welcome to my kennel 🗝️ expect lots of Spencer Reid, MGG, ramblings, gifs, moodboards, & fanfic (maybe even some of my own…)
Im a 22 yr old puppy boy (he/they please) who loves MGG, criminal minds, plushies, painting, poetry, psychology, body modification, anime, many movies & tv shows, 18+ topics (kink & fetish), reading & more.
content warning for adult content & possible triggering themes
new to the community so i’m always looking for mutuals & writing advice <:
also I follow from my main blog (dementedpuppydoll) since this is a side blog
warnings & tags: MDNI, sub!pervy!spencer, loser!bush-lover!spencer, hotel sex, pegging, oral (f & m receiving), facesitting, edging, makeshift gag, spanking, degradation, praising, overstimulation, squirting, throat fucking, mentions of m masturbation, crying during sex
summary: after a long day of working (and getting sidetracked with some cards) at the LAPD, you end up sharing a hotel room with Spencer—which gives you the perfect opportunity to fulfill your promise of ruining him.
w/c: 7.5k
a/n: this is just a collection of my filthiest thoughts and idk how to feel about it...
and thanks to the beautiful @hotchnerss for being the judge of this :)
10 of hearts, Jack of diamonds, Queen of spades, 4 of spades, and a 10 of clubs. Those were the five cards splayed out on the table between you and Spencer in the middle of the freezing conference room the team had gotten cleared out at the LAPD to work on a case.
At this point, it was 10 pm, and everybody’s brains had turned into mush.
“Do you need some help?” Spencer asked, the pitch of his voice slightly rising in inquiry and a hint of condescension.
“No. I know what I’m doing,” you lied, holding the cards up to your face to where he could only see your taunting eyes.
You slowly shifted your gaze up to him, wanting to seem more confident with your small collection of cards than you actually were.
You had learnt more about playing poker by watching the team play friendly games on the jet. You’d always sit close by, half-asleep, focusing mostly on Spencer just because he hated when you watched him play.
You’d try to get a glimpse of his cards for no reason other than to mess with him, because what would you use that information for?
Today, you officially had your first six poker games against Spencer.
“Come on, just show me your cards,” he sighed, reaching over to the cards in your hands.
“Absolutely not!” you hissed, bringing the cards flat against your chest.
“I’m actually gonna kill both of you if you don’t put those cards away.” Emily groaned, picking her forehead off the hard wood, glaring at the two of you, and covering her ears to block out every possible sound you two were making.
“Don’t be a party pooper, Em.” you playfully rolled your eyes at her, glancing over, and taking in how terribly tired she looked.
“You’re yelling in my ear,” she rubbed her eyes harshly before dropping her head back down on the table with a dull thud.
“Sorry,” you whispered, politely pulling your lips into a thin line.
You took in a deep breath, catching your top lip between your teeth in deep thought before leaning your elbows on the table.
Although the two of you agreed to no profiling during the game, that was nearly impossible to avoid—the only signs of how the game was going you could rely on as an amateur were his microexpressions.
You couldn’t help but catch the slight twitch of the right corner of his lip when the queen of spades hit the board, so you took a leap of faith to conclude that you'd helped him somehow.
You didn’t know the exact math, but you knew that Spencer could destroy you right now if he wanted to.
Instead, his fingers idly traced the edges of his cards as he stared at your chest where you’d held the papers a few moments ago, unable to peel his eyes away.
Staring at every inch of your skin was a habit that slowly grew over the past few months—undeniable proof that Spencer had become a dog at your feet.
He’d fuck you with nothing but that filthy look of his eyes—mapping out your body shamelessly when he thought no one was looking.
“Do you have a nine?” he finally looked up to your eyes after staring for way too long.
You bit the inside of your cheek, unsure of how truthful you wanted to be, “Yes.” you nodded.
“And do you have a king?”
“Why’d you look at my fucking cards?” you whisper yelled, furrowing your brows as you leaned closer to him from across the board.
“I didn’t.”
You’d missed a very easy win—a straight. It was a hit to your ego, even though Spencer hadn’t rubbed it in your nose that you missed such an obvious, basic move when he usually would.
You placed the two cards in the small space between you two.
Spencer always had an unyielding need to overpower you intellectually during working hours, because that was the only way he could keep a lick of his dignity anymore.
So his so-called help didn’t seem right.
“What cards do you have?” you tilted your head, having a certain feeling that he’d managed to trick you so he could win.
Spencer folded his cards over onto the board, hiding them close to his side before taking in a deep breath, “You won.” he simply said.
Your brain was nearly entirely fried that you didn’t register his words immediately.
“First win after six rounds,” he sounded smug, “I see great potential.” the words that left his lips miserably failed to hide his disgustingly beautiful smirk as he gave you a nod of mock satisfaction.
There it was, his undying need of proving that he’s superior.
Spencer told himself that he’d let you win purely out of pity, but deep down he knew that one of his many guilty pleasures is seeing you so self-satisfied after scarring his pride whenever you got the chance.
And he was giving you a tiny chance at that, missing your shit-eating grin after six rounds of beating you.
Winning didn’t taste as good as losing to you.
“Pack it up,” Hotch announced, stepping into the room, the heavy click of his dress shoes filling the quiet space, “We’re heading to the hotel. We have to share rooms due to some last-minute booking shortages, so pair up.”
“Reid.”
Spencer only hummed, looking up at Hotch.
“I don’t wanna see those cards tomorrow.” he warned, raising his brows up for a moment.
“Yes, sir.” Spencer buttered, slight embarrassment evident in his voice.
Emily practically bolted upright at the word ‘hotel’, her eyes instantly losing their dead glaze, “Thank god,”
“My beautiful Emily-” you clasped your hands together, tilting your head to the side with the sweetest look you could muster.
“I love you so much,” Emily slowly stretched her arms up after they’d been wedged under her head for too long, “but I cannot bear your voice for another second. I’m going with JJ.”
“Ouch?”
“That’s what you get for blabbing the entire time we were playing,” Spencer shook his head, stiffly packing his cards back into their small cardboard box, avoiding eye contact entirely.
“You’re not any better, Reid.” Morgan quickly picked up his file off the round table, turning to the door as if he’s trying to evade the question Spencer was certainly about to ask him.
Of course, Derek wouldn’t pass up on the only single room available.
In no time, you and Spencer were the only ones left between the four sterile white walls, “Looks like you’re stuck with me.” you murmured, forcing his eyes to flicker up at you.
Spencer’s hand faltered, a single card slipping from his fingers onto the table. He didn’t respond, but the faint shade of pink tinting the tips of his ears told you everything you needed to know.
--
You headed to the shared hotel room before Spencer, leaving him behind as he trailed along with Hotch and Rossi—most probably interrogating them about the sudden booking issues that came up.
And knowing Spencer, he was certainly begging one of the two to switch rooms with him but the pair were inseparable.
You lazily dropped your go-bag on the twin bed tucked in the far left corner of the room, and unzipped it. The long day of working on a case with little to no leads had sucked out all your energy and left you frustrated and exhausted with a barely functioning brain.
Being neat was the last thing you cared about at that moment, so you took out some of the bag’s contents as you looked for a change of clothes for the night, throwing them on the bed.
