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#professor reid
iluvreid · 2 months
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I would let this man **** ** ******* ** ******
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0anonnymouslyours0 · 1 year
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w; mentions of sex, kinky, titles
early seasons spencer is tame, fluffy, inexperienced, submissive. i think you'd be the first to show him around the bedroom. never too kinky though, the most it would get is the occasional pulling of hair or hand wrapping around your neck. he loves when you take control.
later seasons spencer is absolutely filthy. he has so much anger and he loves to take it out on you, in a consensual way of course. handcuffs, blindfolds, bindings, the occasional spanking is part of your life now. hes dominate, he takes control, orders you around the bedroom.
no personally, i think he'd be into some sort of title (daddy, sir, ext.) but thats really personal preference.
maybe early seasons reid would throw in the occasional "mummy".
now im a big fan of professor reid, and i will touch on this more later, but i think he would go feral for sir, or the use of professor reid in the bedroom. would be all over you in seconds.
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sixofpomegranates · 2 years
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Would you write a one-shot where the girl is Spencer's student and somehow he hears a girl talk that she's a virgin (and also that she writes FICS about him), and something happen between them? I'd like her to be inexperienced, but not dumb about sex, nor bratty ❤️❤️ thank you so much for your fics btw, they're amazing
Fanfiction
Pairing: Professor!Reid x Virgin!Student!Fem!Reader
Word count: 14.4K (it's a long one | That's what she said.)
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A/N: Quick PSA: A real person might not be a fan of you writing fanfiction about them... But writing this was fun! It never crossed my mind to have one of Spencer's students write a FF about him.
CW: Smut, Fluff | Mentions of Age Gap/Sexual Experience/Fanfiction/academic pressure/financial struggles/Parents not supporting your dreams, Oral (F), Fingering, Masturbation, Virginity/Loss of virginity, Penetrative Sex (unprotected, creampie), Nicknames (Bunny, Daddy, Sweetheart, Good Girl)
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"The cold rain made the clothes cling to our bodies as we ran into the faculty building. I should've never agreed to interview my professor for the college paper. His class schedule was all over the place, and I struggled for weeks to find a place in his calendar to do it.
Stupid stubbornness had made me insist on him taking time for me tonight after classes. I had sat there through all his stomach-turning lectures and then waited for him to pack his stuff.
"Professor Collins, you said I was supposed to wait for you to find a free day on your schedule." I looked around the empty class. "Now seems to be the time."
"Miss Rivera, it is past eight, and I'd like to go home now. Why don't you do the same, and I'll send you a mail with dates that would be convenient for me."
Handsome but unattainable. He was known to be the most attractive professor on campus, clothed in secrecy and a need to keep his private life hidden. No wonder, a man working part-time as a teacher and part-time as an FBI agent needed to keep his secrets, I assume.
But tough luck. He'd been voted to be the most popular professor in our college, and therefore, this man was going to, at least, give me something to write about him.
"With all due respect, Professor, I have been running after you for weeks. I need this interview."
A loud thunder interrupted his try to back out of it, making him brush a hand through his hair.
"It's starting to storm soon. I assume you're taking the subway, just like me. I'd like the come home at least semi-dry, don't you?"
He tried to push past me, his hand on the strap of his leather satchel. I stepped in his way, his firm chest bumping against mine. I hadn't realized he was so much taller than me.
Another thunder made me jump. "I- I have a car."
He nodded, taking a nervous step back. We had stood too close. "That- That is good for you. The streets and public transport aren't safe for a young woman alone at night."
"I can drive you," I offered without thinking.
"Pardon?"
"You give me my interview, and I'll drive you home. We don't even have to have the interview here. I can drive us to a cafe. You once mentioned you never turn down the chance for coffee."
He raised his eyebrow. "You're not going to stop bothering me with this interview, am I right?"
I shot him a smile. "My persistence is one of my greatest assets, Professor."
He sighed, nodding. "Okay."
Clapping my hands, I lead the way to my car. I searched for my keys.
Pockets, handbag, bookbag,jacket.
"Is everything okay?"
I nodded, shooting my professor another smile.
Now, where were my keys?
"Are you sure?" He asked me, making me hear a smile in his voice. "It seems like you can't find your keys."
"No, no, no, I know I put them in here somewhere," I rambled, going through my bookbag again.
That was when one of its straps snapped and sent my books flying.
"Fuck!" I exclaimed, quickly sinking to my knees and picking my books up.
Of course, it wouldn't be my type of luck if I didn't also dump my handbag's contents in the same move. Perfect. Just perfect.
"Here," Professor Collins handed me one of my books. He had kneeled down next to me, helping me pick up my things.
Okay, maybe I saw his appeal. He was good-looking, his hair long enough to run your fingers through it and play with his curls and cheekbones that could cut glass. Kneeling down on the dirty floor for me, dirtying his always perfect suit, even when he detested everything that could suggest bacteria.
"Thank you."
As I took my book, our hands touched, and an electric shock ran straight through me. The sky opened, and it began to pour. Right, Professor Collins had predicted that it would rain...
A stupid laugh escaped me at the sudden decision the universe had made to make all of this look like a stupid rom-com.
Stuffing all my things into the bags, not carrying what I put into which, I looked at his now wet hair.
"I assume my ride home is canceled?" He joked, and my face became hot.
"Right..." I mumbled. "I'm so sorry."
He waved me off, standing up and lending me a hand. By now, we were both soaked.
"Let's go to my office. Maybe you'll find keys once we're dry and in a well-lit environment."
I nodded. "Please.""
*****
☀︎ POV: Spencer ☀︎
"Penelope, explain it again, please," I asked of her for the third time now.
My bubbly, blonde friend sighed. "A fanfiction, Reid. Or should I say, Professor Collins?"
The clear question mark on my face made Luke laugh. "Some girl from college has the hots for you and writes about a fantasy world in which you both are an item."
"No," I shook my head. I did not need to hear that. "Not interested in hearing about that."
This would only make the relationship with my students more complicated than it already was. The young women in my classes, especially those auditing them, made me nervous. Their looks were inappropriate, to say the least. And now I was supposed to have a head for one of them writing erotica about her and me as well?
Where would this nonsense end?
"But you should. Its publishing level good. Like, I read this in one night, and now I am constantly checking my phone to see if she updated her story," Penelope continued, gushing. "And honestly, except for a few quirks and that he works for the FBI, Professor Collins does not sound like you at all. He's such a dreamboat. Seriously. A man written by a woman."
"Thanks," I spat, taking the hint at my undateablility. Of course, a real person couldn't compare with a completely made-up man. Written ones never truly struggled with their problems in a way that would ruin the romance.
"Oh, boy. I didn't mean it like that," Garcia said.
Luke stared up from Penelope's rhinestone-covered phone. "Honestly, that story is spicy. Hey, from man to man, do you like BDSM?"
What the hell? What was this lunatic writing about me?
Penelope looked at her phone and smiled. "Oh, that isn't even the best one. Right now, there is this just hooking-up thing going on. The real fun starts once he falls for her and finally tries to have a real date with her."
Luke shook his head. "No chance. The alley scene where he tells her he can't touch her because it would be unethical, and they still have this absolutely animalistic-"
"You are making me uncomfortable," I exclaimed before I could hear any more of this.
"Sorry, man, but that stuff is good. And the side plots? How Adriene becomes a journalist, and they keep running into each other?"
Tara came in, coffee in her hand. "We talking about 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink'?"
Ridiculous name. Stupid story. How old did I need to get, and how many titles did I need, to finally be taken seriously?
"Please tell me you're not reading that garbage," I practically begged, but Tara started laughing.
"That you call it garbage shows that you haven't read it. The author writes made-up cases that sound so real; I was convinced they were until I asked her on Tumblr."
Maybe I could ban auditing my classes, but what if this obsessive fan of mine was a student of mine? This story needed to vanish as promptly as it appeared.
Standing up, I fixed my tie and grabbed my satchel. "I'd be very thankful if you guys stopped reading it. Penelope, please take the story down."
*****
Which one of them?
The classes this week had me spinning. Every single one of them could've been the one writing in these indecent ways about me.
I knew all their faces and remembered all their available information. I was able to figure out which one of them wrote this garbage.
"Professor Reid?"
My head snapped up from my notes. "Yes?" I looked at [y/n], one of my thankfully normal students of mine.
"I just wanted to bring you Mrs. Perkins's invitation to the charity library sale. We were sorting out the books when she realized she forgot to hand you yours."
The girl handed me my invitation and smiled as I studied it. The college's library hat previously got a lot of new editions donated and now sorted out its stock. The books no longer needed would be sold for a bargain, and the money would be used to repair some of the old shelves.
I lacked the space for any more books, but how could I resist this feast? I made a mental note to ask Morgan to help me build another bookshelf for my apartment.
"Mrs. Perkins also told me to tell you that she would hold back some first editions for you."
I nodded thankfully. Helena Perkins was a little old lady in her eighties. The librarian and somebody I regularly brought tea and borrowed books from in my free time.
"Great. I can't wait," I smiled at [y/n] [y/l/n], who was one of the volunteers for this event. "Have you already got your eyes on something?"
This girl was almost as obsessed with books as I was. I often met her in the library. We never really talked, but we would smile at each other and then go on with our book hunt.
"Totally. I already have a box I'll have to figure out how to take home."
I furrowed my brows. "The sale is two days away."
She nodded. "That's the perk of helping organize it. I get to call dibs on the books I want."
I chuckled. "So that's why you helped."
She shook her head, laughing. "No? I help because Mrs. Perkins asked me to. The books are literally just a sweet bonus, and how she bribed me into helping."
"Yeah, she really knows how to bribe. I sponsor the buffet at the sale because of those first editions she's holding back."
"You know, since I started helping, I actually had to get rid of my dining table so I could fit in more books ins my apartment. I mean, I never have any visitors anyway, but still."
I nodded. "I'm having to ask a friend to build me a new shelf. Given the amount of books I own, I should really consider opening my own library."
Playing with her hoodie strings, [y/n] smiled. "See it as a positive thing. 'Doctor Spencer Reid's Library for the Book Addicted' has a nice ring to it."
"I might be going to steal that name," I joked back, loving how she bit into the pillow of her bottom lip while laughing.
She waved me off, pulling the hood of her hoodie back over her head to cover herself from the rain outside. "No need to steal; I gift it to you," she said sweetly. "Okay, I'm gonna leave now before Mrs. Perkins breaks her hip again, climbing around on those ladders."
"Have fun. Don't buy too many books," I called after her, hearing her yell back through the hallway, "You're not my boss!"
Silly girl. I liked her.
*****
""You are my student, Adriene!" He almost yelled. Only seconds before, he'd taken me on his desk, and now he shut me out again. "You can't seriously believe that this can be more than some random hook-ups."
I shouldn't have let it slip that I love him, but as he had looked into my eyes, it had been all I could think about.
I shook my head while fixing my disheveled clothes. "I- I am not your student. I am studying journalism. I only audit your class to-"
"You're still in my class," he insisted. "We can't meet anymore. This had been going on for too long anyway. You're having your exams soon, and they're more important than whatever this is anyway."
"But- It's not just a random hook-up for me," I admitted, feeling my heart sink as his face turned to stone.
"I'm sorry you caught feelings. I should've been more open about my intentions."
He didn't mean that. He couldn't. How were his intentions solely to fuck me? What a lie.
He could've done that and left, but he came back every time. He took me out to fancy dinners, watched movies with me, took me to bookstores and museums, and showered me with gifts and the stories of his past.
I thought there was more. There had to be more."
*****
God, that was a lot of drama.
Couldn't the two of them just finally get together and be happy? It wasn't that hard. Even if it was unethical at the moment, they only needed to wait a month. Adriene was soon going to finish college and get a job as a journalist.
I hated that I was able to understand where Zane came from, though.
She was so much younger. She had the chance to become a great journalist and see the world. Adriene deserved better than having a boyfriend who would probably get shot on a case.
She would understand and be thankful that he tried pushing her away over and over again once she was older. But right now, she clearly loved and accepted Zane.
I would've loved to have someone like Adriene.
She was caring and funny. She was addicted to books. Dreaming big but always counting Zane in.
Fuck. I wasn't falling in love with a fictional character, now was I?
*****
""Do you have any idea how angry I am with you?" He growled, while I only nodded.
"I'm sorry," I whispered while he made me stop by the car and helped me out of my kevlar vest. He ran his hand over the bullet hole in it and withdrew his hand as though he had burned his hand on fire.
"You could've died. Did you think even one second about that?" With anger, he tossed the vest into the backseat. "And this fucking vest is way too big for you."
"I'm sorry," I whimpered, flinching at every single one of his words.
"How could you be so reckless? A stunt like this could've cost my team or me our lives, and worse, it could've cost yours. Are you aware of that?"
I nodded, but that didn't seem to be enough.
"Adriene, I swear to god, you better answer me," he hissed, and I looked up at him, tears finally running down my face.
"I'm so sorry," I repeated, making him sigh and look me up and down.
"Are you hurt?" I shook my head, my whole body still trembling.
That was when Zane pulled me into a hug. "Thank god," he whispered. "Don't ever do that to me again. This story isn't worth your life.""
*****
She had daddy issues. Definitely.
The author was a girl with daddy issues that needed an outlet for her fantasies about an older man that could care for her.
She was most likely not in a relationship—if she had ever even been in a real one before.
I was nothing like Zane.
Just a little like him.
Okay, Zane was a carbon copy of most of my characteristics, even my bad ones.
The author had a talent for analyzing me.
At least our names and my hair and eye color were different. However, that seemed to help very little to hide my identity. Penelope had caught up on it in a heartbeat.
*****
"No. I am sick of this cat-and-mouse game, Zane," I yelled between tears and sobs. "You keep pushing me away, saying I'm too young for you. Yet, you are the one always coming back and never making up your mind. I may be young, but you're the one of us acting like a child!"
"Addy, please just listen to me."
I wiped my tears away, trying not to scream and wake my neighbors. "No, I am done listening. That's all I did until now, and it brought me nothing but heartache. It was always, 'Come here, Sweetheart.', 'Stay away.', 'Please come back.', 'I love you.' I'm done."
Zane took a step towards me, hand running over his stubbles. "You have the chance to become a great journalist and see the world, Adriene. You deserved better than having a husband who will probably get shot on a case."
"Then why are you always coming back?"
"Because I am selfish. I can't live without you."
I looked at him. His ocean-blue eyes were filled with tears he refused to let out. Where did this confession leave us?
"Can I please come inside, Sweetheart?"
*****
Wait, that was it?
Where was the rest?
The fuck did the author mean by 'To be continued'?
No. No, it was good that there wasn't any more of this. I didn't like how the author portrayed me anyway.
Pulling out my phone, I called Penelope. It rang a fair share of times before she picked up.
"Hello?" She sounded like she had a mile sprint behind her just to get to her phone.
"Garcia, it's Reid. I need you to tell me which of my students wrote the story."
"Why? What are you planning?" She asked suspiciously.
"I'll ask her to stop writing this and spare me from any more humiliation."
After a while of silence, Garcia answered simply, "No."
"Why not?"
"I'm not going to let you be mean to this talented girl!"
Was she for real?
"Penelope, if somebody's mean, then it's her. This is humiliating. She literally wrote about my dick and the many uses I seem to have for it in her fantasy," I told her with a hoarse, aggravated voice.
The call of reality seemed to have finally reached Garcia. I knew I was right, and now, so did she. This girl was openly projection this picture she had of me on the internet. Openly displaying me being called 'Daddy,' manhandling her like she was nothing more than my little toy.
I wasn't a man like that, and I surely didn't need somebody to think I was.
"Okay, fine. Take away one of my hobbies and crush a girl's spirit," Penelope huffed, annoyed. "Her name is [y/n] [y/l/n]."
"No, it's not," I replied almost instantly. "She- No. You're wrong."
"Genius boy, I am a lot of things. I am beautiful, sassy, a wonder woman, a natural talent in anything technology, but I am not – and I can't stress this enough – never, ever wrong about something so simple as uncovering the person behind a username."
I thanked my friend and hung up.
[y/n]. I had already crossed her from my list of suspects. She was sweet, quiet, and a good student. She never stared at me like the other woman in class, and she never seemed distracted or daydreamy.
She shared jokes with me, and I liked her... This annoyed me.
[y/n] was a wolf in sheep's clothing, and I had fallen for it.
Why did it have to be one of my good students? One that even was respectful and well-behaved when coming to my office or wrote me a mail when she wouldn't be able to make it to my class.
Somehow it would've been less insulting if it would've been a girl auditing my lectures.
Shaking my head, I looked at [y/n]'s user profile.
Her username was 'SixofPomegranates', an innuendo to Hades and Persephone. The king of the underworld had made his wife eat six pomegranate seeds to ensure she'd have to return to his side for six months of the year.
Her profile picture was a digital drawing of a little jackalope bunny surrounded by flowers. The little bunny reminded me of her, sweet and innocent looking.
She had the same look on her face coming to my office one day, as it had rained, and she was soaked, freezing. After handing her the materials she had missed, I'd made her stay until the rain had stopped, giving her my jacket as she started her way home.
The next day the coat had been returned to my office, a coffee from Starbucks next to it and a little flower-shaped sticky note on it thanking me.
I had kept that stupid sticky note in my wallet. It still was in there. It had this stupid joke on it that always made me laugh.
"*knock knock* Who's there? Thank you! Thank you, who?
Thank you for lending me your coat! Enjoy your coffee! — [y/n] ♡"
If that had been the day she started fantasizing about me?
Even if it was, it didn't give her the right to post erotic stories about me online. However, I hated the feeling those scenes now gave me, knowing that it was her.
Her profile's bio solely held a quote:
"My love for Heathcliff resembles the eternal rocks beneath: a source of little visible delight, but necessary."
Wuthering Heights. Did she see the book as dramatic or romantic? Did she see Catherine and Heathcliff as star-crossed lovers and soulmates or co-dependent fools who couldn't get over each other even after death?
Why did she have to write this fanfiction about me?
I kicked my desk like a disgruntled child. Now I could never ask her for an answer. Could never look at her again without thinking about her fantasies.
These lusting, needy fantasies I shouldn't relate to.
I never had any normal fans.
Seriously, was it me? Was I the problem?
*****
"Miss [y/l/n], can you stay behind, please? I'd like to have a word with you."
I had just excused the rest of my students fifteen minutes earlier than usual. I couldn't seem to focus, my eyes always falling back to [y/n].
She had an astounding poker face. What was she thinking about while writing her little notes?
Was she thinking about me, asking her to stay behind after class?
About me, throwing her onto my table and fucking her on the assignments handed in by her classmates?
As she walked up to me, her side bag thrown over her shoulder, books clutched in her hands, she looked at me with a smirk.
"What is it, Professor Reid? I'm sorry to tell you, but you're not getting the Wuthering Heights copy we both hunted for from me. I got that one fair and square." She bit her bottom lip.
The night I learned about her alter-ego 'SixofPomegranates', I had been at the charity sale before. We had both reached for the same book, her beating me in Rock-Paper-Scissors and having me back off from the copy.
The rest of the night, I had thought of her fantasies, her being the subject of my desires, pulsing cock in my hand as I masturbated to the idea of playing those fantasies out with her.
The fact that I was mad at her had only fueled my longing for her before the feeling of post-orgasm clarity had brought me back to my senses.
I licked over my lips, checking if we truly were alone. "That's not what this is about. I-" I cleared my throat. "It had come to my attention that you wrote a little piece of... fanfiction about me. Us."
I hadn't thought it to be possible, but her eyes became even bigger. She looked at me like a frightened little bunny. Her big eyes filled with worry, and mortification was written all over her face while I was able to hide mine quite well.
Looking down at her feet and back up at me, she played coy, "I- I'm sorry?"
"A little story called 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink'. Sound familiar?"
She swallowed harshly, "I- I- I don't- I didn't..."
As I, just like her, didn't know what to say, I decided to go with the truth. "See, I thought a lot about how I would handle this situation yesterday, and I've frankly got to admit that I am in unknown water here. I never thought about the possibility of a student of mine falling for me and certainly didn't think about one writing erotica about me and sharing it online."
Our eyes met, and I ignored the little infinite universes that formed between them.
"Listen, I would like to tell you that I feel flattered, but I don't. It is humiliating and makes me extremely uncomfortable. My colleagues at the FBI caught wind of it."
A frown popped up on the little bunny's face. "I- I'm sorry. I didn't- I didn't think-"
I nodded, going for the kill of this crush. She shouldn't think of me in any other way than me being her teacher. "Yes, you didn't. And it's very apparent."
She raised her eyebrows, looking like she was building momentum to talk back at me. "Excuse me?"
"You heard me," I snarled. "Nobody with at least the rarest bit of common sense would do something as stupid as this. Your little amateur work has the power to ruin my reputation on campus. Have you thought about what this weird little fantasy of yours could insinuate?"
"This is a little harsh, don't you think?" She asked, bottom lip shivering. "I changed enough that nobody would ever draw any connection-"
I interrupted her. "And yet it wasn't enough. Else neither my colleagues nor I would've realized your little obsession with me."
"Obsession?" She mumbled.
"I am asking you politely to remove your work from the internet and keep those fantasies in your diary – where they belong. Should I catch wind of something like this happening again, I'll need to report you to the dean. I cannot have my character ruined solely because of a horny young girl."
She nodded, "Okay. I'm sorry for the inconvenience I caused you, Professor. I didn't mean it."
I turned away so I wouldn't see her little bunny eyes. "Just don't let it happen again."
[y/n] nodded a couple of more times and hurried out of my class. Hopefully, I had been condescending enough to have her leave those feelings behind and be a normal student again.
Maybe then, I could pretend this whole ordeal never happened. Maybe then, I wouldn't feel like running after her and apologizing.
*****
☁︎ POV: [y/n] ☁︎
On an idiot-scale from 1 to 10, I definitely was a 14.
"Yeah, I am just going to write about my hot criminology professor and all my kinks and post it online."
"I just change names and hair colors. Nobody's gonna know."
"How will they know? Impossible."
Dumb, dumb idiot. Stupid. No brain.
I'd known that I would never have a chance with my professor and therefore had created a world in which we shared more than just a smile at the library.
What was wrong with me? Professor Reid wasn't even that handsome... I mean, yes, he was, but he had been very clear about being uncomfortable because of me and somewhat called me a dummy.
Humiliated and on the verge of either throwing up or crying, I crawled into bed, ready to let the day end before I could embarrass myself any more.
But I still had to do something. I opened my notebook, opened my social media – the one I decided to use to embarrass myself and Professor Reid with – and opened 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink'.
I really liked the story. Yes, I had thought about my professor when writing Zane Collins, but after a while, the lines between fiction and reality had blurred so much that the story had developed a life of its own.
It had no longer been Professor Reid and I in my head; it had been Zane and Adriene. Two fictional characters I had made up and related to so much during their adventures that it was therapeutic to write about them. It had become my comfort activity.
Well, either deleting this or kissing my academic career goodbye.
Such stupid bullshit.
My mouse cursor hovered over the delete button.
Yeah, no chance. I couldn't do it. Deleting it was so final—such a waste.
Instead, I decided to just archive my story. I would be able to keep the comments I had gotten on it, but it wouldn't be viewable anymore—a good middle ground.
I just couldn't upload any more stories. Not even the ones without my crush in it. He would see it and think of me as a crazy stalker, a yandere that was obsessed with him... He probably already thought of me like that.
But okay, I wouldn't let that ruin my semester. Two more weeks until my finals, I would just not take criminology with Professor Reid as professor next semester.
Yes. That sounded sensible. I'd write my finals and then ditch.
I'd hope Professor Reid would forget about it, but that guy had an eidetic memory. If asked, he'd probably be able to tell me what he had for breakfast ten years ago and what weather it was.
Well, no sympathy for dumbasses – That was me. I was the dumbass.
*****
☀︎ POV: Spencer ☀︎
She'd taken it down. No more 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink'. Yet, it didn't really feel like a win for me.
Now I would never find out if Adriene and Zane got back together. Penelope and Tara definitely had given me their peace of mind about it as well.
And [y/n] didn't smile at me anymore. She stayed away. It was sensible given what happened between us, but still. I missed the smiles and short conversations.
I wondered if the little bunny would return to my classes next semester. She had amazing grades. It would've been a shame, although I probably scared her far enough away to never see her again.
Maybe I should've just stayed quiet about the story.
The last couple of free days I spent in Vegas, visiting my aunt, and now sat there in the hotel's restaurant eating dinner. I had read a book, so I hadn't noticed it right from the beginning, but as I put it down when the waitress appeared to bring me my soda, I saw her.
[y/n] was sitting there, playing with her phone.
What was she doing here?
