of alcohol when rossi gets his frozen margarita machine out,” spencer playfully rolls his eyes.

“that much is true, too,” you giggle, taking another sip of your drink, “he’s got daiquiris in one, margaritas in the other,” you explain, “at one point me and penelope mixed them. would not recommend,” you shudder at the memory, the tart citrus of the margarita was not so complimentary to the sweetness of the strawberry daiquiri.

he huffs out a laugh at that, one that throws his head back, “good to know…would you maybe want to come with me, see what else might be over there?” he nods back to the bar, every inch of its surface covered by a bottle of alcohol, surrounded by huge tables of food.

your heart stops, and it feels like water is swirling through your ears, the pressure pounding in your head, “yeah,” you rush out breathily, “yeah, i’d like that. i think i need a refill, too,” you gesture to your now empty cup, but you stumble as you stand from your chair.

“woah…” he holds his hands out, lightly grazing your elbows to steady you, “you sure? i can get you some water instead, maybe,” his concerned tone tells you that although it sounds like he’s giving you the option, he’s really not. you suppose he’s probably right, he is a genius, after all.

“okay,” you shrug, the mix of vitamin d and alcohol floating to your head, warming you from the inside out, “but only if you get a margarita!” you poke him in the chest, hands on your hips as you stand parallel to him. your eyes bore into his as you take in your proximity, how you can smell the sweetness of his sunscreen. in your tipsy haze, you allow your eyes to linger on his neck, just for a moment, wondering what it’d taste like to lick one long stripe up the length of it.

“deal,” he muses, slipping his own shoes back on before walking across the backyard with you. he lets you go first- ever the gentleman- and hovers his hand over the small of your back, as if he’s anticipating you to fall back into him at any moment.

“you don’t have to do that, you know,” you flip your hair over one shoulder as you gaze back at him. you can see the amusement sparkling in his eye, and your heart thumps against your chest just a bit harder, “i’m totally fi-” you’re cut off with a gasp as your sandal catches onto a rock. you would have planted face first into the tough concrete, had it not been for the long, strong arms that wrap around you in the nick of time, pulling you flush against his chest.

he’s pressed up against your back, his heart thumping a mile a minute against your shoulder, his breathing heavy in your ear, “what was that?” he murmurs into your temple, and you can feel the smirk dancing on his lips. your lashes kiss your cheeks as you let out a heavy sigh, “i’m fine,” you insist, stepping away from him and walking ahead to one of the coolers, a plastic water bottle crinkling between your fingers.

“sure you are!” his tone leaks with sarcasm, shining you his infamous close lipped smile.

you roll your eyes as you approach him at the bar, his clear plastic cup now a pale shade of yellow as his long, deft fingers lift it to his lips.

“thank you,” you relent sweetly, smiling back warmly, your heart fluttering when he returns it, “you know, i think this is the most you’ve ever spoken to me outside of the office,” your forwardness stuns you, another unfortunate symptom of the alcohol you’ve already consumed.

it takes spencer aback as well, his neck lengthening, shoulders rolling with the movement, “oh! yeah, yeah i’m sorry about that,” he responds, sheepish, but genuine, “adjusting back to my old life after being released has been tough. there-uh- there hasn’t been much time for new people in my life recently.”

the energy shifts in that moment, tension percolating between you two. you’re still at the bar, leaning your elbows on it behind you while spencer stands in front of you. very closely, all of a sudden. uncertainty strikes through his chocolate irises like lightning, your heart twisting up in knots at the sight.

“spencer, you don’t have to explain your healing process to me,” you begin, as earnestly as possible. he smiles softly at that. you continue, “you’re plenty cordial to me at work, but i would like to get to know you more, if that’s something you’d feel comfortable with?” your voice is soft, soothing, though your heart is pounding a mile a minute, anxious acidity pooling in your stomach.

you see his eyes light up, a happy little sigh escaping his lips. your cheeks heat up at the endearing noise, and you hold your breath as he prepares to speak.

“you-”

“REID!” he’s barely able to get a syllable out before he’s cut off by derek across the pool deck, seemingly quite upset that spencer has not yet followed through on his promise to swim with him.

he turns to morgan, then back to you, face flushed a furious red. he purses his lips as he tries to think of what to say. you do him one better.