After finding a pair of cotton sleep shorts and an oversized tee shirt, you reached underneath your skirt, hooking your fingers into the waistband of your panties, pulling them down, and stepping out of them before carelessly tossing them next to the open bag.
You grabbed your clean clothes and slipped into the bathroom to wash up and change.
The sound of the door clicking shut was the signal of Spencer’s arrival, reminding you of what hell you had to deal with tonight.
A few minutes passed and there was no movement in the room.
You had no idea what Spencer was doing.
The red fabric of your used panties was like a trap, making him stand weirdly close to your side of the room, tilting his head slightly forward, trying to get a better look at the delicate fabric as he shamelessly licked his lips.
Spencer was under a spell, his tall frame facing your bed, standing a few feet away from it.
The unadulterated hunger that crept into his chest was borderline sinful, and he hated how a piece of fabric had such an effect on him.
All he could do was picture you, taking off the fabric, completely bare like he’d seen you many times before. So perfect.
The image of you had burnt itself in the back of his eyes ever since the first time he got to see your naked body. It was a visual that made him more grateful for his eidetic memory than ever.
He had used the mental image of you so many times in the past few weeks. Obsessing over it when he couldn’t fall asleep at night, jerking off to the crystal-clear replay of you dismantling him before coming embarrassingly fast.
The things he’d done to you in his head were nothing short of depraved, and he’d drop dead if anyone ever found out about his guiltiest pleasure—you.
You swung the door open, stepping into the room with no intention of being met with a paralyzed Spencer.
“What are you doing?”
Spencer whipped his head to your direction—feeling like a deer in headlights.
“Nothing.” he lied, almost stuttering over the few letters leaving his mouth.
He was caught.
You placed your fists on your hips, tilting your head to the side as you made your way further into the room, “What the fuck are you doing, Reid?” you demanded an answer he clearly didn’t have.
“I was just- I didn’t-” he pointed at the used panties then a random direction as if that would help him out.
“You’re a total pervert, you know that?” A satisfied smirk cut across your face as you watched the crimson flood his neck, “I leave you alone for two minutes and you turn into a dog salivating over my underwear. Is that what you are, Reid? A little dog?”
He quickly shook his head, trying so hard to suck in the panic that was seeping through his pores, “N-no, my eyes just drifted, I swear-” he choked on his own breath as you took another step closer.
“Oh, and you’re trying to lie to me too?” you raised your eyebrows, slightly bringing your chin in.
“You’re really racking up your debt with me. It’s like you want me to ruin you. Is that it?” you tipped your head back a little to get your face closer to his, “You’re acting out because you’re starving for the punishment I promised you?”
Spencer’s adam’s apple bobbed hard as you took a step closer, making the backs of his knees hit the edge of his bed. The only reprieve from your soul-sucking body he was painfully trying to resist was sinking down onto the bed.
Spencer looked up at you, naked fear bubbling in his wide brown eyes. He was a condemned man staring up at his executioner.
No one’s ever made an effort to pick him apart and analyse his every move—but that’s exactly what you did, so you became his drug of choice.
To Spencer, it didn’t matter that your attention was sick and completely reliant on using his most depraved desires for your own pleasure. All he could see was that you were using him. You were choosing to use his mind, body, and soul.
You’d think that Spencer is smart enough to know that you don’t care about him, but that wasn’t the case.
How could your overbearing consumption of him mean nothing? It certainly meant that he was seen.
You’d look at him and not miss a thing—down to the invisible quiver of his lips.
Spencer was two people in one, or maybe he was one split into two—torn between running to save his sanity, and pressing his throat harder against your blade.
He understood that everything about this was wrong and it ate him alive. But to a man who’s been emotionally starved his entire life, cruel attention is still attention, and the guilt was worthless when all you do is pin him down and dig into the filthiest corners of his mind.
You could easily map out the fractures in his psyche and use them as leverage.
And god help him, he was letting you.
Spencer was completely paralyzed beneath your gaze, waiting for your next move.
“You’re a disgusting man,” your fingers roughly gripped his jaw, “now strip and get on all fours on the bed and I’ll give you what you deserve.” you murmured against his lips before dropping his chin as if his very skin repulsed you.
Spencer immediately obliged, his fingers trembling as they flew to the buttons of his shirt. His eyes followed you as you gracefully padded to your bed, rummaging through your unzipped bag at the edge of the white sheets.
His hands grew clumsier as he started frantically unbuckling his belt, hoping to get in position before you walked back to him so he wouldn’t have to face you again. You’d make him speak—and that’s something he was incapable of at the moment. His long limbs shook as he shed his clothes and crumbled them up onto the corner of the bed.
You had asked him to be in an exposing position that he’d never been in—offering himself blindly while his heart hammered against his ribs, almost cutting through the bones to jump out.
Spencer pushed himself onto his hands and knees, his spine straightening as he shivered.
When you finally plucked the small bottle of lube out of your bag, a wave of satisfaction settled in your chest. You had packed it before you left Virginia, long before the booking shortage forced you into this room, because you had planned on having fun and punishing him on this trip--Spencer just happened to hand you the perfect excuse on a silver platter.
You picked up the pair of panties Spencer was ogling earlier, then turned your head to him to find his eyes fixated on the mattress beneath him—focusing on the space between his flattened hands on the bed.
You walked up behind him—the sight of his backside entirely exposed just for you made excitement ripple straight to your core. You didn’t touch him yet.
Instead, you draped the red cotton panties right in front of his face with your index finger. You leaned to the side to get a good look at his face as you dangled the fabric, making him instinctively raise his head.
His glassy brown eyes zeroed on the maroon fabric that branded him disgusting in your eyes, his chest expanding as he took a deep breath, greedily breathing in your scent, unable to restrain himself.
“I didn’t know you had it in you, Reid,” you said softly, flicking the panties away from his face, watching him involuntarily chase it, “Underneath the proper act you’re just a filthy little pervert who has to steal glances at a woman’s underwear to get off. Look at how hard you’re already getting.” you shook your head.
From this angle, you could see the curve of his erection dangling beneath him, straining against his stomach, the pink tip already swollen and wet, weeping with a sheer glaze of precum.
Spencer let out a ragged breath, his head bowing slightly under the weight of your gaze, but you gripped his jaw, forcing him to look back up at the fabric, “Very tempting, right?” the corners of your mouth turned up in a smug, teasing smirk as you shot your brows up.
“I can’t help it,” he whispered, his throat bobbing.
“I know it’s very easy to get you off, but this is really pathetic, Spencer.” you purred, your fingers scratching the stubble on his chin.
“Stop,” his head grew heavy against your hand, the humiliation slowly getting to him, making him wonder why he’s letting you do this.
“Remember your safe word?” you whispered, your fingers carding through the curls at the nape of his neck, soothing the shiver running down his spine.
He nodded, giving you his glassy puppy-dog eyes he knew you liked.
You leaned down, pressing your soft lips onto his, “Good, because you know I have to fuck all the disrespect out of you.”
“I know..” he breathed out quietly, “I know..”
“Good boy,” you patted his cheek lightly before pushing yourself of the bed, “pick a number,”
Spencer’s throat bobbed as he stared down at the white sheets, “For what?”