She was dressed in this tight-fitting black dress, her hair and makeup all dolled up. She was clearly dressed to impress somebody, yet she sat alone. Just like me.
What a suspicious coincidence that she was at the same time in Las Vegas as I was, in the same hotel, eating dinner at the same time, and only a few tables away from me.
I didn't like the feeling in my gut. Not at all. Too often had I been the victim of insane women. I didn't want to – I couldn't – go through something like that again.
Sitting there and watching her for over ten minutes, she still sat there on her own. Why get dressed up like that if you're all on your own? And even if clothes didn't matter, why didn't she already order?
No. That was it. I would confront her. I grabbed my phone and sent her a mail.
***
"Miss [y/l/n],
I don't know what is going on inside your head, but following me to Vegas is undoubtedly not going to help you to get anything other from me than a restraining order.
– S.R."
***
I watched her looking at her phone, frowning. Then she looked around, and her big eyes met mine, looking like a frightened bunny. She shook her head and typed something on her phone. Then mine rang.
***
"Professor Reid,
I can assure you that this is merely a coincidence. I wasn't aware that you'd be here.
– [y/n]
***
Shaking my head, I replied.
***
"[y/n],
Are you sure? Because this seems like a rather substantial coincidence, don't you think?
Almost seems a little too much like a romance novel.
– S.R"
***
An angry sigh left her lips.
***
"Professor Reid,
I'm lacking the time, interest, money, and skills to stalk you.
Trust me, I won't pull an Annie Wilkes on you.
– [y/n]"
***
A reference to Stephen King's Misery. Macabre little thing. I missed her jokes.
***
"Adriene,
So you're trying to tell me you're not my number one fan?
­– Zane"
***
I watched her roll her eyes and lick her lips.
***
"Very funny. I'll laugh next week.
Now please leave me alone. I am waiting for my date.
– [y/n]"
***
My fingers were faster than my common sense.
***
"Your next victim?"
***
An angry gaze now burned itself through my clothes. I seemed to have been crossing a line with my teasing. Only fair since I had pushed her away as far as I had and now seriously started to pull jokes.
***
"Dear ostentatious prick,
'He felt as he always did when he finished a book — queerly empty, let down, aware that for each little success, he had paid a toll of absurdity.'
I liked you. I was crushing for you harder than I thought possible and childishly wrote a story I didn't figure would hurt anybody because I knew I'd never stand a chance with you.
I apologized for it and took it down. I am not going to visit another one of your classes ever again. I even planned that we'd never have to see each other again.
Tonight, that we met, is a coincidence since – surprise! – those happen to exist.
I now regret all the months I spent fantasizing about you and falling for you since I clearly was wrong about everything I thought about you. I feel silly, dumb, humiliated, and I'm clearly braindead.
Apparently, the only thing nice about you is your looks.
So now please leave me alone, as I told you before, I am waiting on my date. And no, it is not a man I needed to stalk, kidnap, drug, or anything else. It's somebody who I met online, who's interested in me, and asked me to come here to meet.
– [y/n] [y/l/n]"
***
Message gotten. Loud and clear. Great, now I felt like an asshole.
***
"Apologies, [y/n],
I did not intend to hurt your feelings. I'm well aware that you don't need to commit crimes to get men to be interested in you.
Have a nice evening.
– S.R."
*****
☁︎ POV: [y/n] ☁︎
Ten more minutes later, I still sat there alone. Kyle had clearly stood me up. I came all the way to freaking Las Vegas, and he didn't even have the balls to write me a text.
If he would've, I could've just... I don't know. I wasn't a big fan of Vegas. I had only come here because Kyle told me to.
I probably looked like a hooker waiting for a customer to approach and ask for my prize, dressed up like I was. I had been so sure he'd been interested in me.
This had been a waste of money, make-up, time, and shaving.
As my phone rang, I quickly looked at it, sighing as I noticed that it was only my professor. He probably thought I made up my date, so I had an excuse to stalk him.
***
"He stood you up, didn't he?"
***
I put my phone aside. I couldn't reply because I'd probably start crying. That's what I got for having expectations. Concentrating on my hands resting on the white tablecloths, I noticed a tear dropping onto one of them.
"Now, don't cry because of that guy, little bunny." I looked up at my professor standing there with his drink. Little bunny? "It's his loss that he didn't show up."
He sat down across from me, telling a waitress to bring a lighter for the candle in the middle of the table.
"What are you doing?" I asked him. "I'm not in the mood to force you to write a novel right now."
He looked at me, sighing jokingly, "Don't be silly; you're the author of us both, [y/n]."
As the waitress returned, she lit the candle between us, and Professor Reid ordered a bottle of wine.
"Seriously, now, what are you doing?" I asked him again. "You were pretty clear about your opinion of me, and I don't need a pity dinner with you."
"It's not a pity dinner. I just thought we'd both look less pathetic when not having to sit and eat alone."
"Aren't people in Vegas usually meeting up with escorts when they want company?" I asked sarcastically, staring at my phone and still hoping for a text.
Accepting the bottle of wine he ordered, the professor started to fill our glasses, chuckling, "Well, I am from Vegas, and although lonely, I've never chosen that type of company."
I looked at the menu the waitress had brought and at the wine bottle. One glass of wine already cost enough; I couldn't even imagine how expensive an entire bottle was.
Shit, I definitely seemed like a hooker.
"The bottle looks expensive," I mumbled, staring at the shiny letters on the label.
Professor Reid nodded, chuckling, "I hope it does. It's a two-hundred-dollar bottle."
My eyes went wide. "Two- Two. Hundred. Dollars?"
He waved me off, "Don't worry, I'll pay for it."
Running a hand over my head, I sighed. "People will think I'm a hooker or your sugar baby."
A pretty smile spread on his lips, paired with his cheeks starting to become pink, "I- I didn't intend it to appear like that. I- I've been stood up more times than I can count and just thought-"
I laughed at the way he started to fidget with his fingers, trying to explain himself. "So we're lying now?"
"I- How am I lying?"
"You have three PhDs, Professor," I reminded him. "I'm pretty sure you can count the times you've been stood up."
He nodded, smirking, "Yeah, true. I also don't date a lot, so the number is so small, they would revoke my Ph.D. in mathematics should I not be able to remember it."
Lifting his glass, my professor held it up.
"To your idiot of a date. If he would've shown up, I'd have to eat on my own."
He made it sound like a light-hearted joke, and I honestly believed there wasn't even any ill intent behind it. Still, it upset me.
"I thought he liked me," I mumbled, lifting my glass as well and clinking our glasses together. While taking a big sip, I hid my disappointment and hurt face behind the glass.
"If he loved with all the powers of his puny being, he couldn't love as much in eighty years as I could in a day," he replied, taking a sip as well.
"Quoting 'Wuthering Heights' to me does not make me feel better," I said, yet smiled because as we both had reached for the book weeks ago, things had still felt normal between us.
"Then what would?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. Uhm... You're here to visit family?"
"My Aunt and her husband," my professor answered. "What about you?"
"You already know about my date."
His hazel eyes widened. "You really just came to Las Vegas for a man you've met online?"
"Wow. I wonder how you feel about that?" I snorted sarcastically, taking another sip of wine. Judgemental bitch.
He chuckled at my pout, "Come one, Bunny. Don't look at me like that."
There it was again, this pet name. "What?"
"Huh?"
"You just called me 'Bunny.' And I'm very sure you called me 'little bunny' earlier," I confronted him.
Professor Reid began to blush, looking around to avoid my gaze.
"I- I- Uhm... Yeah. I did," he admitted stuttering, and I nodded.
"Okay?" I replied. Now, who seemed a little like Joe Goldberg?
"You remind me of one," he explained after taking a sip of wine. "A little bunny, I mean. Your profile picture was a jackalope bunny; since then, I can't help but make that connection all the time."
He had seen my entire profile. No wonder he thought I was nuts. Still, I liked the nickname. I'd never been given one before, and he said it with so much adoration I could almost think he liked me a little.
"I guess there are worse nicknames," I whispered, making him chuckle in reply.
"Like ostentatious prick?"
I nodded and deadpanned, "Among others."
Staring at the candle between us, I reached out for its flame, playing with it without burning myself as long as I stayed focused.
"Can I ask you a question about... what you read?" I asked, avoiding his eyes while my face burned as hot as the candle was bright.
"Of your works?" I nodded. "Well, I read all chapters of our little story. I didn't read your others, though. Are you planning on becoming an author?"
"God, no," I snorted, self-deprecating. Looking at my phone, I repeated my parents' words, "Can't feed a family with childish dreams."
"Those are definitely not your words," my professor noted, and I frowned.
"How'd you know?"
"Profiler. And your gaze went down to your phone while saying it. I assume your family is your screensaver?" I nodded. "What do they want you to be?"
Thinking of all the pressure on my shoulders, making me shorter than I was and my dreams even duller, I started counting, "Doctor, nurse, lawyer, CEO... Do I need to go on?"
He shook his head. "So you're studying to please your parents?"
"And to make sure I'm in deep debt before ever even fully starting to live."
"Would you want to be an author if there wasn't all that pressure on you?"
That was the first time somebody asked me that. Asked me what I wanted in general.
I gifted him a stupid grin. "Can you imagine holding a book in your hand and knowing that you're the one who wrote it and can live off of it? I mean, I wouldn't do it for the money or the fame, of course, but it would be nice not to feel the urge to cry every time a bill arrives in my mail."
Professor Reid stopped my fingers from playing with the flame. Holding my hand instead. "If you're really serious about it, you should pursue this hobby and make it your job."
"And if I fail?" I asked him, my eyes probably giving away the fear of taking that risk.
"Stephen King is one of the best-selling authors of all time, with a net worth of 500 million dollars. Yet it took years of countless rejections before 'Carrie' was published, and as it was made into a movie the following year, they didn't even write his name right in the credits."
But Stephen King didn't write fanfictions about his professor fucking him. I assumed. "So, I should risk becoming a writer because I could be the Stephen King of embarrassing, obsessive little stories I write, although they should stay in my diary?"
I pulled my hand away and wrapped it around my glass instead.
"I- [y/n], I needed to be harsh so you'd understand the troubles your fanfiction could cause us. It had nothing to do with your talent."
Why the hell was I doing here? I couldn't sit here any longer with the man I was head over heels for and listen to him giving me a pep talk about how my fanfiction wasn't as bad as he initially had said.
"I need-" I grabbed my phone and threw it in my purse. "I really should-"
I stopped trying to explain myself and stood up.
Professor Reid stood up as well, hand running through his curls. "Please don't leave. We haven't even ordered yet."
I shook my head. "I- I need to get a hotel room. It's getting late and- Yeah. I- Thanks for the wine."
As I bolted to the elevator, I could hear quick steps behind me. "Hey, [y/n]. Wait," he called after me. "God, your fast in those shoes."
As he reached me while I frantically pushed the elevator buttons, his hand touched my arms. "Hey, what did I do wrong?"
I shrugged. "I don't know. I- I'm awkward, and you're nice to me, and telling me my writing didn't suck, and I really can't crush on you anymore. So I'm running."
The elevator doors opened, and I quickly got in, pressing the button for the lobby and then the one closing the doors.
Just as I thought I had officially ended this strange meeting, Professor Reid reached between the doors, holding up the elevator and getting in with me.
He pressed the buttons again. What was he doing?
"What- I- Go back to the restaurant. Did you even pay? Oh my god, did we just dine and dash?"
He began laughing, shaking his head. "It's added to my bill, don't worry. I just..."
"You just, what?" I asked before he could actually finish his sentence.
"Wanted to make sure you're not running off and... Do you really not have a room?"
I shook my head, watching the floor numbers go down. "I was planning to stay with Kyle," I admitted.
"You- Bunny, you didn't know that man. You can't just stay with a stranger from the internet. Even if you'd hit it off from second 1, this is rushing things and risking your health," the professor lectured me.
"Please don't call me Bunny," I mumbled, feeling like crap. As always, when I got lectured.
"I'm sorry," he whispered.
As we reached the lobby, I got out, Professor Reid grabbing my arm again and sighing. "[y/n], I- This is going to sound so condescending, but I don't think you'll be able to afford a room here."
Yeah. Condescending was a fitting word. Like, I'm sorry, I'm a broke student, but it's not like I can't afford the broom closet for the night.
I raised an eyebrow. "What makes you think that?" "You said you want to cry when having to pay your bills, and you almost threw up because of a two-hundred-dollar price tag on a bottle of wine. The cheapest rooms here cost 300$, and they're most likely all booked."
Oh. Okay. Yes, maybe he'd been right. 300$ was a lot of money in my world. I didn't even think my credit card would work at such a high price tag.
"Oh, okay. I- I'll just- I'll find a motel," I almost whispered to myself, grabbing my phone and opening a booking site.
I wasn't helpless. I was capable of taking care of myself. Worst case, I would change my flight home and sleep at the airport.
Taking my phone from me, my professor sighed. "This is ridiculous, [y/n]. Please just come upstairs with me. I have a suit. I'll sleep on the couch."
"You have a suit?" I asked, astounded.
This man had at least five COMME des GARÇONS cardigans. Of course, he could afford a two-hundred-dollar bottle of wine and a suit here.
"I rarely travel, so I like to spoil myself every once in a while," he explained himself, and I nodded in broke-bitch.
"Thank you, but I can't take you up on that offer. It's- I- This-"
Professor Reid interrupted me. "I promise I would never try anything indecent. I simply want to know you are safe."
The indecent had been exactly what my mind wanted. I thirsted over this man since I had first seen him ramble about stressors and aggressors. He was so passionate about everything he talked about. I liked that passion dangerously much.
Even thought about how passionate he would be about sex, would he be with somebody that caught his interest and was worth his time.
But now he stood there, trying to ensure me that I was safe, almost like I was made from glass.
"The whole bunny thing, huh?" I asked, and he nodded.
"Innocent, fragile, little thing. If you feel too uncomfortable to share the suit with me, I fully understand, but then at least let me pay for a separate room for you."
I shook my head, having to giggle. He was so oblivious. How was he so oblivious? It was kind of cute, to be honest.
"I think, in general, we both have a very different impression about why I'd be uncomfortable sleeping in the same suit as you."
His lips formed a little o, "It's because of the crush?"
"Obviously," I giggled.
"I- I'm sorry. Sometimes things like that fly right over my head."
I nodded. "Yeah, noticed."
"I'd enjoy your company, though, and maybe we could order room service, and you'd tell me if Adriene decides to give Zane another chance?"
Rolling my eyes, I looked at him. "Now you're teasing me again."
He shook his head. "No, I really want to know. See my invitation as a bribe."
I'd been willing to sleep at a stranger's place who I saw as a rebound for my crush on Professor Reid. I could might as well stay with the man I knew I wouldn't have gotten over in the first place.
"Kay. I'll get my bag."
*****
☀︎ POV: Spencer ☀︎
Opening the suit's door with my key card, I stepped aside and let [y/n] walk in first. She looked around, mouth open and astounded.
I had judged her and called her obsessed, yet here I was, thinking about how I could spoil her with everything I had to give just to see her in this state of awe some more times.
Stepping out of her heels, she shrunk a fair bit. She let her bag fall to the floor and began looking around. The view over Vegas had caught her interest.
She instantly walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows and looked outside.
"Wow," she mumbled. Turning around to look at me, she asked, "Have you seen your view?"
I nodded. "Since I came here a couple of days ago. If you like that, you're gonna love the bathroom."
Raising her brows, she darted away, only to storm to my side again. "Holy shit. You have a jacuzzi bathtub. I- That thing is bigger than my bathroom."
"Feel free to take a bath later on," I offered.
She nodded. "Oh, don't mind if I do."
I took off my suit jacket and threw it over a chair. Grabbing the room service menu, I sat down on the couch.
"What would you like to eat?" I asked [y/n], jumping a little as she hopped over the couch's back to sit next to me.
*****
Dinner and dessert later, I found myself still captivated by this little bunny. She had been, as always, herself. The girl that made me laugh with her sarcastic tone and bad jokes.
"You should publish that book after reviewing some of the changes again. It has potential," I now told her, making her shake her head and giggle.
"You're just saying that because you enjoy the high praises you get throughout the story."
"That's only a little true." I grabbed the bottle of champagne, pointing at her flute. "More champagne?"
Emptying her glass, she shrugged. "I already feel and look like a hooker, so sure. Hit me."
How often was she going to make that joke?
"Stop saying that. You're extremely beautiful," I told her.
A sassy grin appeared on her face. "I didn't say I wasn't beautiful. I'm just saying that I am dressed extremely provocatively – more than I'd like to – and am drinking champagne in a hotel suit more expensive than my entire apartment's furniture,  while sitting there with a man almost twice my age. These jokes write themselves."
"You can go change into your pajamas if you'd feel more comfortable," I offered her, rolling up my sleeves and opening the first few buttons of my dress shirt.
"Yeah..." she mumbled, looking away and biting her lip.
Did she forget to pack them?
"You didn't bring clothes to sleep in? Seriously, what did you plan on—Oh." Realization set in my bones. She hadn't brought them because she'd planned on sleeping naked or in the clothes of this other man.
Clearing my throat and ignoring the picture of her naked in my bed, I offered, "If you want, I'll get you some of my clothes to sleep in?"
She shook her head. "You don't have to. I'll just sleep-"
"Naked?" I interrupted her with a grin.
She rolled her eyes, correcting me. "In my dress."
I shamelessly stared down her figure and then snickered, "You have to admit that I wasn't that far off then."
"Prick." She hit my arm playfully before laying down on the fuzzy carpet before us, staring at the ceiling full of gold accents.
She was so beautiful, eyes shining brighter than the Las Vegas strip.
"Can I ask something that will definitely cross the line?" I asked, making her look at me.
"You read erotica I wrote fantasizing about you. I think we're long past crossing a line."
She said things with so much character I always had to chuckle. "You came to Las Vegas to sleep with this guy, didn't you?"
Her intentions had been very obvious by now. An internet date that had made her come all the way to Vegas dressed like a daydream, no pajamas... I didn't judge her, she was a young woman that had a right to explore her sexuality, but I also detested the thought of this man running his hand all over her.
He would've probably didn't even know what she liked.
Propping herself up, she looked a little surprised, proofing that I was right with my assumption.
"Huh, I was wrong. There's the line." She still spoke with humor in her voice, laying back down, hand in the air, following the folding drawings on the ceiling.
"I'm sorry. I just- I just really don't understand that. He's an asshole that didn't even care to cancel your plans, and you flew out here, probably spending more money than you can afford, just to give him a night he would most likely not even know to appreciate," I explained myself, voice laced with envy.
"We talked for a while and got along. I think I was just getting sick of only ever fantasizing about things and thought he would do."
"You came to Vegas to give that guy your virginity?" I blurted out in disbelief, and she looked at me again.
"Virginity is a social construct made up by man," she told me, then shrugged. "But yeah, kinda."
"You-" My brain struggled to function a little. It surely didn't change my opinion of her, but the way she had written, leaving these fantasies in my brain for weeks... "You write pretty well about sex for somebody you never had it before."
She nodded, a smile on her lips. "Well, I'm not stupid. Also, it's not like I have zero experience, and I read a lot too."
That loser had almost taken her virginity, absolutely undeserving of it.
Looking into my face, she giggled, "You look so shocked right now."
"N-Not shocked, just... really, really glad he didn't show up," I stuttered, making her raise her eyebrows.
"Why?"
"I- I don't know," I lied, and she saw right through it.
Of course.
"Back with the lies again, Professor?" She smiled, and I was certain she knew I'd been envious.
The most interesting thing was that she didn't care about it. I wondered just how deep her feelings for me were.
Feeling the urge to join her on the floor, I backtracked. I didn't want to lay on the floor. This carpet was probably dirty.
I hid my longing to be close to her behind a topic-changing question. "How did you come up with Zane's backstory?"
She shrugged. "Made it up."
"Yes, but how did you get inspired?"
"I watched you and thought of why you do the things you do."
I chuckled, raising an eyebrow. "So you profiled me?"
"The amateur version of it."
"Do it again. Tell me what you profiled," I urged, leaning onto my knees and watching her.
"Well, You have lots of PhDs and BAs. That made me think, why? Yes, having them is nice, but it seems more like you have to prove something.
"You're not talking about your parents, but you're very protective and respectful of the women around you, which made me think you're close to your mother and-or grew up in a very female-dominated household.
"Yet you're single and have no children, although having told us before that you're the godfather of your friends' children. Given these facts, I assume your father left you and you're mother, and since then, you try proving to yourself and him that it's his loss and that you're worth sticking around. It's just hard believing it yourself at times, and the thought of being too much like him messes with your love life because what if you run away too?"
I nodded, hiding behind my poker face how close she came. "Go on."
"You got very passive-aggressive as you saw me at the restaurant. You feared being stalked by me, which made me think of trauma a woman forced upon you since she was obsessed with you.
"You realized your reaction to me being here was too much and backtracked with awkward humor. You blush at times, which makes me think you're shy, were even shyer when you were younger, and women, sex, and family became interesting for the first time when you were in your mid to late twenties.
"You're still nice to me, very sweet actually, which tells me that somehow I did not embarrass you as much with this story as I recognized you in a very weird way. You're just very caught up in norms and uncertainty about this situation, so you do what you do best, and that is removing yourself from the situation."
So she saw me – just like Adriene saw Zane – and still, her pupils dilated, and she was interested in me.
"You're good at that. Are you sure you didn't stalk me?" I joked, and she giggled.
"I'm a writer. I can't even watch a movie without being able to predict the ending."
Maybe I would test that theory sometime and take her out for a movie. If she were up for the challenge, maybe even a Russian one.
"Want to even the square and profile me?" She offered.
"I have an unfair advantage since your fanfiction let me into your head and what you already told me," I told her, but she shrugged.
"It's okay."
Taking a deep breath, I started. "You're a young woman that clearly has a thing for older men. I'd say, growing up, you were always more mature than the boys in your classes. Everyone else around you began dating, but you couldn't find the idea of those drama-ridden boys entertaining enough to do so too. Instead, you read, maybe even more adult books than somebody your age should've."
Her big eyes captivated me, and so I sunk to my knees, crawling towards her while continuing.
"It made you realize that once boys became men, meaning they no longer were as childish as to solely think of a woman's looks and were ready to take care of someone and be responsible, they become interesting to you."
Her breathing became heavier as I leaned over her, one arm holding myself up, the other's fingertips dancing on the skin of her upper arm.
"Dating men older than you is, however, difficult since most of those who use dating apps are the same boys you didn't like in your teenhood, only older. Yet, you're somebody who depends on dating apps since you are too shy to ever see a man in public and just flirt. Some hard rejections while growing up, I assume.
"So you stopped looking for somebody for a while, and when coming to my classes, you found the type of man that spoke to you. I was your professor and therefore off-limits, I also blame some insecurities for your thinking, but that didn't stop you from fantasizing about it, so you began writing about all the little what if's.
"The fantasies felt good because, in them, you could develop not only me in the way you wanted it but could also write yourself to be the truest you there is. Adriene has a dream she can follow without struggle because she has the support of her family and the means to pursue it. [y/n] has a dream and talent, but your family has plans for you, and the academic pressure they put on you keeps you from pursuing what you actually want.
"This fanfiction is actually a very genius form of self-therapy for you. Whenever Adriene or another character struggles, it's actually yourself, and by resolving the struggle in your story and reading the comments that relate to it, you start to understand that you're not alone with them."
Now completely on top of here, I could see every micro reaction she had to me and my words. Had I crushed on her so badly myself before the fanfiction that I didn't realize how obviously she felt for me?
"I'm sorry I took that away from you," I whispered, knuckles brushing over her cheek and feeling the heat of embarrassment on them.
"You probably think I'm pathetic. Come on, say it. I can handle it," she urged for my rejection, but I wouldn't give it to her.
"I think you're the most real person I've ever met, [y/n]. People, including myself, hide their guilty pleasures away from everyone. We're taught who we can and cannot be and how much we are allowed to dream by society without feeling guilty.
"You just continued to dream with a username and a little jackalope bunny profile picture and decided to share your pleasures with others so they can dream as well. Without feeling guilt."
"You're romanticizing how weird our situation is," she mumbled, thinking I didn't notice her back arching so she'd be closer to me.
"It's a guilty pleasure of mine, then. Because I also enjoyed your fantasies more than I should've," I admitted, her eyes searching her face for a lie she wouldn't find.
"That almost sounds like you enjoyed reading about us being together," she whispered.
"What if I did?" I exhorted.
She swallowed thickly, licking her beautiful lips. "Then you're really playing with my fantasies right now."
I stood up, giving her her personal space back. I was not manipulating more of this situation. I knew my words and the effect they had on her. The next step had to come from her.
And if it wouldn't come, I would accept it as well.
Grabbing my jacket, I used it to hide away just how badly I wanted this situation to turn into more and walked to the bathroom.
