#professor spencer reid | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

reiderwriter · 8 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!

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.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid smut #criminal minds fanfiction #mgg #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader smut #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x oc #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid criminal minds #dr spencer reid #criminal minds fic #criminal minds smut #professor spencer reid

2K notes · View notes

forhappysake · 3 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)

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.

348 notes · View notes

0anonnymouslyours0 · 1 year

Text

request: parent teacher conferences, reader with her hand on spencers thigh, inching closer to his yk

😋

warnings; readers a tease, kissing, thigh touching, and professor!spencer ( my personal fav )

spencer can't even put together a sentence, stuttering out random words to your parents, whom sit across the table. a concerned expression dawns there features as they wonder why the professor, who is supposed to be the best in his field, can barely string together a few words.

they would know, if the leaned over the the four seater table. they would see your hand creeping up spencers thigh, occasionally squeezing it teasingly. as a result of this, spencer was flushed and a obvious bulge was contained in his pants. your finger slipped up higher, tracing slightly over it, and spencer inhaled sharply.

"are you alright professor?" your mother asks.

"yes, uh, quite a-alright." he answers, running a hand through his hair.

your father frowns.

"maybe we should cut the meeting short? come back another time?" he suggests.

"yes, you don't seem to be feeling quite well." your mother adds.

"are you feeling alright, sir?" you ask, faux concern in your voice.

spencers jaw tightens and the honorific, something that you only said in your.. private time, or when you were very purposely teasing him. like now.

"yes, right. it was nice to meet you both, you can talk to my assistant outside about another time. y/n, could i speak to you about your paper for a minute?"

your parents nod, leaving the room, and you and spencer.

spencer gets up, crossing to his desk, you following behind him. he hands you your paper, pointing to the notes at the bottom of the page. not a word is uttered, and for a moment you wonder if you've pushed him too far.

"next time, it won't be you who's being a tease." he hisses into your ear, leaning down to brush away stray hairs.

he presses a quick kiss to your neck, in the spot that he knows makes you melt, before hurrying you out the door.

your left feeling unsatisfied, heat burning between your thighs, and your head spinning with what spencer was going to do next.

1K notes · View notes

de4dlyniightshade · 3 months

Note

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.

#📬 maeve's mailbox!#spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds fandom #spencer reid fandom #dr spencer reid #mgg #spencer reid criminal minds #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid smut #spencer reid drabble #criminal minds smut #criminal minds drabble #professor spencer reid

254 notes · View notes

sixofpomegranates · 2 years

Note

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.)

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)

"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."

2K notes · View notes

ddaz3d-and-cc0nfused · 1 year

Text

DAY TWO: Stress w/ Professor!Spencer Reid

a/n: Yes, this is another late post, but hey, it was posted, so whatever! This can be seen as a continuation/a drabble of the couple in the oneshot 'Me & My Husband' :]

masterlist | comfortember masterlist | AO3

TAGLIST: @alina02 @louderfortheback

Spencer's passion to be the best professor he can be for his students was admirable, but an as equally stressful task as well. He was constantly organized and energetic, making sure that no kid's assignment was left ungraded, and as sure as hell no one was failing, not on his watch. Sometimes, he forgot about himself, and that's where you'd come in. Like tonight, where you found him hunched over a bunch of papers, unruly curly hair threaded between his fingers as he took deep breaths.

"Spence?" You said softly, placing a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, but instantly relaxed under the weight of your hand. "What're you doing here, I thought you went home already." He said tiredly, rubbing some of the exhaustion out of his eyes. You shook your head no with a sad smile on your face, "Mm, I was waiting for my husband, but consider me surprised when I found myself waiting in our car for over an hour." He let out an airy but guilty laugh. "I'm sorry, I just — I just have a few more tests to grade before we can go." A few meant possibly hundreds, depending on how fast he was going.

Yes, he used to be able to read super fast, and even have an eidetic memory, but as he has gotten older, his brain doesn't run as fast as it used to. You knew he hated it, even though it served him well in his early years of teaching.

"How about you stop where you're at now, and we go to bed as soon as we get home?" You suggested, running your hands up and down his shoulders, crawling down his back. You felt the shivers run up his spine, his body slumping as he finally let the many sleepless nights catch up to him. "But I—" He tried to argue. "Nope, no excuses. I don't know what I would do if I allowed you to tug your hair out until you go bald. Why else would I have married you?" You teased as you began to pack up his stuff. "Oh really?" He asked with a small smile on his face.

"Really."

648 notes · View notes

hermionewrites · 8 months

Text

Freudian Slip

summary: a slip of the tongue leads to a meet cute. warnings: none. genre: fluff. a/n: if you saw this before, no you didn’t. i had to delete my account and make a new one. word count: 667

“Do you know where I could find the linguistics lecture halls?” The brunette asked the front desk with a small and slightly awkward smile as the woman sat with pinched brows glared at her for her intrusion. “I’m the new linguistics professor.” She explained but was met with another cool glare.

“Go through the double doors, take three lefts and a right then through those double doors there should be a big sign that says linguistics on it.” She says boredly and the slow clacking of her laptop keys starts up again.

“Thanks.” She drawled out with pursed lips and began to follow the instructions that the receptionist had given her, all while following the yellow arrows on the walls and above the doors. The arrows were painted on the walls above the doorways leading the way to there she was meant to be. Her pace picked up we she tried to get where she needed to be her gaze lowering to her feet taking her third left when suddenly she smacked into someone coming the opposite direction.

“I’m so sorry!” The words quickly stumbled out of her mouth as she grabbed onto the upper arms of the man she had just banged into face first trying to steady herself. In the commotion her glasses has been knocked off of her face and onto the floor. “Here.” The stranger said and handed them to her and she put them back onto her face. Oh, he was handsome, and strong according to the grip she had managed to get on his biceps just moments before. “And you’re forgiven, it was my fault really, I wasn’t looking where I was going.” He quickly rushed out and she took a step back getting a full look at the much taller man in front of her. He was wearing a suit, in a deep brown-green colour, the blazer with sewn in elbow patches, his hair wild around his face.

“No it was my fault, I don’t know where I’m going.” She countered with a small laugh and smoothed out her skirt awkwardly. “Where are you headed?” He asked. “The linguistics department, I’m a bit lost.” Looking over his shoulder at the door signs. “Could you show me how to get there?” Rocking on the balls of her feet she awaits his answer.

“Sure!” The mystery man says and walks quickly through the hallways, opening the doors for her on the way there and her giving thanks every time. The two walked in a comfortable silence as she tried to keep up with his exceptionally long legs. Then there they were as the receptionist had mentioned, the double doors with linguistics written above it.

“Thank you so much.” She expressed her gratitude and he turned on his heel and began to walk back the way they came. “Wait!” She shouted after him and walked back towards him. “I didn’t get your name.”

“Dr Spencer Reid.” He replied, “You?” He asked simply. “Dr Y/N Reid.” She felt her face heat up immediately after the mistake. “Reyes! Y/N Reyes.” She corrects and brings her hands up to cover her incredibly flushed face, the dread filling her body. The noise hit her ears next, his laugh. “Don’t look at me!” She said embarrassed and began to walk away quickly hiding her face as he kept laughing at her slip of the tongue and she scrunched her face up. “Stop looking at me!” She laughs.

“Call me.” He shouts down the hallway and registers her confused face. “Your pocket.” He explains and watches her hands dart down to her pocket and pull out a small white card with his name and number on. “Magic.” He says with a wave of his hand in front of his face before she can inquire. “Magicians are skeeves, you know!” She shouted before pushing the lecture hall doors open and letting them swing close before he could reply.

hope you enjoyed! please like <3

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x oc #fluff #meet cute #professor spencer reid #first fic #fanfic #ficlet #oneshot

124 notes · View notes

coolburgerphone · 2 months

Text

IM SO IN LOVE HELP

#professor spencer reid #spencer reid #dr spencer reid #silly guy #idk lol #spotify #criminal minds #matthew gray gubler #sedate me #i’m so in love with him #i need him #the songs are more about my daddy issues

22 notes · View notes

ssahopelessly · 10 months

Text

A tiktok made me realise this but:

I, personally, would hate Professor Dr. Spencer Reid’s classroom. Because I just KNOW that mf is NOT using powerpoint slides and expects YOU to just write notes on what you think is valuable.

Sincerely, a girlie who LOVED powerpoints in classroom environments that GAVE you the notes.

P. S. I know. “The slides aren’t meant to be your notes.” Okay? Then why are you putting so many words on there?

P. P. S. Yes, I actually did argue with a professor about this.

#spencer reid #professor spencer reid #criminal minds

28 notes · View notes

stairain · 1 year

Text

Yes, Professor.

Part 2 to “Bad Idea” -> What follows after a jealous argument between Professor Spencer and his student.

NSFW part 3

Warnings: Dom Spencer, Professor/Student relationship, 10+ year age gap (No defined ages, but reader is over 20, Spencer is under 40), strong power play/dynamic, the nickname “Little girl” is used many times, intimidation, praise, very rough sex, crying, choking, vaginal sex, blowjob, hair pulling, squirting, creampie, breeding, manhandling, degradation, slapping, handcuffs, backshots.

WC: 6.3K

You swallow at how intimidatingly sexy his aura is, and you look up at him with nothing but lust and love in your eyes. “And.. outside of work.. I’m yours?”

"Yes, that's right." Spencer replies confidently and seductively, as he nods his head. "Outside of work... you're all mine. Do you like that...? The thought that you can have me?" he asks teasingly, smiling a little bit. "The thought that you are mine... and only yours? Does it make your heart skip a beat?"

He moves his hand to play with the collar of your shirt, noticing the way your eyes follow whatever he does.

You nod almost immediately and your mouth opens in a pleasured sigh.

“Y-Yes, Sir.”

"The thought feels good, doesn't it...?"

He leans down closer to you, and his brows arch in faux curiosity, as if exploring this feeling right alongside you. His tone is filled with nothing but desire now.

"And.. what if I were to..."—He asks as he moves so he is leaning closer to you until he is practically on top of you— "Show you just how good it feels...?" He asks gently as he leans in.