“For whatever I wanna do to you,” you said simply, your tone matter-of-factly as you slid the thin tee shirt over your head before stepping out of your shorts and new underwear, leaving you completely bare at the foot of the bed behind him.
His mouth parted slightly as he instinctively turned his head to look at you, “Ten.”
A slow, wicked grin spread across your face as you took a step closer to the bed, your thighs hitting the edge of the plush mattress.
You reached down, your fingertips feathering across the soft, pale skin of his round ass, “Let’s find out if your pretty ass can take ten strikes,”
“Okay,” he whispered, his voice completely stripped of any argument, “I can take that,”
Spencer’s words sounded like reassurance for himself—a quiet murmur to keep himself calm and still.
“I want you to count for me,” you instructed, your hand flattening on his bare cheek, giving him a moment to brace himself and take a deep breath.
The brief pause after your words was the only warning he got before you raised your hand just for it to quickly come down and connect with his flesh.
The loud, raw sound of the slap filled the quiet room as Spencer’s frame jolted from the impact, wincing before blurting out, “One.”
“Two!” Spencer’s voice grew smaller, swallowing the next sob as your hand slapped him again. His hips twitched, an instinctive urge to pull away from the sting pulling at his muscles, but he forced himself to stay put.
“Don’t be such a crybaby, I’m going very easy on you right now,”
Spencer’s eyes flew wide open at the third spank as you came back with more force, watching a patch of crimson bloom across his skin. “Oh my- three!”
You looked down at your palm, the skin plump and red, feeling like it’s on fire.
“No one told you to pick such a high number,”
“Please, please, please,” he whimpered, his voice breaking almost as if he was on the verge of tears.
You cut off his pleas with a harsher slap, pulling a wince from your own lips at the contact.
A sudden sob left Spencer’s lips as he buried his face down into the fluffy pillow, his fingers tearing at the sheets, “Four!”
You reached forward with your good hand, tugging on his hair just enough to force his face up from the pillow, “Shh, don’t bury your face away like a coward. We still have six more to go. Get up and take it like a man.”
You softly brushed the red mark on his skin, soothing your flaring palm along with his sensitive ass. The slight tremble in his hips every time you traced your hand onto his skin made your stomach turn, almost feeling bad for him.
You leaned down, pressing a soft, wet kiss against his burning cheek, lingering there until his ragged breath slowed down. “You can handle the rest, baby. I know you can.” you whispered against his skin, your cool lips turning up into a faint smile.
Spencer sniffled, his thighs flexing as he took a deep breath, mustering up all his strength for you, “I’m trying.. I really am,” he breathed out.
“Fuck- five!” he hissed, his voice raspy as he heaved, “can you kiss me again- I promise I’ll be good but it burns so bad,”
“Give me two more and I might soothe the burn,” you whispered, giving him the sixth firm spank, the sound of his breath hitching as he tried to be quiet made a tight knot form in your core.
“S-six! six!” he choked out, his toes curled.
You didn’t give him a second to recover, your hand coming back down again with a sharp snap, landing right on top of the flaring mark on one of his cheeks since you alternated between them.
“Seven!” he gasped, his back arching as his entire frame trembled.
True to your word, you didn’t give him the eighth strike yet. Instead, you leaned down, pressing your wet mouth directly onto the angriest part of the crimson patch, “See how nice I am when you’re behaving?”
You dragged your tongue over the overheating skin, drinking in the throbbing sting.
You let out a pleased hum as he twitched beneath you before relaxing.
“Are you ready for more?” you said with an open mouth, spreading your saliva onto him.
“No...” he moaned, shaking his head, “no, this feels so good..” he shifted his hips back to you.
“I know it does,” you cooed, your breath fanning over the wet trail you left behind, “but we’re not done yet. And you don’t get to be picky. This is your punishment and I gave you a grace period because I wanted to.” you pulled your lips back with a gentle pop.
The sudden loss of your coolness drew a desperate whine out of him, his hips instinctively trying to follow your retreat, but you placed your hand on the small of his back, pushing him back in his place.
“How many do we have left?” you tested.
“Three,”
“Good job, Dr. Reid. You can still count.” you chuckled, your hand teasing the hypersensitive skin in front of you.
A chill ran down his spine as you gave him the eighth blow, “Eight!” he was yelling louder now.
“You want everyone to hear you getting spanked, Spencer?” you pinned his hips in place with both hands as he shook.
“No- no I’m sorry,”
You responded with a harsher strike, making his elbows give out once again as he pressed his face down into the pillow, muffling his sob, “Oh my god- nine!” his broken voice vibrated through the mattress, tickling your nerves in all the right ways.
Your palm came down with the sharpest snap yet, burning your own hand as you felt like your skin was almost falling off. “Ten!” he cried out loudly, “ten..” he repeated, whimpering and breathing heavily into the lenin covered pillow.
You turned your palm up, examining the swollen skin before shifting your gaze to Spencer’s scarlet-marked ass, a rush of heat pooling in your stomach. “Such a good boy.”
“Stay like this,” you pecked the side of his hips before picking the bottle of lube off the floor.
You poured a generous amount of the cool liquid onto your flaring palm, watching his shoulders tense at the soft click of the cap.
The contrast between the coldness of your palm and his raw skin sent a sharp shiver up his spine, making him jolt and arch into your touch.
You splayed out your fingers as you delicately rubbed the lube onto him, desperately needing the stinging to stop just as much as he did. You massaged his plump, bruised flesh, your fingers slightly digging in as if that would help put out the fire in your hand.
“It would be a shame to waste how worked up you got over my underwear.”
Spencer’s small gasps and whimpers of relief surprisingly did a good job at soothing your skin, the sounds twisting the pain into something far more pleasurable.
“Feel better?” you whispered, slowly pressing your thumb along the dip of his crack, feeling the tight, trembling muscles melt, surrendering to your merciful touch.
Spencer hummed in response, finally letting go of whatever bit of pride he was holding onto, accepting your merciless care and the way you were feeding off the ruined sight of him.
“I’m gonna stretch your pathetic little ass now, Spencer,” you purred, watching his hips instinctively twitch in anticipation, “to make sure you never forget the price of being a weirdo who looks at things he’s not supposed to.”
You slid your slick thumb lower, pressing it flat against the tight, puckered rim of his asshole, “But I’m sure that’s what you wanted, right?”
Spencer whined at your simple touch, the sound compelling deep desire to twist its way around your bones like ivy, quietly spreading everywhere.
“Take a deep breath and push against my thumb, Spencer.” you commanded softly.
You saw his chest expand before he did what he was told.
“There you go. Keep pushing.”
A broken gasp left Spencer’s lips as he forced himself to unclench against your finger that circled the tight ring of muscle to prep him.
“Shh, just let go, Spencer. You’re too tight.” you rubbed the base of his spine with your other hand as he answered your words with a loud whine. You shifted your gaze down to the red panties next to Spencer’s knee before picking up the fabric, tossing it right in front of his face so you wouldn’t have to pause your rhythm. “Put this in your mouth, you’re already very noisy and I haven’t done anything yet.”
Spencer’s trembling fingers bunched up the fabric, holding onto it for dear life as if it were a precious gift, before greedily biting down on it, muffling a deep grunt as you pushed you switched your thumb with your index finger before pushing past the barrier of his entrance.