After a cold shower that only barely helped, I dressed in my pajama pants and an old shirt, laying out my too-big, oversized hoodie for her to wear.
If nothing else, hopefully, it would smell like her in the morning.
"You can have the bed. I'll sleep on the couch," I told her, putting a blanket and pillow on the couch. Before she could protest, I told her, "It's only one night on the couch. No big deal. Take the bed."
She nodded, eyes gliding over my body, goggling a little since she'd never seen me dressed in less and as casually as this.
"Okay, Uhm... Thank you for the food and drinks," she said, taking in one last look and leaving me alone in the living room.
*****
☁︎ POV: [y/n] ☁︎
A quick shower later, I was dressed solely in panties and my professor's hoodie. It smelled like him, the bed as well, making me clench my thighs together.
I grabbed my phone, opened my emails, and began typing.
***
"Dear, Professor,
I think I've been wrong. You are a nice guy, after all. Thanks for the shirt.
– [y/n]"
***
"Little bunny,
You should go to bed. And please call me Spencer, at least for the moment.
– Spencer"
***
My breath hitched at the pet name and the fact he called himself Spencer Insisting I should do the same.
I was so desperate for this man. I didn't think he was aware of what his innocent words did to me.
***
"Spencer,
I am already in bed. Are you sure you're comfortable on the couch?"
***
"Why? Would you let me sleep in the bed if I wouldn't be?" He called through the closed bedroom door.
"Of course, I would sleep on the couch instead," I called back, a laugh in my voice.
The ping of a message from an unknown number made me look back at my phone.
***
UNKNOWN: "Well, then, I am perfectly fine here."
***
What the hell?
"How did you get my number?" I asked through the door, making Spencer chuckle.
"FBI, Bunny."
He had used his advantages at work to get my number, but I was the one getting teased. Biting my bottom lip, I saved his number.
***
ME: "Now, who's the obsessed stalker?"
SPENCER: "I am not obsessed. I am interested."
***
I was interested as well. More than I thought I would've been allowed to be, yet he continued to play on the same page as me.
***
ME: "That does almost sound like you're flirting, Professor. Do I need to remind you that I humiliated you in front of your FBI colleagues?"
SPENCER: "That's right. Maybe I should humiliate you back."
ME: "By all the things you know about me that are embarrassing, you wouldn't even have to try."
***
I was getting hot. This conversation's undertones had me all over the place. Stripping off the hoodie, I threw it aside, the cold air making my nipples pucker, which in return, egged on the heat between my legs.
***
SPENCER: "There's something I'd like to know about you."
ME: "What?"
SPENCER: "Are all the things in your story based on fantasies of yours?"
ME: "Wouldn't you like to know, Spencer?"
SPENCER: "Answer the question, and I'll answer one of yours."
***
Through my humiliation, I gave him the answer he wanted. Only getting rewarded with wetness pooling between my legs.
***
ME: "Okay. Yes. My fantasies."
SPENCER: "Interesting. Go ahead; it's your turn to ask something."
ME: "Why did you want to know?"
SPENCER: "Because I want to know what going on inside your head."
ME: "Why?"
SPENCER: "My turn to ask a question. Is your obsession with calling Zane your daddy based on your fantasies about men in general, or is it because he's a substitute for me?"
ME: "Are you asking me if I'd like to call you daddy?"
SPENCER: "Yes."
***
My eyes rolled into the back of my head, and I sighed. Clasping the covers between my legs, I couldn't help but rock against them to ease some of the pressure I was feeling.
If I was going to answer him, I really needed to substitute his name.
***
ME: "I thought it was strange at first, but Zane has certain aspects of himself that make it hard not to want to call him daddy when thinking of sex with him."
SPENCER: "Do you often think about it?"
ME: "Counter question: Do you ever?"
SPENCER: "I'm afraid that this story of yours tapped into fantasies I didn't think I had."
ME: "That's no answer."
SPENCER: "Fine. At first, I was weirded out, but it finds its way into my head over and over again."
SPENCER: "Why that guy?"
***
In which universe could I have the luck of my professor being jealous over my choice to have sex with another man?
Grinding harder against the covers, I wondered if he felt like me, wanted it as badly.
***
ME: "I'm tired of waiting, and romance clearly doesn't work since my taste in men is unattainable authority figures that are almost old enough to be my father."
SPENCER: "I'm not unattainable."
ME: "You are. It would hurt your reputation to fuck one of your students."
SPENCER: "You're no longer my student, though."
***
A whimper escaped my mouth, and for a second, I watched the door to make sure Spencer hadn't heard me.
He hadn't, which made me cocky enough to kick the covers away and spread my legs. The cold air felt good against my hot body.
***
ME: "Did the idea of my date make you jealous?"
SPENCER: "I have no right to be jealous, little bunny."
ME: "I would like you to be."
SPENCER: "I'm afraid you're making me lose my mind if I let jealousy take over."
***
One hand wandered down into my underwear. If nothing else would happen tonight, I could at least indulge in this feeling.
***
ME: "Do you wanna sleep in your bed?"
SPENCER: "Don't tempt me like that."
ME: "Why not?"
SPENCER: "Because I'd take something from you that I have no right to have."
ME: "Isn't that for me to decide?"
***
I let the offer stay right there. I wanted him, and I knew he knew it anyway. If he decided to act on it, I would be welcoming him.
As he didn't reply, however, I placed my phone on the nightstand and continued to rub my clit, now more eagerly since there was nothing more to wait for than the glorious feeling of a so desperately needed orgasm washing over me.
My breathing became louder as I tried not to moan, hips lifting. I closed my eyes, inhaling the scent of Spencer and imagining him administrating those touches that lit me on fire.
"Does your offer still—" Spencer asked and immediately stopped in his tracks when coming in.
"Fuck," I gasped as I lay there on full display, quickly scrambling myself up, pulling my hand out of my panties, and covering my breasts.
Staring at me for a long while, Spencer's eyes became darker, his breathing heavier.
"Now, don't let me stop you from what you were doing, little bunny. You seemed to enjoy yourself," he told me predatorial, stepping closer with me caught in his gaze like a helpless rabbit.
Crawling onto the bed, he made me realize the full extent of his pet name for me. "So that's what you're doing when you're all alone in bed?" He asked, and I let him back me down onto the mattress.
He grabbed my hand, forcing it to let go of the try to cover my breasts, and chuckled darkly as he inspected the wetness on my fingers.
Inhaling sharply, he brought them to his face and took them into his mouth, cleaning them from my arousal.
"Please," I whimpered as I thought I would die from excitement.
"You really want that?" He asked teasingly, and I began nodding.
"Since that stupid day, you borrowed me your jacket. I- I kept it on when I..." My words got caught in my through, and another whimper left me.
An animalistic groan escaped Spencer as he growled, "You fucked yourself wearing my coat?"
"It smelled like you," I explained, hips trying to invite him to come closer. "I- I closed my eyes and imagined it to be you touching me."
"Can I kiss you?" He questioned, eyes carefully searching for my consent.
I nodded eagerly. "You can do whatever you want to me."
The second his lips collided with mine, I thought I had died and gone straight to heaven. He was careful at first, but it wasn't long until he couldn't hold back his lust anymore.
As his tongue swapped over my bottom lip, I allowed it into my mouth. Meanwhile, he gently pressed me against the mattress, one leg between mine, putting pressure exactly where I needed it so desperately.
"Oh my God," I whimpered into the kiss, and he backed away. His lips were flushed from our kisses, but that didn't stop the cocky smile of his from spreading on them.
"And there I thought you'd just call me Daddy," he chuckled, moving a hand between my legs, touching me over my soaked through underwear. "Oh, wow. You're dripping, my little bunny. Is that all for me?"
I nodded, rubbing myself against his hand. "All yours."
Spencer got off me, grabbing my underwear, waiting for me to lift my ass and allow him to take it off. As I did, he pulled it down with such a hurried force the flimsy material ripped, making us both laugh gently as he threw it over his shoulder.
"Did you ever have somebody go down on you?" He asked, pressing a kiss onto my knee and lowering himself between my legs.
Propping myself up on my elbows, I shook my head. "You- You don't have to. I know it's more of a women's fantasy that-"
Spencer interrupted me, kissing my inner thigh, "Don't stop me unless you don't want me to touch you, okay?"
I nodded, letting him guide me back down. He began placing kisses on my inner thighs, and his curls tickled between my legs.
The anticipation was driving me crazy, making a loud moan escape me as he finally dragged his flat tongue through my folds.
Liking my reaction, he did it again and again. Then began focusing more on my swollen clit. Spencer's tongue played with it, flicking from side to side and drawing circles onto its sensitive skin, which made my eyes roll back.
"That idiot would not have known what to do with a woman so gorgeous," he said, fingers moving towards my slit, coating themselves with my natural lubricant.
As he carefully entered me with one, I gasped. The instruction was new, filling me with excitement.
"Is that okay?" He asked, cautious of my reactions, and I nodded while he gently began moving his digit in and out of me at a slow pace.
Tongue back on my clit, he began moving his finger faster. The pleasure I received left me breathless, helplessly clawing my hands into Spencer's hair to make sure he'd stay right where I needed him the most.
As he added a second finger, my hips began moving more frantically, making him start to hold me down while eating me out. I moaned and cried in pleasure, trying to stay alert enough not to smother his head between my legs.
With a final swipe of Spencer's tongue, I came, crying out his name, deliciously humping against his mouth as he fucked me through my high.
As my breathing became more normal again, he chuckled against my skin, sitting back on his knees and taking off his shirt.
I hurried myself up as well, hands quickly all over him. Wrapping his arms around me, he let himself fall onto the bed, pulling me with him.
As I lay partially on top of him, his hand moved under my chin, bringing me closer and kissing me softly. The faint taste of myself on his lips drove me to the rim of madness.
Greedily gripping the waistband of his pants, I tried to remove the final barrier keeping him from me. Spencer chuckled, helping me with it and catching me as I almost fell off the bed while throwing his clothes across the room.
"You are so fucking eager," he laughed as I claimed onto him, straddling his lap.
Kissing him roughly, I rocked my his against his hard cock, feeling the precum rubbing itself between my folds and adding to the wetness there.
"Wa- Wait. We need a condom, [y/n]," Spencer spoke breathlessly. His arm wrapped around me so I couldn't move anymore and make his rationality sign out.
"I'm on birth control. We- We don't have to use one," I suggested, knowing I'd dreamed of this moment in so many facets, yet it was always raw, with him claiming me.
Staring into my face, he became stern, lecturing almost. "I hope you didn't plan to be so reckless with the loser you wanted to fuck," he said, almost like a question.
I quickly shook my head. No. Never. Only with him, I wanted it to be this way. "I have a whole box in my bag but- but I'd like..."
As embarrassment killed my voice, he nodded, placing kisses on my cheek and neck. "It's okay, Bunny. I know. I read it."
Before I could feel any embarrassment due to his words, he grabbed my face and pulled me into a rough kiss.
As he pulled away, he growled with a dangerous smirk, "Daddy's going to come inside you, so you fucking know who you belong to."
A high-pitched moan left my mouth. He'd just quoted my story and looked like it had been the greatest thing for him ever to say.
"You wanna stay on top?" He asked, and I thought for a second and nodded.
"Yes, please," I said, lifting my hips.
Letting a hand glide between us, Spencer dragged his cock through my folds, coating it in my wetness. As his head then placed itself at my entrance, I felt the earlier nervousness rush through me again.
I sank down on him, becoming too eager to think of how much I could actually take.
As he was completely inside me, I realized my mistake, the burning between my thighs making me inhale sharply and whimper, "Shit."
I hid my face in the crook of Spencer's neck. I would've jumped off him and rolled into a crying ball on the bed, but I was too afraid to move. It burned.
"Are you okay, Sweetheart?" Spencer asked worriedly, and I sat back up properly, hissing at the stinging feeling between my legs.
"Hurts," I mumbled. "Didn't think it would be that bad."
Wiping away a tear that had freed itself and ran down my cheek, he kissed me gently before resting his forehead against mine.
"It's different for every woman. We can stop if it's too much."
I shook my head abruptly. "N-No. I wanted this for so long. I- I just need a second."
Spencer nodded. He moved one hand to my lower back and the other to my hair, holding me close. "It's okay. We have all the time in the world," he whispered softly. "Just try to relax. You're doing so well already."
The more time passed, the more the pain ebbed away. I became aware of his length and grid stretching me, how he pulsed within me, his head resting firmly against my cervix.
He was so close to me, stroking over my hair, kissing me, and letting me feel him.
I moved a little, bringing his hand down between my legs. His forehead rested against mine as he slowly started to rub my clit in circles.
"You like that?" He asked quietly.
I nodded breathlessly. "Uh-huh."
We smiled at each other softly, stupidly. And as the lust returned, the pain was nothing more than a faint memory that was already blurred.
I began slowly rocking my hips, his hand still working on me.
As I picked up more pace, Spencer searched for my eyes. "Does it still hurt?" He asked, concerned, but I quickly shook my head.
"So good."
Bouncing on him like a little bunny, my moans became unhinged, fed by his low grunts. I threw my head back just to let it rush forward against his lips or his shoulder, kissing him roughly or nibbling on his skin, marking him with my bite marks.
"Keep your eyes on me, [y/n]. Eyes on me, Baby," he ordered after a while, grabbing my face and forcing me to look at him while he began thrusting up into me.
"Is this what you thought it would be like?" He asked with a hoarse voice.
I shook my head, squealing excitedly. "It's so much better."
With one swift motion, he turned us around, having me lay on the bed. As he began pounding into me, my delirious mind slipped up. "Fuck, Daddy," I moaned loudly, not knowing how he'd feel about it in all seriousness.
His hips staggered for a second, and he met my gaze with a praising smile. "Good girl. Such a good fuckin girl."
He growled deeply, arms caging me in underneath him as his pace picked up again, our skin slapping loudly against each other, my thighs hurting most deliciously due to the impact.
"Fuck, fuck," I cussed, rocking against him as I felt my second orgasm approaching. "Daddy, please, I-" I interrupted my own, begging for release with loud moans.
Spencer's hand moved down between us, rubbing me again. "That's it, come for me, Bunny. Come for Daddy."
The crashing wave hit me suddenly with an unstoppable force. I threw my head back, arching into his final thrusts as he came inside me.
Dropping to his elbows, he kissed me softly, and his thrusts came to a halt. His knuckles brushed over my cheek as he looked at me. "Are you okay?"
I let out a deep, satisfied sigh, "Fuck, that felt good."
He pulled out, laying down next to me. "I know virginity is just a social construct created by men, but thank you for letting it be me."
I nodded, deadpanning, "Charity work for the elderly."
He gasped in fake appall. "What?" He asked, starting to tickle me. "What did you say?" He asked again, not stopping as I laughed. "I think I didn't hear you correctly."
"Stop it," I begged through my giggles. "Stop, Spencer." As he finally stopped, he pressed another kiss on my lips.
"You wanna try out the jacuzzi tub?" I asked, and he sat up.
"How many bubbles do you want, little bunny?"
I pushed myself up, declaring, "A lot."
*****
"How do you feel?" Spencer asked once we lay in the tub, me between his legs, his arms wrapped around me.
I shrugged. "Strangely enough, the same as before. Except that I now know how it feels to fuck you."
He leaned forward for a second to kiss my cheek, then made himself comfortable again.
"Are you mad at me for writing that story?" I asked, not daring to look at him. Should his face give the answer away, I didn't want to see it.
"No," he sighed. "I was never mad. At first, I was extremely uncomfortable, not knowing how to react, but now, I'm actually glad for it."
"It's still weird, though, right?" I asked, making him chuck and pull me closer.
"Yeah," he admitted. "But I can live with a little weird. Normal would be boring."
I pressed the button on the side of the tub, turning the jacuzzi function on. Turning it up some more, I sighed relaxed, stretching. I was sore—a nice kind of sore.
For a while, we just lay there, listening to the sounds of our own breathing.
"Should you ever decide to turn 'Paper Hearts & Printer Ink' into a novel, I'd love to proofread it, do some of the jobs you'd need an editor for, or answer your questions about working for the FBI," Spencer spoke into the silence between us.
I chuckled, "You're not just being nice now because we had sex, right?"
I practically heard him shaking his head. "No. I- I guess I just like your type of weird. The way you wrote about Zane and Adriene... If being with you is like being with Adriene, I'd like that."
"So you're crushing on the fictional character I created?" I asked, turning around.
"I love how she loves Zane, although he's an idiot at times. If you're anything like her, I need you."
The shit-eating smirk on his handsome face said it all. He knew it was a self-insert. He just wanted to play it cool. Dork.
"Who says I'd need a Zane, though?" I asked, raising my eyebrows.
He shrugged. "Wishful thinking."
"Now, wouldn't I just make an amazing profiler," I giggled.
"What makes you think that?"
Laying back against his chest, I simply said, "I was right about us fitting together."
"I'm in Vegas until Thursday. If you'd like, I'd want you to stay with me," Spencer offered. "We could go on a couple of dates, I show you around, and we'll test your hypothesis."
Okay. This was a permanent thing. No one-time thing. If I was dreaming, I definitely didn't want to wake up.
"I'd love that," I said, adding sassily, "But I don't get why people love coming to Vegas, though. So I hope you're not planning on taking me to a casino."
He was silent for a second, then reluctantly said, "I'm banned from casinos in Vegas. I- I might've pushed my luck when I became a young adult."
"You counted the cards?" I snickered, hearing him snort behind me while trying to defend himself.
"In my defense, it came naturally to me." As our laughter ceased, he added, "I hope you're okay with boring museum and bookstore dates."
He had read my story, so I answered, "You know I am."
Turning on the bubbles some more, I looked out the big bathroom window while Spencer figured out how to turn on the bathroom TV, putting on an old black and white movie with Marilyn Monroe.
He sighed happily, handing me my water bottle since he insisted that I needed to stay hydrated. Taking the bottle from me, he kissed my cheek and cackled, "And all of this because of a fanfiction."
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Sexual Selection
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A/N- Sorry for the slow ass burn on this one, I just can't get over this concept. I have sooo many smutty ideas about this duo so if thats more your speed I would read the following chapters!
Warnings/tags: Professor x TA!reader, mutual pining, dating apps, mutual pining/lusting hard core, so much thirst and no water yet I'm SORRY
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 coming quicker than this one did
He was in regular contact with his TA throughout the following week as classes began to ramp up to full caliber and as much as he didn’t want to be. The relationship was entirely professional, but that was partially because it was all over email and the only time he saw her in person was in a lecture. She would wear nearly every day and he swore it was just to mess with him. They still texted about just about everything, finding the smallest excuse to reach out. It felt strange, the shift in dynamic; but there was also a legitimization of their relationship. It felt good to know that whether the extracurricular side of their relationship sinks or sails, he will still get to be in her presence. 
            He even found himself dressing a little nicer and taking longer in the shower and giving his hair extra attention, nervous it looked odd. He knew that he should not be even entertaining the notion of anything more than professionalism with her as her superior but there was just something about that that secretly made him want her more. The forbidden nature, the taboo of professor and ta. Maybe it was because they had already been flirting and having let himself see her like that is pretty much irreversible. 
Still, he didn’t want to be that creepy guy that made her uncomfortable. Which was growing increasingly difficult because all he could think about was kneeling in front of her and sucking her clit, no matter what he did. He made a rule with himself to not look below her clavicle to help quell this need. He had never felt as dumb in his life as when he was near her, it was like a drug overpowering his senses until only you remained. He was fully enamored and his response to her was physiological. 
            He was in the middle of writing an email to her when he heard a knock at his office door. “Come in” as soon as he did, he broke his own rule, letting his eyes skate down her torso. 
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
            “Hey, Professor, I just had a question about how you want me to grade the lab reports.” You said as you stepped through the door into his office. “Like, how much do you want me to take off for sig fig errors and missing units?” Fuck. Walking up, you were hopeful that you’d be less hopelessly attracted to him today or that it would be manageable. Nope. In his tight polo shirt, the sleeves of which he had rolled up to just below his elbow, the absolute disarray of his hair, and the set of his jaw dashed your hopes quickly.
 His face was indiscernible as he said, “half a point is fine, give them the correction without tanking their grade.” 
He is the chem professor you wish you had, you thought to yourself. You also wished to have him as well, so that may count as a bias. Noticing you were staring, you checked your expression before clearing your throat and saying “O-okay great!” you said, stumbling over your words as you struggled to know what to do now. “Uh- is there anything else I can do for you professor?”
Spencer’s POV 
Well, if that wasn’t the start of his every fantasy, he didn’t know what was. Images of her getting on her knees in front of him as she grabbed him with her fist came to mind first. Not good things to be thinking about when he’s trying to hide his attraction to her. Had she been staring at him a moment ago, or had he imagined that? He walked around his desk to be in the same space as her.
He let his gaze flick over her body purely to read her body language but snagged on the slight midriff that showed off skin he’d only seen in photos. Also not helping against the blood flowing into his cock. His cheeks heated. Shit, now he was staring. Clearing his throat and not-so subtly placing his interwoven hands over his growing cock. “I, uh, oh, I wanted to run the revised lab schedule by you before we get into week 4. Do you have a moment?” 
Reader’s POV
            I think the obviously growing bulge in his pants is finally a concrete sign that he’s as physically interested in you as were to him. It was this fact, plus the time being 6 pm (meaning mostly everyone in your wing had gone home for the evening) that emboldened you to respond the way you did. In a voice dripping with want, you said “But its after-hours, professor, we wouldn’t want anyone to get the wrong impression now, would we?” 
            He slowly, silently walked up to you looking into your eyes so intently you could melt on the spot. “Oh yeah? And what impression would that be?”
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goldentournesol · 2 years
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The Love Hypothesis (Finale)
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(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)
Series Masterlist
General Masterlist
A/N: this has been a beautiful journey. I can’t believe I started this fic in January and I’m ending it now, if you’ve stuck with me this far I LOVE YOU and if you just found this fic I STILL LOVE YOU. if you’ve read the book because of this fic, i’m honored to have persuaded you and i hope my little piece of work gave you a semblance of the escapism we all want to experience with our very own favorite professor. enjoy my little readers <3
Shaking out her hands usually made her feel less nervous, but it wasn’t working. Nothing was working. In the back seat of an Uber, she tried to control her breathing. In…out…in…out.
“Hey, you okay back there? Please don’t throw up in my car.” The driver said, breaking her out of her trance.
“I’m alright, just nervous.” She stared out the window as they came to a stop in front of the restaurant. Right after getting out, she realized that she was massively underdressed for this place. Imaginary rocks filled her gut, weighing it down, but she made it this far already. Thankfully the host was preoccupied with another customer so she slid right past without her noticing.
She scanned the restaurant for Spencer and he met her eyes from across the tables with lightning speed. She had expected to explain to him using flailing hands that he needed to come to her, but she hadn’t expected that he’d immediately excuse himself from the conversation he was having with--oh, God. Oh God, it was him. He was in the middle of a conversation with Carter when he stood up and rushed to her, his eyes raking over her in assessment the whole time.
“Y/N, are you okay?” Spencer spoke breathily, his hands making their way to her face before he stopped short. He wasn’t supposed to be doing that, not anymore. Her expression had alarmed him and her showing up here was unexpected.
“Spence, I need to talk to you. Like, right now.” Y/N noted the movement of his hands and pushed it aside to analyze later.
“Reid, you can’t just leave the table like that. We were in the middle of a conversation.” A voice creeped up behind him and Y/N’s body immediately stiffened, the color draining out of her face. Spencer caught the shift in her expression and barely glanced at Carter out of the corner of his eye.
“Give me a minute.” He said in a dismissive tone, watching Y/N’s behavior as she firmly, adamantly kept her eyes on Spencer the whole time. 
The tone must have aggravated Carter because he just kept talking, “Surely, whatever this is about--it can wait until after dinner, Reid.” That was twice he’d used his name without his title, he’d let it go the first time. People were beginning to turn their way.
At that, Spencer’s spine straightened, rising to his full height and he leveled a look down at Carter, his behavior was suspicious and frankly annoying, “I said I’d be a minute and it’s Doctor Reid.” 
That was a voice she’d never heard him use before, definitely one reserved for the people he’s put away. It made her shiver slightly.
But Carter was insistent and Y/N was growing distressed. Without either of them noticing, she pulled out her phone and started playing the recording from the beginning of the speech where Carter had very clearly introduced himself. His insolent voice filled the space between them. 
“I’m Dr. Joseph Carter, I run a lab back at Princeton. We’d love to offer our facilities to you.”
Spencer caught the beginning and turned to the phone, staring vacantly to listen while Carter began to loudly object, trying to drown out the sound of the recording. Without a second thought, Spencer held a hand inches from Carter’s face, silencing him as the recording droned on. She only caught some of it, too busy watching Spencer’s reaction.