"Would you like that... princess?" His breath grows even warmer as he speaks and you can see how his eyes are filled with nothing but love, lust, and passion.

You start breathing heavier and you feel your heart practically beating out of your chest as you look up at your Professor towering over you. You feel small, weak. But, you nod.

“I would love that.. Professor. I’m yours.”

"Say it for me, princess..." He says in a hushed voice, as if somewhere were listening.

"Say it.. say those words, so I know you really feel them."

Spencer's eyes are locked on yours and the look on his face tells you he'll be waiting until you say those words, no matter how long it takes. You swallow nervously.

“I’m yours, Professor. I belong to you and only you, forever.”

A look of pure ecstasy comes onto his face as you say those words like he's just received the best news of his life, like those words are truly beautiful.

"Yeah, that's right, isn’t it?"

He whispers into what thin space sits between the two of you, as he slowly, slowly moves in closer and makes sure to press his body to yours, as you feel his muscles right up against yours.

"Say it again, Angel.. Say that you're mine again."

You feel his hand snake to the back of your head and softly grab a fistful of hair, he doesn’t pull, just grips it in his strong palm, a ‘gentle’ reminder.

“I’m yours, Sir.” You moan out as you feel his strong chest pressing into you. He licks his lips at how absolutely wrecked you already sound.

"That's right, You belong to me.. and only to me, and no one else."

He adds again in that low, husky tone. His eyes continue to shine and he leans in. Your mouth falls open in a quiet moan as he finally pulls on your roots.

Spencer watches with a dark fog in his eyes at the way you react to the hair-pulling, and a devilish smirk creeps its way onto his face.

"Oh... does that feel good, princess? Does it feel good to know you belong to me?" He questions softly and yet still with a certain intensity to his voice and his eyes, as he leans in a little closer. "Does it feel better when I pull on this pretty little hair of yours...?"

“Yes, Professor.. It does. It feels so good belonging to you.. It feels so good to have your hands on me..”

You moan softly when his grip on you tightens, and you can feel his fist twist on your head. At your noises, you can feel him hardening underneath the coarse fabric of his dress pants. He could no doubt feel how soaked you were at this point, even though nothing has happened.

"Oh, sweetheart... I could never put into words just how much I love owning you, I'm not sure there are enough words in the English language to describe it..."

Spencer leans into your neck to press a wet kiss to it before leaning back looking softly and lovingly into your glassy eyes.

"You're my life... my entire world... Do you know that, princess? Do you have any idea how much I love you?" He twists his fist harder, and his grip tightens even more. "Can you understand that?"

“Show me how much you love me.. I think I need a little help understanding, Sir.”

You tease with a bratty smile on your face. A look of determination to get exactly what you want washes over your expression, and he’s quick to catch on.

"Is that so?" He asks, in that low, husky, passionate tone. That same tone that made you press your thighs together in arousal, the same one that was causing you to absolutely soak through the thin fabric of your underwear.

"I can help you understand, maybe not with words.. But, I can help you in other ways..."

“Yeah? How are you going to do that, Sir?”

"Well, I can think of a few ways I could show you..." he replies a little bit coyly... "If you're sure you want me to, because once I start to show you there's no going back. Are you ready for that?"

Despite the explicit nature of his inquiry, the soft, caring tone never left his voice. You nod your head the best you can with his hand in your hair.

“Yes, Sir. I promise I’m ready for it.”

"Good girl." His grip in your hair suddenly stops as he drops both of his hands to your waist. You’re maneuvered so you’re sitting on his lap, straddling him, and pressed right up against that rock solid bulge of his.

He slowly starts to kiss down your neck, a soft one. His lips are just barely brushing against your skin, like a feather. And yet, just one touch is enough to send chills down your spine and you know your professor is only going to get more passionate from here.

With his hands on your hips, you take the initiative to start rolling them, brushing your aching cunt over his hard cock. It was too bad there were many layers of clothing beneath you, but you swore you could see the damp marks of your arousal starting to stain his slacks.

"That's right... that's right, babygirl.. You’re doing so well" Spencer groans out at the feeling. "You feel so good... God do you feel good."

You moan louder at his praise, you could never get tired of it. All you wanted to do was please him, and be a good student for him. Your small body shakes in pleasure when he leans in and suddenly bites at the sensitive barren skin of your neck. Marks were the last thing you needed to keep this relationship a secret, but you knew you couldn’t say no to him.

You were his, you took that vow.

The rolling of your hips and the grinding of your pussy against him didn’t cease, and when he pulled away from your neck, panting, you know he wants you, needs you, as much as you wanted and needed him.

“Take off your shirt.”

Spencer says through his heavy breathing, he already looks disheveled, and you’d be lying if you said it didn't make your heart swell.

You reach for the bottom hem of your top and look up at him with teasing eyes as you expose your stomach to him.

“Like this?”

Spencer nods with blackened eyes as he watches you take your shirt off. He looks down at you and you see that same predatory look in his eyes right now.

"Yeah, just like that.. that's a good girl." He sighs in a deeply passionate tone "You can be good for me, right? Take the rest off for me."

You nod and sit up fully, then pull your shirt off, leaving you in your bra as you look up at him, awaiting his next command.

Spencer gulps a little bit as you expose the lacy fabric of your bra, his eyes widening even more when he stares at the way you’re practically spilling out of your bra.

"Get rid of it."

You swallow the spit pooling your mouth but nod nonetheless and get to work immediately. Your hands find the clasp of your bra and quickly undo the hooks. Soon enough, you’re pulling the straps down your arms, and dropping your bra on the ground.

Spencer's eyes follow the movements of your hands as you remove your bra like that. He lets out a deep, slow breath that is filled with the most intense lust for you, as he watches your bra fall onto the ground.

"Look at you, sweet thing.."

His hand comes out to cup one of your breasts, thumbing the soft and full skin. You shiver and watch as a smile creeps onto his face when your nipples harden.

You feel intimidated by his gaze and touch, and you force yourself to speak to fill the thick tension between the two of you.

“What would you like me to do next, sir?”

Spencer chuckles a little bit at the waver in your voice, and then he suddenly moves one of his hands and places it directly under your thighs to change your positions. Then, you’re suddenly laying against the couch with your head resting on the arm, looking up at him as he mounts you.

"Take off your pants." He commands. "Take all of it off for me."

You nod and your fingers frantically find the zipper of your jeans. Once you unzip them, you push them down your hips. As soon as your pants are off, you’re left only in your thin underwear. You look up at his predatory gaze and feel yourself becoming more and more aroused.

His eyes flicker down to the wet patch that covers your pussy. He can’t help but lick his lips as his breaths become shallower.

“Good girl..." Spencer whispers out again, the desire in his eyes is clearly stronger than ever. "Now... turn around..." he adds, and a sinister smile starts to spread across his face.

You quickly flip yourself around so you’re face down on the couch, and your back is turned to him. Your soft butt almost but not quite pressing up against his hips.

"Now..." His voice is lowering even further now until it's just a breath. "Lift yourself up a little more, my love."

You arch your back and lift your ass up a bit towards him, listening to exactly what he tells you to do. It practically pains you to stop yourself from backing yourself up onto him, wanting so desperately to feel his heavy cock against you.

"Oh... that's a good girl."

His hands reach out to squeeze the fat of your hips, and you can’t help but moan at the thought of him manhandling you.

"See.. Now you're getting the idea." His voice grows even lower, deeper, and louder. And his eyes, oh his eyes. They’re shining with that same look of pure lust, of malice, something that just screamed how much he wanted to take control of you.

"Just a little bit more..." he adds... "Just lift yourself up a bit more, angel"

You lift your lower body higher and higher until the arch of your body resembles that of a slope. Your head is pressed hard against the soft cushions of the couch, and your ass is proudly facing him.

"You're so beautiful, baby girl. You're perfect, you're mine.. you belong to me..."

“All yours, Sir. This is all yours..” You sway your hips lightly, taunting him.

Spencer's eyes go wide again, and he pushes himself forward to slot the thick bulge he’s sporting between the defined flesh of your ass.

"You're everything I could ever want, so beautiful.. all mine."

He moans at the contact of finally being able to rub himself against you, but he forces himself to back away. You huff to yourself when he moves away from you.

"Just one more thing to do." he whispers, more to himself than to you. "Turn yourself around.. turn around."

You turn back around to face him, and when you’re finally facing him once more, you move your hands down to play with the band of your underwear. You look up at him and bite your lip, awaiting his next move.

"You look so good.. So good.”

His hand reaches out and holds your waist, he curses under his breath.

“Take them off, need to see that pretty pussy of yours.."

You slip your fingers between your skin and the band and begin to pull your underwear down seductively. He’s practically burning your skin with the way he’s looking at you. A moan slips out of your mouth when you find your panties sticking to you. Stringy arousal connects from your cunt to the fabric.

"That's it. That's a good girl.. show me-"

Before he can even finish his sentence, you instinctively spread your legs for him. His eyes widen and his smirk grows when his eyes lock on your most intimate area. The soft light in the living room catches the sticky slick dripping from your pussy, and he can’t stop the way his tongue pokes out from his lips and licks over them.

"Turn around once again for me, princess"

You close your legs and squint at him.

“Why don’t you make me turn around, sir?”

Spencer scoffs and reaches out to grab your throat. You try to gasp out in surprise, but find that you can’t

"You've got some nerve, don't you?" he asks with a lustful laugh. "But fine, if that’s what you think you want..”

Spencer's eyes shine bright with delight at this new bratty attitude you’re sporting, but he knows you’re all talk. He lets go of your throat, and gives you a light slap across your face, a warning. As he takes in what you just said he lets out a slow breath, and then, with that predatory look still in his eyes, both of his hands are on your body, and without even hesitating, he moves you onto your hands and knees, just like that.

You moan out in surprise when you’re forced onto your hands and knees by him, you’re fully bare and exposed for him. His intimidating gaze on you makes your skin run hot, and you know he’s staring right at your dripping hole.

“Oh.. What happened, baby.. Feeling shy, now?"