“let’s go!” you chirp sweetly, heading toward the pool area, “i’ve been meaning to dip my toe in all day!” you walk in front of him, letting him watch you as you strut away.

spencer takes a minute as she walks away, his eyes scanning up and down her frame shamelessly. her bright pink bikini hugs every peak and valley of her soft figure perfectly, showcasing her body in ways he never thought he’d be lucky enough to see. the skirt draped over her hips sways hypnotically as she walks, his eyes practically rolling out of their sockets at the sight.

he saunters behind her slowly as they cross the pool deck, reveling in the show she’s giving him. his eyes grow lazy, addicted as he watches her, his tongue lolling out lazily to wrap around the plastic straw in his margarita. he sips the cold drink, the alcohol immediately rushing to his...other head, clouding his judgement until his brain is fuzzy. he finally reaches the chair penelope grabbed for him, and stops in his tracks.

she’s laid out on her own chair, mere inches from his, her body now laid out on display. she’s leaning back on her elbows, her legs extended in front of her, one knee propped up just slightly. she’s unreal, just breathtaking. his heart is beating a mile a minute the closer he approaches, and he nearly vibrates out of his skin when he sits next to her, their arms inches apart. it’s like his ears are filled with water, the world moving around him in slow motion as the only thing taking up his expensive brain is the bombshell next to him.

he’s never this needy, this gluttonous, but the sight of you electrocutes his heart, a shocking desire he feels from the deepest corner of his heart to the very tips of his toes. he can’t help but wish he’s on your mind as much as you’re on his. she may have put on a cute act by the bar, but she was right for calling him out, too.

he doesn’t speak to her, but it’s not for lack of want. when he was in prison, all he wanted was to go back to the bau, to see his family. when that day finally came, she was the last thing he’d expected. her eyes paralyzed him that day, wide and bright as she cordially welcomed him back to his position. whenever she catches his eye from his desk, or walks past him, allowing him a whiff of her shampoo, he’s frozen all over again. he feels like he’s 13 again, and he just got assigned to sit next to the prettiest girl in his ap calc class. giddy, fluttery, terrified.

he takes one last sip of his drink, for now, as he knows derek is very impatiently awaiting his company in the water. he instinctively reaches to pull his shirt off, his fingers dancing along the hem. he stops himself when his eyes catch his tummy, protruding over his swim shorts ever so slightly. he’s never really struggled with his self image all that much, but the little pouch wasn’t there before he was wrongfully arrested, so it’s a new part of his body he’s made adjustments to. the next coming of aphrodite laid up next to him was not helping his confidence, acidic nerves bubbling in his stomach.

his gaze snaps over to her, sighing a breath of relief as he sees her focus on penelope. he drops his hands, turning to wade into the pool steps. derek meets his gaze with a knowing smirk, heat spreading over his already pink cheeks.

“morgan-”

he can barely get out another syllable before he’s cut off, “let’s go, pretty boy!” he calls from the water, where he impatiently waits, “cmon, you can race me for penelope’s diving sticks,” he flashes him a classic derek morgan smile, drawling a soft, sarcastic ‘loverrr’ that only spencer can hear as he further enters the pool.

“that only sounds fun for you!” spencer flicks water at his friend, who laughs and splashes back, “what, you just gonna get your shirt soaked?” morgan asks. spencer freezes, the water only reaching his knees.

he knows derek’s only asking out of concern, he probably thinks spencer forgot. he’d never put him on the spot like that if he really knew why he’d left it on. his heart rate picks up again, and this time it’s dread pooling in his stomach, overthrowing the desire his organs housed previously. his head is fuzzy, and that’s why he acts on immediate impulse, his head whipping back to her and penelope sitting on their chairs. she’s looking right at him, of course, anxiety flooding his chest like a tsunami.

his hand involuntarily drifts to his tummy as he fiddles with a button on his hawaiian shirt, but before he can do anything, she stands. he’s wholly unprepared for what happens next- she loosens the tie holding her sarong together, and exposes even more of herself for him. she looks him right in the eye as she patters across the deck to the pool. he’s mesmerized at the light jiggle in her thigh as she walks, unable to stop his brain from imagining a scenario in which he could give her skin another reason to do that.

his gaze follows her shamelessly the entire time she moves, until she’s on the same step of the pool as him. his mouth is slightly ajar, no doubt looking like a love struck cartoon character with hearts beating out of his eyes. she seems unphased as her delicately manicured fingers lightly graze his forearm.