You held your finger still inside his pulsing heat, letting him adjust to the sudden intrusion, “Come on, Spence, let me see how much you can take.”
You drew a muffled, high-pitched sob out of his pretty mouth as you pumped your finger deeper into his hole, slightly hooking your finger against the tender walls.
Your eyes drifted to his balls, twitching beneath his leaking cock. You slithered your free hand down the sensitive skin of his thighs, capturing his balls in a firm grip, playfully tugging on them, making his hips buck in a helpless search for friction.
Your fingers lightly brushed against the base of his painfully hard dick, teasing him with nothing more than occasional soft brushes as your index finger continued its assault.
You made an effort to tug on his pubes, rolling his aching balls between your fingers, keeping his dick completely out of reach, “Your poor dick looks so lonely, Spencer. So useless while I ruin the rest of you.” you smirked, sharply yanking his pubic hair just to hear his pretty squeal against your now chewed panties.
You deliberately rolled your middle finger next to the slightly stretched hole before inserting it slowly, careful enough to make the pain feel good.
“I know you let me win.”
You pushed your two digits deeper into him, curling them against his prostate, watching his elbows start to shake beneath him. “Why’d you let me win, Spencer? Do you like how mean I am when I beat you?”
“Hm?” you let out a stifled hum, matching his own choked whimpers as you reached over, pushing your panties deeper into his mouth as you applied more pressure against his gland.
None of Spencer’s words were comprehensible, but you knew he was begging.
“I asked you a question,” you held your fingers still against the most sensitive part of him, allowing him to drop his head onto the soft pillow as he gave a hesitant nod into the fabric.
You smirked, resuming a cruel, heavy thrust, sinking your fingers all the way to the knuckles, “That’s what I thought,”
Spencer held himself up on his shaky hands, arching his back, aiming to please you so you’d let him come.
“Are you close, baby?” you jutted your lip out in mock sympathy, watching him nod and turn his head to look back at you, barely-there tears glistening on his flushed cheeks.
You ran a finger down his shaft, feeling the prominent, pulsing veins along his length, tracing down to his weeping tip without giving him the relief of a full grip.
“You really thought if you arched that needy ass high enough for me, I’d let you finish? You’re a lot smarter than that, Spencer.” you watched his face twist in beautiful agony.
Once his whines got louder, you fully withdrew your fingers, leaving him cold and empty as he buried his face back into the sheets, letting out a small cry.
You grabbed some tissues from the bedside table, wiping your fingers clean as you stared at Spencer’s damp hair, getting the sudden urge to sink your hands into the soft curls and soothe the trembles right out of him.
“You took me so well,” you sweetly whispered, plopping down on the bed next to his head, pressing a gentle kiss on the crown of his head.
Spencer turned his head slowly, dropping his jaw to let your soaked panties drop out of his mouth.
“My body feels like it’s on fire,” he admitted.
“I’m sorry,” you bit back a smile, but the edges of your mouth twitched, giving you away—you were satisfied.
“You’re evil.”
You raised your brows, letting the smile take over your mouth, “You think?” you teased, wiping away the strands that stuck to his forehead, brushing through his sweaty hair.
Spencer rolled his eyes, letting out a long, shuddering exhale as he leaned his forehead right against your thigh.
His eyes wandered between your legs, staying silent for a few moments before speaking, “You didn’t shave,” he blurted out before he could think better of his words, his face immediately turning into a deeper shade of red.
You furrowed your brows at his bluntness, staring down at him, “Is that a complaint?” you asked, tilting your head to the side.
“No- no that’s- it’s good.”
It’s good.
His words made a genuine laugh bubble in your chest, what a weird way to put it.
“Is doctor Spencer Reid turned on by pubes?” you teased, using your thumb to trace the burning flush on his cheekbone.
He picked his head off your thigh, uncomfortably sitting straight, “It’s completely normal by the way,” he shot his brows up, nodding as he defended himself.
You deliberately shifted your weight on the mattress, leaning your back against the headboard as Spencer continued talking, now taking his spot across from you, “y’know scent and pheromone retention in pubic hair increases arousal, so it’s just a basic neurological response to- to find it attractive…”
“Hm, really?” a soft blush started flooding your cheeks as you propped your legs up, keeping them apart to display your core, watching as Spencer slowly trailed off, his eyes hopelessly locking onto your heat.
“You’re so easily distracted,” you rested your head back, sliding your fingers down your stomach, admiring the sheer desperation in Spencer’s eyes.
Spencer’s eyes widened, his irises completely swallowed by his blow-out pupils as your hand lightly brushed against the hair beneath your lower stomach, slowly making your way to your clit.
You tilted your hips up, getting yourself in a more comfortable position as Spencer slowly tipped back on his heels, sitting further away from you as if the temptation would turn him feral if he stayed close.
You let yourself melt by swirling two fingers on the tight bundle of nerves at the top of your folds before sliding your fingers down your drenched slit, coating them in your juices as you admired Spencer through your lashes—sitting all pretty and ruined before you with his mouth slightly agape.
You dipped your fingers into your entrance, already aching with need, tightening your core muscles as you let out a soft moan.
You looked down to Spencer’s leaking dick that was completely abandoned, and the sight made you push your fingers deeper to feed your arousal.
Spencer’s self control was impressive, and it turned you on, because you knew how much effort it was taking for him to not completely come undone.
You sunk your fingers deeper into your hole, pulling out more juices every time you withdrew your fingers just to pump them back in and curling them against your upper inner wall with more force.
Spencer leaned down, bracing himself on his forearms at the same level as your pussy, letting out small whimpers in sync with your own pretty noises.
“You’re very pretty,” he whispered, his soft breath travelling to tickle your legs.
“Spencer…” you whimpered in response, your eyes fluttering shut as you moaned out again—his name becoming the only word your mouth could say.
You desperately wanted to get yourself off, but Spencer was right there and you had to make good use of such a beautiful thing.
“Come here,” you murmured, your fingers slowing down, unable to hold back from hitting your g-spot a few times before pulling out completely.
Spencer crawled to you on his sore knees and forearms, looking up at you with an eager, reverent look as his face reached your inner thighs.
You parted your legs wider for him, “Look at how wet you made me, Spencer,” you whispered, your hips giving a small, encouraging twitch against the mattress.
You tangled your wet fingers into his messy hair, gently guiding his mouth right to your soaking center.
A ragged gasp left your lips as his tongue finally made contact with your swollen folds as he let out a starved groan.
Spencer tucked his hair behind his ear, pressing his tongue flat against your wet folds, burying his nose into your messy bush as he lapped at you with beautiful hunger.
His long fingers blindly reached out to grip your thighs, spreading them wider to plunge his tongue deeper into you, feeling your walls pulse at a steady rhythm.
Your moans only made Spencer bolder, sucking on your hypersensitive skin, grazing his teeth against your folds as his muffled grunts vibrated against your wet flesh.
You tugged his head back by his hair, taking in the sight of his drool—evidence of how ravenous he was.
You pulled him up to your face, needing to taste the mess smeared on his face. Spencer sloppily tipped forward, bumping his teeth against yours, pushing his tongue past your lips to share the sweet taste of your arousal with you.