“Yes, Sir.. I can't help it.” You hide your face in the cushion of the couch as you arch your back further for him. You can feel your folds fluttering around nothing as slick drips down your thighs.

He takes a deep breath and without another single word to you, he moves so he’s pressed right against you. You whimper at the feeling of the rough fabric brushing against your sensitive and soft cunt. No doubt you’ve soaked his pants now.

Spencer reaches down to grab another fistful of your hair, and pulls you up slightly.

"Look at me..." he whispers... "Look at me, when I talk to you. You know better than that, angel"

You immediately turn your head and whimper at his forceful tone. You look up at him from where your cheek is pressed into the couch as you apologize.

“Yes, Sir.. I’m sorry sir.”

“You say you’re mine, but you can’t even remember a simple rule. You just can’t help but talk back to me.." Spencer whispers as he looks down at you, almost as if you were a treasure, an object that belonged just to him.

"You're my property... nothing but my plaything. You belong to me..." His voice is just as deep as before, growing even deeper as he speaks. "Do you understand?"

“Y-Yes, Professor.. I belong to you.” You all but wail out at the way he was speaking to you, and the way he was treating you.

"There you go.. there's a good girl.."

Spencer smiles as he sees you get broken down by him, he huffs out a heavy breath as the carnivorous look in his eyes only deepens.

“And you love it, don't you..?You love it when I control you like this.. Because you," —He pulls you by your hair again and almost snaps your neck with the force.— “Are such a good little student for me, aren’t you?”

You can't even bring yourself to words at this point, already too lost in pleasure. You knew how wrong it was, to hold your role over your head like this, especially with something so intimate, and yet you couldn’t stop the way your head spun with arousal.

"And just so there's no confusion, so there's no doubting that you're actually mine.. I'm going to mark you."

Your eyes widen and you open your mouth in protest. But it seems he’s already a step ahead of you.

“And I don’t give a fuck who asks you about them, you will keep that mouth of yours shut. Understood?”

Swallowing, you whimper out an answer that somewhat resembles an agreement.

"How are you going to mark me, sir?"

Spencer smirks a little bit, and you see the look in his eyes completely change now, there’s a stronger sense of dominance washed over him that wasn’t quite there before.

"You're about to find out, little girl..." he whispers, his voice as cold as ice now. "Now. turn yourself around one last time.”

You quickly turn around, listening to him now seemed like the best option. His tone was more serious than it had been the entire night, you didn't want to see what would happen if you disobeyed him.

Spencer's eyes light up again as you do so, his dangerous look returns at this moment, and as you turn around to face him, he moves to get even closer.

"Good girl, always so obedient when you want to be" He whispers in your ear, making shivers shoot right down your spine.

"Now... just stay right there. And don't you dare move... understood?" he adds, raising his voice even more.

"Yes, sir. I won't move, I promise, I'll be good for you."

"Oh, I'm sure you will." He almost scoffs, he knows how you can be.

He reaches down, and without another word, he pulls a pair of handcuffs from his pocket and now that sinister look in his eyes has completely taken over.

Your breath hitches when you hear the metal clinking together and when you see him holding the cuffs in his hand, a sinister look plastered on his face.

Since when does he carry those around? How long has he been carrying them?

Is what you’d like to ask, but you’re afraid to speak when you haven’t been spoken to yet. So you opt to stay quiet, keeping those thoughts to yourself.

"What's the matter, hm?" Spencer whispers, as he sees the fear in your eyes. "Are you scared?" he asks, the coldness once again in his voice as he leans in further. He dangles the cuffs right in your face, taunting you.

"Oh really...?" The brunet asks with a sinister laugh. The look in his eyes remains cold and predatory, and he continues that intense stare into your eyes as his voice grows even lower, his breath heavy and rough, yet, still calm.

He looks like an animal, a predator who's caught its prey, and is going to take its time devouring it, as slowly, and as painfully as possible.

"Are you sure about that?" His voice is just as cold and sinister as before, and the hungry look on his face even grows. "Don't lie to me, little girl."

You shake your head and sputter out.

"F-Fine.. Fine, I'm scared, sir. You won't hurt me, right?"

It was stupid to ask, you knew that was exactly what he wanted to do to you. But you had hope.

"Hurt you...?" Spencer scoffs, his voice is cold, his eyes hold that same look of hostility but the cruelest part is, he's still being polite, like it wasn’t turning him on beyond belief to treat you this way. He couldn’t reveal to you the way his painfully hard cock was leaking into his briefs, absolutely soaking the fabric through, no, he just had to drive you crazy.

“Oh, I'm much worse than that..." he remarks, smiling in a cruel, sadistic way. "I'm going to break you."

You feel your chest rapidly rising and falling at his words.

"B-Break me..?"

Spencer nods once. "Oh... yes”, and as he speaks, he forcefully takes your hands where they’re nestled against your body, and skillfully slips them onto you. “I'm going to break you, and once I'm done with you..." He fastens them around your wrists, tight. "You'll never be the same again."

You stay silent as panic fills your brain. Your mind is telling you to get away, but you just can’t. You need this more than anything.

“You’ll never need anyone else but me.”

The tone in his voice, it’s unfamiliar. The possession in his voice is sickly sweet, he’s never been a jealous person, you were usually the one who worried about that.

You fidget with the cuffs, trying to escape. You know it’s not possible, but fear seemed to be what turned him on the most right now, and truthfully, if you weren’t fucked soon, you might just truly break the cuffs and ride him until he was the broken one.

You’re broken out of your trance of thoughts when you feel his rough fingers prod at your wet cunt. He uses his fingers to push and separate your folds, and he almost can’t even move them without his fingers slipping, you were just so wet for him.

The professor doesn’t even look up at you when he slides his middle finger into you, watching at the way your pussy hungrily swallows up the digit. He bites his lip at the wet noises you produce, all by yourself. He pumps the finger in and out of you, finally fucking you, but not in the way you really really needed.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take, sweetheart. I can practically feel you begging for me.”

And he was right, with the way you clenched around his single finger, swallowing what little pleasure he gave you.

“P-Please, Sir. Don’t hold back, I’m yours.. You know I’m yours..”

You spread your legs wider and despite being cuffed, you reach your hands down to grab the finger that's buried inside of you, and bring it up to your lips, pushing it eagerly inside your mouth to taste yourself.

With skillful eyes, and an even more skilled mouth, you swirl your warm tongue over his sticky, coated finger, every action you carry out just begging him to fuck you already.

While you’re sucking on his finger, his unoccupied hand attempts to unclasp his belt buckle, and when you see him struggling, you sit up to help him. But as soon as you reach your hands out to undo his belt, a strong hand slaps you across the face. The finger in your mouth is gone, and all you’re left with is a stinging cheek.

“Keep your hands to yourself, little girl. Don’t disappoint me.”

You nod but feel your eyes brim with tears. You’re forced to watch him as he pulls off his belt, and pulls down his work pants. His cock is nearly bursting out of his underwear, you can see how raised the fabric is, and how positively soaked it is. You lick your lips. “Please..”

Spencer looks up at you and smirks, it wouldn’t be surprising if he were a mind reader, you wouldn’t put it past him. He frees himself from the confines of his underwear, and his heavy cock bobs in the air. You moan at the sight before you could even stop yourself.

He stands up from the couch and stands in front of you. One of his hands weaves itself into your hair, creating a makeshift ponytail at the back of your head, and the other hand holds his thick length at the base.

“Yeah? This what you wanted so badly? Open.”

As if under a spell, your mouth immediately drops open in pure hunger. Spit was already pooling inside your mouth at just the mere sight of his dick. And surely enough, you got your fill.

He guided his cock to your mouth and slapped the leaking tip against your warm tongue, he moaned out at the feeling, and the grip on your hair tightened. You could see the strings of his precum connecting from the head and your tongue.

With begging eyes, you look up at him, just pleading to put it in, already.

And in one quick slide, he sheaths his entire cock into your mouth, stretching your lips around him. Your eyes roll back into your head at the taste of him on your tongue and down your throat, it was heavenly.

With the ponytail he had created, he begins forcefully moving your head back and forth on his dick, using your warm, tight mouth as nothing but a hole. He threw his head back in pleasure as he face fucked you, like you were some cheap whore.

The blunt head caught on the rim of your mouth every time he moved you back, and his knees almost buckled at the feeling. Spit and precum absolutely drenched your skin, it was dripping down your chin, and covering the expanse of your neck and chest.

Through stifled moans and groans, he manages to speak.

“F-Fuck, angel.. Might not even need to fuck you.. Could do this all day..”

You whined from around your mouthful and tried your best to pout, your attempt not going unnoticed as he let out a breathy laugh.

He pulls you away from his cock, and lets out one final moan at the way your spit created a web from his tip and your lips.

“Turn around.”

In an instant, your ass is turned to him. The soft flesh of your unmarked behind tempting him, he wanted nothing more than to spank you, mark you, and fuck you so hard there’d be bruises from his hip bones.

You bent over the arm of the couch, and your cuffed hands were resting against your arched back. Then, a shaking hand reached out and parted your pussy, and you heard a soft moan.

“Everything alright, Professor?” You look back at him, and he somehow looks more disheveled than you do. You took a moment to examine his appearance. His hair was sweaty, yet still fluffy. His dress shirt was wrinkled, his tie uneven, and his pants pulled down to his thighs. He was still somewhat fully dressed, and here you were, bending over and exposing your drenched pussy to him. It did nothing to comfort the fact that he had so much power over you, and you were nothing compared to him.

“Yes, love. Eyes in front of you.”

You nod and turn back around, your heart beating impossibly fast and your breath shuddering. And even though you knew it was coming, when the blunt head of his soaked cock pressed right up against your folds, you couldn’t help but gasp out. But you weren’t the only one caught off guard, you felt the cushion dip under your knees when his body faltered and he doubled over in pleasure, almost collapsing over you.

“Fuck me, you’re so perfect, princess. Always so wet for me.”

Spencer reached out and grabbed the chain of the handcuffs and yanked on them, using them as leverage to start fucking into you. He didn’t even bother starting out slow and easing into it, it’s not like you both wanted that anyways.