“You’re quite beautiful, aren’t you? Very smart too. You’ve figured out pretty quickly that sleeping your way up to the top is the only way you’ll get anywhere in this field.”
“I can take you way farther than your precious Dr. Reid ever can.”
“Get off! Get off me!”
“It’s mediocre and not the least bit substantial. Look at you, thinking you did something with your hypotheses, my undergrads could conduct better research than that. Georgetown’s wasting its funds on you.”
She saw it, she saw something shift behind his eyes when they met hers. Something primal, lethal even.
“It was him,” he said softly to her, realizing who had made her cry. Her eyes were lined with tears as he beheld them, her hands trembling as she lowered her phone.
Wrath simmered inside him as he swiftly turned back to Carter and grabbed him by the shirt, slamming him against the nearest wall and making the hanging artwork shudder from the force. The sheer rage on Spencer’s face was enough to make him look terrified. Guests watched on with horror, but mostly intrigue. The restaurant’s manager and waiters gathered around, attempting to calm him down, but Y/N was too shocked to move.
“If you ever come in contact with her again, or fuck, even think of her--I will make sure it’s your last thought. I will find you the coldest, darkest cell where you’ll rot like the dead man you already are.” Spencer snarled in his face, his cadence low and threatening.
“Dr. Reid! What is the meaning of this?” The Dean of Princeton demanded sternly, but Spencer just ignored him and went on. The restaurant was an eerily quiet place at that moment in time. Everyone was too focused on Spencer’s next move.
“You wanna know what I think? I think you’re a sad, lonely man who has too much time--too much power and gets off manipulating young women because his wife hates him. You’re nothing but scum, Carter.”
“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Carter pathetically defended.
“Oh, you don’t?” Spencer condescended, “You must have gotten your degree by dumb luck then, because what we have is concrete evidence, doctor.” he mocked, “Once we go public with that recording, we’ll see just how many women come forward and end your career. Me, on the other hand, I will fucking end you.” 
Spencer accentuated his threat with one more push against the wall before letting him go. Carter frustratedly pushed Spencer’s chest to which Spencer responded by grabbing and twisting one of his arms harshly so that he spun and slammed his head into the table closest to them. Y/N jolted out of her stupor as people screamed around them.
“Spencer, stop. He’s not worth it.” Spencer only seemed to listen to her since he looked up from Carter’s writhing body to meet her tear stained face. 
Wrath tugged in his chest as he saw her tears, but he didn’t want to prolong the scene any further. Spencer kept one hand around both of Carter’s wrists as he asked the manager for something to tie his wrists with. Soon enough, the cops arrived and took him into custody after learning that Spencer was a former FBI agent and not just some guy starting a brawl in the middle of a restaurant in Boston. It didn’t hurt to hear him introduce himself as SSA Spencer Reid, either.
“Y/N, I will deal with this and come find you. Send me that recording.” He walked up to her and hesitated for a split second before cupping his large palms around her face and capturing her lips in a sweet kiss. Apparently, this was a thing they did now; they kissed instead of saying goodbye. He pulled away much earlier than she’d like, leaving her reeling as she watched him follow the cops out. 
She blinked after him stupidly before the hostess came up beside her and said out of the corner of her mouth, “Damn, you better marry him…or I will.” 
The comment alone made her snap out of her trance and laugh for the first time in days.
---
Y/N had landed back in DC yesterday and obsessively checked her phone for any new texts or calls--or even emails from Spencer. The silver lining in the middle of all the chaos with Carter, though, was that Y/N had been receiving numerous emails from prestigious universities all over the country wanting to work with her because of her presentation during the convention. She strangely couldn’t wait to let Spencer know. 
She regretted the breakup, she knew she did but it felt like the right thing to do at the time. But…he’d kissed her of his own volition at the restaurant yesterday, they didn’t have to put on a show for anyone there. Spencer wouldn’t have reacted that way if he didn’t care for her at least a little bit, right?
A knock sounded from her front door and she reluctantly stood from her comfortable spot on the couch, surrounded by pillows and her laptop to open the door.
There he was, in all his glory, holding a bouquet of red roses. Spencer stood tall, his face adorning a tentative smile. She took in his relaxed attire--a polo t-shirt and slacks-- and assumed that he was not returning to work that day.
“Hi,” He spoke shyly, the corners of his lips tilted upwards in a smile that just made her heart want to leap out of her chest and into his hands.
“Hi,” She smiled back, grateful to see him. His eyes roamed all around her face as he assessed her mood.
“How are you?” His voice was quiet, concerned and she knew he really wanted to know, it wasn’t just a form of casual small talk.
“I’m better.” She looked better, her eyes showed that glow he loved so dearly and her mouth was stuck in a pretty smile. The one she always gave him--not quite a grin, but something reserved just for him, “Come in.” She invited him in and he turned to face her once he was fully inside the apartment.
“These are for you, I didn’t know which flower you’d prefer but statistically red roses are the most loved and thought to be the most…romantic.” He hesitated on the last word but he reached out his arm anyway. He didn’t know where he stood with her romantically but he was willing to start all over again if he had to.
Her small smile stretched into a full on grin as she accepted the flowers and took a deep sniff. He saw her shoulders relax and his did in response. Good, this was good. She disappeared into what he assumed was her kitchen and he took it upon himself to take a seat on her couch. Not two minutes later she reemerged with the roses in a too shallow, wide-mouthed vase. They didn’t quite fit right but she grinned as she set it down in front of them on her coffee table.
“They are gorgeous, Spencer, thank you. They look all awkward in this vase because I’ve never received or bought myself flowers before so I don’t really have a vase for them, but I love them just as much.” She rambled. Something pulled inside his chest as he heard her say that she’d never received flowers before. If flowers made her this happy, he’d buy her flowers every chance he got. He made a mental note to look for a vase for her apartment, he’ll definitely be keeping it full for her. The roses reminded her of herself and Spencer, they weren’t supposed to be where they were but somehow they were the best thing she’d ever had.
“I have some news for you,” He began, noting how her attention snapped to him, “Carter’s been arrested and is currently being investigated by the FBI. Multiple women have come forward with testimonies and evidence and it’s only been two days. I’m sure a lot more will emerge. Your evidence is more than enough, but everyone deserves justice. He’s been fired from Princeton of course, and he will never be allowed back on campus. He lawyered up but there’s not much they could do at this point. I am so proud of you for coming forward with this, I know it wasn’t easy.” He smiled encouragingly and she could see the glimmer of pride behind his eyes.
The ongoing feeling of tightness inside her chest eased and she nodded in response, “That’s great to hear. Thanks for that, by the way.” She was thanking him for more than just what happened at the restaurant and she felt like he knew.
“Of course, Y/N. I will always be on your side.” The sincerity in his voice almost made her shiver and they stared at each other for a few weighted moments. He spoke again, “I’m sorry that happened to you, Y/N, and I’m sorry if my reaction in the restaurant scared you at all, I just…kinda lost it. I was so ready to pummel his face for hurting you. I’m not sure what would have happened if you hadn’t stopped me.” 
She quickly extended her hand to touch his briefly, “No, Spence, I wasn’t scared of you. I knew you would help me if I came to you. Besides, I felt like what Carter did to me was making me feel trapped and it wasn’t fair to you at all…that’s why I ended things with you.” Her breath caught in her throat slightly at the admission. Spencer smiled at the confirmation that she hadn’t wanted to end it with him just because they’d passed their deadline but didn’t prod any further, if she wanted to take it slow, he’d do just that.
He shifted a little on the couch so he could face her more and cleared his throat slightly, “Are you free next Saturday afternoon by any chance?”
If she were anyone else, he’d be nervous as hell just asking her. But, it wasn’t just anyone, it was her. She exuded equal amounts of passion and comfort and he wanted to bask in everything that she was forever. She paused for a few moments and checked her online calendar just to be absolutely sure; grad school deadlines could creep up on you.
“Would you look at that, I am free.” She confirmed and he grinned bashfully.
“So…” he hesitated, “two of my best friends are getting married the coming Saturday and I was wondering if…well, they told me I had a plus one and I would really like to take you. I’m asking if you’d like to come with me to the wedding.” The hope in his eyes was contagious and Y/N couldn’t hide the grin over his nervousness.
“I would love to.” She enthusiastically agreed, willing to spend whatever time she could get with him. His lips twitched, almost like he didn’t want to smile too hard, but he did anyway.
“Perfect, I’ll pick you up at noon.” Spencer’s cheeks held a pink tinge.
“Sure. Wait, who’s getting married?” Y/N’s curiosity bubbled out of her.
“Luke and Penelope.” He replied fondly.
---
Usually, Spencer would’ve hated to go shopping with all the unnecessarily bright lights and loud music, but he’d insisted on buying Y/N a dress for the wedding. Partly because he wanted to spend more time with her and partly because he enjoyed spoiling her more than he’d like to admit. He wasn’t a big spender anyway, so whatever he bought her wasn’t digging into his bank account by any means. Besides, what was all this adult money for? 
Y/N had profusely denied the offer to the point where her cheeks had puffed up from all the blood rushing up to her face, but Spencer was absolutely immovable. She had never met such a stubborn person in her life and reluctantly agreed for the sake of her blood pressure. She kicked herself for mentioning that she didn’t have a dress to wear in front of him.
She smoothed out the fabric over her body as she stood in front of the mirror. She begrudgingly admitted to herself that it was her new favorite dress. The man had good taste and she couldn’t deny that it was flattering in every sense of the word. The color, the fit, the material--goodness it was gorgeous. She felt gorgeous, maybe she should have felt nervous, but she didn’t. She was excited to meet his ex-team members and was even more excited to be his date--date(!!) to the wedding.
The doorbell rang and she raced to open it. He stood there in a black tuxedo complete with an elegant bow tie. The air left his body as he took her in, “You look…” his eyes blinked repeatedly, searching for a word.
“Wow, I can finally say that I’ve made a man with a vocabulary of over 171,000 English words speechless.” She started laughing which made him burst into bashful laughter as well.
“Sorry, you are…alluring, exquisite, stunning, bewitching, pulchritudinous…shall I go on?” He said smugly once he’d regained his train of thought.
“Alright, alright, show off, my ego can only take so much.” She giggled and locked the door behind her. His hands firmly gripped her waist and turned her around to face him. Her breath caught at the sudden proximity.
“You are so beautiful, Y/N. I mean it. Yes, you look divine right now, but you look divine all the time.” He spoke softly, his eyes boring into her soul. Every nerve ending in her body prickled with pleasure at the compliment, the closeness, the cadence of his voice.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly, one second away from melting into his arms. 
One glance down at his lips and immediately she was consumed with thoughts of them. 
“Can I kiss you?” He asked gently, just like she had all those weeks ago. A small nod was all she could muster.
She watched his lips turn into a smile before he pressed them to her own fervently. Her hands found a home at the nape of his neck, fingers tangled between the soft locks there. The smell of his fresh cologne engulfed her sense of smell and it was like she couldn’t get enough of him. 
This was nothing like their first kiss in the hallway of the humanities building a lifetime ago. That one was tentative, rushed, and urgent. This one was slow, exploratory, and passionate. But more importantly, it was theirs and it was real. They’d finally allowed themselves to yield the vulnerability it required to fall in love--to actually fall in love, not just fake it.
~The End~
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unequivocallyreid · 2 months
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Do You Get It Yet?
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hi guys!! this is one day late, but i literally fell asleep trying to proof read last night, so… you win some you lose some.
pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
summary: Spencer Reid is your professor and you really, really need help. If only he wasn’t so distracting.
warnings: smut, little bit of fluff, professor/student relationship, unprotected sex w/ talk of contraceptives, age gap (both parties of age), breeding kink, choking, and some light degradation
this is a fun one guys! let me know what you think!
You swear you aren’t stupid. Really, honestly you aren’t. You’ve done well in school your whole life, not always outstanding, but you’ve always done well.
Right now however, you feel completely dumb. You’re in you third year of university, and up to this point, you’ve done good. Your classes are challenging but rewarding, and you have a wonderful group of people in your life. You have a cat and an apartment to yourself. You have wonderful friends, Lena and Eden, who’ve been with you since your freshman year and who you loved like sisters. Everything in your life was going right, except for your stupid, stupid criminal psychology class.
You should love it. You’ve taken classes like it before and they really weren’t a problem for you, but for whatever reason, you can’t wrap your head around the subject matter at all. Everything you learn seems to morph together and you can’t get it to sort itself out. Your teacher, Dr. Reid, is incredible. He is a genuine genius, member of the BAU (your dream job), and to top it off, he is incredibly attractive. Not just to you either! Half the class is auditing, which probably contributes to your troubles. It’s hard to focus when everyone around you is constantly whispering about how fucking hot the teacher is.
You try to avoid it. You sit at the front of the room, not the first row, but still front and center. Even so, right behind you are two or three girls who will not stop talking about him. Sure, they’re saying what you’re thinking, but good god does it get annoying. You’ve tried pointed looks, a few aggressive hair flips and humphs, and even a few well timed shushings, but they will not let up. You’d move seats but the class is full and everyone has seemed to have already found a place.
So, really, your lack of understanding was not only on you. Dr. Reid us distractingly hot, the girls behind you will not shut up, and the subject matter is just plain tricky. All of this leads you to spend a big chunk of your free time in your professors office hours, which always seem to be full.
You get it. Girls, and some boys, show up looking their best and asking all sorts of questions, and honestly if you were in a different position you’d probably do the same thing. But, you aren’t, and you really need help. You go to his room completely disheveled with a notebook full of questions that for the most part stayed unanswered. You’re lucky to get five minutes of his undivided attention. Again, you get it, those minutes are the highlights of you week, but, your grade is starting to slip.
Finally, it gets to be too much, and you find yourself spending nearly the whole class building up the courage to ask to speak with him privately. Right when he concludes his lecture you spring up out of your seat and go straight to him, surely annoying some of your other classmates.
“Dr. Reid?”
He looks up from his desk, “Hi! Ms.?”
“Y/n. Or Y/l/n, I guess. I was hoping to talk to you privately if you had time?”
“Oh! Um, sure, of course. Let me just wrap up here. You can wait in the seats.”
This has already gone better than you thought it would. Half of you expected the only thing that would come out of your mouth would be gibberish.
“Thank you so much.”
You hurry off to take a seat and wait, and wait, and wait. Around five other people stay around to try and speak with him, and while you catch him anxiously glancing over at you, each conversation still seems to stretch on and on. Finally, after close to 15 minutes, the final student leaves and it’s just you and Dr. Reid left in the room.
He looks over at you and motions for you to join him at his desk, “I’m so sorry that took so long. People tend to have a lot of questions after my lectures.”
You take a seat in front of him, “It’s no worries. That was actually part of what I wanted to speak to you about.”
You pause, wondering how you should word what you want to say. He looks at you, waiting for you to go on, but he doesn’t seem impatient.
“I’ve come to all your office hours, and it helps, I’m just still struggling and I, uh, I just feel like it’s not enough time to get my questions answered, I guess?”
You’re looking at anything but him at this point, “I’m sorry I’m just kinda out of my element. I love this subject and normally it clicks for me, but it’s just won’t. I have a notebook full of questions and I’m worried I won’t be able to figure anything out. Sorry, I think I’m just rambling at this point.”
“No, don’t apologize, I understand. This class is challenging, and a lot of the subject matter is hard to research.”
He stops to laugh, “My office hours do tend to be pretty full. I’m, well to be honest I’m not sure why. A lot of the questions people have tend to be things I explained in my lectures.”
Without thinking, you cut him off, “I think people just want to be around you.”
He looks surprised at your words, and you are as well. You didn’t mean to say that at all.
“Oh my god, I’m sorry. It’s just with a teacher that looks like you, god, no. I mean with a teacher like you-“
Your cheeks grow hotter by the second, “You know what, I think I can figure this out on my own! I’m sorry for-“
He stops you before you can finish, “Y/n, I’ve taught this class before. Half the people are auditing. I’ve gathered what that means.”
He cracks a smile at that and you feel your heart flutter.
“I meant I’m not sure why people would waste their time trying to, uh, impress me at office hours. They’re meant for students like you.”
“Oh, yeah, of course.”
“Unfortunately, there isn’t much I can do on that front. My hours are open to anyone.”
Your shoulders deflate a bit at that, worrying you’ve wasted your time and his for nothing. He doesn’t let you stay like that for long though.
“I want to help you though. Truly. I know reaching out for help is hard and I’m glad you did.”
You look up at him then, “I can set aside some time for you once a week if you’re comfortable? We can review everything you’re not sure on until you’re up to speed.”
You were not expecting that. You thought he’d look over your questions and give you some articles and journals to review at best.
“Are you sure? I don’t want to impose.”
“You aren’t. I’m offering, Y/n.”
“Then I think yes, I’d like that a lot.”
“Great! Email me some times that work for you and we’ll get started.”
~
This is all, admittedly, a bit above your pay grade.
Despite your best efforts, you are not a chill girl. You’re not very cool. There’s nothing wrong with that usually! You’re shy, but still manage to talk people’s ear off. It’s normally a non-issue: that’s just how you are. Today however, you are meeting with Dr. Reid and you are so not chill about it.
You had his class yesterday, and while you feel better knowing you’ll finally have help, you couldn’t focus on anything but today, so you retained nothing. All you can think about is saying something stupid or off putting and having him start to despise you.
You know you shouldn’t worry this much. He’s a professional, you’re trying to be, it should all go smoothly. They’re just the issue of the colony of butterflies who have taken up residence in your stomach. You’re nervous, so nervous, and you are not the type to get this crazy over some guy. Yes, Dr. Reid is probably the hottest person you’ve ever met, but he’s still human! You think… the fact that he’s some sort of super genius with multiple (multiple!) phds does not help to calm you.
Your entire walk to Dr. Reid’s office is spent worrying over all of this. In fact, you’re so caught in your head you find yourself barreling into someone’s back as you walk through the door of the psychology department.
You rush to squeak out an apology while picking up your notebook, but are stopped short when you look up. It’s Dr. Reid. Of course it’s Dr. Reid. You seem unable to be in the same vicinity of him without making a fool of yourself, so why would today be any different. You’d hoped to be able to manage yourself for the better part of an hour, but your professors unbelievably solid back has literally knocked you on your ass.
You do notice a ghost of a smile on his face when you look up, and you’d like to think he’s admiring you clumsiness, but it’s not likely.
“Hi,” you manage to say after a near excruciatingly long silence.
“I’m really sorry, I clearly wasn’t looking at where I was walking.”
He laughs a bit, “It’s no problem honestly. You were the one knocked off your feet, so I really can’t be upset aside from the fact you may have hurt yourself.”
This makes you breath hitch a bit. Maybe you are incredibly starved for attention from the male gender, but the slight affection of his words made you blush.
“Oh, yeah, sure.”
If you were any more articulate you’d be a public speaker, but at least you always seem to make the man in front of you laugh.
“I was on my way to my office to meet with you, but since I already have, you can walk with me.”
You nod, pushing yourself off the ground, then blush again when you realize you had this entire conversation on the ground.
The walk is silent, and you’re sure it’s more uncomfortable for you than it is for him. Any question you had has completely exited your mind, and all you can think about is how good he looks in a suit, and how much staring you can reasonably get away with.
Your first session is sweet. You manage to hold it together in Dr. Reid’s presence. He is incredibly helpful one on one, and you feel more confident about the class than you have in weeks. Before you finish, he asks if you’d like to meet again.
“Yeah, if that’s alright. This helped so much, but I think I still probably need to do some more catch up work.”
“That’s perfectly fine, Y/n, I wouldn’t have offered otherwise.”
He pauses for a moment, like he’s considering something, before going on.
“If it’s alright with you, I’d like to give you my cell. I want you to be able to reach me if you need to reschedule, especially if we continue meeting, and it’s a bit easier than email.”
You’re a bit stunned but manage to reply, “Of course! But, um, is that allowed? I don’t want to over step.”
He looks away from you for a moment before replying, “I’m honestly not sure. Maybe we just don’t tell anyone?”
You have to bite back a grin, but you nod nonetheless and exchange numbers.
Although you know you shouldn’t be, you’re giddy the entire walk home.
~
So far, you’ve met with Dr. Reid three times and haven’t had to use his number once. Not that you’d been looking for an opportunity to though! It just hasn’t come up at all until today.
It’s been raining all morning, which normally you wouldn’t mind, but you’re slightly under the weather and the thought of walking to campus and risking getting more sick doesn’t sound appealing in the slightest. Though it’s not normally an issue, moments like this make you really wish you had a car.
You’ve asked everyone you knew for a ride, but they were all busy.
Currently, you were on the phone with Lena, listening as she tries to calm you down.
“He gave you his number, Y/n. Just text him and say you’re sick and can’t make it.”
“It’s the day of though! I don’t want to come off as unprofessional.”
“Babe, again, you have his number. Your relationship isn’t exactly the most profesh in the first place.”
“It’s not like that, Lena.”
“Just text him. Over explain everything like you know you want to. He’ll probably think it’s cute, maybe he’ll even offer to come take care of you.”
You can hear the teasing lilt in her voice, but, still, you rush to defend him.
“You know it’s not like that.”
“Whatever you say, babe. I gotta go, but text him. It’ll be fine.”
You say your goodbyes, and deep down you know she’s right. About texting him, not the shy sort of seduction act she thinks you have.
After contemplating for a few more minutes, you type out your message and hit send.
You: Hi, Dr. Reid. This is Y/n from your criminal psych class. I know we’re supposed to meet today, but I’m feeling like I have a bit of a cold coming on and don’t want to risk walking in the rain.
You: I’m sorry it’s late notice, if I could get there I would, scout’s honor.
You were never in girl scouts. You don’t actually know why you said that at all, but it’s too late to take it back now.
As much as you try not to, you watch your phone screen, waiting for a response.
Luckily, you don’t have to wait long. You see a typing bubble pop up, then disappear, then pop up again, before finally two messages come through.
Dr. Reid: I completely understand. Don’t worry.
Dr. Reid: I could come to you? If you’re comfortable.
When you read that, you feel your stomach drop to your ass. You decidedly not expect him to offer anything like that. A few things fly through your mind, but mainly that Lena may have been right, and having your professor come to your apartment is, at least, frowned up by admin. Still, the image of him in front of you, in your home, with your cat, is too much to resist.
With shaking fingers, you text him back.
You: That would be wonderful if you’re sure you’re okay with it.
You: Friendly warning, I have a very affectionate cat.
Dr. Reid: Good to know. Is 4 still alright?
You shoot him back a quick yes and your address, and then get to cleaning every square inch of your apartment.
~
Dr. Reid is an angel on Earth.
When you hear a knock at your door, you have to stop before answering to regulate your breathing. When you finally do, you see your professor in front of you in a cardigan (a fucking cardigan) and togo cup of tea that he immediately hands to you.
It’s all like a hopeless romantics wet dream. Hot professor, in the rain, at your house, who clearly cares about you in some way? It’s like he’s trying to kill you.
You step aside to let him in and move to your couch, “You really didn’t have to do this.”
He stands for a moment before sitting at the opposite end and saying through a laugh,“The tea or coming over?”
“Both, I guess? I just feel bad that Ive take up so much of your time. I feel like a bit of an inconvenience.”
“Y/n, please stop worrying so much over this. I want to help you learn, it’s not an inconvenience or a both or unnecessary.”
You really look at him then, trying to read whether or not he’s being genuinely. He just seems too good to be true, like he’s a fiction character made just for you. Well, not just for you, but in your fantasies that’s how you’ll think about it.
The next couple hours are spent reviewing material you are sure he taught weeks ago and stealing glancing at his mouth when you are sure he is not looking. Your kitty makes a few appearances too, and seems to have formed an instant attachment to the doctor. You are not as sly with your staring as you’d like to think, and get caught a few too many times. Honestly, you are trying desperately not to think about anything but academia, but he makes it so unbelievably hard. Not to put the blame on him for your insatiability, but jesus fuck. Intelligence has always been incredibly sexy to you, and it oozes from him
Despite the distraction, you’ve been doing good in terms of building your understanding. Now however, you are on the verge of tears, chocking down a knot in your throat as you try to make sense of anything coming out of Dr. Reid’s mouth. This has to be the third time he’d tried to explain it to you, and while this is the entire point of these meetings, you feel like a failure.
The doctor is lost in his own world, trying desperately to explain the concept in a digestible way, so he doesn’t notice your state. That is, until you sniffle, just slightly, and immediately avert your gaze.
He cuts himself off, “Y/n? Are, are you okay? What’s wrong.”
It’s too much, so too much. What kind of dick asks something like that, with that much care in his voice. You can’t help the tears starting to fall.
“I’m so sorry. I just, I can’t understand it.”