He desperately sucked on your tongue, pulling it between his teeth just to reach into the depths of your wet mouth and pull needy moans out of you.
You pulled away with a wet pop, blindly pushing your slick fingers against his mouth to slow him down, making him focus on your eyes.
“God, I wanna ride this pretty face,” you heaved, cradling his face with both hands, your eyes unable to stay steady as they darted all over his face, every feature more beautiful than the other.
What have you done to have such a pretty angel between your wicked hands?
“Please do,” Spencer begged, nodding as he suckled on your fingers because that’s all you were giving him right now.
“Lay down,” you replied, gently pushing him off of you so you could make space for him to lay flat in the middle of the bed.
Spencer’s lanky frame immediately stretched out flat on the now-wrinkled sheets, his eyes never leaving your bare body that he craved so badly.
Shifting forward, you crawled over his chest, peppering open-mouthed kisses across his feverish skin to cool him down.
When you finally reached his head, you turned around, switching your legs to opposite sides so you could face the rest of his body.
Spencer’s slender fingers clung to your thighs, his nails sinking into your skin to lower your heat onto his face, but you kept your hips hovering atop his face.
“So greedy.” You shook your head in faux disappointment—in reality, his greed to take everything you gave him amplified the tension in the pit of your stomach.
Spencer chased your dripping pussy, desperately sticking his tongue out to reach you despite your teasing.
“Please..please, I’ll make you feel so good, I promise,” he choked out, his voice vibrating through the tiny space between you two, making your hole clench around nothing.
Spencer’s utter desperation broke your self control, urging your hips to drop down, your pussy connecting with his honeyed, parted lips.
His jaw snapped open instantly, running his tongue up and down your slit, closing his lips around your hole as he applied unforgiving suction before pushing deep into your tight depths.
It was a filthy exchange—his mouth mimicking a deep, hungry french kiss by focusing his tongue on your pulsing walls to find your g-spot as his lips worked against your outer folds.
Spencer let out a muffled, wrecked whimper against your flesh as you began riding his face, your hips rolling in heavy circles, burying his nose behind your entrance, breathing in every part of you.
You felt him mix his spit with your fluids, pushing it into you along with his tongue that kept flicking at a quicker pace, giving you more and more friction, urging you to grind down with more force.
You leaned over his long torso, Spencer’s hands flying to steady your hips and hold your core in place against his face.
His cock was practically bouncing against his lower stomach, beads of precum leaking onto his belly.
You couldn’t help but lick a short trail on his skin, the taste of his arousal making you want more of him.
“You’re about to explode,” you barely managed to get the words past your lips.
The sheer sight of his dick, heavy and throbbing after everything you’d put him through made you unable to hold back, quickly wrapping your lips around his swollen, pink tip.
You ran your tongue along his weeping slit, feeling him whimper against your pussy, adding to the pleasure before you pulled back.
“God, Spencer.. You’re gross. So messy." you panted, admiring his completely ruined cock—Spencer obviously on the verge of spilling his entire load.
“I-I’m trying not to be.” he whined, his hips giving a helpless involuntary twitch beneath you, “Please.. just put your mouth on me. I’ve been so good.”
You obliged by giving into the goodness of your heart, granting Spencer some mercy so he would enjoy this too.
“Oh god..” Spencer gasped before nipping at your folds, losing all coordination, “just like that.. Oh my god.. I’m- please I’m so close,”
“You don’t get to come before me-”
“Then I won’t. I promise I won’t.” he quickly cut you off, desperate to get his cock back in your warm mouth.
You were eager to test how long he could last, and if he could push you off the edge before he broke.
You let his dick push past your slightly parted lips before your tongue worked to spread his slickness and your own spit across his length before hollowing your cheeks and pushing yourself down on him.
You bobbed your head, stuffing your mouth with his thick cock, gagging as you pushed yourself harder just to hear him get louder beneath you.
Every thorough, rhythmic drag of Spencer’s mouth pulled an unravelling sob out of your chest, muffled by his girthy shaft, making you cough against him without pulling away.
Spencer was kissing you raw—turning your delicate flesh bruised and tender under the relentless force of his mouth, until the tight knot in your core violently snapped.
Your walls clamped around his tongue as a heavy wave of fluid broke from you, squirting straight into his open mouth and drenching his face.
Your entire body was shaking, your back arching to press your front against Spencer’s torso as you cried out around his cock.
Your messy juices that sprayed all over his face and pillow didn’t make him pull away or raise your hips away from his face.
Instead, he moaned along with you as instinctively swallowed the hot gush of your release, licking your inner thighs to gather every drop of you.
You lost control over your body, completely going limp as your face sunk down, letting Spencer’s cock fill you to the brim as his hips stuttered, thrusting up to hit the back of your throat repeatedly.
Your jaw ached as Spencer hammered up to meet your heavy head, fucking your throat until his own orgasm was triggered after a long night of holding onto the thin thread of his sanity.
A loud whine was ripped out of his lungs as he emptied his seed into you, making you swallow all his hot release.
Your throat bobbed as his cum was now crowding the narrow airway, making hot tears form in your eyes, blurring your vision.
You both heaved, flushed, glistening faces completely dazed and overwhelmed as you pressed your cheeks against the closest part of each other.
You slowly raised your ass off of Spencer’s face, feeling him press soft kisses against your thighs, somehow making you sink deeper in the hazy afterglow and odd affection.
You dropped beside Spencer, your muscles giving out, forcing you to lay completely flat.
As you stared up at the ceiling, you felt small, almost as if you’ve shrunk into nothing without a single word of degradation from Spencer.
Your ribcage felt raw, completely ripped open and empty, but that was probably exhaustion.
You stared up at the dark hotel ceiling before slowly turning your head to Spencer who was already staring at you with a patient glint in his eyes.
“Are you okay?” you asked, just like you’ve done many times before. You were always the first to speak after the two of you hooked up.
“I think so.” he nodded, the lack of physical touch in the moment made space for nerves to creep back into Spencer’s head—yours too.
“You’ll be very sore tomorrow,” you lazily smiled, looking very pleased with what you’ve done as you traced a finger on his damp chin.
If Spencer were in his right mind, he’d come up with something witty to downplay the pain and try to defend his dignity, but he wasn’t in his right mind tonight.
He swallowed hard, his eyes briefly dropping to the sheets before flickering back up to yours as he pouted, “I know. It’s already throbbing,” he admitted.
You fell silent. Your body giving you no power to do anything other than admire the beautiful creature laying next to you. His face was peaceful. Calm. Gorgeously holy, even.
“We should change the sheets,” he muttered, his raspy voice slightly breaking, “You seem very tired, I’ll get a towel or something to clean you up and you can-”
“It’s okay, I really needa shower anyways,” you let out a small grunt as you sat up, stretching your back before slowly standing up, your legs still a bit shaky.
“You can have those,” a small, raw smile crept up your lips as you gestured toward the damp panties next to Spencer’s pillow.
You didn’t wait for a response, turning to the bathroom, because—of course—Spencer would want to have them.
“Um.. did I do okay?” Spencer whispered, almost as if he wasn’t sure whether or not he wanted you to hear him.
You turned your head to look at his beautiful bare frame that you won’t get to see for who knows how long, “You were a lot more than okay, Spencer.”