“i can put it back on your chair, if you’d like?” she asks sweetly, melting his heart into a lovesick puddle.

something about the way she’s looking at him, eyes soft and so, so genuine, puts his worries at ease. his fingers reach to the top button and pops it open, all while they stare each other down like they’re in an interrogation room. butterflies swarm in his gut, palpitating his heart as the tension builds, thickening with the heat.

she wades deeper into the water, his eyes glued on her figure. the water covers her up more and more, and he gulps, shaky fingers fiddling with the rest of the buttons. he’s thankful derek and penelope are too tipsy and too invested in timing his speed underwater. if they noticed this near pornographic level of tension between him and her, they’d make sure everyone else on the pool deck did, too.

she moves like she knows he’s watching her, and she tosses her hair over her shoulder, taking a peek at spencer right as he’s peeling his shirt off. he feels more exposed than ever now as he slips his arms out of his sleeves. he turns to toss the shirt onto the chair, and as his body twists, he notices the way his tummy pudges over the waistband of his shorts, the little rolls that weren’t there before prison.

he feels the water ripple around him, and he turns to find her approaching the steps he’s been frozen on for almost five minutes now. they don’t speak as she exits the pool, his brow incredulous, “you’re getting out?” he stutters, wide eyed and completely caught off guard with the way her hips sway as she climbs the steps.

she stops and turns to him, one leg straight on a step, the other reaching up to the next one. the angle she’s at makes his head spin, her figure twisting into the most delectable position, it’s a challenge for his eyes to not dip below her waist.

“i just wanted to cool off a bit, i’m gonna lay in the sun a little more while it’s still light out,” she responds sweetly, and he feels like a deer in headlights.

she wraps herself in a towel as spencer turns to derek, who had seen the entire interaction, if the smile on his face was anything to go by.

“you told me you’d swim with me!” derek accuses teasingly, pointing a finger at spencer.

spencer rolls his eyes and trudges the rest of the way in, “i’m not racing you.”

as the sun started to set, rossi and hotch each took their stance at the grills in his backyard, doling out hotdogs and hamburgers to the hungry partygoers. you sit at a long table, family style with the rest of the team. an old university sweatshirt is draped over your frame, your bathing suit now dry from your earlier escapade in the pool.

penelope immediately started whispering to you the moment you’d exited the pool, eyebrows raised like she’d seen a unicorn, “what was that?” she whispered, spencer and derek then occupied with their boyish argument.

“you saw that too?” you’d hissed back, relief flooding your chest at her validation.

“yes! girl, if you don’t do something about that…” she insinuated, and you bit your lip, glancing back at spencer. you remember the way the sun shone off his shoulders, the way his back muscles flexed as he swam. now, you sit at the team’s table, thinking about what kind of scratches you’d be able to leave on that back, how it would flex under your palms.

you’re ripped from your thoughts by the chair next to you scraping against the concrete. your head snaps up to meet the very object of your thoughts, your face immediately heating up.

“oh-sorry,” he smiles sheepishly at the grating noise, making sure to lift the chair slightly as he pushes himself into the table.

“that’s ok,” you smile sweetly, unable to be annoyed with him, “how you feelin’? derek didn’t tire you out too much?” you nudge his shoulder lightly with yours, and he blushes at the touch.

“no, no, not really,” he shakes his head, smiling down at the picnic table, “it was fun, but i missed you at the bar a few times after that.”

your heart races at the lightness in his tone, his lips flirtatiously curling upward, “well, if i’m not mistaken, some doctor told me that i needed to drink water earlier this afternoon,” you respond.

he laughs at this, and it emboldens you so much, you can’t help but reach forward, your fingers deftly moving a strand of hair that’s fallen in front of his eye. he smiles sheepishly at this, and you don’t think you’ll ever get tired of making him blush. you’re staring at each other in a comfortable silence, like two lovesick teenagers at the lunch table. it’s awkward and nervous, but giddy and exciting all the same.