His thrusts carried a viscous, predatory, feeling. The way his cock plowed into your fleshy walls, absolutely claiming you as his, nothing about it was loving. This wasn’t about love anymore, he was claiming you as his, making sure to fuck you so hard, mark you so badly, you’d never be able to be fucked by anyone else but him again.

You could feel him absolutely bashing up against your spot, and it took everything in you not to paint his cock and couch in your cum. You know how disappointed you’d be if you came right now, but then again, he wouldn’t stop for hours if he wasn’t satisfied, even if you had squirted 5 times and were on the brink of passing out.

It was like he was molding your cunt to be perfectly fit for him, so if anyone ever dared to even try to fuck you like he was right now, it just wouldn’t be right. He pulled against the chain and used it to fuck into you like you were nothing but a sex doll to him. And with the way he was treating you right now, you wouldn’t be surprised if that’s all you were to him.

“Oh my god..”

You cried out moan after moan into the couch cushion at his thrusts, they were wrecking your body and lurching you forward with each collision of his boney hips against your plushy ass. You push yourself back against him in time with his own thrusts, and he bites his lip with a smile.

“Such a good little girl, you are.” Spencer lets go of the chain, and picks you up by your waist instead. You yelp out in surprise at suddenly being lifted, not expecting this position at all, but after all, he knew what was best for you. He knew how to fuck you, how to treat you.. You didn’t know anything.

He begins to aggressively shove his dick into your abused hole, manhandling you and fucking you for all you were worth, which was close to nothing at this point. He dug his fingers into the flesh of your waist and hips as he used you as a personal cocksleeve for him.

It was like every time he pounded into your spot, a metaphorical bell rang off in his head, signifying success. And if you knew anything about your professor, it was that he was quite the overachiever.

The puffy lips of your pussy stretched as you were stuffed full by his cock, and your only choice now was to sob and scream in pleasure, letting him use you. It’s all you were good for, and you always wanted to be so, so good for him.

"Tell me who owns you, who owns this pretty little pussy..”

Your superior groaned out through the heavy breaths and hostile slapping that filled the room. You lifted your head the best you could and stuttered out.

“Y-You.. I belong to you, Professor. No one else..”

Spencer's breath grows a little bit heavier at this moment and his hungry gaze looks at you almost like you are some precious object, some beautiful treasure that belongs to him.

"That's right," Spencer moans out.

"Now make sure you remember that... my little girl."

How could you possibly forget? You had no one else, he was your everything. Your entire world.

“I-I won’t, sir.. I promise.”

You sob out, and feel yourself reaching your limit, the imaginary rubber band inside of you was being pulled farther and farther inside of you. With each pass of his long, thick, and hard cock inside of you, it was like he was stretching the band past its limit, seeing just how far he can pull it.

A cruel smile spreads across his face as he begins to fuck you harder. His thrusts become sloppier, and you can certainly feel your slick and his precum already splashing out of your already stuffed full pussy. Your thighs are sticky, and the liquid becomes tackier every time his own thighs slap into yours. You’ve never felt dirtier.

“Sir- Sir.. Pl-Please..”

At hearing your words, he lets go of your hips and waist and slams you back down onto the couch, pushing your head into the cushions and pressing your upper body into the soft surface. He forces you into an almost painful arch, just to fuck you like an animal in rut. His movements and sounds were primal, you felt like a piece of meat, and he was doing everything he could to leave no scraps left.

“Shut the fuck up. You want to be a good girl for me? Then keep that pretty mouth shut.”

He fucks into you even harder now, no doubt bruising the sensitive skin of your ass. You were being pushed way past your limit, but you held on for him, you wanted so desperately to be good for him, even if it was too much for you to handle, you wouldn’t cum until he let you.

You buried your face into the couch and just let him hump into you, you clenched around him in pure need for nothing more than to explode around him. He all but growled at the feeling, and it only spurred him on to fuck you deeper.

“My god, angel. You have no idea how hard it is to resist you..” You want so badly to tell him to not resist you then, but you know if you even attempted to open your mouth right now, you wouldn’t be cumming.

You might be hallucinating it, but you think you hear him whine. Maybe you really did feel as good as he was making it seem, and when you feel his thrusts begin to falter and his breathing becoming erratic, you know you weren’t imagining it. You rendered him weak.

“My little girl.. All mine, aren’t you? No one can fuck you this good, no one cares for you the way I do.. You’ll never need anyone else after this, only me.. Forever.”

His words seem to not only urge himself on and his own release, but yours as well. Before you can even think about the consequences, the rubber band snaps. Your eyes roll back into your eyes in an almost exaggerated way as you feel every muscle in your body relax.

And you absolutely paint him in your release. You gush around his thick cock, almost pushing him out of your hole at how hard you’re squirting around him. He feels the warm rush of liquid burst around him and positively soak his work pants, and his eyes just about completely darken at that point.

“Oh my fucking god, Sir..”

You feel your liquids coat your legs, the couch, and your professor. You’re sobbing at this point, your mouth hangs open and you drool from how dumb you’re being fucked. You’re soaking the couch in every liquid possible, all for him.

“Just couldn’t hold it, could you, princess? So fucking bad, can’t listen to a single thing I say..”

Spencer feels his resolve crumble down in front of his very eyes, as his mouth drops open in a painfully loud groan and he spills into you with everything he has. Warm, white, and thick. He explodes inside of you, but his cock was simply too big to let it leak out. So despite his release, he fucks his cum into you.

His sperm bulges around his cock, coating himself inside your pussy. His hand reaches down to where you’re collapsed on his couch, and he grabs you by your throat. You try to moan but feel the air around you immediately become thinner. Leaning down and pulling you up, the two of you meet in the middle as he continues to hump you.

“You know you’re such a good little girl for me, letting me use you however I like. God you’re so good, aren’t you?”

His tone is so condescending in your ear, and you feel so wrong for letting it turn you on as much as it did. Your eyes roll back into your head, either from being choked, or because of the way he talks to you, you play it safe and assume both.

With a final thrust, he moans loudly into your ear and throws you back down onto the couch. A sex doll, it’s all you were.

Through pants and heavy breathing, he grabs himself at the base of his cock and pulls out of you. And god, you’re gushing when he leaves you empty. His cum immediately flows out of you like a fountain. His thick, hot release runs down your abused pussy, making you feel all the more used.

And in a complete 180, the older man is suddenly pulling you into his lap, stroking your hair softly, letting you cry into his still clothed chest. He’s shushing your cries, trying to get you to calm down.

You can still feel his release leaking out of you and onto his pants, but he doesn’t care in the slightest. Not when you’re this vulnerable for him.

“Shhh, it’s.. It’s okay, angel.”

He brings your face to his and pulls you in a tender, sweet kiss. Like he was a completely different man from the one who was breeding you just a moment ago. He cradles you in his arms, and you feel safe, cared for, desired.

The professor coos into your ear, praising you, letting you know how perfect you are, and how much he absolutely adores you. You find yourself smiling at the praise.

But despite all his love and care, you couldn’t help but feel deep down, you’ll always just be a teacher’s pet to him.

#professor spencer reid #spencer reid #spencer x reader #teachers pet #student and teacher #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #spencer reid smut #dom spencer reid #spencer reid x reader smut

1K notes · View notes

hvreticz · 11 months

Text

posting 🔜 either my professor!reid smut or an ethan landry smut 🎥

#posting soon #ethan landry smut #ethan landry #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #professor spencer reid #ghostface #scream

35 notes · View notes

v4mp1res3verywhere · 2 years

Text

#Spencer Reid #professor spencer reid #pov dating Spencer Reid #cozy bf #🧸

82 notes · View notes

0anonnymouslyours0 · 1 year

Text

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.

#professor spencer reid smut #spencer reid smut #spencer reid #spencer x reader #smut #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #headcannons #professor spencer reid #professor reid

931 notes · View notes

kirencer · 2 years

Text

[Hawthorn: Chapter One]

Cedar

Summary: Cedar has always meant strength. Resilience. The ability to stand on your own for forever.

Word count: 2.1k

Relationship: Vampire! Spencer Reid x GN! Reader

Warnings: vampires, slight wet dream mention, abusive/neglectful parent, and “mild” vampire kink. NSFW SERIES 18+ ONLY

A/N: First chapter of a much-needed series. I, Kiram, the vampire Spencer king, present Hawthorn.

Series Masterlist Next Chapter

— — — — —

To say I was excited for the first day of the class would be an understatement. I was practically vibrating in my seat, eyes plastered to the board. Dracula: Intro to Slavic Folklore and Vampires was written in what one might call ‘Chicken Scratch’. It’s a course at UVA, and while it’s been taught by one professor since its start, this year, it’s to be taught by Doctor Spencer Reid.

I had vaguely heard of the name, upon further research I learned that he was an Ex FBI agent with the Behavior Analysis Unit, a genius, and he was hot. Though, from what was written about him, he didn't seem to be the kind of person qualified for teaching about Slavic folklore, an even deeper dive led me to believe that his eidetic memory and IQ alone qualified him for anything.

Plus, vampires just so happen to be my favorite thing ever. So, a pretty face talking about them wouldn't be too bad.

When he walked in, tawny curls floating around his head, shoulders pulled with confidence, and stubble coating his strong, set jaw, I realized that no matter how good of a Professor he was, I would always be unprepared.

See, I had thought that he was attractive at first, yes, but seeing him in person made me realize that the photo truly had no grasp on him. The photo from an article made him seem like … a pretty boy. What I had seen in front of me was a man, with the mirrored nose and eyes and lips of the picture, but set more purposefully. Like Doctor Reid was trying to show everyone how he could be seen; how he wanted to be seen.

What I was truly unprepared for, however, was how his eyes pierced me like a hunter bowing down a deer. My excitement grew as my knees shook instead of my body. For, at that moment, I could swear that the Professor's eyes showed red.

The rest of the hour and a half escaped me, I remember a blur of syllabuses being passed out, Professor Reid’s voice mentioning how the course would be divided into two units “The Lore” and “The Truth”, and also how this wasn’t just a Literature and Folklore class, but a Vampire class.