After a much-needed shower, you stepped back into the room; no trace remained of anything the two of you had done. Spencer was half-tucked into bed, seemingly waiting for you without a clear reason.
The maroon panties were gone now—tucked away safely where not a single soul would ever see them, including you.
“I brought you some extra pillows,” he pointed to your bed, were two new perfectly fluffed pillows sat next to your bag.
Was this his excuse to wait for you?
“Thanks,” you placed a thin towel on top of a single pillow, preparing the perfect headrest for your wet hair, “Goodnight, Spencer.” you whispered.
“Goodnight,” he replied quietly, turning his back to you as he comfortably curled up to sleep.
Everybody dreams of meeting their favorite musician, but you’re actually doing it. He had messed up at first, called you a girl. But he made sure to more than make up for it, offering you guitar lessons where he ends up putting his hand over yours to strum the strings. After a while he pulls you onto his lap, tells you it’s easier this way. Squished between him and the guitar. And then his hand is wandering down your side. Squeezing your hip before dipping down the band of your jeans and playing with your hard tdick. You squirm against him before relaxing, head lulling back on his shoulder
“Good boy, good fucking boy. My number one fan aren’t ya? So hard for me.”
So much emphasis on the boy part, because you are a boy who’s about to be fucked by his favorite singer.
before you started dating, you'd noticed the little hints of his germaphobia; the way he refused to shake hands, how he wouldn't sip from someone else's drink, how he kept his desk meticulously clean.
so, when you started dating, you had assumed spencer would keep to himself for the most part. and whilst you were partly correct, seeing as he wasn't particularly big on pda, you were yet to be introduced to post-case spencer.
as you were only a secretary, you weren't required to go on cases. so whilst spence would jet off to god knows where, you would keep your regular hours behind your desk.
it was the first time since the pair of you started dating that he'd had to go away, and whilst you missed him greatly, you hadn't expected him to miss you so much.
it started small, with texts.
I saw a dianthus plumarius today.
what's that?
oh sorry, garden pinks. they
made me think of you. :-)
well thats very sweet, dr reid :)
he'd message you things like this almost daily. small trinkets he saw that reminded him of you, random facts in the middle of the night when he couldn't sleep on the uncomfortable hotel mattress.
you'd found it a little odd, the sudden influx of texts. whilst spencer usually had some random anecdote or fact to tell you, it had never been so much as this week. he even scolded you over text when you replied during your work hours, despite the fact that he spent most of the case texting you underneath the table like a highschooler.
you thought that he was being clingy over text; you weren't prepared for what he'd be like when he got home.
he'd gotten home at about half ten that night, the sound of keys jangling in the lock notifying you of his arrival. perking up from the couch, you scamper over to the door, just in time to see him toe off his shoes and shrug off his coat. it was a warming sight, seeing the spaces that had felt so empty for so long (a week) be refilled.
he notices you then, head tilting towards you like a curious puppy. despite the tiredness in his eyes, you see that familiar flicker of affection ignite. dragging his feet, he closes the short distance between you two, wrapping you up in his arms. "hi, honey."
his voice is so warm, so full of sleepy tenderness, and you feel butterflies fill your stomach, burying your head into his shoulder. his shoulders are tense for just a second, before they deflate with the aid of your hug.
he doesn't leave your side for the rest of the evening.
or the rest of the weekend.
saturday morning, you decide to bake for your bookclub that afternoon. he spends the entirety of it with his arms looped around your waist, head resting on your head the entire time, pressing kisses every two seconds.
when you try to move to the fridge for the eggs, spencer weighs you down. "spence- i can't move."
he flusters a little, blushing as he hesitantly removes his arms from around you. "oh. sorry." he flexes his hand, scratching the back of his neck bashfully.
he's basically a wreck when you have to leave. he's seconds away from begging you to let him come with you, but he has some dignity.
staying home, for that dreadfully long hour, is like hell. he's restless, he cant stay still for a second. he tries to watch doctor who, but he cant seem to pay attention. he tries teaching your cat to do tricks, but juno is uncooperative and he keeps getting frustrated.
so he sits on the couch, bouncing knees, and stares at the door until he sees you walk through.
sunday is a similar affair. you both decide to stay in, and spencer spends it with his head in your lap, or braiding your hair. he even goes to far as to sitting next to the tub whilst you have a bath, reading to you from whatever obscure russian novel he'd reading.
laying in bed that night, with spencer's arms wrapping around you from behind, cheek pressed against you back, you realise. you realise that spencer is just as clingy as you, just as needy for affection, he just needs an opening.
and so you grant him that opening, here and there. you lay your legs over his when sat on the couch, you link your pinky with his on walks, you borrow his sweaters without asking.
these actions, as small as they seem, that you thought only made you anxious, you realise, make him just as nervous too. so you take one for the team, being brave in the small moments to make the concept of big moments possible.
summary: Spencer doesn't like you. He had a reputation for not liking new agents on the team. Months in, he still hadn't warmed up. When Hotch wants you to go undercover as teacher and student, things finally reach a boiling point.
wc: 10k
warnings: MDNI, F!reader, PWbadPlot, PIV, WRAP IT!!, light dom!spencer, teasing, fingering, they fuck it out, open ending (part two?), no Y/N! not edited, writer is lazy!!
Being the new agent on the team was difficult. The BAU were a fully formed unit, they knew each other like the back of their hands. They moved through the field like a well oiled machine.
But you were finally settling in, the team had started to trust you to do things on your own. JJ finally let you talk to the family of a victim alone, Morgan let you tackle an unsub, Emily stopped checking over your paperwork and Hotch allowed you to lead an interrogation.
But you were still surprised when Hotch called you into his office the second you stepped foot in the bullpen.
"You asked for me?" You close the door softly behind you, mind racing of any possible mistake you could have made. Did you make a mistake on the last case? Did you file your paperwork wrong?
"Yes, please sit." He gestured to the chair opposite his desk and you slowly lowered yourself into it. "We have another case." His eyes dart down to his watch.
The nerves got the better of you and you blurted out. "Are you firing me?"
"What? No." He paused, "We need you to go undercover for the case, I was checking in with you. We can find another way to go about it."
You held your chin up. "What's the case?"
"Georgia college." He sighed and passed a file across the table, "Four students from the same philosophy class have been murdered. All of them found dead in their dorm, poisoned."
"Jesus, that's brutal." You sigh, "Can the local police not interview everyone in the class?"
"They have, no one has flagged any concern. So they believe the unsub can either blend in or is another student on campus." He explained, "So they asked us if we had an agent we could send in. Morgan calls you baby bird for a reason." He smiled, a rare Hotch smile.
"So, we're sending you in as a college student. And Reid as a professor."
You choked back a cough. "Reid?"
It wasn't like you didn't like Reid, but he did not like you. He had a reputation, smart, genius that doesn't like newcomers in his unit. He never let you get away with a slip of the tongue, constantly correcting your every word. It was infuriating.
"He's an experienced profiler and he has lecturing experience." Hotch said, "Plus he will have a view of the whole room."
"I don't need hand holding Hotch." You pursed your lips, flipping the file closed and pressing it onto your legs.
"I know you don't. It's for everyone's safety." He sighed and huffed with a tone that told you there was no point in arguing back.