“you look really pretty when you’ve spent all day in the sun,” spencer comments, and the breath is stolen from your lungs, “you’re glowing in a way i haven’t seen at the office.”

“well, being under fluorescent lights all day provides a much different glow than lounging in a chair all day,” you instinctively inflect, a natural reaction you’ve developed to compliments over the course of your life. you’re trying to be better at that, though, so you sigh, and continue, “thank you, though. that’s very nice.”

he nods at this, seeming very pleased to have made you happy. your attention is then stolen by the commotion of the team, drinks and laughter melodically flowing throughout the yard. aaron walks around taking a plethora of pictures, waiting until everyone is seated to get his own plate, of course. he’s parallel from you and spencer, his phone pinched between each of his pointer fingers and thumbs.

“smile!” he chirps to you and spencer, and the space immediately fills with tension once more.

you revel in it this time, leaning into him with a cheesy smile for the picture. his arm instinctively comes up to wrap around the back of your chair. you wish it was your shoulders, but you applaud his attempt at being respectful, despite your near debauchery by the pool. you scoot closer just slightly, wide-smiling cheeks press together as aaron clicks the photo.

you catch the glint in your unit chief’s eye as he takes the photograph. he’s profiling your body language, a knowing smirk teasing at his lips. he makes eye contact with you, raising his brows before moving on to snap pictures of the rest of the team. you take pause after the interaction, the breath being stolen from your lungs at the validation.

the rest of the meal was more of a group event, but neither you nor spencer minded. you love moments like this with your team, where you can be with each other when the circumstances aren’t so grim. as always, you’ve ended up in a juicy gossip sesh with the girls- jj, penelope, emily, and tara. you’ve talked about everything from the hottest people of the 80s and 90s- emily and tara gushed over jessica lange and jodie foster, jj and penelope both said leonardo dicaprio, while you opted for river phoenix- to how nobody’s replaced the oat milk in the work fridge. jj and penelope were particularly heated about that one, you, emily, and tara were just fine with your half and half, though.

your tipsy cackling rings through the air, mixing with the sound of jack and henry’s laughter, the low, booming voices of your superiors at the other end of the table, the clinking of glasses. the sun sets, a vision of pinks and oranges. the darker it got, the more people begin to filter out his back gate, nearly everyone was sent with tupperware full of leftovers in their hands, the classic signature of a rossi dinner party.

soon enough, it was dark, and the only people left were the team. the humidity that clings to the night air moves the party back over to the pool. some were swimming, but your toes were dipped in the water, still sitting with your girls. you catch spencer sitting on the other side of the deck, nursing a beer with derek and luke.

he’s already looking at you when you see him, a dangerous glint in his eye that wasn’t there earlier this afternoon. the pool lights cast him in a soft, angelic glow, illuminating the teasing in his brown eyes. your heart speeds up, breath hitching as his lips curl up in a smirk.

you’re eventually swayed back into the pool with the girls for a bit. it’s not long before the girls start heading inside, but it’s long enough to complete two essential tasks- the first is filling them in on everything you’d been through with spencer this afternoon alone.

you tell them about the stares, the moment in the pool, him peeling his shirt off like some action star. all four of them have extremely loud verbal reactions, penelope even splashes the water out of reflex. it draws the eyes of the rest of the team, and you have to stop yourself from glancing over at spencer, attempting to maintain a semblance of subtlety. they volunteer to eventually herd the rest of the group indoors, so that way you can have some time alone with spencer. butterflies swarm your chest at the thought, and you can’t help but take a glance at him. he’s still looking at you, the fire in his eye burning brighter.

the second task of the evening included penelope assigning mermaid tail colors to each of you, or course. each of you squeal and laugh with girlish glee at the idea, you so rarely get moments like these to be so carefree and silly. she hits the nail on the head with her assessment, too- she gives tara purple, emily is green, jj’s blue, you’re pink, and lastly, she reserves yellow for herself. the five of you laugh, reminiscent of years prior, when your biggest worry was if you’d all get your favorite color. you all did this time.

after that, emily and jj were among the first to head inside, aaron and dave following soon after. penelope and tara followed, ushering derek and luke inside as well. you stay in the pool, though, eyes burning a hole through spencer’s. you can see him gulp, and you swim to his side of the deck. you fold your arms on top of each other, ensuring your chest lays nicely atop your arms. he swallows again, adam’s apple bobbing in his throat.