Before I knew it, I was back in my dorm and looking up everything I could on modern vampires and how they could relate to my Professor. There was something captivating about him - it had to be the subject he was teaching.

After all, I do love vampires. To what my grandmother said was an unhealthy extent. My father raised me as his father had raised him, a Vampire hunter, and had even warned me of them my entire life. Going as far as to train me every day of my life to kill vampires. Instead of fearing the blood-lusting creatures, I went the opposite way.

I fell into the Twilight and the Vampire Diaries frenzy, and my wet dreams very often consisted of teeth grazing my skin and red eyes. Though, this was hidden deep within me. Had my father ever learned of my turn from my training to hate everything no longer living as a human, he would destroy it. And me.

The next few days passed as quickly as the hour and a half and before I knew it, I was back in the classroom. A few minutes passed and I settled in as Professor Reid started his lecture.

“Now, who here has ever consumed any kind of media that had vampires? Or, at the very least, creatures like vampires?”

People around the room tentatively raised their hands, mine shot up as well. I wasn’t ashamed at all in my love - obsession - with vampires. The professor nodded. “Some of you are lying about having not. That's okay! If you’re in this room, you have consumed some kind of media or the other that sparked your interest.”

Oh, no. Oh God, no. Not only was Doctor Reid an attractive professor, but he was also a good one who had captivated me beyond what I deemed capable. When he said the word sparked, his hands pushed away from each other in a little motion as if to simulate an explosion. That little motion enamored me to no end. My brain tickled, as though it was searching for something missing.

“The vampires we will learn about will be associated with slavic lore. Many of these will then tie into how we currently view vampires as a collective culture, specifically within media,” Professor Reid leaned back on his desk with a confident smirk.

“It’s interesting, really, that we typically associate vampires with bats. The reason for that is actually more convoluted than one might think. You see, in Slavic folklore, vampires allegedly possessed the ability to transform into butterflies. Which, if you ignore most anatomical and biological classifications, butterflies and bats are sort of similar, no? One is certainly more ominous than the other, but who is to say which creature would be more appealing to the undead.”

My eyes fluttered as I scrawled down the words that flowed so elegantly from my professors’ lips. Every single word felt chosen with purpose and stride. There was confidence in his knowledge as he went through the first bits of pieces of information most of the people in the room with me would ever learn about the lore of vampires. Biting to change, dual souls (“hearts”), and so much more of the best things. True, a lot of my knowledge was from the militarian-like vampire hunter training my father instilled in me, but the rest was from my own late-night research on secure browsers - hidden from where my dad could find it.

Soon, just like the first: it was over in a flash. The lecture hall was practically empty before I had realized, scrawling down the last of Professor Reid’s notes and then, without my better judgment, decided to walk up to the Professor. He was skillfully and fleetingly moving his things to a brown leather side-satchel type bag. I was planning on waiting patiently for him to notice me, however, he turned around to face me as soon as I made my last step towards him.

There was this look on his face of curiosity, almost a hint of familiarity, and something that I truly could not place. Though the feeling must have been something I had seen before, as it almost made me bristle like a frightened tabby. It wasn't that I was frightened, but rather more so that I was startled. Every cell of my body scrambled for me to run but the small ache that spread from my legs begged me to stay.

“Do you have an urgent question …?” Professor Reid inquired softly, biting into the pillow of his lip before continuing, “Sorry. I do not believe I know your name.”

My mouth fell open and a squeak left it. I wasn’t the kind of person to be hyper aware of other people's teeth. I mean, good dental hygiene and tooth conditions were often highly restricted to higher classes in America, but I couldn’t help but stare at the pristine white that left imprints on his bottom lip for a split second before his tongue swiped over it. What I truly stared at though, were his incisors. They seemed … off .. as if they were a tag longer than what should be normal. It was not unheard of for a human, as I noticed they were not at all long enough to perhaps be the kind of lengths that vampires would have, but they were very noticeable.

“Um … Sorry.” I blurted out. My eyebrows furrowed as I promptly turned around to exit the room. My professor’s voice rang out from behind me.

“I didn’t catch your name!”

Yet I was already too far away, my head enamored with how my professor’s teeth would feel bared against my neck.

(i was lucky that he wasn’t a vampire! my heart sped up and even a civilized one would have pounced at the rush of blood in my veins, as highlighted by my pulse)

⟺

Or, I was the most unlucky person in the world. As I neared my dorm, the first thing my eyes caught onto was the flier taped to it with the word NOTICE plastered in big red font. Sticky dread flowed through my fingertips and into my toes as I skimmed the words.

I should have known. My dad was missing and the college funds he set up for me already drained. When the board fees hit, it didn’t pass through.

I was lucky enough to have a scholarship for my classes but it did not cover room and board. I had three days to either find my funds or move out. Well, with virtually no ability to make even a fraction of the needed amount, I would instead need to find a place to stay and hopefully for cheap - the small part time cafe job I had would be enough for a couple hundred a month of rent and groceries for me to live off of. With tips, I wouldn’t be too bad but it’d be cutting it tighter than I wanted.

I knew how to take care of myself, though. With my fathers profession of monster hunting, he would often disappear for months at a time on a job.

I wasn't able to focus too much on it, though, seeing as I had a shift in an hour and needed to make it to the small bakery and cafe not too far from campus.

Work wasn’t hard, per se, and the regulars were sweet, but it was just exhausting. I have always had a very good worth ethic. I just wasn’t in the proper mood today and the fear of losing my dorm. I don’t know what else I expected. My dad had never been the kind to care for others, especially caring about me. I had learned everything I ever needed. I never had a mom to teach me kindness or what my body was changing into – I had to pull myself up by my bootstraps. A mentality that only ever hurt me with every challenge I ever faced. I never asked for help in school and I never relied on anyone but myself.

Dad said he wouldn’t leave again. He lied, obviously. Lied and took the money we had saved together. Out chasing monsters that sometimes, I didn’t even think existed. Well, ones I wouldn’t think existed, had I not seen one when I was fourteen. My fathers quote unquote arch nemesis. A vampire so cunning that he blended seamlessly into the human world. I had only seen him once. I only remember the way his arms cradled me, his smell, and the red eyes. His smell must have been addictive – he smelt too good for my barely teen mind to comprehend, like sweet incense hinted with woods. Now, I know enough about pretty scents and cologne to know it would be reminiscent of Lavender Cedarwood, my favorite candle. That scent and that grip took over my teenage wet dreams. I could trace back my taste in men and most certainly, my love for vampires to the one specific creature deplored by my father the most.

I don’t remember why he held me – only that the last thing on my mind was fear. It was the first time I had been held in so long that I couldn’t remember the last time I felt safe and protected in another’s arms.

My shift passed quickly with my mind focused on the vampire of my dreams (quite literally) and before I knew it, it was over. I had accumulated a whopping 35 dollars in tips and compared to the impending debt over my head, it was pennies to a hundred bucks.

Then, just as I was passing the communal post board, I saw it. A flier with soft little butterflies.

“Roommate Wanted:

Cheap rent. Possibility for no rent, just provide your own groceries and help with water and gas. Looking for someone to make coming home less lonely.

(p.s. I am a man and I understand that might make some uncomfortable. I am open to you bringing a friend to meet and see the apartment with you. I am also open to first meeting in a common and safe area as well as ample talking on the phone. Comfort is important to me. :] )”

And like that, I had decided to try my luck. I mean, cheap or free rent? Genuinely, it sounded like an old man or someone planning to kidnap me … but desperate times called for desperate measures.

My fingers slid over the paper, snagging one of the perforated number slips at the bottom. For good measure, I snagged all of them. Better for competition!

I stared at the little slip of paper. It was a soft, baby pink. I brought the paper to my nose. I didn't know why. Just … I needed to. And well, there it was.

Sweet cedar.

[TAGLIST: @hotchandspencearedilfs @reidgraygubler]

[join this series taglist!]

#professor spencer reid #spencer reid #vampire spencer reid #kiram loves vampires #hawthorn spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid smut #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid series #hawthorn series

120 notes · View notes

sixofpomegranates · 1 year

Text

The Dove and the Agent | Ch. 31

🕊 Story Masterlist | 18+ | AO3 | Wattpad 🕊

🔙 Previous Chapter

Chapter CW: Mentions of anxiety/food-alcohol+consumption, jealousy, pining, exes, friends with benefits, Van Gogh,

A/N: Hi! Sorry that it's been so long! As you may have hurt: I published my first NOVEL! (Big thanks to those who told me to unalive myself for publishing it) The Link is in my profile!!

I hope you enjoy the new chapter, and tell me how you like the new cover!

"Do you know that it is very, very necessary for honest people to remain in art? Hardly anyone knows that the secret of beautiful work lies to a great extent in truth and sincere sentiment."

— Vincent Van Gogh

✿ Dove's POV ✿

Today? A total success — I mean, as much as a funeral can be one...

Spencer seemed so happy at the end, even dancing to a song. Not even to mention that he said that I was now his favorite person.

I did not cry because of it, but I definitely wanted to.

I had never been somebody's favorite anything before. I like to think that maybe I would've been Ellie's, but she never understood what I meant with the whole "favorite person" notion of mine... To be fair, I overthink all of it too much anyway.

When the guest had left, and solely the team and I were left at the funeral home, we helped clean up. Afterward, as we actually wanted to go home, Rossi invited us back to his mansion since tomorrow Alex Blake, Aaron Hotchner, and Kate Callahan would be leaving again.

I was a little tired, my batteries drained from all the human interactions, but as I saw how excited Professor Reid seemed, I agreed to it.

It was a lovely, warm evening, so we sat outside in the garden, Penelope and Krystall mixing cocktails for us. I sat next to my Professor, simply listening to the ongoing conversations.

"Here, Kitten," Penelope said, handing me a deep red drink in a sugar-rimmed glass.

"Thanks," I chirped in reply, feeling Spencer eyeing the cocktail. I held it to him, offering him a sip, but he instantly declined, mumbling something about something that red, not seeming healthy.

"So, Dove. You're still in college?" Blake asked me as the previous conversation had died down.

I wasn't exactly excited about having to talk about myself since it wasn't like I had anything interesting to tell, but I nodded, "Yeah. Uhm, I will graduate in July and then directly start my FBI training."