Sinking into the chair, you cross one leg over the other. "Do I need to do the assignments?" You asked.
"We aren’t sure yet. Come on, Garcia is about to debrief the team." He held the door open for you and you ducked under his arm.
The round table chatter stopped as soon as you stepped into the room. All of them trying to look busy as they did whenever they were gossiping.
"Do I really look like I could still be in college?" You sigh and throw yourself into your chair in between Morgan and JJ.
"Yes." "Yes." "A little." "We call you baby bird for a reason."
"I hate you guys." You grump, and shove your elbow into Morgan's ribs. "I do not look twenty two. I'm almost thirty."
"Actually," You roll your eyes as you hear Reid's voice cut across the chuckling. "You're actually three years, seven months and eleven days away from thirty. So not almost. Also due to your slightly larger eyes and your affinity to wear pink makes people believe you are younger than you actually are." He rattled off, fiddling with his fingers.
You opened your mouth to spit something back when Penelope came into the room in a flurry. She had bags of shopping bundled into her grip, dumping them down the floor and swooping in with the remote in hand.
"Morning, my superhuman crime fighters. I'll get right into it! At Georgia college four students have recently been killed in their dorm rooms." She clicked on the button and four pictures popped up. "James Gripe, Lucy Brown, Issac Nike and Cara Smith. At first, they thought James Gripe had died from caffeine overconsumption and stress from finals. But then, Lucy, Issac and Cara were found in the concurrent weeks." She sighed sadly, looking at their faces in sympathy.
"Crossing both race and gender lines is rare." Rossi stated, scribbling down the names in his journal.
"The police already looked into the other students in the class right?" Emily asked and Hotch nodded.
"No one caused them any concern." He confirmed, "And as far as the students know they all have died of an overdose and stress related causes. The local ME is currently checking the bodies for signs of poison."
"The media is going to have a field day if this gets out." JJ sighed, running a hand through her hair.
"Alright. Wheels up in 30, the sooner we get started the better. We'll discuss the undercover operation on the jet." Hotch said, striding out of the round table and back into his office.
Everyone else filed out, Derek pulling Reid to the side and mumbling something about "Getting better at talking to women." and Pen yanked you to the side before you could step out.
"I got you some things!" She rummaged around in the bag and shoved some clothes into your arms.
You held up a dress against your body. "Why the hell did you buy me a club dress?"
"You're going to college! And you're like my little sister and I couldn't send you off without a hot dress" She said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Oh, and a shirt and a mini skirt." She held them up.
"Thanks Pen." You smile and pull her into a tight hug. "I'll send you a picture if i end up wearing it." She gripped back onto you tighter.
"Come back to me safe, Baby Bird." She whispered into your hair.
"I will." You nod and peck her on the cheek, shoving the clothes into your go bag and getting ready to hit the tarmac.
"Wait!" Pen shouts across the bullpen and runs toward you as fast as she could with her too high heels. "I forgot to give you these."
----
Hauling your go bag into the overhead cabin, you sit down opposite Hotch. He slides your new ID across the table and you put it straight into your wallet.
"Everyone in that class is a potential victim." Derek sighed, flipping over the papers in his file.
"What that's like forty more potential victims?" You scoff, shaking your head.
"Forty six. Well, forty seven including you." Reid cut in, not even looking up from the book his face was buried in.
"Close enough." You grit out, teeth clenched.
"Not exact." He spat back.
Rolling your eyes and turning away from him, shoving a middle finger his way and huffing towards Derek. He smiled towards you cheekily, "Did you get Penelope's gifts?"
"Yeah. A tiny shirt, a mini skirt and a barely there dress." Derek let out a low whistle. "Oh, and about five million condoms." You pull the box from your pocket where you'd shoved them in with your cheeks turning red, hoping that no one in the bullpen saw.
"You could go through half of Georgia with those."
Ripping off a strip and threw it, hitting him square in the chest. "And you can go through half the police department with those." You joke and nudge him with the tip of your shoe.
"That was one time man!" He exclaimed.
"Actually, there were the two in Colorado." Emily piped in.
"One in California, and another in Florida." JJ continued.
"Don't forget police chief Jones in Texas." You teased, counting on your fingers.
"And the nurse in Oregon." Rossi finished.
"And that was all in the last six months." Hotch put the nail in the coffin, never usually joining in on the team banter. But he was smirking over his file at Derek's mock glare.
"C'mon we've all gone home with someone once. Well apart from babybird and pretty boy over there." He defended, throwing his hands up.
You scoff, "Hey, I don't want to become a case. Look at half of our cases, they all go home with their killers." You shake your head and climb out of the seat and into the plane aisle.
"At least I'm not thirty year old virgin over there." You snort, pulling open the small blue curtain to the kitchenette with a loud screech.
"Thirty two." He corrects, having now moved on to another book. Flipping a page in between words, the whole page completed.
"I like how that's the part you correct." You purse your lips, snorting and closing the curtain behind you, the kettle beginning to bubble. You knew he was thirty two, you were there at the party Pen made him have at Rossi's. But sometimes, you liked to push. To see how far you could take it before he couldn't resist and correct you. Usually, it just took you rounding up or down to make his patience to tip over.
You sigh quietly as you sit down with a scalding cup of coffee, the bitter taste burning your tongue as you sip it down.
"Looking forward to doing assignments again?" Emily asks, clasping her hands together on the wooden table.
"Definitely not, I'm not that well versed in philosophy so I better get reading." You smile, trying to lighten her worry.
"I suspect Professor Reid will mark you highly." She laughed, her eyes darting over your shoulder to him.
You follow her gaze and quickly glance over, hoping he wouldn't notice. But he was already looking at you. Probably from hearing Emily mention his name. It takes you a second to pull away from his intense stare. Emily cleared her throat, yanking you back to reality.
"I think I'll be his least favourite student." You roll your eyes, still feeling his eyes glaring at the back of your head.
----
You never thought you’d be back at college. But now, you were walking through the hallways of Georgia college with a backpack filled to the brim on your back. Thick textbooks and laptop weighing you down, or was it the nerves of trying to blend in?
It was far too early in the morning for most of the students around you, all dragging their feet and murmured complaints due to the previous late night.
Slowing, in front of the lecture hall. Coming to a stop in front of a group of girls standing and chatting amongst themselves.
“Excuse me,” You start. “Is this Professor Wright’s philosophy?”
They quiet, and turn to you. “Yeah! but he’s on leave so another professor is standing in. Are you new?” The dark haired girl asked, a soft smile on her face.
“Yeah, I just transferred from Arizona. Something to do with the credit amounts for graduation.” You shrugged. “I’m - Ivy." The name stumbles out unnaturally, like it doesn't belong to you. Because it doesn't. The introduction feels foreign in your mouth and heat pooled in your cheeks.
“Marie. And this is Chloe and Sarah.” She points to the girls staring behind her, they both give a wave.
The door to the lecture hall swings open. And everyone starts to file in. The plan was to sit at the back, keeping your head down and being able to view the whole room.
“Come sit with us!” Marie smiled, waving you over to the front row.
Descending down the stairs of the lecture hall, long hair bouncing, you slide into the seat on the end of the aisle. Pulling out your laptop and loading it up.