“hi, spencer,” you nearly whisper, your tone delicate yet cunning, “wanna come in for a bit? we can go inside and dry off after?” you surprise both spencer and yourself with that last question, the insinuation burning white hot between you.

he nods absentmindedly as he stares at you, his eyes nearly going black as he, once again, tantalizingly peels his button up off. he takes the long way, teasing you no doubt, rounding the edge of the pool to the steps. you meet each other in the middle, breathing heavy between you two.

“hi,” he whispers.

“hi,” you whisper back.

then, his lips are on yours.

it’s all encompassing, the soft touch of his lips flooding your senses until you’re dizzy. his large hands grab hold of your face, parting his lips just so, inhaling more of you with each shaky breath. your arms snake around his neck, pulling him closer. he moves his hands underneath the water, practically moving in slow motion as he pulls your thighs up so that your legs hug his waist. he rubs patterns into your plush skin, squeezing and massaging your softness.

“you’re so beautiful, it drives me absolutely insane,” he confesses, breathless between kisses.

“you really think so?” you whisper, tucking your head in the crook of his neck to pepper some soft kisses there. his hands creep up your thighs until they’re cupping your ass, reveling in you as his fingers sink shamelessly into your softness. his neck tastes like chlorine and sunscreen and you could eat him up. you sink your teeth into his soft skin, just slightly, and he lets out a small yelp.

“hey!” he whines, and you creep your hand up the back of his neck, lightly tugging on the hair there. you pull your head out of his shoulder to see his eyes desperate as you do it, a light ‘ooh!’ escaping his lips. you kiss him again, and again, and again. he’s just about to slip his tongue into your mouth, when an insanely bright light is shone on the two of you.

“hey, lovebirds! get outta my pool!” david shouts, and you can hear the team wolf whistling from inside.

you bury your face in the crook of his neck once more, mentally preparing yourself to face your team inside, soaking wet in a bikini, hand in hand with dr. spencer reid.

[electricgoldtendercare]

Photos of Kurt Cobain in Olympia, WA. Taken by Tracy Marander during 1988

[electricgoldtendercare]

let’s have some fun this beat is sick i wanna take a ride on your disco stick don’t think too much just bust that kick i wanna take a ride on your disco stick

[electricgoldtendercare]

[electricgoldtendercare]

me trying to convince myself that the whole spectrum of human emotions is a good and necessary thing to feel even if its not comfortable while im actively experiencing emotions that make me feel like my bones are being dissolved in acid

[electricgoldtendercare]

the summoning of super bitch (2024)

[electricgoldtendercare]

“oh I’m too old for stuffed animals” skill issue. sorry you can’t appreciate little creatures made to hang out with you, I on the other hand am full of joyous whimsy and therefore vastly superior.

[electricgoldtendercare]

how you can help palestine

*i regularly update this post with any new info i find so please always reblog the original post*

Donations

donations currently reaching gaza:

help buy e-sims for people in gaza (PLEASE HELP CONNECT GAZANS TO THE WORLD. if you would like to stay updated, please follow @/Mirna_elhelbawi on twitter)

currently holafly e-sims are needed. please donate.

donate to get food packages to gaza - care for gaza

support palestinians: buy a keffiyeh from the last and only factory in palestine - hirbawi

secondary donations:

palestine children's relief fund

palestine red crescent society

save palestine - islamic relief canada

send medical supplies to gaza - palestinian american medical association

click to donate - arab.org

donate for the recovery of hisham awartani - gofundme

one of the three palestinian students shot by a racist in vermont for wearing kufiyas and speaking arabic. hisham’s injuries have left him paralysed from below the chest.

help bring down israel's weapon trade - palaction

NOTE: journalists based in gaza are saying a demand for ceasefire is the priority as not all donations are reaching gazans (focus on the donations that are directly reaching gaza). so please contact your local MPs every single day demanding as such. palestine need a permanent ceasefire.