He looks at you with his beautiful eyes and says, “Y/n, it’s okay-“
“No. God, you must think I’m a fucking idiot. No, not fucking, I didn’t mean to say fuck in front of you. God this is terrible.”
You’re fully crying at this point, and you can’t bear to look at Dr. Reid.
He stays silent for a moment, before you feel movement on the couch and look up to see he is much closer to you.
“You’re incredibly intelligent, Y/n. I, I would never judge you for needing help.”
You bury your face in your palms, and, very eloquently, try to speak through them.
“Sir, you really don’t need to say that. I know I should have been able to grasp this weeks ago, all of this.”
“Spencer.”
You look up, “What?”
“My name is Spencer. You don’t have to call me sir or Dr. Reid. I’d like for you to call me Spencer.”
“Well, Spencer then. I’m sorry for wasting your time. I really don’t know why I thought any of this would help, clearly there’s something seriously wrong with-“
You’re cut off by a hand on your jaw, guiding you to look up. Dr. Reid’s hand. Spencer’s hand, and it’s gentle and he’s staring at you, and you feel like your skin is on fire underneath his palm.
“There’s nothing wrong with you, Y/n. You’re one of the most capable, intelligent people I’ve ever met. I’m breaking nearly 20 different codes of contact by being here, but I can’t help it.”
You feel all your words caught in your throat, and all you can fucking think about is his hand and his eyes and his lips. You don’t know what else to do, so, in an act of unusual bravery, you push forward and press your lips to his.
The response is immediate. All thoughts in your head are gone and replaced by a mantra of Spencer’s name. You feel his hands move to the nape of your neck, holding you to him, and his lips pressing yours open so he can glide his tongue over yours. You’re breathless and ruined, and when he pulls back you’re too struck by him to speak.
“You have no idea what you do to me, Y/n. I’ve never wanted anyone like this before”
Your forehead is pressed to his and you breath out, “Show me.”
The hand on you tightens its grip, but the man before you pulls back a bit, and it becomes your only point of contact.
“I, I can’t. I’m your teacher, I’m nearly 20 years older than you. I shouldn’t have even kissed you.”
“I kissed you. I want you, this. I want whatever you’ll give me.”
“It’s wrong, Y/n.”
“I don’t care. I want you, Spencer.”
Hearing you say his name must break his resolve, because in a moment his lips find yours again, and he’s pulling you into his lap.
To recap, you’re in your home, on your couch, straddling the hottest man you’ve ever seen, and his lips are trailing down your neck and over your clavicle. You put your arms around his neck, threading your hands through his hair and experimentally rolling your hips against his.
His hands grab your hips, stilling your movement, and breaks from his assault on your neck to say, “I won’t be able to control myself if you do that, Y/n. I need to know what you want.”
“I want all of it, doctor.”
The honorific must do something for him, because he growls low in his throat before once again connecting with your lips. The same hands that just stilled your movement now guide your hips to press into him harder. You feel his length beneath you and moan into his mouth.
You’d fantasized about this for months, but now it’s actually happening and it’s so much better than you could have ever imagined. You feel him every where, and he knows exactly what to do and whisper in your ear to drive you fucking crazy.
You move your hands from his hair and break from his lips to pull your shirt off. You make eye contact with him and then reach behind your back to unclasp your bra, leaving that part of yourself entirely exposed to him.
“Fuck, Y/n.”
The expletive takes you by surprise for a moment, but you snap out of it quickly, taking one of his hands and bringing it to your chest. He moves quickly from that point, cupping your breast in his hand and toying with your nipple. Your lips find his again, and you feel him move to flip you, but you stop him before he can.
“Bedroom, Spencer. Please.”
He nods and you climb from his lap. On your way to the room, he discards his shirt. You can’t help but ogle his frame. He’s slender and sinewy, but you’d be lying if you said he wasn’t the most beautiful thing you’d ever seen. The angles and curves of his frame fit
together to create the perfect portrait of a man. He has scars littered over his arms and torso, but they don’t phase you.
You’re under him on the bed now, your core raising to meet his desperately.
“You’re so beautiful. So beautiful, I’m so lucky.”
His words cause a blush to form on your cheeks, which you can barely focus on as his hands are in the process of pulling your shorts and panties down your legs.
“Fuck, baby, you’re soaked, huh?”
You whine as his fingers make contact with where you need him most.
“Is this all for me, Y/n? Who’s making you this wet?”
“You, sir, only you.”
“Jesus, baby.”
If someone had asked hours ago you what you thought your professor would be like in bed, this was the last thing you would’ve said. Not that anyone would ask… but still. He’s nerdy and adorable, and while his looks are literally to die for, he doesn’t scream ‘I’m gonna fuck your brains out’.
His fingers pick up their pace on your clit as you find yourself trying to undo his belt. You’re desperate to see him as bare as you are. He stops to help you get his pants down, and when you see him in his full glory you feel a little faint.
“You’re so big.”
He lets a little whine slip through, “Yeah? Biggest you’ve had?”
You blush a little at his tone. As much as you’re trying to fake it, you don’t have as much experience in this field as one might expect for a girl your age.
“I’ve only been with one other person, so yeah.”
Your candor is decidedly not sexy, and you really have no clue why you would say that right now. The man above you does not seem deterred though, if anything it spurs him on.
“Fuck, Y/n. Didn’t know you were so innocent.”
You blush again, but reach to grab him, trying to prove how good you can be. He’s heavy in your hand, and part of you worries how he’ll fit. You know you’re programmed to accommodate, but the thought is daunting.
He must sense your concern when he says, “Don’t worry, love. Gonna stretch out this pussy for me.”
With that, his fingers resume their previous task, and he slowly moves down to trace your entrance with his middle finger. The sensation has you spinning, and let breathless moans leave your body he slowly starts to open you up. His fingers are long and precise in their movements. Every time he thrusts into you, they graze a spot that sends sparks of pleasure straight to your core.
“You’re doing so good for me, puppy. Letting your professor fuck you with his fingers.”
You can barely breathe, and your climax comes closer with every passing second. When his thumb moves to press over your clit and his other hand presses firmly on your lower stomach, you’re done for.
“Good girl, Y/n. Coming so pretty on my hand.”
Your orgasm is stupefying, and all you can think or say is Spencer’s name. You grab at him, desperate to find something to ground you, and you hear him moan as your nails dig into his back. He doesn’t stop for a moment, continuing to press into you and riding you through your high.
Once you come down, though you can still feel your legs shaking, you want more. You want all of him. You take him in your hand again, pumping up and down his shaft at a lazy pace.
“Spencer, I need you to fuck me.”
He laughs, his hand still on your core, “Ask nicely, Y/n. You come on my fingers and all of a sudden your manners disappear? You really are desperate for me, huh?
You didn’t want to admit it, but he’s right.
“Please, Spencer. Please fuck me, I need it.”
“Good girl,” he takes your wrist and leads your hand to your mouth. “Spit.”
You aren’t exactly sure what he’s doing. You think he might be teasing you more, letting you work him over until you beg, but he answers all your questions quickly.
He guide your hand back to grab him, helping you jerk him off before he grabs himself and lines up with your entrance.
In his first Dr. Reid like moment in the last hour he stops and asks, “Fuck do you have a condom? I obviously didn’t think we’d do this, so I don’t have anything on me.”
You’re panting with anticipation at this point, but still manage to get out, “I’m on the pill and I’m clean. I trust you.”
His eyes go soft for a moment, before he continues his previous mission. He lines up again with you, before teasing your slit with the head of his cock. If you didn’t want him so bad, you could’ve come like this, but you are desperate. You push your hips up, hoping he gets the point, and he does.
“I could play with that pussy all day if you’d let me, Y/n.”
You want to protest, and tell him to get on with it, but you don’t have to. You feel his tip
slowly pushing into you as he lets out a groan.
“You’re so fucking tight.”
He’s slow and careful, and you can’t remember sex ever feeling this good. You know he isn’t all the way in, but you already feel so full. When he does reach the hilt, you let out a low moan at the feeling. He’s completely inside of you, filling you in a way that is unbelievably good. He stays still for a moment before slowly pulling back and thrusting into you.
You can tell he’s being gentle, but hard enough and fast enough to have your legs start shaking more heavily again. You already feel a pit in your stomach, and you know you’re going to come, for a second time, embarrassingly fast.
“Fuck yes. So good for me, Y/n.”
The way your name sounds in his mouth drives you crazy. The only thing you can think about is how badly you want this moment to go on forever. Everything about him is perfect. Even now, while fucking your brains out (literally, you could make yourself say a word even if you wanted to), he’s cupping your head in his hand and telling you how beautiful you are.
Now that you’re more accustomed to the size of him, he takes your thigh, pushing it up to your chest, and starts too fuck into you faster and harder. His pelvis rubs over your clit with every thrust, driving you crazy. Your hands are in his hair and down his back, grabbing and clawing at him.
“You love taking this cock, huh baby? Love how deep it is in you. Can’t even talk you’re so fucked out.”
His words go straight to your core, but you know what you need to come again. You guide his hand up near your sternum and manage to cry out a few words.
“Please, need it. Need you.”
He takes your request to heart and moves his hand to your neck, squeezing the sides. You feel yourself get light headed in the most incredible way. Tears are forming in your eyes. The feeling is so intense.
“So perfect for me. Gonna fuck you dumb, puppy.”
You whine at the nickname, you didn’t even know you were into that.
“You’re just sucking me in, Y/n. Hottest thing I’ve ever fucking seen.”
You’re close, and you can feel the pit in your stomach start to spread and take over. Spencer’s hand on your throat tightens slightly, and it only take a few more thrusts before you’re coming on him.
“Coming. Fuck, Spence you’re making me come.”
“That’s right. Come all over this cock. Show me how good I make you feel.”
Your vision is going white at the edges and you feel like your whole body is shaking.
“Fuck, gonna come just watching you. Gotta pull out, baby.”
You grab him before he can, “No! Want it inside me.”
He groans above you and you feel his hips stutter.
“Fucking Jesus. Want me to fill you? Make this pussy mine.”
You nod, the tears now falling down the sides of your face.
“Gonna come, baby. Fuck, I’m gonna come in your perfect fucking pussy.”
You can feel when he does. His dick is pulsing in you, filling you completely, just like he said he would.
When he comes down, he pushes his lips to yours, kissing you with an intensity you’ve never felt before. For a while, he just lays there, kissing you.
“Gonna pull out now. Gotta clean you up.”
You whine, but nod regardless. You feel empty at the loss of him, but you don’t have much time to think about it before you feel a warm towel wipe around your centre.
“You gotta go pee, Y/n. Don’t want to develop a UTI.”
Five minutes ago this man was coming inside of you, and now he’s back to being the man who came to your house in the rain with tea. You do know he’s right though, so you pull yourself out of your bed on shaking legs and make your way to your bathroom.
When you come back in, you find Spencer with his pants back on. Your heart breaks a little.
In a small voice you ask, “Are you leaving?”
He looks up at you then, “Do you want me to stay?”
You don’t know why you wouldn’t.
“If you don’t want to you don’t have to.”
You can feel tears welling up again, but these are different from before; he notices immediately.
“Baby, baby don’t worry. I don’t want to go, I just didn’t want to over step.”
You laugh a little at that, wiping your eyes, “I think we’ve gotten over all the steps, Spencer. I, I want - Just please stay.”
He nods and moves to take off his pants before sliding into place next to you. His arm wraps around your waist and you feel a tingle in the spots where he touches you.
“I don’t want to have this be a one time thing,” you blurt out.
You feel him hold you a little tighter then.
“I was never planning that, Y/n. Now, sleep. We can talk about how much I’ve come to adore you tomorrow.”
END!! i hope you all love it!
tag list! (leave me comment if you want to join and i’ll add you): @sabage101
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stairain · 11 months
Text
Masterlist
Bolded is NSFW.
✪ = Reader Favorite ✫ = Author Favorite
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Bad idea. - You see your Professor talking to one of his co-workers, prompting insecurities about him belonging with someone his age.
Yes, Professor. - What follows after a jealous argument between Professor Spencer and his student.
Only you, darling. - You tell your professor you want a “real relationship”, it doesn’t bode well at all.
Beatdown. - Your professor can’t seem to get enough of your punishments. He was pushing your limits, and you intend to break him.
✫ I know your wife and she wouldn’t mind. - Even though he's married to someone else, Spencer can't resist taking care of you every time you show up on his doorstep.
✫ Swing and a Miss. - You meet a nerd at a bar, and you’re determined to claim him as yours.
✪ In the Pouring Rain. - You're driving home and there’s a storm incoming, but pulling over and never pulling out seems more than satisfactory. 
✪✫ Vegas Redemption.- You spot Spencer at a hotel lounge alone, you see has a ring on his finger, but that doesn't stop you.
Headlights Flashing - Spencer and you are rivaling street racers, and despite your deep rooted hatred for each other, with enough adrenaline, arousal, and pure aggression shooting through your veins, you find yourself at the mercy of your contender.
Come and Save me now. - Spencer is supposed to be your doctor, but making you feel better surely wasn’t out of the job description. 
✪✫ Daddy's Little Helper. - Spencer wants nothing more than to show his appreciation for you babysitting his daughter, but by giving you a baby of your own was not what you expected.
✪ Truth of a Lifetime. - After a long day at work, you want nothing more than to unwind with your best friend, but playing a game of drunk Truth or Dare was definitely not what you had in mind. 
✪✫ Captive to Crosswords. - Spencer’s got you tied to a chair, but he’s more interested in finishing his crossword puzzle than finishing you.
✪ Down by the Dock. - After telling Spencer how distant he's been, he's determined to prove just how close he can get with you.
Dare of a Lifetime. - Part 2 to “Truth of a Lifetime” where you show Spencer the kinds of things you’re into, and he is quite the hands-on learner.
✫ Make Hate to You. - Spencer’s convinced you like him a little more than you’re letting on, but you’re set on showing him just how wrong he is.
✪ Mommy's Boyfriend. - While dropping off your son at school, the last thing you expect is your ex-boyfriend Mr.Reid to be his teacher.
✪ Gun that doesn't shoot. - You've grown tired of the princess treatment from Spencer, just wishing he'd slap you around for once, so you don't stop until he does.
✪ Old Fashioned. - After a long night of waiting tables, a quiet man who can’t help but blush every time you speak to him is just what you need.
✪ Staying Up. - You're peacefully sleeping when Spencer comes home needy for you, but you're more than happy to let him use you.
✪✫ The Art of Film - Spencer's wears his FBI vest and bodycam while he fucks you. 
BBM Baby - Spencer wants nothing more than to leave work to be with you, so you sext him to torture him even further. 
The Chase. - Getting pulled over wasn't exactly your plan for a Friday night, but getting pulled over by a hot officer just might be.  
Wrong Move You're Dead - Spencer was never shy about his obsession for you, but you don't know just how far he'd go to prove you belong to him.
✪✫Jealous Girl. - Catching Spencer talking to another woman wasn’t exactly ideal, but thankfully you know just how to handle him. 
Impatience.- Your patience was hardly that of a saint, so it’s no surprise when Spencer’s forced to leave work to fuck you. 
✫ All Aboard. - When you meet a handsome stranger on the train home, he's adamant from the moment your gazes lock that he’ll get a taste of you.
Desk Pet. - Despite knowing the importance of work, Spencer still can't help but distract you in the worst way possible.
Begging for a Breaking. - You've never been that of a beggar for Spencer, but you’re not about to back down now.
✪ Friendly Competition. - Spencer gets a little too cocky and thinks he can please you better than a toy, so you take it upon yourself to crush his ego. 
✫ Brushstrokes - You weren’t entirely sure what being Spencer’s muse meant, but it certainly wasn’t what he had in mind.
Loosen Up - Parties have never been much of Spencer's scene, luckily you've got no problem helping him calm down.
Conditioned Response - You knew training someone like a dog wasn't the most ethical, but Spencer just makes it too easy to pass up.
Good Decoration - After misplacing a folder full of explicit images, the last thing you’d expect was Spencer to take it. 
Double-Edged Sword - The only way Spencer is allowed to fuck you is to wear a strap-on.
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mydearzero · 8 months
Text
Prey | Professor!Spencer Reid x Reader
MASTERLIST
PART 2
18+ MINORS DO NOT INTERACT
Summary: You were determined to stay collected and have your professor make the first move. To make him believe he's the one desperate for you. He's onto you though. He knows what you want, what you need. And he's going to give it to you.
Warnings: Professor!Spencer, fem!Reader, Teacher/student relationship, age gap, smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex (p in v), NO Y/N, fingering, praise kink, degradation, dacryphilia, humiliation, semi-public sex, rough sex, creampie, choking, aftercare. If I missed any warnings please tell me!
3.9K words
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Criminology wasn't the first class you'd voluntarily take. It was interesting enough, really. But not at all necessary for your degree. 
You loved true crime as much as the next college-aged girl. That's what your excuse would be, at least, when people would inevitably ask why the hell you signed up for the class. But the real reason? 
You'd seen him on campus a couple times, only a semester ago. His jagged yet put-together exterior intrigued you. His eyes met yours, if only for a split second. He was perceptive. Very perceptive.
The third time you saw him meeting with the dean, you knew you were hooked. You felt yourself mouth the syllables of his name. Heard the sound falling off your lips in a whispered tone as you overheard him introduce himself to the Criminal Law professor. 
Doctor Spencer Reid. 
You'd done your research, as any self-respecting student would. He was an FBI agent working for the Behavioral Analysis Unit. He was a proper genius with several degrees under his belt, even when he was your age. 
He wasn't anymore, your age.
A notice got posted on the college's website a few days after your last sighting. Doctor Spencer Reid of the FBI would teach several seminars this semester, with voluntary attendance and limited availability. 
You signed up in a heartbeat. You told yourself it was because he was an enigma, a puzzle for you to solve. His posture, eyes and even how he spoke screamed 'Solve me!' You, someone notorious for your ability to read people, couldn't figure him out. It frustrated you. Everything about him invited you to try and peel back the layers to let you see inside. 
Were you maybe a tad too obsessed with the man without ever having spoken to him? Obviously, but you couldn't help yourself. You loved a good mystery. And this was one gorgeous mystery. 
You tried to be deliberate about everything when you entered the first seminar. Don't spare the professor a second glance, but be genuinely interested. Don't hang off every word falling from his lips but raise your hand often enough to appear engaged. You wanted him to be the one to notice you first, even if it was anything but the truth. 
But Professor Reid was a professor in his field for a good reason. He caught your calculated gaze a few times. Watched as you schooled your expression to perfection. Spencer had to admit, you were good. But he was better. He noticed how your stare dropped to his hands as he moved them while speaking. Noticed how the pattern of your breathing was unnatural. If his hearing was superhuman, he would've heard your heart beat irregularly. 
You could seek control of the situation as much as you wanted, but your body would betray you time and time again. Spencer thrived in this little cat-and-mouse game you'd tried to set him up for. He knew you'd convinced yourself you were the cat, calculated, ready to pounce. He smiled to himself at the comparison. If only you knew you were the mouse in this situation, insignificant and small under his watchful eye. Something for him to feast on.
He'd seen you that day; the first time he was on campus. Captured your observant eye with amusement simmering in his mind. He knew who you were, and why you were here, the second you walked into the classroom. You'd tried to appear confident, sure of yourself, by walking to a spot near the front without sparing anybody around you a second glance. But Spencer saw it for what it was. A nervous but powerful stride of a girl begging for a grain of validation. 
It had been brought to his attention that several girls in the class were only auditing, but not you. You were here for the real deal. You were committed to figuring him out. He could see it in the way your eyes raked over his body, reading his body language with every syllable spoken. You were genuinely interested in the subject matter, even if it was only to listen to him explain it.
He was flattered, really. Although your interest in the professor might've started as superficial as the other girls', he could see himself in the way you lost yourself in the infatuation. It wasn't just his looks that pulled you into his orbit. You were intrinsically aware of the grief, trauma and heartache he'd built up over the years. You were dying to be a part of the gravity that shaped him. 
He could see how you had the power to mould people when you had your claws in them. Though, he wasn't sure it was a conscious ability you possessed. Maybe it was just who you were. You had a need for control in every sense of the word. And God, did he want to take it away from you. 
If he didn't know any better, he'd be afraid you'd commit a string of murders if only it meant he would have to read into it. Consider every detail of the crime scene so he'd have to figure you out. It was admirable; your passion for complete dominance. But you couldn't fool Spencer. 
He saw the way you crossed your arms, bit the skin on your lips until they bled, and picked at the skin around your nails, not quite bringing them up to your mouth to bite them, knowing it would convey insecurity. You were an insecure little girl, convincing yourself of the opposite. 
Your need to understand him and domineer every situation was likely a defence mechanism, but he couldn't judge. Not when your little game got him right where you wanted him. Spencer had to applaud your dedication. The anticipation kept him on his toes every time he set foot on campus. He knew you wanted him to break, to make the first move, and he just might have to if he wanted to rid himself of the everlasting tension that seemed to have taken over his body. 
Fine. Spencer would play your little game if that's what you wanted. 
He saw you getting more confident, convinced he was falling into your trap the second he gave in. How the corners of your lips curled up ever so slightly when his gaze lingered on them. You were so caught up in your success that you failed to notice every action was premeditated on his part. It was only inevitable your eyes would light up with glee and triumph when he requested you to meet him in his office after class. 
You knocked on his door tentatively, trying to slow your racing heart. 
"Come in." Spencer's voice carried through the door. You turned the handle and stepped inside the dimly lit office. 
"You wanted to see me, Professor Reid?" You spoke as your hand lingered on the door, a calculated move to come across as unsure. It was a complete 180 of your usual behaviour in class, but it was a surefire way to let him let you in. You were no threat. 
If only you knew how true that was. 
"Yes, close the door and have a seat, please." Spencer motioned to the chair across from him. You nodded and closed the door quietly before pulling the chair out and sitting down. 
"I would like to discuss your paper with you if you don't mind." Spencer held up the printed copy he insisted everybody hand in. You scoffed when you read the specifications of the assignment. Figures he'd be old school. 
"That's fine. Is there something wrong, Professor?" You batted your eyelashes the way you knew no man could resist. The act of the meek, helpless deer. 
"There's nothing wrong with it, necessarily. I would simply like to discuss the subject matter with you. You sure picked an interesting topic." Spencer leaned against the back of his chair and interlocked his fingers as he saw you smile. 
"What can I say? Your job intrigued me. Though, as I'm sure you could tell from my essay, I can't say I completely agree with the logic behind it." You gave him a small smile to let him know you weren't antagonising but stood behind your choices. 
"Some critiques definitely can be taken into account. But it's been proven time and time again, with every case we solve through behavioural analysis, that the science and logic behind it work. Sure, we can be wrong, even way off. But it's a rare occasion." His eyebrows raised in challenge as he spoke. A small smile threatened to appear on his face as he awaited your answer.
You squinted at his apparent amusement. He wasn't taking you seriously. He knew he'd cracked you when your facade dropped. You looked genuinely offended at his lack of interest in your opinion. He almost wanted to laugh at how easy it turned out to be, to get you to drop the act. 
"Don't look so smug, Professor. It's not a good look on you." You jabbed. You cursed at yourself. That wasn't an argument. You crossed your arms as you leaned back in the chair, never breaking eye contact. 
"I must say, I'm kind of disappointed in you. You seemed to have a great grasp on the subject matter while in class, yet you failed one of the biggest requirements of the assignment." 
You frowned at his words, genuinely confused. You egged him to continue talking. 
"You see, the main requirement was to stay objective. This essay was anything but. I guess I misjudged you. I assumed you were above letting your personal opinions and vendettas get in the way of your academics. Apparently not." Spencer tsked. He was taunting you. 
"How was my essay subjective?" You asked. The more you thought back to it, the more you realized how tainted the words on the pages in his hands were by your disdain for your attraction to him. 
You hated him for making you feel the way you did, and you hadn't even realized it until now. 
"I expected factual work. The only fact I can get from this essay is that you're driving yourself crazy with how much you want me to fuck you." 
You gaped at his vulgar words. 
Hook.
"Don't look so scandalized. You knew what you were getting into when you signed up for my class. You made your bed. Now lie in it." Spencer leaned forward and placed his elbows on his desk, crossing his fingers once again. 
"I think you're full of shit, Spencer Reid." You sneered. 
Line.
"I'm sure you do, sweetheart. And it's Doctor or Professor. I'm not picky." He had the gall to laugh. 
"Profile me then, professor. If you're so damn sure of yourself." You rolled your eyes but looked at him expectantly. 
Sinker. 
"Stand up, lock the door." He instructed. You did as he asked with no rebuttal. He raised from his chair and walked around the desk. You followed him closely with your eyes, unable to predict his next steps. 