Hotch raised his eyebrows, asking fatherly, "You already got some firearm training?"

Shaking my head, I began fidgeting with my fingers, a little embarrassed, "No. B-But Professor Reid said he'd take me to a shooting range."

As my nervous gaze met Spencer's, he scrunched his nose and grinned at me.

The former BAU Chief nodded, "Okay, the first thing you should learn is not to be afraid of the gun in your hands while also treating it with the uppermost respect. It may be just an inanimate object, but in this job, it is also your partner." While taking a sip from his scotch, he snickered, "Spencer needed years not to get scared by his gun. He even failed his firearms qualification exam in the beginning."

Licking his lips as all laughed, Spencer said, "And now I carry two guns and am an excellent shoot."

Drinking from my cocktail, I was hit with a nice sweetness through and through. It was probably one of those cocktails that hid away just how alcoholic they were—dangerous stuff.

"You like it?" Krystall asked, and I nodded. "It's Pomegranate syrup," Penny explained to the group so everyone having a drink would know.

Leaning over, Spencer whispered into my ear, "Careful, Sweetheart, else you might end up having to spend six months a year in the underworld."

I giggled, looking at him, "Say what you want, but Hades and Persephone had the most unproblematic relationship in all of the Greek pantheon."

He shrugged. "It's not like Zeus made that a difficult task."

Nodding, I giggled, "Yeah, Zeus's a slut." He looked at me, appalled. "Dove." "What? Am I wrong?" I asked, blinking innocently, making him chuckle.

"Who's a slut?" Penelope asked loudly, having parts of our private whispers announced to the whole table.

I quickly shook my head, cheeks starting to become hot as hell. I didn't have the means to explain my unfunny jokes. "Oh, no one. It's nothing."

Tara raised her eyebrows and Emily asked teasingly, "Were we interrupting the fun?"

I quickly shook my head, physically scooting a little away from Spencer while taking a sip from my drink. The awkward silence solely seemed to be noticed by me, but God, the moment was awkward.

Spencer seemed to catch a glimpse of my discomfort, asking Alex quickly, "How's work going?" Turning to me, he explained, "Blake is a professor at Harvard."

"Harvard?" I asked, surprised, feeling my silly little heartstrings being pulled by something I couldn't describe as anything other than melancholia.

The brunette nodded. "Linguistics."

"I always wanted to go to Harvard; they have a great art program," I overshared.

"Can't imagine a smart girl like you didn't get accepted," Aaron said.

I quickly shook my head. "Oh, I did. I actually got accepted by a couple of Ivy League Colleges. I- I just went to Georgetown so I could study with my cousin together."

Ellie. A stinging in my heart, that most certainly had shown in my voice, reminded me so suddenly of her.

Why didn't I think of her lately? What friend was I to just live my life as though my best friend didn't die only a couple of months ago?

Spencer's hand wrapped around my thigh, squeezing it. That guy was reading my mind, I swear.

"You switched majors at Georgetown too," he said, directing the subject into safer waters before I would drown. "Only the final exam was missing to get your title of Master of Fine Arts, right, little bird?"

Kate frowned. "I'm sorry, but how did you go from art to psychology? Not really understandable for me."

"Oh, Uhm, my mom wanted me to change majors because she worried being an Art Major wouldn't get me a real job."

"You know, if you really had all your hours and exams until that, you could ask if you can take the finals with the other students at the end of the semester and get your diploma," Alex informed me.

"Really?" I asked, intrigued and surprised. "Doesn't- Doesn't that mess with my other exams?"

"Only if it's too much for you to learn."

I quickly shook my head, laying one hand on Spencer's and wrapping the other around his wrist.

He chuckled softly as I giggled. "Oh, no. I know that stuff by heart."

"187?" Kate asked. "126," I replied.

"Do you want me to write the dean about it?" my Professor suggested.

I had always wanted to be an artist... Yes, painting and creating art still made me one, but there was something so special to me about having a diploma in the one and only thing I had ever chosen for myself.

My whole life was built on the unsteady ground of academic pressure. My worth was my grades. My hobbies were studying to improve my grades. My mother always discredited my art as a waste of time.

My hobby now academically titling me an artist would prove my mother wrong. It would be something solely for me, something she could never attribute to herself.

This title would be mine.

"Yeah," I whispered.

Spencer smiled. "Sure?"

I nodded. Mom would either don't care or absolutely hate this. She liked to be involved in my academic decisions. "Uh-huh. I want that."

"Look at you, making decisions for yourself," he praised me gently. "Gonna talk to the dean first thing on Monday. Promise."

We smiled at each other, and he squeezed my thigh again. Alex cleared her throat, making us look at her. She took a sip from her beer, smiling at my Professor. "So, Spence, are you seeing somebody at the moment?"

Spencer quickly removed his hand from my thigh, licking his lips which parted into a coy grin. I knew he had no girlfriend, but my wrongly-wired brain still felt anxious about his answer.

He chuckled. "No. No, not at all."

"And you, Dove?" Alex asked.

A very loud laugh escaped me, startling me completely. I quickly shook my head. "Sorry, I- No. No, no chance. I am unfit for any human relationship."

"She's also Franz Kafka," Spencer snickered towards his friend.

"I just relate to that quote," I speedily spoke to my defense.

He nodded teasingly. "Yeah. And you have an awful taste in man. Logan is definitely the blueprint for idiots worldwide."

"Yeah, so? I- Jake's nice, though," I stammered, making him raise his brows. "I was just teasing you a bit, little bird," he said."I didn't know you were still talking to Jake..."

I shrugged, staring down into my drink. I needed to have it sound casual, normal. "I- We're still talking... Kinda. At least once I have the guts to reply to his texts."

Yeah, now that wasn't a dipshit answer at all. I legitimately sounded like a thirteen-year-old.

Penelope looked at me, surprised. "What did he write?" she asked, quickly taking my phone as I held it out to her.

The table became silent, everyone now seeming to be up in my business. Penny cleared her throat dramatically.

"Hey, Dove. Haven't heard from you since our date, and classes switched back to home office. Hope everything is alright. Wanted you to know I had a blast at our date; maybe we could do it again? - J"

I hadn't thought I'd hear from him again, to be honest. I had been awkward and ended up staying with Spencer and the guys, joining their gentleman's night, but apparently, Jake had a blast.

"Aw," Penelope squealed, looking at me. "Why haven't you written back yet?

I shrugged, embarrassed and red-faced.

I mostly didn't write back because I was lost for words. What was I supposed to write? As I'd learned, it takes me ages to build up relationships in a romantic type of way, and I hadn't thought there was a connection between us, even after I'd let him kiss me... So I put it off.

"You want me to tell him off?" Spencer offered promptly.

I shook my head. "N-No," I said, taking my phone back. "I... just need time to figure out what to do."

"If you don't wanna see him again but are too scared to tell him, just let me do it," he insisted.

"I don't know if I don't want to see him again."

My Professor's jaw clenched, and both his eyebrows shot up. "Oh," he said in a suspiciously neutral tone. "Okay."

"It was a nice date," I said.

"You said you two didn't connect." His answer had come so promptly that it threw me off.

"Well, that probably just takes some time. Demisexual and all that, remember?"

"He left you behind at that bar," Spencer frowned, almost disgusted. "Didn't even bother to take you home."

"He left me with you, Derek, Luke, and Matt, because I wanted to stay."

Okay? Was I missing something? Jake was a nice guy, and although at times a little petty, Spencer had no reason to be that upset.

As he shook his head, I asked, "Why don't you like Jake?"

"I don't dislike the boy. I just think someone like you shouldn't date a guy like him," my Professor let out, annoyed.

I furrowed my brows, "Someone like me?"

"A smart, beautiful woman that has options. You could have anyone, so why settle for someone that doesn't sweep you off your feet every second you're together?"

"Yeah, because the guys willing to date me are piling up on my doorstep," I deadpanned.

"Dove," he pressed, making me giggle with a snort.

"No, I'm serious," I insisted with all the sarcasm I had to offer. "It's getting hard opening the door to my apartment. Any more guys, and I'll have to buy a super long ladder and climb in through the window."

"Dove, I am serious." "Well, hi, Serious. I'm Dove."

He looked at me, that one vein on his forehead so much more prominent than usual. "I really don't understand why we're arguing over Jake... It's not like I'm criticizing your relationship with – what's her name? – Max."

"Max is my ex. You can't compare that," he exclaimed, making me answer him just as loudly. "And Jake is a guy that took me on a date ones. See? I told you this conversation is ridiculous."

"I'm just watching out for you, Dove." "Well, don't. I think Jake's a nice guy, and I don't care if I can do better in your opinion."

"Dove," he said as if this talk-ending voice of his had ever made me shut up. "Spencer," I replied, watching the vein on his forehead pulsate.

"Guys?" Kate interrupted us.

We both looked at her and then at the others at the table. Derek looked like he was having a blast. Aaron was pinching the bridge of his nose, still smiling however.

Tara and Emily were snickering something behind their hands; then they applauded us. "Brava," Emily said, lifting her glass in our direction. "Encore," Tara chuckled.

Spencer and I shared a look; both embarrassed over others witnessing our nonsensical bickering.

"We should start charging money for this bit," he sighed, resting a hand on my back and starting to rub circles. "I'm sorry, okay?" he said. "I'm backing off—no more overprotectiveness."

It was annoying but sweet that Spencer was overprotective. I nodded, grinning at him. "It's okay. Old habits die hard, I guess."

"I trust your judgment, Sweetheart. When you say he's a good guy, I'll try not to have Penelope stalk his ass."

Derek let out a deeply amused chuckle."Imagine one of us would've overreacted that much when pretty boy had his first little tête-à-tête."

I tilted my head, some of our friends laughed. "Excuse me?"

I was certain I had just misheard that. Spencer wasn't one for flings... Right?

"Everyone has some adventures in their youth. We only know about Reid's because he joined the BAU so young," Aaron said.

I nodded. "So, you know Spencer for quite a long time now?" He smiled. "Since Gideon got him to join the FBI at twenty-two."