Petitions

petition to investigate war crimes committed by israeli military

demand ceasefire - amnesty.org

open call for immediate ceasefire

american government call for immediate ceasefire

american government to stop funding israeli military

ceasefire and increase humanitarian assistance - oxfam au

petition to get canva to address their pro-israel stance

invoke the genocide convention to call for ceasefire in gaza - world beyond war

location specific petitions

gaza call for ceasefire - oxfam (UK)

end israeli occupation - parliament uk (UK)

email your MP - medical aid for palestine (UK)

protect gaza civilians - islamic relief (UK)

stop fuelling genocide - action network (USA)

@ biden: call for ceasefire now - move on (USA)

ceasefirenow.com - jewishvoiceofpeace (USA)

call congress and demand a ceasefire - uscpr (USA - they provide a script of what you should say, so don't worry about it)

note: you can call everyday. they tally the number of calls per issue. so more calls = higher chance for them to take action. p.s. you mainly go to voicemail so don’t worry about phone call anxiety. fight through it just this once please.

australia call on israel to stop attacking palestinians - apan (AUS)

immediate ceasefire and increase in humanitarian aid in gaza - actionaid (AUS)

email your MPs - stand with palestine (AUS)

[EN5622] call for ceasefire and end to occupation - parliament of australia (AUS)

closes 13 dec @ 8.59pm AEST

[EN5628] retract governmental support to israel and demand ceasefire - parliament of australia (AUS)

closes 13 dec @ 8.59pm AEST

sign to send letter to MP for ceasefire - nccm (CANADA)

ceasefire now! - ijv (CANADA)

ceasefire and allow aid to enter gaza - oxfam (CANADA)

house of commons petition 4661 (CANADA)

closes 9 dec @ 11.03am EDT

cessez-le-feu et un couloir humanitaire - le mouvement (FRANCE)

write to your député - assemblée nationale (FRANCE)

skydda civilbefolkningen i gaza! - mittskifte (SWEDEN)

singaporeans call for immediate ceasefire (SIN)

contact your elected reps and demand a ceasefire (GERMANY)

write to the EU demanding a ceasefire (EUROPE)

template of letters you can send (EU)

guide on how to contact your MPs in EU

p.s. if the template is outdated, just use it as a guide and add a few sentences here and there that reflect the current situation. i can’t find any recent templates so :/ at least this is something

multiple actions you can take to help palestine - plant een olifbloom (NETHERLANDS)

includes: links for donations, emails to MP, emails to media, links to petitions and demonstrations

den haag, maak nú werk van vrede in israël/Palestina - the right forum (NETHERLANDS)

māori call for palestine - ourActionStation (NZ)

special visa for palestinians in gaza with family in NZ - NZ parliament/pāremata aotearoa (NZ)

deem israeli actions as war crimes - NZ parliament/pāremata aotearoa (NZ)

basta ao genocídio em Gaza! - awaaz (BRAZIL)

globo e grande mídia, parem de desumanizar civis palestinos - the intercept (BRAZIL)

Campaigns

friends of al-aqsa

❥ UK-specific

urge your MP to speak up for palestine

hands off al-aqsa

stop administrative detention

petition for UK to stop arming israel

❥ International

boycott puma — email them to end their partnership with israel

boycott coca-cola

palestine action

join the resistance

islamic relief canada

urge your MP to rally for ceasefire

decolonise palestine

poster campaign to raise awareness on the war crimes being committed against palestinians | (very very important please share + read the sources provided)

text/call campaign for people living in USA

text CEASEFIRE @ 51905 to call for a ceasefire

text RESIST @ 50409 to send a letter to your representatives to pass HR3103–a bill that prohibits tax dollars from going to israel

download 5Calls app to contact members of your congress | (more info)

fax campaign for people in the USA

go on this website to send 5 free faxes per day

here’s a link to a pre-written fax copy you can download to send (the first link on the linktree)

here’s a video that explains how to fax your senator (it’s very easy and all you need is a valid email address)

BDS movement

get involved in boycotting companies associated with israel

please let me know if you have any more links. i will add them in. and please reblog the original post!!

UPCOMING PROTESTS

PALESTINIAN LITERATURE READING LIST