He placed a singular finger under your chin and lifted it to make you look up at him. "Good girl." He whispered with intent. You tried to give no outward reaction to the words, but as Spencer had come to predict, your body betrayed you. Goosebumps raced down your crossed arms, and your breathing hitched, even if only slightly. 
You didn't break eye contact, to Spencer's amusement. You really should've known better. 
"You want me to profile you? Sure. In your essay, you kept mentioning speculation. But, you see, it's not speculation. It's deduction. You would've known and been able to differentiate the two if you weren't so busy rubbing your thighs and biting your lips in my class." His words were accompanied by his thumb coming up to your mouth, running it over the chewed-up skin of your bottom lip. 
"You want to know what else I deduced just now?" He didn't wait for your reply as he brought his face closer to yours, leaning in to whisper in your ear. 
"I think you like being called a good girl. But not because of the validation... No... It's the implication that turns you on." His breath scalded the delicate skin of your neck as he spoke. 
You urged him to continue with your silence, breath stuck in your throat. 
"You see, most girls like you like being called a good girl because they lack external male validation. They're desperate to hear those words from anyone. Not you, though... No..." Spencer laughed before continuing. 
"You like it because it implies a level of authority. You love hearing it, especially from me, because it implies that I have the authority to decide for you what you are. And you wanna know what I think?" He leaned back a little to be able to look you in your wide eyes. He traced his finger over your jaw. 
"I think you're a little whore. You don't want someone to validate you. You need someone to completely dominate you." He grabbed your chin forcefully. A soft whimper left your lips before you could stop it. 
"Your pupils are dilated, your skin is flushed, and you're barely breathing. That's how I know I'm right. And I'm not speculating, darling." The alarmed look you gave him did nothing to deter him. 
"Get on your knees." He demanded as he let go of your chin. You did so without question. You looked up at him expectantly, heart beating in your throat. 
"Looks like I finally found a way to shut you up. Though, I can think of other ways. You're going to address me as 'Sir' from now on. You won't speak unless spoken to. Am I clear?" 
You nodded quickly, spreading your legs to alleviate the pressure quickly building. Spencer raised an eyebrow before putting his shoe between your thighs, putting even more pressure than before. 
"I asked. Am. I. Clear?" 
"Yes!" You yelped. A smile that could only be described as devilish made itself apparent on your professor's face. 
"Yes, what?" He asked as he pushed the point of his shoe further between your thighs. 
"Yes, Sir." You all but moaned as you tried to hold yourself up, keeping your back as straight as it would allow you. 
"Good girl." He said the riveting words. 
You expected him to pull his pants down and force your mouth on him, but he did no such thing. 
"You're gonna make yourself cum on my shoe. You better not make any noise." He instructed. 
"Yes, Sir." You mumbled as you slowly started grinding against him. You felt your cheeks get redder and redder in embarrassment. You were mortified at the realization that the humiliated feeling only added to the ease of your grinding, getting wetter and wetter. Your underwear was no longer doing much to keep his shoe clean. 
You looked up at Spencer, who looked unaffected. He put his hands in his pockets and sighed as if the current situation was nothing but an inconvenience to him. You slowly put your arms around his leg as you moved closer to him. 
Soft whines left your mouth as you felt yourself getting closer. You'd never felt as conflicted before. So incredibly turned on, yet so embarrassed to be basically humping his leg. 
Suddenly, Spencer ripped his leg away. You lost your support and fell flat on the floor in front of his feet. "That's enough." 
"I thought you said I had to make myself cum, Sir?" You could hear you sounded as desperate as you probably looked. 
"And I decided I'm not going to let you. Now, who said you could speak?" You quickly closed your mouth. "That's what I thought." 
He gripped your upper arm harshly and hoisted you off the floor. You dared to peek at the shoe that had just now been your seat and were embarrassed to find it reflecting the light, unlike its matte counterpart. 
Your legs wobbled as Spencer guided you to his desk. It was only now you realized the shutters weren't completely shut, light from the hallway shining down on your face as he pushed it down against the mahogany when he bent you over at the waist. Spencer followed your gaze. 
"I guess you'll really have to be quiet, baby. My office hours start in less than an hour." You met his eyes with your own panicked ones. Anybody who did as much as try and look inside past the shutters would see you bent over his desk. He brushed your hair out of your face before flipping your skirt up and examining the sight before him. 
"You soaked right through those panties of yours. Better take 'em off." He said as he hooked his fingers under them and pulled them down. You stepped out of them to the best of your ability.
Spencer picked them up, and gave them a short whiff, before walking around his desk. You didn't dare move but followed him with your eyes, confused. He looked at you as he unlocked a drawer, put them inside, and locked it again. You weren't getting those back. 
He walked back around and admired the sight for a little before he unexpectantly gave your ass a harsh smack. You closed your eyes tightly as you felt yourself get wetter at the stinging sensation it left behind. 
You jumped as he pushed two fingers inside without preparation. He placed his other hand on your back to push you back down against the desk. His eyes were warning you to stay still as he moved his finger expertly inside you. He brought his thumb to your clit, and you had to bite your lip to stop yourself from making any noise. The circumstances from before had ensured you were nearing the edge concerningly fast. 
When Spencer sped up, you brought a hand to your mouth to muffle any noise. You felt your eyes tear up at the intensity of the sensation, so you squeezed them closed. Just as you were about to fall over the edge, Spencer stepped away. His weight against you was what was keeping you up. You felt your knees buckle as a desperate cry left your lips. 
"Please, Spencer. Please." 
He looked furious as he grabbed your shoulders, turning you around and pushing you back on the desk. Your legs instinctively wrapped around his waist. He pushed your shirt up, exposing more skin to him. He tugged your bra down, not bothering to unclasp it. He tugged roughly at your nipples, making you keen, and the tears finally spill from your eyes. 
"Not so tough now, huh?" He mumbled as he undid his belt with one hand. The other was still pawing at your crudely exposed breasts. He didn't bother properly pulling his pants down, only taking his cock out of its confines. You imagined you looked downright filthy compared to how composed the man in front of you still managed to appear. There was a stain on his pants from where your crotch had met his, but other than that, he was pristine. 
He gave his cock a few tugs before lining himself up, grabbing your thighs and pushing inside. You couldn't contain the guttural groan that escaped you as the strength of his thrust forced your head off the desk, hanging over the edge. He didn't care as he started pounding away, using his grip on your thighs as leverage. 
You could barely breathe, the angle of your neck not allowing much air to flow. Your ears started to ring as blood pooled in your head, making you dizzy as Spencer kept his brutal pace. You tried gripping his arms to pull yourself back up before you passed out, but hardly to any avail. Spencer noticed your struggle and pulled your head back on the desk. The blood rushing back down, along with a particularly harsh thrust, had you moaning his name. 
You heard his haggard breath as he continued filling you again and again. The sensation of him inside you drove you crazy, the tears from earlier still fresh on your cheeks. Low groans fell from Spencer's lips when one of his hands moved to your clit, rubbing rough circles. 
Just as you'd recovered from your little upside-down stint, Spencer brought the hand still resting on your thigh up to your throat, reclaiming your ability to breathe freely. He squeezed in the exact right spot. Your hands moved to his wrist, not to get him to stop, but as leverage. 
"You look so good like this, like a slut for your Professor. Crying on my cock while I decide if you get to breathe." You moaned as your nails dug harshly into his wrist. You were slowly getting lightheaded again. 
"You're gonna cum on my cock when I tell you to." He spoke through the sound of skin hitting skin. His voice was strained, low moans reaching your ears.
"Yes, Sir." You struggled to get the words out. 
"Good girl," Spencer said once more, giving a few more intentional thrusts deep inside you. A noise that could only be classified as a scream bubbles straight out of your chest when he hit the right spot over and over and over again. He finally released the hold on your neck. 
"Cum." The demand had barely reached your ears as your vision went white. You felt his hips stutter against your own, shooting his load in tandem with your own orgasm. 
He slowly pulled out and admired the sight of you still trying to recover, legs wide open, dripping with his cum on his desk. 
You were on the edge of hyperventilating, all the sensations overwhelming you. Spencer slowly helped you sit up, careful to not let your privates touch the harsh wood of the desk. You let yourself fall against his chest as he held you up.
"Hey, hey. You're okay. Come on, look at me." He spoke softly, in complete contrast to just mere minutes ago. You met his eyes, which had softened tremendously. 
"I'm sorry if I was too harsh on you." He quietly apologized, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks. 
You shook your head. "No, no... You were right. That was exactly what I needed, I suppose. Good profiler." You chuckled emptily. 
Spencer stifled a laugh as he wrapped his arms around you. "Next time, you can just ask for what you want, okay? No more of this little game." 
"It was fun, though. Guess I underestimated you, Sir." 
Spencer groaned at the title. 
"Too soon, baby girl. Maybe clean yourself up before going there again." 
You winced as you felt a trickle of his cum down your leg. 
"Yeah, maybe." You grimaced. You were going to be sore for the next week.
He lifted your face to his, the action feeling a lot less domineering. His eyes were gentle as he slowly leaned in, placing a delicate kiss on your lips. 
"You'll still need to rewrite that essay." He muttered as he pulled away. 
You rolled your eyes and scoffed, hitting his shoulder lightly before giving him a peck. "Sure thing, Professor." 
PART 2
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golden1u5t · 1 month
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Could you do a professor Reid smut where she's a virgin and he ends up "teaching her"? maybe with some soft dom reid, a slight daddy/sir kink, and lots of praise (like he's talking her through it)
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ꨄ pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader
ꨄ genre: smut
ꨄ summary: spencer may be your professor but how to catch a serial killer isn’t the only thing hes teaching you.
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it wasn't a surprise to spencer when you accidentally spilled that you were a virgin to him, he figured that the innocence that radiated from you was part of the reason he was so attracted to you. even though he knew it was wrong, he couldn't stop himself.
it all started the you started to fall behind in his classes, he called you to stay after class and that's when you started with your tutoring lesson. eventually, how to catch a serial killer wasn't the only thing he was teaching you.
that's how you found yourself in his office... on his leg rocking your core back and forth on his clothed thigh. not that you were really complaining since you'd had a crush on him since you first saw him but it was still quite surprising.
you dropped your head onto his shoulder as he gripped your hips and guided you on his thigh at an even pace, soft whines and whimpers tearing from your throat.
"does that feel good, angel?" he murmured, sucking in a sharp breath as you shifted around and consequently pressing your knee into his aching cock. it took a lot of self control on his part to keep himself from bending you over and pushing his cock as deep into you as it would go but he knew he needed to be patient with you.
"feels so good, sir.” you whimpered, feeling your walls flutter around nothing. you grasped at his shirt and started to rock your hips faster, an unfamiliar knot starting to form in the pit of your stomach. "m'gonna cum-" you gasped, spencer ran his hand under your skirt and pressed his fingers against your throbbing clit.
"cum for me, pretty, you're doing so good." your hips stilled and your mouth dropped open as the knot in your stomach unraveled. as your orgasm died down you slumped into his chest and let go of his shirt.
spencer pressed a kiss to the side of your head and pulled you from his chest so he could place a proper kiss to your lips. you smiled against his lips and pulled away from the kiss, looking down at his lap. "what about you? that can't feel good."
"don't worry about me. let's just get you home, yeah?"
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566 notes · View notes
reiderwriter · 7 months
Note
NSFW Prompt Requests - I’m in dyer need of 127 or 150 if you’d be so kind?🥵
A/N: I feel like I say "I got a bit carried away" in every single one of these authors notes, but this one I think I really did...
Word Count: 3k
#127: "I can taste myself on you."
#150: "Stop clenching, baby, you're already tight enough as it is."
Summary: You're hot for teacher. So is every other girl on campus. Your Professor, however, is absolutely oblivious until you spell it out for him...
Warnings: Professor x Student, age gap, oral (M receiving), face-fucking, no birth control/ condoms, creampie, male whimpering and moaning mentioned a lot, PinV sex, both of them are Switches idc idc 18+ MINORS DNI
Check out my other stuff on my masterlist!
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You had been in his class for around three weeks when you decided you couldn’t take it anymore. If you were going to keep up your GPA and progress in your grad programme, you were going to have to either drop the class with Professor Reid, or persuade him to put you out of your misery. 
You’d been intrigued by the course to start with, of course, which is why you’d picked up the criminology elective when it wasn’t a required class. But it was only available this semester as he was only Guest Lecturing while on leave from his job at the BAU, and getting that kind of insight from an actual industry professional rather than an academic really couldn’t hurt, right? You’d thought that until you’d seen him. 
Expecting some older man with a stuffy tone and a disdain for modern technology, you’d been roughly awoken when he walked into the lecture hall on the first day and you found yourself hanging on to his every word as he read through your syllabus. You were spot on with the technophobia, but for everything else, you were blissfully incorrect. He was, quite possibly, the hottest man you’d ever seen in your life. You weren’t secretive about your thing for older men, joking all the time about your “daddy kink,” but you’d never had a thing for one of your actual professors before, and it was driving you insane. 
It didn’t help that the word had travelled around the entirety of your campus as well, with multiple girls turning up to audit the class after the first week. You’d been green with envy since you’d seen them mooning over the man, and you’d felt disgusted with yourself almost instantly. He was your professor, he was damn good at his job, but he was so deliciously tempting that you couldn’t find it within yourself to actually pay attention in his classes. You knew it was only a matter of time until the man, who you realised was obviously blind to how attractive he was to a bunch of twenty-somethings with a penchant for danger and a willingness to try all kinds of new things, would catch on to how many of his students were openly lusting for him.
You hoped that you had learned enough in his classes on behaviour that you could accurately hide your feelings and thoughts, however sinful and objectively obvious they were. Your hopes were crushed on that fateful day three weeks into the semester. 
You’d woken up on the wrong side of the bed already. Your alarm hadn’t gone off, your clothes were all still wet inside the washing machine in your apartment meaning you had to throw on a short skirt and pray you didn't flash anyone, and your roommate hadn’t closed the fridge properly the night before, so the milk you wanted to use in your morning coffee had spoilt. After dragging yourself into class, the last thing you’d wanted to see was twice as many students auditing the class as the previous week. 
To give it to the man’s obliviousness, he hadn’t noticed until about two thirds of the way into the class, when he asked a student why they weren’t taking notes.  He’d seemed confused. You were almost furious that he didn’t know what effect he was having on you, on every girl in the vicinity, but, more importantly, you. Unable to help yourself, you let out a scoff that gained his attention. 
“Is there something wrong with the class materials Miss…” he trailed off, waiting for you to supply your name to him. 
“Oh, no, uh, Y/N. My name is Y/N, there’s nothing wrong, sir. I’m sorry.” His lips twitched as you replied, but he went on with his class, as you sunk into your chair in shame. You were going to have to drop the class now. He must hate you, or think you were stupid, or think that you hated him, and your thoughts were spiralling so out of control that you hadn’t noticed the class had ended, and he was calling up at you from the lecturing desk. 
“Miss Y/N, are you okay?” He asked, and his goddamned eyes were filled with such concern you hated that every part of your body was screaming with desire for him. Unable to respond, he tried again. 
“If you have the time, would you like to come talk to me in my office? I’ve been told I’m a pretty good listener.” You should’ve said no, just based on the ridiculous scenes filling your mind, but you didn’t hesitate to nod your approval. You picked up your bags and made your way down the steps to where he was waiting with all of his stuff near the front door. He opened the door for you, and you felt your heart race as you awkwardly slid by him in the doorway. He had to be a fucking gentleman, too, right? 
You followed him as he made his way to his office, staying silent the entire way. He looked like he wanted to make small talk but didn’t know how, choosing instead to just mirror your silence. When you reached his office, he apologised for the mess and showed you inside, letting you take a seat on the couch whilst he put all his things away. The room was littered with books of all sizes, and you noticed that the titles didn’t seem to have one common subject linking them all, or even, in fact, seem to be written in the same language. You spotted a beaten up copy of War and Peace on his desk next to an obviously used coffee mug, and some paper files that looked to be the reading from that morning’s class. 
“Sorry, I didn’t exactly plan on having guests, uh, make yourself comfortable?” He asked it as a question, and loosened his tie as he said it. You stared at the small patch of skin on his neck, your eyes lingering just a moment too long before you remembered you were in a room with an actual FBI Profiler, and that if your thoughts were any louder, he’d handcuff you himself. As tempting as that was, you really didn’t want your Professor knowing about all the ways you’d imagined him fucking you. 
“Professor Reid, I’m sorry, I have to leave, and- and I think I have to drop out of the class.” You stood up suddenly, and he stood up too from his place at his desk, shocked at your sudden anxious outburst. 
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that, is there something wrong? Did I make you uncomfortable?” he asked taking a step closer to you, but you took a step back again, accidentally pressing your back against one of his many bookcases in your haste to avoid him. 
“Yes! I mean no, it’s not your fault that I’m uncomfortable. I’m not uncomfortable, really!” He had the look of a kicked puppy on his face now, and you realised this man would be the death of you. You weren’t even sure what it was about him that entranced you enough to stay and continue the conversation.
“I can’t focus in your classes, Professor,” you sighed out, letting your eyes drop with the embarrassing confession. 
“That’s perfectly fine, many people struggle to pay attention in college classes. Is there anything I can do in my lectures to accommodate to your needs?” Your eyebrows screwed up in frustration with his obvious professional kindness. 
“No, Professor, I’m sorry, unless you stop looking like that there’s nothing you can do.” You ran a stressed hand through your hair as you begged your mouth to shut and stay shut. 
“...What?” The confused tone in his voice let you know that he had no clue at all what you meant by your words, but he didn’t go further. You chanced a glance up at his face, and were met with a small blush rising to his cheeks, as you watched the words process in his brain. 
“Professor, every single person in that class that is attracted to men would kill to do absolutely sinful things to you. You’re like the campus’s collective wet dream right now. You had to know that, right?” You sigh out, finally putting the man out of his misery.
“Oh. No. No, no, I didn’t. Know that, I mean, I didn’t…Is that why there are so many people auditing the class? They want to…. Do that with me?” 
“Fuck you, Professor. They want to fuck you. You can say it, we’re both adults.” You resigned yourself to the fact that this conversation was probably going to haunt every waking hour for the rest of your life, and just let it happen, pushing through the cringe to help him come to certain realisations. 
“And that’s why you want to drop the class?” he asked finally, looking back up at you. 
“Yes.” 
“Because you want to…fuck me?” 
Your mouth dropped open at his words, as you desperately tried to back track, but all that came out was hot air and blubbering sounds as you felt your brain short circuit like his had just moments before. 
“I mean… I guess,” you finally stuttered out, your fight or flight instinct begging you to just run, but something deeper, something carnal planting you in position and making movement in that moment impossible. 
“Oh…. right.” He nodded at you, his lips spread in a thin smile as he nodded at you awkwardly. You stood there together in silence for a minute, but it became clear soon that the logical part of your brain was no longer in control of your mouth. 
“Can I?” you asked, almost startled at your own boldness. 
“Excuse me?” he said, his voice raising higher in tone at the incredulity of your statement. 
“Can I fuck you? If I do, maybe I’ll be able to, you know, pay more attention in class. Get it out of my system, you know.” Growing emboldened by your own words, you took another hesitant step towards him, reaching your hand up to gently touch his arm. His jaw clenched at the contact, but he didn’t move away, didn’t suggest you stop right there and forget this conversation ever happened. 
“Please, Professor Reid. Please fuck me,” you trailed the hand up his arm and back down his chest as he stood there just watching you beg for him. You discarded your bag on the chair, and keeping your eyes focused on his, trailed both of your hands down to his belt, slowly enough that he could push you away at anytime. 
“Do you know what you’re doing, Miss Y/N?” He asked quietly, and you smiled, finally happy to get a reaction from him. The smile had dropped from his lips and there was something suddenly dark in his tone that had you clenching around nothing. 
“Yes, Professor,” you said, letting your hands start working on his belt, undoing it agonisingly slowly as you watched him control his breaths. When you finally had it undone, you finally looked up at him again, and gave him a smile as innocent as you could muster. 
“You have my permission,” he whispered into your ears as he gently put a hand on your head and pushed you down to your knees, perching himself on the edge of the desk. You wasted no time then, desperate to live out each and every single one of your fantasies with him. Reaching into his pants, you found him already hard and pulsing, and you released his cock from its confines quickly. Spitting into your hand, you gave him a few quick strokes as you watched him grow even bigger under your touch. 
Letting out some sinful breathy moans, you looked up at him, head thrown back and eyes screwed shut as you finally reached your tongue out to lick at the tip of his cock. He twitched at the contact, and you felt the warmth pooling between your legs as you watched his each and every reaction. Finally wrapping your lips around him, you decided to put him out of his misery, sinking down on his dick an inch at a time until he was hitting the back of your throat. He was delightfully vocal the whole time, moaning and whimpering so much that you almost pulled off him completely and begged him to fuck you raw. But the taste of his cock was intoxicating and you wanted more and more of him. After a few minutes of your agonisingly slow pace, you felt his hips beginning to buck up to match your pace as he began to face-fuck you. He grabbed a handful of hair, and you did your best to relax your throat, stabilising yourself by placing one hand on his thigh and sinking deeper into your open hips on the floor. 
His eyes were still screwed close, but he was moaning out your name now, with a few expletives thrown in too, having done a complete 180 from the few minutes earlier when he’d hesitated to even say the F word in conversation. You felt he was getting close when he started thrusting deeper, sloppier in his movements and more breathy in his moans. He suddenly pulled out of your mouth and lifted you to your feet, bringing you face to face with him. 
“We didn’t… we didn’t say where I would, um…” he tried to say but you pushed up onto your toes and pressed a hot kiss to his mouth, your tongues quickly twinning as he returned it in kind. You stood there, lips locked and breathless in that space for quite some time, neither of you caring about the lack of oxygen you were getting. Finally, using the hand that was still fisted in your hair he pulled you away from his lips, and you whimpered pathetically at the loss of contact. 
“I can taste myself on you,” he panted into your neck as he held you close, the words sending a shiver down your spine and forcing another moan out of your mouth. The pain from his tight grip in your hair only heightened your pleasure as he moved his lips back to your exposed neck and continued his ministrations. 
“Please, professor….” you begged again, desperate for his attention. “Please fuck me.” 
Without removing his lips from your neck, he quickly moved the two of you back to the couch you’d been sitting on before, guiding you into his lap, his cock still hard and free from his pants. Your skirt spread open, and your hard landing meant you could feel all of him pressed against you. You thanked the gods for your suddenly well-timed laundry efforts as he grabbed the base of his cock and started teasing you through your panties. You were sure they were soaked through as you sat in his lap, grinding down on his perfect cock, his mouth still pressed into your neck. 
“Fuck me, please fuck me,” you moaned, and he complied, finally hooking a finger under the seam of your panties and moving them to the side as he pushed up into you with another throaty moan. 
“Yes, thank you. Thank you Professor, thank you.” You moaned out in bliss as you sank further and further down on him, pushing further than any man had been. before. 
“Stop clenching, baby, you’re already tight enough as it is,” he ground his teeth in a hiss, and you moaned at his words, the pervertedness of them shooting straight to your core. 
“Can’t…help myself. You feel so good, sir.” He started moving then, holding your waist as he started lazily thrusting upwards. After having your mouth wrapped around him, he knew that too much too soon would mean that this wouldn’t last long, and you had begged him nicely, so he wanted this to feel as good for you as it did for him. Gripping one of your hips tightly in one hand, he let the other fall under your skirt, and started pressing into your clit. You threw back your head at the contact and started riding him, matching each of his upward thrusts with a downward thrust of your own, letting his thumb gain speed as it followed you up and down. 
“Fuck, professor, thank you…I’m gonna cum, fuck, thank you so much,” you stuttered out as you could feel your orgasm rip through you, collapsing into his arms as he thrust quicker into you now. 
“Y/N, where… where should I….” His voice trailed off, and after a few seconds regaining your sanity after your climax, you finally answered the question he’d been desperately trying to answer.
“Inside… Inside me, Professor Reid, it’s okay…” he whimpered at that, at each thrust he pushed into you, his head falling to the crook in your neck and your hands stroking the hair at the base of his neck as you clenched around him again, finally pulling the desire out of him. He came noisily, even with his face buried in you, moaning so delightfully you knew the sound would be your new distraction for the next three weeks. 
When he finally regained his composure, he let his hands drop from your waist, his head rolled back on the couch, and you fell with him, wrapping yourself around him as if  you never wanted this coupling to end. You stayed there, head resting on his chest, listening to his heartbeat, and drifted to sleep. 
You awoke an hour later, but there was no sign of the Professor. He’d cleaned you up somehow, because there was no unpleasant feeling between your legs, and he’d wrapped a blanket around you as you slept, making sure you were comfortable. Collecting your things and making to leave, you almost convinced yourself that it had all been another fantasy, and that you were becoming seriously delusional about the man. As you approached the door, however, you spotted a small note taped to the handle, and quickly pulled it into your hands. 