Nodding again, I took another sip of my drink. I wasn't a nosey person... No. Not me.

"You wanna hear that story, don't you?" Derek grinned.

My professor answered faster than I could. "No, she doesn't."

The table went mostly silent, ready to let go of the subject unless I'd say something.

"I'd actually like to know," I mumbled.

Spencer groaned. "No, Sweetheart. Don't be nosey."

"I'm not nosey," I answered. "It's just that everybody else seems to know, and I feel left out."

Sighing, Spencer leaned back against his chair, signaling to our friends to tell me the story.

"Okay, so, you know Lila Archer?" Derek asked. I nodded. Who doesn't at this point? "Good. When she starred in this beach-teen TV show, before the Rom-Com with Dean Havans, she had a stalker."

"Yeah, her friend from Julliard. Mom watched Lila's interview with '60 seconds' on the news when I was five or six," I said.

"The BAU was working on that case, and Spencer was her bodyguard," Aaron added.

Feeling my cheeks heat up, I said, smiling, "Okay, yeah, right. Now you're just messing with me. Got it."

I knew jokes like that; my parents made them all the time. It was funny to them telling me lies and having me fall for them. It was like a party trick for them.

"Nah-uh, pretty girl," Derek said.

Penelope handed me her phone. There was an old cover from a gossip magazine.

'A Mystery Man In Lila's Life?' it read. On it: a very, very young Spencer Reid kissing nonother than Lila Archer.

Derek continued the story. "Me and Elle, a former co-worker, caught a very invested paparazzi taking pictures in the bushes when those two were having a little something in Lila's swimming pool."

"The girls in college would have a field trip with this," I said, voice coated in humor. "I mean, Lila Archer? Seriously."

She was so pretty; it actually felt like a kick to the stomach as my brain involuntarily compared me to her.

I held the screen in Spencer's direction, noting a deep blush on his cheeks and how he avoided my eyes. "It was just a kiss," he insisted.

"Uh-uh. Those hickeys said something else, Spence," a woman joked as she stepped out into the garden accompanied by Portia, who'd come home and seemed to have let her in.

The stranger was pretty, around the same age as my friends. Her almond-shaped dark brown eyes gazed teasingly at my Professor, who jumped up and pullied her into a hug.

One after another, my friends left the table, greeting the dark-haired woman. Her arm was still slung around Spencer's waist; his arm was laid over her shoulders.

I got up as well, to be polite, I assumed. A smile was plastered on my face as I joined them.

Why the fuck were they so touchy with each other?

"Dove," my Professor said. "This is Elle Greenway."

Elle. Okay. I had contacted her via mail days prior but never got an answer.

"Hi," I said, holding my hand out to Elle... Purposefully so she would take her hands off Spencer.

Like, seriously, get a room. Just don't get a room, you know?

She shook my hand, smiling. "Hello."

"Dove's one of my students," Spencer told her half-heartedly while walking her to the table and offering her his seat. "I can't believe you are here. It's been two years, minimum."

One of your students... Uh-huh. Spencer, you're missing a few things. I am not only your student. I'm also:

Your colleague.

And your neighbor.

And your friend.

And your fucking favorite person?

I sat down at the table again, not liking that I had to sit next to this woman I didn't know. Emptying my drink, Penelope quickly replaced it with another, winking at me.

"Don't be jealous, Kitten. They're just old friends," she whispered while I watched Elle running her hand through my Professor's curly mane.

"Not jealous," I whispered back, a little insulted, starting to drink my new, more alcoholic beverage.

*****

After two more glasses, it was fair to say that I was tipsy. Elle was nice, one of those bad bitches who didn't take shit from anybody, having completely encaptured Spencer's attention... Making me annoyed.

I wasn't jealous. I was annoyed.

"I totally saved your life," my Professor insisted as they discussed an old case in which a magic trick performed by him had saved the day.

Portia had joined us shortly after Elle, and since then, I sat between her and Penelope.

"Green's not your color. Take a shot," the blonde said, filling mine, her, and Penny's shot glasses with tequila again.

"I look good in green," I informed her, pouring the burning alcohol down my throat and scrunching my nose at the taste.

Rossi had already decided that we were all going to stay the night. Yet, with Alex, Kate, and Aaron here as well, we needed to share the rooms.

I couldn't stop my face from scrunching up as Elle rested her hand on my Professor's thigh. Way too high up on his thigh, actually. Flirting-territory high.

Standing up and grabbing the tequila bottle, Penelope announced, "Okay, Kitten, Portia, let's go upstairs, fill the air mattress, and change into our jammies."

I was going to stay in a room with Penny and Luke. Where Spencer was going to sleep was a mystery to me since he was too busy catching up with his friends, but that wasn't my problem... Just didn't know if I could sleep without my white-noise koala.

Portia pulled me to my feet, and we walked inside. In her bedroom, Penelope and I sat on the bed while the blonde searched through her closet.

She threw short hot pants and a tank top at me. "You think Spencer and this Elle are doing it?" she asked, making me choke on the sip of tequila I had just taken.

"No," I said, irritated. "He- He just came out of a relationship a couple of months ago."

"As far as I know, they're just friends," Penny said, changing into the pajamas from her go-bag she kept in her car.

"They have that energy between them, though," Portia said while I turned my back to them to change into the clothes she'd handed me. Looking me up and down, she added, "That looks hot on you."

In the mirror in the far left corner of Portia's bedroom, I inspected the scratches on my throat. I was a lot of things, but hot wasn't one of them.

We walked into the guest bedroom and let the electronic air pump blow up the mattress while we continued drinking.

"So, you snatched yourself a Luke Alvez," Portia started. "How's it going?"

Squealing happily, Penelope chirped, "Amazing. Like, I knew he's a great man, but now I know know he's a great man."

"Sounds awesome, Penny," I said, having her pet my knee.

"I'm sorry, Kitten. I didn't want to rub it into your face."

"You didn't?" I told her, confused, taking another sip of tequila. "I'm really happy for you and Luke. You're my friends."

"You sure?"

"Absolutely," I assured her. "No matter what my situation is, I would never not be happy for you out of envy."

"Okay, then..." Penny said with a dramatic pause. "We're thinking about moving in together."

"Already?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. Luke has two dogs, as you know, and my apartment is too small... So now the question is if I move into Luke's house, or we buy a new one."

"That's great. I- I'll help on moving day if you want," I offered. "I hope I'm one day as in love as you two are."

"Can't believe you're single," Portia said. "You are so cute."

I shook my head. "I'm basic at best, and my trauma didn't even make me funny, only weird."

"Don't say shit like that," the blonde scolded me. Penelope agreed. "You are amazing, smart, pretty, and kind."

They passed the bottle between them, and I asked, "Do you really think Spencer and Elle have something going on?"

"So you are into him," Portia said, but I shook my head.

"N-No. I don't really feel things like that. Also, is Spencer, my favorite person, and having any non-platonic feelings for him would ruin that," I explain, blushing.

"What's a favorite person?" Portia asked, making me shrug while thinking of how to explain it without seeming like a crazy person.

"It's like a comfort person, I guess. Somebody who knows that you're broken but still stays. Somebody who makes you feel like you're worth the effort."

The silence between us was broken when Penny said, "Okay. That just killed me." She wiped a non-existent tear from her eye. "Does Reid know how you feel about him?"

I nodded. "I- I don't know if he fully grasps the concept of the title, but he lives up to it as though he does."

"I say that's love," Portia announced. As I shook my head, she added, "That level of feelings is love. Platonic or romantic, doesn't matter."

Taking the last sip from the tequila bottle, I said, "The thing that bugs me about all about Elle is just the same as with Max, JJ, and Lila fucking Archer. They are so pretty and confident and have their shit together. Why is that his type? I'm really starting to get an inferiority complex."

"Two things," Portia said, holding up three fingers but quickly collecting herself. "First, stop comparing yourself to others. No matter how beautiful you think a person is, some will always disagree with you. Secondly, you're scared that Spencer could like anybody more than you."

"Because if he has a girlfriend, he'll stop spending time with me. I bet she wouldn't be the biggest fan of me sleeping in Spencer's bed or him calling me Sweetheart, either..." I said, guilt filling me. "I'm selfish. He deserves to be happy, but it legitimately makes me want to vomit."

"Yeah, it's selfish," Penny agreed. "Thanks," I answered sarcastically. "But Spencer is no better. Why else do you think he doesn't like Jake?"

I shrugged, making Penelope give Portia a quick rundown of who Jake was.

"Oh," Portia laughed at the part where Penelope shared her theory of the migraine Spencer had gotten last week being actually jealousy induced. "He is so jealous. You two are literally matching that one Ariana Grande song."

Both started singing Boyfriend, absolutely motivated and completely off-key.

Wanting to take another sip, I noted the empty bottle. "Not drunk enough for this shit."

"You know what that means," Portia laughed. "Let's go downstairs and get another bottle."

We walked downstairs, about to enter the kitchen, when Penelope stopped us. There were two people inside, talking. One was Elle, and the other person, standing with their back in our direction, was Spencer.

"I'm sorry things didn't work out with Max," Elle said.

Spencer sighed. "Well, what can you do? At least we didn't end entirely on bad terms. You're sure you wanna go back to the hotel? You could stay here."

"Why?" Elle asked. "You offering to share a room with me?"

Stepping closer and rubbing her hand over his chest, she said. "It's been a while. Why don't you just come with me, and we spend the night as we would before your relationship?"

Oh. Portia had read the signs right. I swallowed roughly, sharing a look with the two blondes. Maybe we should spy on them.

"Let's go back upstairs," I whispered, tugging on Penny's arm. "Eavesdropping is a shitty thing to do."

Spencer leaned down closer to Elle, and that was when Portia grabbed my hand and dragged me back to mine and Penelope's room.

Fuck. It shouldn't even bother me as much as it did. Spencer was a single man who was allowed to have as many casual flings and fuck buddies as he wanted to. It was none of my business.

Drunk Dove truly was a jealous bitch.

*****

♜ Spencer's POV ♜

"I can't," I told Elle, taking her hands off my chest and holding them in mine.