Miss Y/N, 
Thank you for visiting me today. I hope you decide to stay in the class, I certainly could learn a thing or two from you. 
- Spencer Reid. 
P.S. You’re lucky I’m an MIT Graduate with a job in the FBI. There’s a security camera in my office. 
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ddejavvu · 8 months
Note
For multiverse Monday, could you do professor!Spencer who is infatuated with one of his students and keeps asking her to come see him and she is really shy and insecure and worries that she’s not doing good at school? Like she could never believe HE was attracted to her ? Angsty, smutty whatever you’d like 🤌🏼
today is multiverse monday, send me any au you can think of! :)
--
Professor Reid had gone from reminding you of his office hours to blatantly asking you to stay after class. You hadn't taken his suggestion seriously, you'd assumed he told everyone what times they could come and meet him, but when he leaves a penned note on the top of the paper he returns to you that says 'See me after class :)', you begin thinking it might be something about you specifically.
Your legs shake as you try packing up slower than the rest of his students, hopeful that you don't look like someone who's in trouble or about to fail the class. His kind, red-inked smiley face had done nothing to deter your nerves, and you approach his desk while your hands toy with the strap of your bag.
He greets you with an expression similar to the one he'd drawn on your paper, and gestures to the chair opposite his own, "Take a seat."
You're expecting him to pull out a laptop and display your less-than-perfect grade, or, because of his anti-technology preference, a gradebook. But he leans across the desk instead, studying you with that gentle smile.
"You're not in trouble," He notes your fiddling fingers, "I just wanted to speak with you."
"What about?" You inquire, then as an afterthought, "-Professor?"
"Well, I don't feel like I know you very well," He confesses, "You're very formal in your emails, and you don't speak much during class. I just wanted to make sure I hadn't upset you?"
Your eyes widen briefly, "Oh, no! No, professor, nothing- nothing like that I just-" You gnaw at the inside of your cheek, "I just don't talk much."
"I understand," He smiles, "Personally, I talk too much. I just wanted to make sure you weren't upset with me, I'd really like to get to know you more."
You attempt a weak smile, barely able to function at his flattering remarks, "There's not much to know, I'm afraid."
"I think you're selling yourself short," His voice has a soothing component that disarms any discomfort you might have felt at being so open with your professor, and you're thankful for that as you relax slightly into your seat.
"But I'm sure you have another class to get to. You're free to go, if you'd like, but I meant it. I'd love it if you came to ask questions during office hours, or stopped after class to chat. You don't need to be afraid of me, Y/N."
"Alright," You nod, already rising from your chair. You don't have another class to get to, you'll just need 3-5 business days to recover from your very handsome professor telling you he'd like to get to know you better.
"Uh, thank you, Professor," You smile, and this time it's not marred with worry, "I'll- I'll maybe come to office hours on Thursday?"
"I'd love to see you there," He nods, watching as you trek up the stairs towards the exit, "10 AM to 12 PM, don't forget!'
You think you might get the times tattooed on your arm just to guarantee you'll never miss a meeting.
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0anonnymouslyours0 · 1 year
Text
helping hand - spencer reid
w; suggestiveness , handjob and blowjob ;) , dirty talk , dom-sub dynamics? , sir kink (!!!) teacher!student relationship ( readers of age , no gross age gap )
your fingers slipped clumsily through his hair, as your hips frantically pressed against his.
"this is so, so wrong." he mumbled, briefly breaking the kiss.
"it's not wrong if i wanted it too." you replied, kissing him again.
your lips trailed down his neck, nipping at the skin.
"don't leave any marks, p-please." he whimpered under your touch.
"don't you want you colleges to know what your doing to me, with me? i mean having sex with your own student? in the classroom?"
professor. reid moaned loudly at your words, and you grinned up at him. you hand slipped down his chest to his slacks, pulling it his waistband and letting it snap back. your hand fell down, cupping his bulge through his pants.
"someone's excited, aren't you sir?"
the title slipped through your lips with ease, and spencers hips bucked into you hand.
"you like being called sir, huh?"
"y-yes."
"would you like me to help you out, with your little problem, sir?"
"please.."
you smiled obligingly, kneeling down in front of him. your hands worked quickly at his belt, pulling it off. soon his pants were falling to his ankles, revealing plaid boxers.
you stood up, kissing him once again.
"please, please just touch me."
"so needy baby."
you slipped your hand under his boxers, squeezing him lightly. a groan left his mouth, his hand coming up to tug at your hair.
you pulled his boxers down, revealing his dick. you trailed a finger down to his tip, spreading the beads of pre-cum around. you began to work his shaft, kissing him once again. he groans into your mouth, biting one of your lips. a moan leaves you, as you break the kiss. spencers brown eyes are wild, pupils blown and filled with lust.
"jesus, doing so well for me." he said shakily.
"thank you sir."
his head was thrown back, as he began shaking lightly.
"m'so close, keep going angel."
without a word you got to your knees, wrapping your lips around him. a gasp left his mouth, and he looked down it you, wide-eyed. you bobbed your head up and down, content and helping him reach his climax.
"your so, so good for me. so close.." he mumbled.
"can i cum in your mouth?"
you tapped his bare thigh twice, signalling a yes. he finished with a loud moan, thighs shaking. you stood up from your position, a small dribble of cum leaking from the side of your mouth. you leaned up to kiss him, exchanging the fluid. as you broke the kiss, you grinned at him sheepishly.
"my turn, sir?"
thx for the love on my last posts!! <3
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forhappysake · 2 months
Text
Teach Me, Pt. 2
A/N: The second half of "Teach Me," in which a certain professor really wants to see you again. 5.8K words.
Warnings: professor!spencer x fem!reader, implied age gap, mentions of scars and an old gunshot wound, dom!spencer if you squint, use of nicknames (good girl), oral & unprotected sex (be safe ppl)
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You silently thanked the universe that you wouldn’t have to see Spencer in class again until the next Tuesday. Though he’d slipped you into his pajamas, laid you in his bed, and woken you up with a kiss and a plate of pancakes on Friday morning before your final midterm, you knew you needed a few days to process this new development in your life. Not only had you slept with someone, but you’d slept with your professor. While you didn’t regret it, you knew you needed to sleep on it before you dove into anything too serious with him. 
All of it was a lot to consider, and Spencer knew that. He stood before you at his apartment door after you’d finished breakfast and slipped into some extra clothes you’d happened to have in the back of your car. He wore a simple t-shirt and sweatpants, not having to lecture on Fridays. “I’ll see you Tuesday” he reminded you as he got ready to send you out the door to campus that morning. “I’ll call you sometime next week to set up another date if you’re still open to the idea.”
You’d nodded, of course, wanting to see him again. “I would like to go out with you. This has been wonderful. I just-” You stumbled over your words for a second, causing him to raise his eyebrow at your evident hesitation. 
He reached out, placing both his hands on your shoulders as if to ground you for a moment. “Take a breath, tell me.” His brown eyes scanned your face, no doubt profiling you. 
You sighed, looking up to meet his eyes. “It all makes me a little nervous, you know. You said yourself, that our dynamic isn’t the most conventional. Just… give me a little time to get used to the idea.”
Spencer had offered you a small smile, leaning forward to place a soft kiss on your forehead before pulling you into a hug. “I completely understand,” he murmured, the vibrations of his voice echoing through his chest as you rested your head on his collar. “Don’t worry about it today. Go ace your midterm. We’ll talk more later.” 
You smiled up at him, thankful for his kindness as he reached around you to open the apartment door. He followed you down the stairs and out of the building without another word, watching you carefully as you climbed into your car. You waved as you started your engine, backing out of the parking spot in front of his building. Spencer smiled back before turning his back to the road and heading back inside his apartment complex, his mop of brown curls disappearing behind the glass doors. 
— — —
The midterm had gone well. You couldn’t fault yourself for any mistakes, you surmised. You weren’t exactly focused on studying the night before, anyway. As you drove back to your apartment after the exam, you tried to take Spencer off your mind by focusing on what you were going to accomplish over the weekend. 
You accomplished very little. Aside from some basic cleaning and keeping up with your laundry, you spent the weekend struggling to keep Spencer off your mind. You thought about shooting a text message to his number, which he had kindly typed into your contacts before you left his apartment the other day. However, you held yourself back. You’d promised yourself that you’d take the weekend to let this all sink in and you figured it was better not to rush anything. 
However, by the time Tuesday came around, you were more than ready to get a look at your professor-turned-lover. You found yourself dressing up a bit more than usual, adding some additional curl to your hair and smacking on a thin layer of tinted lip gloss, slipping into a flowing skirt and a knitted sweater to keep you warm despite the cool spring breeze. You walked into the lecture hall, slipping into your usual seat, and getting out your notebook. 
Moments later, the side door to the lecture hall swung open and Spencer walked in. He was dressed in a plain black dress shirt with dark pants and an equally black suit jacket. As he made his way to the desk, his eyes flickered up at the audience. You met his eye and he offered you a small smile as he set his books on the desk. 
“Hello, everyone. I hope you had a good weekend.” He seemed quite chipper. A smile tugged at the corners of his lips as he talked. “I know I did,” Spencer added before turning his back to the audience and writing the day’s topic on the board. 
You could hardly hear a word he said as you focused on his hands. The prominent veins on the back of his hand were accentuated as his slender fingers slid the chalk gently over the board. Even when he was done writing on the board and turned back to the class, your eyes stayed transfixed on his fingers, remembering what they’d done to you only days before. 
“Y/N?” the use of your name snapped you out of your chance. Spencer furrowed his brow, walking across the lecture stage to stand straight in front of you. “Did you hear what I asked you?” 
“Uh-” you fumbled for a second, panicking as you looked to the board to see if you could deduce his question based on his writing. 
Spencer smirked. You’d been caught. He knew you were distracted. “I would encourage you to pay attention to this lesson, as this information will undoubtedly be on the final exam.”
You lowered your eyes, cheeks burning as you heard a classmate giggle behind you. “Yes, sir,” you mumbled. Spencer cleared his throat before continuing with the lesson. You did your best to copy the notes he wrote on the board, but your mind kept drifting back to your previous exchange with Spencer. You couldn’t help but wonder why he called you out like that in front of everyone, especially if you were the one who made his weekend so great. 
When class ended, you quickly packed up your materials and rushed out of the lecture hall. You avoided the gaze of the rest of your classmates, trying to escape without another mention of the period. As you stepped out into the hallway and walked out of the building, you felt your phone buzzing in your pocket. Checking your screen, you saw his name on your screen. Oh god, you thought, Spencer Reid is calling. 
“Hello?” you answered, not slowing your pace as you walked to the parking lot. 
“Where’d you go? I was hoping I’d get the pleasure of seeing you after class.” You could almost hear the frown on his face. 
You sighed as you reached your car, fumbling with your keys as you tried to unlock your car. “Why? So you could reprimand me for not paying attention. Trust me, calling me out in front of everyone was enough. I get it.”
“Do you?” Spencer asked. Just as he spoke, you looked up to see a figure leaning against your car. You gasped, dropping your keys in the process. Spencer stood with his back against your car. He smirked playfully, bringing his phone down from his ear and tucking it in his pocket. 
“How the hell did you beat me here?” you said, bending down to pick up your keys as you attempted to regain your breath. 
“I’ve got longer legs. You look beautiful today, by the way,” he said. You glared up at him as he took your backpack from you, slinging it over his shoulder. “Come with me.”
He turned around and started walking in the direction of the faculty parking lot. “Where are we going?” you asked. 
Spencer smiled. “I promised you a second date, didn’t I?” 
You furrowed your brow, struggling to keep up with his quick pace. “No, you said you’d call me to set up another date.”
He hummed in faux thought. “Maybe, but this is more exciting anyway. Don’t you think?” As the two of you reached his car, he tossed your backpack in the back seat before opening the passenger door for you. You hung back, a bit wary of what he had planned. 
Spencer could sense your unease. He approached you gently. “We don’t have to go if you don’t want to. I’ll take you back to your car and later we can plan something less spontaneous.” He paused before lowering his voice, “Really, I just wanted to see you. I’ll admit, I missed you this weekend. It took everything in me not to call you.” 
You met his eyes for the first time since you’d spotted him by your car. “Well, considering I was in the same boat,” you slid into the passenger seat, looking up at him, “take me away, Doc.” 
Spencer smiled, quickly shutting the passenger’s side door and jogging over to the driver’s side. Sliding in next to you, he leaned over to give you a soft kiss on the cheek. “And we’re off!” he said with a large grin on his face, putting his vehicle in reverse and pulling out of the university parking lot. 
The two of you rode in comfortable silence. Spencer drove you further away from the city, out into the country. You tried not to think too hard about where you were headed. After about ten minutes on the road, Spencer spoke first. “So, what did you do this weekend?” 
You audibly laughed, rolling your eyes. “Let me think,” you held up your fingers and counted off as you listed your very short list of achievements, “I did a load of laundry, I watched two terrible movies, and I did my best to take my mind off of the one and only Dr. Spencer Reid.” 
He raised an eyebrow, taking his eyes off the road to make a quick glance at you. “Why would you want to take your mind off me? What else is there to think about?” he asked playfully, putting a smile on your face. 
You decided to change the subject. “What about you? What did you do this weekend?” 
Spencer offered you another playful glance. “Besides you?” he asked, a smirk forming on his face as you whacked him on the shoulder. “Okay, okay,” he said, raising one hand in defeat. “I’ll have you know that on Friday I went to see the lovely philharmonic downtown and on Saturday I spent the evening with some coworkers from the Bureau.”
“Coworkers from the Bureau,” you echoed, narrowing your eyes. “Does one of these coworkers happen to be the one who gave you that pasta recipe from the other night?” 
Spencer nodded, “One and the same. I told him that my date rather enjoyed his recipe. He nearly choked on his drink when he heard I had a date.”
“Why’s that?” you asked, raising your eyebrows. 
“Well,” Spencer stumbled with his words for a second as he tried to form an appropriate response. “I don’t exactly do this,” he waved his hand to gesture around the car, “a lot. In fact, I’m known for quite the opposite, I suppose.” 
You hummed in curiosity. “Does that mean I’m one of the few women who have been graced with the pleasure of experiencing the romantic side of you, Doc?” 
Spencer laughed, putting a hand on your thigh that made the butterflies in your stomach flutter faster than they had before. “You could say that,” he said. As fast as he’d put his hand on your thigh, he removed it, using both hands to turn the steering wheel into a parking lot off the side of the road, “and here we are.”
You looked away from his face for the first time in minutes to see where he’d taken the two of you. You were parked on the side of a hill, a drop-off on the other side of the parking lot enough to make your stomach churn. Despite the height, you were taken aback by the view overlooking the city and the way the colors of the sunset were bleeding across the evening sky. However, your eyes were quickly drawn to a building across from the parking lot. As Spencer stopped the vehicle, you swore you could hear music coming from the inside of the building. “What is this place?” you asked, nearly breathless. 
Instead of responding immediately, Spencer climbed out of the car and walked over to the passenger side. He opened the door for you, offering his hand as he helped you step out of the vehicle. “This,” he started, “is a very nice restaurant suited for a girl such as yourself.”
You slipped your hand into his as the two of you approached the building. He reciprocated, offering your hand a small squeeze as the two of you entered the restaurant. Though the lighting was dim, candles on each table gave the room a nice ambiance. A few couples were sitting throughout the restaurant. Your eyes were quickly pulled away from them when Spencer was approached by the hostess. “Did you have a reservation for tonight, sir?” she asked with a smile. 
“Yes,” he answered, “it should be under Reid.” The hostess nodded, inviting you and Spencer to follow her to a table in the corner of the room next to a large window with another breathtaking view of the city. 
As you slipped into the seat across from Spencer, you couldn’t help but joke with him, “I thought you said this wasn’t planned.” 
Spencer shrugged. “I figured if you said no, I’d just come here and get dinner myself. This is a hard view to beat,” he gestured to the window. You hummed in agreement, hardly noticing when a server approached your table. 
“Good evening,” the server started, “Could I get you both something to drink?”
Spencer ordered you both a glass of wine as the server provided you with food menus. “I’ll be back with those drinks and to get your orders,” the server said before walking away. You picked up the menu from the edge of the table, your jaw immediately dropping. 
“Dr. R- I mean, Spencer! The prices at this place are outrageous!” you said in a hushed whisper. Spencer waved his hand in dismissal, looking down at his own menu. Your eyes scanned the page in a panic, looking for some entree that wouldn’t cost an arm and a leg. 
He could tell you were still fretting over the price as he reached across the table and lowered your menu so he could look you in the eye. “Y/N, I’m a grown man with no dependents besides my mother. I’ve worked for the FBI for over a decade and I’ve been teaching at various universities on and off for years. Money is never an issue. Do you hear me?” You could tell he was extremely serious by the tone of his voice, so you only nodded silently and scanned the menu once more.
Your server reappeared with your glasses of wine and prepared to take your order. You asked Spencer to go first, during which time he ordered something to the effect of a cajun pasta. Your mouth watered at the thought. “I’ll have the same,” you told the waiter with a smile. The server took your menu and nodded before heading back to the kitchen area. 
Spencer sipped his wine quietly and you felt a sudden boost of confidence come over you. “So,” you started, “I want to know more about the famous and mysterious Spencer Reid.” 
He tilted his head in curiosity, setting his wine glass down on the table and resting his chin on his hand. “What do you want to know?”
“Oh, you know,” you said, swirling the wine around in your glass, “where you grew up, about your family, maybe some tidbits about your past.” 
Spencer considered this request for a moment, nodding slowly. “Okay,” he started, clearing his throat. “I grew up in Vegas. My parents split up when I was pretty young. I never had any siblings.” 
You nodded, soaking in the information as you took a sip of your wine. “So, why the FBI? Why the BAU?” 
“My mother always told me I could do whatever I wanted. I had multiple degrees by age twenty. The FBI found me. I was lucky enough to be picked up by the BAU.” He narrowed his eyes in thought, turning his head to stare out the window, “Especially after my Mom got sick, I never had a real family experience. The BAU became my family.” 
You smiled at the sentiment, reaching across the table and covering his hand with your own. He looked away from the window, eyes a bit glazed as you rubbed a thumb over the back of his hand. “They’re lucky to have you,” I said with a nod. 
Spencer gave a thoughtful smile, but as he was about to respond the waiter arrived at the table with your plates. You surveyed the dishes in front of you and when you looked back up, Spencer was still looking at you. “So, what do you think of the pasta?” he asked. 
You picked up your fork, twirling it on the plate and raising the fork to your mouth. “It’s wonderful,” you said with an enthusiastic look, “however, it’s not as good as yours.”
Spencer raised an eyebrow, “You mean that?” 
You nodded. “This might be good, but it’s not authentic Italian cuisine from the Reid kitchen, inspired by some mystery FBI agent!” you joked. Spencer laughed, a genuine laugh that caused him to throw his head back. 
His curls fell gently in his eyes when he straightened his head up. Spencer brushed them out of the way, offering you a look at his lovely brown eyes. He took a bite of his pasta and gave a thumbs up in approval, washing it down with a sip of his wine. You stared at him closely, examining every feature you could in the warm lighting. It was the first time that you noticed a small scar on the side of his neck. 
“What’s that?” you asked, pointing to the spot on your own neck as you stared at the scar. Spencer reached his hand up, brushing some of his hair out of the way as he felt the place you were referring to. “Oh, I-” he stuttered, “I got shot once.” 
You raised an eyebrow, nearly spitting out your wine. Spencer shrugged. “Crazy things happen when you work for the Bureau. I’m sure you can imagine.” 
You narrowed your eyes at him. “I can imagine,” you repeated, swirling your pasta on your fork. “However, I think it would be more fun if you’d just show me.”
Spencer raised an eyebrow. “What are you asking?” he said as he took a sip of his wine.
You leaned across the table, a surge of confidence driving your movements. “I’m asking to see all your scars, Dr. Reid,” you said lowly. “I’d love to know all your secrets.” He furrowed his brow as if confused before the true meaning of your words soaked in. 
“Well,” he said, setting his glass back on the table and removing the napkin from his lap. “I’d be happy to show you everything,” Spencer whispered. “Just, not here.” 
You giggled, tilting your head to the side in curiosity. “Does that mean you know a place?” you asked. 
He smiled, offering a shy nod. “I’d say so.” With that, Spencer hailed the waiter and quickly paid the bill for both of you before rising from the table. You allowed him to lead you out of the restaurant and back to his car. He opened the passenger door for you before walking around and sliding into the driver’s seat, firing up the engine. 
You toyed with the hem of your dress in anticipation. Though you’d already slept with Spencer once, you couldn’t help but feel a touch nervous. His implication from your previous night together echoed in your head: “There’s lots for you to learn, if you’re interested.”
After you arrived back to his apartment building, Spencer led you on to the elevator. The short ride up to his floor was completed in absolute silence. You glanced at Spencer, who was gently tapping his foot against the elevator’s floor, no doubt impatient to get back to his place. 
Entering Spencer’s apartment, you were struck by how clean it was. “Are you sure you weren’t expecting a guest this evening?” you asked, narrowing your eyes at him. 
He slipped out of his suit jacket with a shrug. “Maybe I just wanted to be prepared in case a beautiful woman like yourself was kind enough to share the evening with me,” he said. You blushed at his words, turning your back to him in hopes to conceal the deep shade of crimson spreading across your cheeks. 
Spencer finished hanging his jacket on a hook by the door and you could hear his footsteps approaching from behind you. You turned to face him as he wraps his arms around your waist. You rested your hands on his shoulders, holding him in place. “What do you think you’re doing?” you asked playfully. 
“I’ve been thinking about this for days,” he mumbled, leaning in for a kiss. His lips were soft at first, nearly exploratory, like he was unsure what to do next. However, he quickly found his rhythm, sliding a hand up your back to tangle in your hair as you stumbled backward into the nearest wall. 
He held you there, using your position against the wall to hold himself close to you, enjoying the small gasps and deep sighs that escaped from your lips as he removed his mouth from yours and began his pursuit down your body. His hands reached under the hem of your sweater, as he pulled it over your head and dropped in on the floor next to you before he continued his movements. Spencer’s lips traced a line down your neck before he dropped to his knees in front of you, simultaneously loosening the tie around his neck and tossing it on to the couch behind him. 
“What are you doing?” you asked, genuinely confused as you raised an eyebrow at him. 
Spencer ran his hands up your legs, pushing your skirt up over the apex of your thighs as you leaned back against the wall. “I’m getting my dessert,” he mumbled. 
Your mouth dropped open, a combination of his idea and his words catching you by surprise. “Here?! Against the living room wall?” you asked incrediously. 
Your shock seemed to pull Spencer back to reality as he looked up at you and laughed. He pulled his hands from your legs and positioning them at the hem of your skirt, “Sweetheart, we’re going to do everything on every inch of this apartment before the semester’s over.” With that, he pulled your skirt and underwear down in one movement, leaving your lower half completely bare before him. 
He tapped your thigh with his index finger. “Up,” he said. You did as you were told, picking your foot up off the ground. Spencer put his hand on the back of your thigh, lifting it up and placing your leg over his shoulder. Before you could register what was happening, he leaned forwards, burying his face in between your legs. 
You immediately moaned as he focused his attention on your clit, causing you to arch your back off the wall. He reached one hand up to hold your hips in place, while he used the other to trace your slit before sliding it into you. Spencer leaned back at that moment, watching your face as you fell apart in front of him. 
“How does it feel?” he asked, always intent on making sure you were enjoying yourself. 
“A-amazing,” you groaned. Satisfied with your answer, he slid another finger into you before continuing to lap at your core. 
You could feel the tightness in your lower stomach increasing with each movement he made, and you reached down to grip a handful of his brown curls. “I’m close,” you whined. Spencer didn’t respond, keeping up his movements and increasing the pressure he placed on your clit. The increased pressure along with the motion of his fingers inside you drove you over the edge, and you let out a loud moan as you came. Spencer, ever the gentleman, stayed in his place until you were finished. You gave his curls a final tug, letting him know you were completely finished before he relented, pulling away from you. 
Your legs shook as you tried to maintain your balance. Spencer wrapped an arm around your waist and guided you to the couch, allowing you to lay down to catch your breath. He sat down on the coffee table next to you, smoothing your hair away from your face. 
“How was your dessert?” you asked. 
Spencer laughed, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Great, I had my favorite.” You leaned your head back, letting out a satisfied sigh before your purpose in all this popped back into your head. You quickly sat up from the couch, putting yourself at eye level with Spencer who remained perched on the coffee table. 
“I believe you promised to show me all your secrets, Doctor,” you said with a sly smile. Spencer sighed, rising from the coffee table and undoing the buttons of his dress shirt. 
He slipped the shirt off his shoulders, discarding it on a nearby chair along with his dress pants before standing before you in only his boxers. You took note of the many scars dotting his figure, letting out a sigh. Spencer caught you staring, raising an eyebrow at you. “What are you looking at?” he asked. 
You looked him in the eye. “You’ve had a rough life, Spencer Reid.”
He looked down at you thoughtfully, his dark eyes glimmering mischeviously in the dim light of his living room. “Maybe so, but I think I’m doing okay right now.” He leaned in to kiss you, this one much more passionate than the last. You let his tongue slip between your lips, exploring your mouth as you moaned into the kiss, the excitement of what was to come making your lower stomach tighten. 
“I’m about to be doing even better,” he whispered as he took your hand and led you down the hallway to his bedroom. When the door swung open, you were greeted by the familiar dark wood of his bed frame and the low light that shone throughout the green walls. 
The two of you stumbled back on to the bed, similar to the first night you’d been together. Thankfully already free of your clothes, Spencer climbed on top of you, reaching a gentle hand behind your back to unclasp your bra as you cast it aside on to the floor. He bent down, capturing one of your nipples in his mouth as you groaned out. You ran a hand through his hair as he seemed to enjoy himself, sucking hickeys into your chest as he moved to the other side. 
After a moment, he stopped, crawling up so you were face to face. “I saw you staring in class today,” he whispered, leaning down to suck a dark mark into your neck. 
“You expect me not to?” you asked, struggling to form words as his stubble tickled your jaw and his hot breath splayed over your neck. He looked up at you through his lashes, your heart burst as you soaked in his dark brown eyes. “You look at me like that, and you don’t want me to be distracted?” 
Spencer smiled at you. “I know how easy it is to lose focus,” he murmured. “I have to teach with you in the room every day. You think it’s simple for me?” He pulled back from you, rising from the bed and pulling his boxers off, leaving him fully bare in front of you. 
Spencer reached for his dresser drawer, where you knew from your previous rendezvous that he kept his stash of condoms. In another surge of confidence, you sat up from your position, holding out an arm to stop him from opening the drawer. He looked at you with confusion, before he understood what you were implying. “A-are you sure?” he asked, a bit wary of the idea himself. 
“I’m on the pill. We’re both clean,” you listed. Spencer considered this for a moment before nodding, getting back to his previous thoughts. 
He climbed back on to the bed, pressing a passionate kiss to you lips as he wrapped your legs around his hips. “You think it’s fun for me to stand in front of the class and drone on and on about things I’ve had memorized for fifteen years?” Spencer pulled back, expecting a reply. You simply shook your head at him, eyes wide and mouth hanging open, mesmerized by his words. 
“No,” he said firmly, “you’re right. It’s not fun.” With that, he reaching between the two of you, lining himself up with your core before quickly pushing himself all the way in. The groan that left your lips was nearly animalistic, and Spencer swallowed the sound with another kiss. 
His pace was slow at first, his thrusts calculated and evenly timed, allowing you to get used to the feeling oncemore. After a minute, you couldn’t take it anymore. You wanted him to ruin you. “More,” you gasped out, “I need more.”
Spencer shook his head, pulling back from you and throwing your legs over his shoulders, nearly folding you in half as he continued to pound into you at a faster pace. You could feel yourself getting close, and your orgasm was fast approaching when Spencer slowed his pace again. You almost cried out in frustration when he began speaking again. 
“Every day I walked in that lecture hall, and every day I’d have to see you there,” he said, punctuating certain words with particularly sharp thrusts of his hips. Your nails dug into his back as he continued to speak, his forehead pressed firmly against yours. “Do you know what I thought about each time I saw you?” he asked. 
You shook your head, hoping that the right answers would encourage him to reward you with an orgasm. He tucked his head into your neck as he continued driving into you. “I watched you walk in, set down your things,” Spencer murmured. “Then I had to watch you adjust that little skirt you wear, and all I could think of…” his pace picked up again, your moans nearly drowning out his final statement, “was how I’d rather bend you over the nearest desk instead.”
You nodded in quick agreement with everything he said. He reached between the two of you, rewarding your enthusiastic response by drawing tight circles on your clit as he examined your face. Sweat had developed on his brow, and a few stray curls stuck to his forehead. Spencer looked like a man starved, chasing some high he wasn’t quite ready to reach. “I bet you’d like that, huh? You want me to let everyone go early so I can have a private lesson with my star student?” 
You continued to nod, too fucked out and eager to reach your high to even consider the potential implications of what you were agreeing to. Spencer smiled down at you, an evil smirk on his face as he continued his movements. Your legs were shaking from the force of his thrusts and your impending orgasm. You were so close, you just needed something more to push you over the edge.
In a move you never would have expected, Spencer reached his free hand up to your throat. You stretched your neck out in an effort to show you consent. A wicked grin passed over his face as he tightened his hand, constricting your air as he offered you a final harsh thrust and emptied himself inside of you. His final words did you in: “You’re such a good fucking girl.”
With Spencer’s final utterance, the tension that had been building in you finally snapped. You came fast and hard, crying out his name into the otherwise relative quiet of his bedroom as his hips stilled inside of you. You shut your eyes, taking deep breaths in an attempt to gain your composure as Spencer laid on top of you, pressing soft kisses to your cheek. 
After a moment, Spencer pulled out of you, a shudder leaving your body as you tried to adjust to the emptiness. He sat up on the side of the bed, looking back at your bare figure laying on display for him. The sheen of sweat that coated both of you was evident in the low light of the room as you let out a nervous laugh. “That was-” you stuttered, not able to finish your thought. 
Spencer looked at you, brows furrowed. “Great? Terrible?” he asked, his dominate facade crumbling as you caught of tinge of concern in his voice. 
“Amazing,” you whispered, offering him a small yet sincere smile. The two of you sat in silence for a minute before he rose from the bed, offering you a hand. “Where are we going?” you ask. 
“No bath this evening, since it’s quite late,” he said, glancing at the clock, “but I think we both could use a quick shower before we go to bed.” You took his hand with a shy smile as he led you back to his bathroom, warming up the shower as you sat on the edge of the sink. 
You thought about the words he’d uttered minutes before, wondering if he had meant what he said about the lecture hall. “Did you mean what you said?” you asked. 
“About what?” he said, turning back from the shower to face you. 
“About watching me in the lecture hall… and about the… other stuff you want to do,” you said shyly, a deep blush settling into you cheeks. 
Spencer approached you, leaning on the bathroom counter with his arms on either side of your legs, caging you in. He rested his forehead against yours, his eyes on yours offering an unwavering gaze. “Every word,” he said. “Which means,” Spencer pulled away from you, helping you step down from the counter and holding the shower curtain open for you, “that you, my star student, should stay after class when I dismiss early next week.” 
As your jaw dropped, Spencer landed a playful smack on your ass before climbing in the shower behind you, closing the curtain. This man will be the death of me, you thought.
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de4dlyniightshade · 2 months
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Was doing my psych hw last night thinking about how professor!Spencer would 10000% help u with your psychology work for his class … and maybe dick warm with u for a little motivation 🥹🥹
omfg absolutely.
i can also imagine him asking you to stay behind if you were struggling with something, patting his lap for you to sit so he can explain it to you all sweetly, a complete contradiction to the way he's gripping your hips and pulling you down onto his hardening length, forcing you to grind on him until he doesn't have to, watching as you grind yourself on him, gripping the edge of his desk as you whimpered his name.
he'd ask you all condescendingly if you want him inside just to hear you beg him pathetically before he lifted you just enough to pull your skirt up over your ass and undo his pants, tugging them down and pushing your underwear to the side before guiding himself into you, pushing in all at once and holding you there, forcing you to take all of him, the sound of you letting out little whimpers making him coo at you, brushing your hair off your shoulder to press a kiss there, his hands running up and down your waist soothingly.
"when you get it right, you'll get a reward, how does that sound?" he murmured into your ear, smiling to himself as you nodded quickly, already fucked out just from him being inside you.
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goldentournesol · 2 years
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The Love Hypothesis (Eight)
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(Spencer Reid x f!Reader)
Series Masterlist
General Masterlist
A/N: this fic is ending soon :( i’m not ready
The words on the small screen bled into each other slowly as she stared at them. Her heart was beating too fast, her throat was working too slow to deal with the rapid drying of her mouth. The short breaths came too quick until her knees couldn’t keep her up anymore. She hit the mattress with a thud, clutching her phone tightly to her chest. 
“Y/N/N, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” Kira rushed to her side, taking a seat beside her on the bed.
Mark quickly got her a glass of water and she sipped on it. A few moments later, Y/N gathered her scattered sanity and looked at Kira.
“I need to tell you something, but I don’t want you to get mad.” She took a deep breath, bracing herself.
“What’s going on? You’re scaring me.” Kira grabbed Y/N’s hand in her own and squeezed it reassuringly.
“None of this is real. Spencer and I aren’t really dating and we aren’t in love.” Y/N said, her voice wobbly.
Kira scoffed, “The hell you aren’t. I’ve seen the way he looks at you and the way you look at him.”
Y/N shook her head, “I uh…I mean, well yes, I may have some...big feelings for him, but none of that was supposed to happen.”
“I don’t understand what you mean. Did you know about this?” Kira glanced at Mark, who stood before them.
“Yes. Okay, here’s the deal. Y/N and Reid aren’t actually dating. They were fake dating because Y/N wanted to convince you that she was over Andrew--which she was never really interested in him anyway, but you wouldn’t believe her. So, she lied and told you that she was dating Reid so that you could finally date Andrew in peace. I’m not sure what Reid’s getting out of it--I forgot to ask.” Mark rambled, explaining what she now realizes is a very ridiculous circumstance. There was a beat of uncomfortable silence while Kira was processing the information. 
She very slowly turned to Y/N, “What?” she asked. “You fake dated Spencer Reid? Spencer. Fucking. Reid.”
Y/N cleared her throat and nodded. Kira suddenly burst into laughter, standing and putting her hands on her thighs to brace herself.
“This can’t be real life. No, this is a movie with D-list actors! Or...or a poorly written fanfiction!” She exclaimed.
“I’m sorry I lied to you, Kira…I didn’t think--”
“But you’ve kissed him! In front of the campus coffee shop when he disarmed that student!”
“Only because you forced me to--”
“But you sat in his lap in the lecture hall! And--and tended to his wounds and kissed him again--”
“Again because you forced me to, are we sensing a pattern here or what?”
Kira gulped and shook her head in disbelief, “I can’t believe this…you guys--you just made so much sense together. I thought it was so romantic because he had this reputation of being such a badass FBI agent but in reality he’s a sweetheart and you’re just so shy so I thought I was encouraging you to express your feelings. I never thought--gosh, I feel horrible!”
“Wait, you’re not mad at me?” Y/N said, her eyes big with wonder.
“Mad at you? No, if anything I’m mad at myself for making you do those things.” Kira frowned and pulled her in for a hug, “I do, however, think that this was a misguided, reckless decision on your part and frankly a little idiotic, but you’re my idiot and I love you. I’m truly flattered you’d do that for me. We’ll need to talk about this way more, but for now you still need to tell Reid about what happened with Carter. You were verbally harassed and sexually assaulted and you have audio proof. If the situation were reversed and something happened to Spencer, you’d want to know, right?” She had a point there.
Y/N sighed a deep, guttural sigh and shook her head as if to clear her thoughts. There was no way she could continue this fake relationship with Spencer. Not when it looked like she was sleeping her way up to the top. She was just starting her career in academia--three years is nothing in the long run. She can’t start it like this…no matter how much she loved Spencer. Besides, he doesn’t even need her anymore. His funds were unfrozen and he can start researching. The grant he needed was already there. After explaining to them why Spencer agreed to fake date her, it seemed ridiculous in hindsight.
About a half hour later, Mark and Kira had to leave to attend a talk they were both interested in--Y/N had so much on her mind that it was practically impossible to feign interest in the topic. They didn’t push her to join, thankfully. Despite her loss of appetite, she made sure to eat more of the breakfast that had been sent whenever she started feeling dizzy from her thoughts. 
After forcing herself to wash her face and try to look presentable, she went down to the lobby and browsed around the convention. Small tables were lined up with people conducting and presenting all different kinds of research. It was endlessly fascinating what the human brain could come up with and it was such a shame that her spirits were so low. She would have reveled in discussing topics with fellow researchers, no matter how far their interests deviated. 
It was relatively easy to kill time until she got the text from Spencer that he’d finished his meetings and rejoiced at the fact that he’d (finally) managed to send her his location without instructions. The location was a quaint restaurant near the hotel he had the meetings at. 
A short Uber ride later and there he was, sat at a round table with red cloth and a charming candlelit centerpiece. Her heart squeezed in her chest more with each step she took to follow the host to where he was. 
His face broke out into a grin as soon as he saw her, “Hey, you made it.” His smile was blinding and it shattered her.
She halfheartedly smiled when he squeezed her hand in greeting as she took her seat across from him. One squeeze and she pulled away, resorting to hiding her fidgeting hands under the table. If he thought her behavior was strange, his expression didn’t let on.
“How did your meetings go?” She stammered her way through the question, eager to get his attention onto anything else but her.
He shrugged, “Boring, standard meetings with higher-ups. I don’t remember people in academia being so pretentious when I was getting my degrees.” He quipped, the corners of his mouth raising. He seemed to be in a good mood. She hated to be the one to ruin it, so she stalled. They engaged in more small talk, but mostly she focused on trying not to bring the mood down.
But halfway through dinner, Spencer visibly tensed at her reserved behavior. Of course he’d noticed, nothing could get past him. He had let it slide, knowing that the day before had been difficult for her, but nothing he was saying was cheering her up. He couldn’t even get a smile to reach her eyes and it made concern pool in his gut. 
After watching her toss a pea back and forth with a fork, he finally asked, “Is everything okay?”
Her heart got caught in her throat and no amount of swallowing could get rid of it, so she nodded and smiled a little. But Spencer, ever the profiler, saw right through her.
“It’s about the funds being released, isn’t it?” He was naively hoping that she’d forget about it--or pretend like it wasn’t a part of their deal. She released a sigh and her shoulders deflated, even if he wasn’t actively reading her body language he could tell that she didn’t want to have to talk about this.
“Our time is up. We made a deal. We both got what we wanted out of this…arrangement.” She was speaking pragmatically, trying her best to remove her feelings from the equation as if that made it any easier. She was made aware of what everyone thought of this relationship, and it was easy to say that people’s opinions of her didn’t matter, but in reality they did. She wanted to succeed in academia because of her hard work. Panic slid its way through her veins as she thought back to yesterday’s events and shivered slightly when she remembered the feeling of Carter’s slimy hands on her.
A certain emotion she couldn’t place passed over Spencer’s face a split second before a mask of indifference took its place, “Right…you’re right.” 
His posture stiffened as he recognized the extent to which he’d lost his objectivity. He’d fallen for this woman. Hard. And now she was pretending like none of what they’ve been through ever mattered. He couldn’t show his emotions, but something deep, deep down in his gut felt off. His gut was always right. She wasn’t being genuine, her tells were too obvious but he didn’t push.
“I think it’s time we…uh, ‘break up’, which is a weird thing to say considering we were never actually together. But yeah, people will stop seeing us together and they’ll eventually think that things didn’t work out and there will be something new they can gossip about,” She shrugged like it was no big deal, but her shaking leg under the table told him otherwise. Spencer cast a cursory glance over the restaurant just to check that no one was using her to mess with him, just out of habit, and he found nothing.
 “I’m so, so happy for you for finally being able to research non-pharmacological treatments methods for schizophrenia. And I want to thank you, for all you’ve done for me. All the dinners, the coffees, the moral support…” she paused, her eyes stinging and welling up with tears, “and just in general, everything. Thank you and I’m sorry. I really have to go right now.” She picked up a tissue from the table because she would unfurl into a sobbing mess as soon as she stepped foot outside the restaurant.
“Y/N,” he said softly, concern growing more in his chest with each second, “if you need anything, really, anything at all, please don’t hesitate to reach out to me. I will always be there for you.” He reminded her softly.
On her way out, she selfishly tipped his head up to her new height and allowed their lips to meet for a few seconds. One last kiss. Before she left the man who owned her heart in the middle of a restaurant in a strange city.
---
Spencer never came back to the hotel she was staying at, where the convention was being held. She didn’t know for sure, but she assumed he’d stayed at the hotel where his meetings were held. Today was the last day in Boston, it had been exactly two days since she’d broken up with Spencer. Her days consisted of alternating between crying and convincing herself she was okay enough to converse with other humans. She thankfully didn’t have to stay far from home for much longer, but the overwhelming sadness was becoming too much to bear.
“You don’t look too good,” Kira said, affectionately grabbing her shoulder after she had spent the last 10 minutes conversing with another grad student from Oxford University at one of the many tables in the conference hall. Their research was similar and the other student offered some insight on what research was like in the UK and if it was any different. At least that’s what Y/N had caught from the conversation. She’d been living inside her own head and on her face was a permanent stony expression.
Y/N shook her head and whispered, “I-I can’t do this, I’m sorry. I thought I could try and be normal but I can’t.” Kira’s face crumpled in sympathy, but she didn’t want that anymore. All she wanted was completely off limits.
Devastation was hard to explain to someone who hasn’t felt it the way you have. Sure, everyone’s experienced some sort of it, but none like your own. Y/N’s devastation was unique only to her. Her annihilation was of her own doing, which only ruined her further. She could only helplessly follow Kira as she led her outside to a quiet courtyard. There was the sound of the soothing trickling of water from the fountain before them.
“Talk to me, tell me what’s wrong.” Kira spoke softly as Y/N gripped the bench where they were sitting. 
She took a shaky breath, “I feel…I feel like I can’t breathe right. I feel like I want to cry. I feel like I might never be happy in another relationship after him. I feel like I will never stop wanting to be with him. And…I can’t help but feel like breaking up with him was the worst thing I could have done.” A small sob escaped her as she confessed. She expected to feel lighter, but she didn’t.
“Keep going.” Kira prompted with a nod. She was always a good listener. Y/N’s fingertips hurt from gripping the bench so hard.
“I feel like some moments between us were real. At first it all began as a ruse to fool you and to fool the board. And it was so awkward at the beginning, believe me. But afterwards, it all came naturally. Being with him felt so natural, kind of how you don’t even think of breathing…it just happens. It just happened with Spencer. I didn’t have to think about it anymore. Eventually, I was kissing him because I wanted to, not because I wanted anyone to see us kissing. I wanted to hold his hand,” she choked on another small sob, “I wanted him to hug me. I wanted to tell him stupid little jokes to see his eyes roll before he’d counter with an even stupid-er joke. God--sorry, that’s so cheesy.” She hastily wiped her tear striped cheeks with the backs of her hands before tilting her head up to the sky and focusing on her breathing.
“Don’t be sorry, Y/N/N. You’re heartbroken and in love. You deserve to want those things, you deserve to have them.”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever love anyone the same way again.” Y/N confessed, the tears leaking out like a faucet at this point, gravity taking them into her hairline as she rested her head against the back of the bench.
“What if you don’t have to?” Kira asked.
“What do you mean?” Y/N sniffled.
“What if you don’t have to love anyone else? Why’d you break up with him? How do you know he doesn’t feel the same way?” Kira’s questions felt like they were on their way to open a can of feelings she didn't really want to open. Y/N hesitated to answer before she sat upright and stared off into the distance.
“You don’t understand, if he doesn’t feel the same way, I would be beyond devastated. I’m just protecting myself. I don’t want to be the student that slept her way to the top. I want to earn it. And I feel so shaken up over the whole thing with Carter.” She explained, mostly to herself than to Kira.
“I get that, hun, what happened absolutely sucks, but you’re devastated now. How protected do you feel?” Kira asked and it felt like a jab in Y/N’s side, enough to make her chuckle a bit.
“Not at all.” She huffed in response.
“What did he say to you when you broke it off?”
“He…he told me that he would be there for me no matter what. And that I could always reach out to him.” Thankfully the tears have stopped, but the heaviness in her chest remained.
“Alright, let’s look at it from a different angle. The man has what--two PhD’s?”
“Three…and two BA’s.” Y/N provided.
“Okay, so we know he’s a scientist and scientists value proof. What else was he? An FBI agent. Not just any FBI agent, no. He was part of the BAU. You know, the people who analyze behavior for a living?? He has like over 15 years of experience in the FBI, you know what that means? It means he values justice. And we know he cares about you, enough to insist that if you ever needed him you could reach out. Guess what, Y/N? You need him.”
Y/N shook her head, “I don’t understand what you mean.”
“I mean you need to tell him about what went down with Carter. You have hard evidence. You’ll feel less guilty over what happened and he’ll be able to help. Who’s better to have by your side?” She reasoned.
She was right, Y/N knew it. But she was still so ashamed and felt so guilty that those thoughts overrode anything else. Exhaling heavily and bouncing her knee, she ran through what would happen if and when she told him.
“You’re right, but…I don’t even know where he is--if he’s here or if he’s back in DC. I can’t exactly just call him up and ask him where he is.” Y/N moved onto the next phase of fidgeting and started picking at her nails.
“Well…does he use an online calendar or something?” Kira asked and Y/N shook her head.
“No, he doesn’t really need reminders for events. Although he can be a little bit scatterbrained at times, it wouldn’t hurt to use a calendar.” Y/N nervously rambled.
“You know who might have his location?” Y/N looked at Kira curiously, “Remember when I helped out this redhead, Kristen, track down a bunch of participants for her to interview in like our first year of grad school? Yeah, she’s the secretary of the psych department’s chair now and should know about the professors’ schedules. She owes me one. I can cash it in right now.” Kira raised her brows in an offer.
“You would do that for me?” Y/N stared at her.
“Please, you fake dated a professor and fell in love with him by accident for me, it’s the least I could do.” She laughed slightly, already tapping away at her phone. 
A short phone call with Kristen later and a few minutes where they allowed her to check for any emails or reminders from Spencer and his location was sent.
He was at a dinner with a few professors from Princeton. And she absolutely had to go see him before she lost any steam.
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ifrneedalife · 7 months
Text
Sweater talk
Professor Spencer Reid x shy fem student reader
Summary: every class reader notices her professor’s cute sweaters, so one day she decides to ask him where he gets them.
Warnings: um age gap (readers is above 20 and Spencer is below 40) probably bad writing, but literally just fluff and it’s short
-btw I know he wears suits more when he’s a professor but lets just pretend that he doesn’t:)
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One of the many things she loved about her professor, had to be his adorable sweaters.
Or rather, just his outfits in general.
She really wanted to ask where he gets them, but was always to scared to ask.
But now it being the last day of the semester, she built up the courage to do it.
“Okay, that’s the end of this semester.” Professor Reid smiles, “I hope you all have a good summer, and have a good rest of your day.” Everyone thanks him before grabbing their things and leaving.
When they all leave, Spencer goes to his desk to collect his things.
This being her cue, she quickly stuffs her things in her bag, before walking over to his desk.
She shuffles her feet back and forth when he doesn’t look up, “um… sir?”
Dr Reid looks up, “oh! Hello Y/n.” He smiles gently at her, “sorry I didn’t see you there, can I help you with anything?”
“I-It’s nothing important sir… I just wanted to thank you for everything.” She pauses. “And….” She looks down and fiddles with the hem of her own sweater
“Yes?” He asks softly, not wanting to scare her away
He knows she shy, always sitting in the back of class, never asking questions.
“Wheredoyougetyoursweaters?” She asks quickly,
He blinks, almost not catching what she said, “you want to know where I get my sweaters?”
She nods, making a smile creep onto his face.
“Sorry if that’s weird. It’s just I really like them, a-and want some myself.” She explains,
“No no! Nothing weird about it, I promise.” He smiles reassuringly, “But hm.. I get most of my sweaters from thrift stores since they’re cheaper there.”
“Oh okay… thank you.” She smiles
“No problem.” He smiles back, But them clears his throat and blushes. “Um maybe… we could go look at some thrift stores… together? Oh course only if you want to! No pressure at all!” He waves his hands.
Her eyes are wide, “um l-like a date?”
His blush seems to deepen, “yes as a date.”
She smiles up at him, “i’d love to.”
He smiles and laughs giddily, “really? O-okay… how about next Sunday?” He asks while scribbling his number down on a piece of paper, before handing it to her.
She takes it and nods, “that’s perfect.”
“Great! I’ll see you then.” He smiles
“Yup.” She smiles again, “well goodbye-“ she waves, “have a good day.”
“You too y/n.” He waves goodbye
She leaves with a skip in her step, and a smile that won’t seem to leave. While he can’t believe the girl he’s liked since the beginning of the year actually said yes to go on a date with him.
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