Of course, never when I was in a relationship, but Elle and I had made it a habit of seeing each other casually whenever she was in town after leaving the FBI.

Now that I was single, it was more than fair for her to assume I would take her up on her offer and fuck her silly to get rid of pent-up tension, but I didn't feel any interest in her anymore.

She was still a friend, and I had been thrilled to see her since she wasn't the most reliable person when it came to keeping in touch, but my body held no desire for her since my heart already lived elsewhere.

"Can I ask why?" she questioned calmly.

"Dove," was all I said.

"Your student?" "She's so much more than just a student," I said, holding back the urge to brag about my little bird.

Elle tilted her head. "I didn't know you two are-" I interrupted her. "We aren't."

A grin spread on her lips. "Spencer Reid, are you in love?"

I nodded, cheeks burning. "Very much so."

"Haven't heard you say that since Maeve," she said. "Too bad I didn't get to talk to her much."

"Dove's shy and today probably very drunk, thanks to Portia and Penelope."

We both chuckled.

"How bout us having some lunch before I leave tomorrow? You could bring her along," Elle suggested as I brought her to the front door, a cab already waiting outside.

"I'll check if she's up for it. Else it'll be just the two of us," I promised her, holding open the door for her.

"Stop talking to me like that, or I'll take you back to the hotel with me," she warned jokingly, hugging me goodbye.

"Back off, woman. I told you I'm devoted to another," I joked back.

I waited until Elle was in the cab, then returned to the kitchen, where Dove and Portia were in the midst of stealing some snacks and alcohol.

"Oh. Hey, ladies," I greeted them, Dove looking at me shortly with a tight-lipped smile.

"Hi," she mumbled, continuing to unpack frozen pizza pockets and putting them on a plate.

Portia looked me up and down with a smile. "Where's Elle?" she asked, something in her voice almost sounding like an allegation.

"Drove back to her hotel," I answered casually.

Portia nodded. "Didn't think she's your type, tbh, but like, good for you."

"We're just friends," I told Rossi's stepdaughter. "Did I do something to upset the two of you?"

Dove elbowed the blonde gently, them exchanging a look, and then she smiled at me. "She's nice... From what I could see, I mean," my little bird rambled. "Didn't really talk to her a lot; she also never answered the mail I sent, but yeah... Nice."

"Glad to hear that, Sweetheart," I answered, hoping she wasn't being passive-aggressive right now. "She actually asked us to have lunch with her tomorrow before she leaves."

"Us?" Portia asked, laughing teasingly while taking the pizza pockets from the microwave. "Don't think Dove's into threesomes."

I watched Dove become pale instantly. "I'm not into sex in general," she informed her new friend, taking the bottle of tequila from her. "Tequila makes you aggressive."

The blonde looked at her. "Tequila makes me woke."

"Nobody using the word 'woke' is actually as aware of things as they believe to be," Dove giggled, taking one of the pizza pockets. "Why don't you go upstairs with the food and the wine?"

Portia nodded, trying to grab the tequila again, but Dove moved it away. "Uh-uh. I'm cutting you off before you end up in a fistfight."

As we were alone, I asked, "Did I do something to make her hate me?"

Doce shook her head, blushing. "W-We might've overheard you and Elle talking earlier."

No. Fuck.

God, please tell me Dove didn't hear me say I'm in love with her.

"Oh, I- uhm... What did you hear?" I stammered.

"Nothing," my little bird smiled.

"You're lying."

"Just to make you feel better," she assured. "We shouldn't have spied on you."

I stepped closer. Did she know?

"You look pale," Dove mumbled, hand reaching out to my cheek. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. Just a little tired," I lied.

She quickly withdrew her hand, brushing some of her white-blonde mane behind her ears. "Are you leaving soon?"

I furrowed my brows. "Why should I leave? We were going to stay the night."

"Oh. Oh, yeah. Okay... Guess I just thought you'd leave with Elle because..." Her voice fell silent as she broke eye contact.

"Can you tell me what you overheard?" I asked as it dawned on me that the picture she had of me right now wasn't the best. "From favorite person to favorite person?"

"Just that you and Elle are... You know," Dove said, quickly looking at me. "I- I'm not judging. Elle is very pretty, and you seem to get along well. I just thought you'd take her up on the offer to drive to her hotel together, and yeah, guess I was wrong."

She thought I was having sex with Elle... Which wasn't entirely wrong, but she definitely missed the most crucial part of it all. Herself.

Elle and I? We were in the past.

Now I just needed to convince Dove about it without dropping the "I love you"-bomb on her.

"Elle and I, we-"

She interrupted me, smiling. "You don't have to justify yourself. It's also none of my business who you're hooking up with."

"We're not hooking up," I said. "We did... In the past, but not anymore."

"So you're just friends now?" I nodded, making her tilt her head. "I don't get that. How do you turn that kind of emotions just off?"

"It was just sex, no love," I chuckled.

Dove shrugged, taking a sip of tequila straight from the bottle. "Guess that's the demisexuality for me 'cause I can't separate those two things. Casual sex is so weird to me. I mean, sex in general because but, yeah... You know what I mean."

I nodded. "I know what you mean, Sweetheart."

She shifted her weight to her other side, wobbling.

"How drunk are you?" I asked, making her giggle.

"Pretty drunk," she answered, breaking her pizza pocket and handing me one of the halves.

I took a bite, burning my tongue. "That is so hot," I exclaimed, gulping firey tequila to save my tongue.

"It's fresh out of the microwave. What did you expect?" Dove giggled.

I wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pulled her against my chest, pressing a kiss to her temple.

"Can I tell you something?" she asked quietly.

"Everything."

"Portia asked me what a favorite person is because I mentioned that you're mine, and I had a pretty hard time explaining it..." she started. "Do you know what I mean when I tell you that you're my favorite person?"

I nodded, "I think I do."

Her big blue eyes stared at me. "Can I try to explain it to you anyway? Just to make sure?"

"Of course," I said.

I held the title of favorite person dear to my heart. I was sure to know what she meant, but there was no harm in hearing it come from her heart-shaped lips.

"I'm all ears," I cooed.

"My favorite artist is Vincent Van Gogh," she said.

"Something within me resonates with him ever since I was little. He struggled with his mental health, his parents didn't understand him—even asked him to move out, he was often treated like he was crazy, and he couldn't keep a job although he wanted nothing more than to be needed and do good.

"It already started off wrong when he was born. There were expectations put upon him he just couldn't fulfill. His still grieving parents named him after his older brother, who died at birth the year prior, with whom Vincent even shared a birthday..."

Dove shook her head, wavy white-blond her framing her face. "I'm sorry, I'm rambling. What I want to say is: Vincent Van Gogh had a brother named Theodorus—or Theo for short. He actually had five more siblings, but bear with me here," she said gently.

"Although Vincent had a good relationship with all his siblings... his and Theo's was special. Theo was four years younger, but he was sort of taking on the big brother role. He encouraged Vincent to start painting as he wanted to be an artist but didn't dare to, he bought him paint, he financially supported him.

"Theo would say that he was able to sell Vincent's paintings at his job as an art dealer and gave him money, yet what actually happened was that nobody wanted those paintings. So Theo lied and secretly hoarded all the paintings at home because he believed in Vincent and knew that one day the world would appreciate his brother's art as much as he did.

"He was there when Vincent needed to be institutionalized and made sure he was allowed to continue painting in there. He could've just let Vincent rot there as so many did back in the day with mentally ill family members, but he didn't.

"Theo said that loving his brother was hard at times as it felt like Vincent was torn between two different personalities, but his unwavering love for him always stayed strong.

"When Vincent then was on his deathbed, Theo wasted no time traveling to him and sat next to his brother until he died."

Taking a deep, shaky breath, Dove blinked away some tears. "Shortly after Vincent's death, Theo lost it, having to be institutionalized. He died only six months after this brother, some saying he couldn't handle the loss of Vincent as he was his only friend. It was simply too much. His wife Johanna made sure they could be together in death, burying the brothers side by side in a commune in France.

"Vincent was Theo's favorite person and vice versa. I never loved anybody like that except for Ellie. So, when I tell you that you're my favorite person, I mean that you are the Theo to my Vincent. That I know, I can trust you to be there for me even when I am too broken to be loved."

Dove wiped away her tears; I helped her while blinking away mine. Her explanation was so personal, raw, and vulnerable. I didn't wonder that she struggled to define it to Portia.

I still hadn't thought about how I would go about my feelings toward her. I didn't know if she would ever romantically return them, but I was okay with this.

Pure, unapologetic love.

Her words explained it better than I ever could. Seeing the other's most ugly self and still loving them was special and a deeper form of love than I'd ever experienced.

Dove loved me as her Theo, and would never stop, even if I'd turn into Vincent.

I wiped some tears from my eyes, knowing that I would go through all the hardships my life had given me one hundred times again if this would be where I would end up.

"I love you too, little bird," I promised her. "Always will, as much as you'll need me to."

I respected the wobbly line of platonic love between us, but how platonic was love between soulmates? Was it even to be separated in platonic and romantic love, or was it so much more than any of our simple-minded human words could describe?

Dove smiled at me, stating, "I need a hug."

Within seconds I had pulled her into one. Pressing her face into my chest, she mumbled, "I miss Ellie. Don't know why, but today it hurts again."

I gently rubbed her back. "It's okay. I understand it."

"I know. You always do," she said. "You're my person."

She pulled away from the hug, looking at the cold pizza pocket and the open tequila bottle on the kitchen counter.

"Are you staying with Penny, Luke, and me? We could share the air mattress on the floor," she asked, making me kiss her forehead.

"Of course," I said. "But just be warned that I'm getting too used to us sleeping in the same bed.

She giggled. "Ditto. We're so co-dependent."

"So, does my favorite person come to lunch with me tomorrow?" I asked, making her forehead crease. "You do not have to, Sweetheart."

"Only if you promise I won't see you flirting with Elle," Dove finally said, sounding a little jealous. "That would be so awkward. Don't wanna be the third wheel."

I chuckled, promising her I wouldn't.

How should I even look at another woman if my heart had already arrived, anyway?

43 notes · View notes