“I wonder what the new professor will be like,” She whispered into your ear. “Professor Wright was great, but he was basically a dinosaur.” She giggled.
“Hopefully good. I really need this credit.” You sigh, opening your mouth to speak again when the door swings open.
“Sorry, I’m late. I couldn’t find the hall.” Reid came spluttering into the hall and throwing his shoulder bag on the desk and uncapping the whiteboard marker and scribbling his name now. “I’m Professor Gardener, and I’ll be here while Professor Wright is on sick leave. I assure you he is feeling OK and has started his recovery.”
But you knew Professor Wright wasn’t sick, he was sat in his cushy lakeside home. Getting paid time off to lounge around and read through his library.
It had allowed Professor Gardener or as you knew, Doctor Reid pacing around in his element. He had slid into the professor role like a second skin. Hotch had mentioned he had guest lectured before, but the confidence was surprising.
“I’ve been told you were about to start Kantian ethics. So into Kantian ethics 101!” His hands clap and his voice fades into the background as another voice whispered in your ear, pulling you away from the lecture.
“He’s so hot.” Marie said, your head darting toward her.
“What?” You whisper back, slightly alarmed, “Don’t you think he’s like a bit, I don’t know, nerdy?”
“But like a hot nerd.”
Reid’s rambling pulled your attention back to the front of the room. He wasn’t hot, he was all knitted cardigans and wool ties. Stupid facts about Doctor who and how the physics was dodgy. He talked with his hands, waving them around with every unnecessary word. Long fingers that could solve a rubix cube in seconds. His facial hair had started growing in, a shadow coating the bottom half of his face. And standing up there as he lectured, the way the words slipped from him with ease. Maybe, he was hot.
But he was Reid. And Reid was your annoying co worker. The only person on the team who still didn't believe in you as an agent. And there he was standing, as Professor Gardener. And he looked hot.
----
And apparently, half of campus also thought so. Walking into the lecture hall that had been half empty was almost full. The sight makes you trip over your feet and almost tumble down the stairs.
A hand grabbed your bicep and pulled you back and into a chest. You don't need to turn around to know who it was. You knew his cologne, the scent of books and coffee also a hint of mint. You steady yourself and spin around to look at him, he was closer than you thought he would be.
"Professor Gardener. Uh, thank you." You nod and start to head down the stairs where Marie had saved you a seat with her handbag.
"You're also new, Ivy right?" He said, falling in step next to you.
His casual small talk takes you back, you can never recall a time Reid had spoken to you casually. "Yeah, I had to transfer. Graduation credits, you know how it is." You shrugged, stopping at the row. "And thank you again."
Sitting down next to Marie, she immediately grips onto you. "What was that?" She almost gasped.
"I tripped, he caught me." You responded.
"It was straight out of a romcom! I think half of the people in here want to kill you." She giggled.
"He was just being polite." You glaze over the interaction and start to pull out your laptop and textbook.
"People are already calling him Gorgeous Gardener." She continued, and your breath stuttered. This case was going to be a lot more difficult than you thought.
You knew you were staring, ogling even. You were supposed to be looking at him, it was normal to keep your eyes on the professor. But the nickname was true. He was gorgeous. It had wormed it's way into your head, you couldn't escape the thought. Like a bad smell, the thought of Reid being attractive had spent it's time racing around your brain.
He looked like Reid, the same slightly grown out hair do. He moved like Reid, waving his hands around and fiddling with his fingers as he spoke. He dressed like Reid, a dark blue sweater vest and brown blazer. And he even smelled like Reid, the memory of his scent as he pulled you into him. Nevertheless, he wasn't making you feel like Reid.
But a sharp elbow jutted into your ribs.
"Ivy." He was standing at the front of the lecture hall with an expectant raised eyebrow.
"Sorry, what was the question?"
"Could you give us a quick summary of Kantian ethics?" His face hadn't changed.
"Uh, yeah." You tried not to stumble over your words and sent him a glare. "Developed by Immanuel Kant, deciding whether actions are right or wrong depending on duty and moral rules, not the consequences."
"Thank you. Pay attention next time." He span around on his conversed feet and back to the whiteboard. The same condescending tone he used on every case when he felt the need to correct your every word.
At the end of the day. He was still Reid.
The rose coloured glasses that Professor Gardener had grown over your eyes wilted away in an instant. Rose had deepened to red and you were glaring at him the way you had a million times before.
"Kantian ethics teaches that we should always act according to moral duties and universal rules. This creates a fair and consistent moral system." He explained, pacing between his desk and the whiteboard. "Does anyone have an argument against?"
His eyes darted around the room, nodding towards a girl in the middle of the room.
"Uh, I'm just auditing this class." She said, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She flashed a smile at him.
"Oh. Is anyone else auditing this class?" He asked, and a sea of hands raised and your lip curled up in slight disgust. "Hmm, ok."
Your hand shot up into the air. He nodded towards you a sign for you to speak, not before looking desperately for someone else to answer. "But life is more complicated than simple rules. What if it causes harm to follow a rule?"
He looked surprised at your rebuttal. "Kant would argue that the moral rules should be followed regardless of consequences. Otherwise, people would make exceptions when it suited them."
"But take the famous example. Lying to a killer to save someone’s life. Telling the truth would lead to the death of an innocent person."
"Morality becomes subjective if we start making exemptions." He clicked his tongue.
"We can still have moral principles while recognising that consequences matter. A rule that leads to preventable harm does not seem truly moral." He tried to shoot an argument back.
"Morality should also help people and reduce suffering. If a moral theory ignores the real effects of actions, it can produce unfair outcomes." You hide the look of satisfaction on your face.
"That is the most common critique of Kantian ethics." He nodded, turning to the whiteboard and uncapped the pen with a pop. "As it's a Friday, I give you an essay."
Everyone in the room groaned, arms hanging heavy by your sides as your eyes follow his letters. "Is Kantian Ethics correct? You can argue for or against. I expect them to be on my desk by next Friday. Have a good weekend." Just as everyone was about to run out of there at the speed of light. "My office hours are the same as Professor Wright's, so see the paper on the door."
----
The weekend for you didn't mean going out partying and scrambling to plan your essay. Instead, you were sat in the back of a local police precinct. The taste of cardboard and burnt coffee peeked through the burning in your mouth.
You were sat with your head held up by your chin. The door opened and the rest of the team filed in.
"How was class?" JJ asked a joking lilt in her voice, sliding an actual, smooth cup of coffee across the desk.
"Professor Gardener treating you well?" Emily snorted.
Glaring at her but thanking her for the coffee. "I have an essay due next Friday." You fix your glare on Reid, "Oh, and there's about twenty more people auditing the class."
"Nineteen." He corrected.
"And that's nineteen more potential victims." Morgan sighed, "Has anyone in the class come up? Nothing has come up on our end."
"For me, no not yet. Everyone seems like a regular student so far. But I've been keeping my eye out." You explain, notepad and textbook open with the arguments you had chosen highlighted.
"Well if you had spent your time actually looking, rather than gossiping with the girls at the front. You would have seen something." Reid snarked, turning his body away from you and started to address the rest of the team. "There's a guy at the back of the class.-"
You take a deep breath before speaking, "I know that you spent all of your school years sat in the class with no friends. But I didn't, and I'm not going to sulk in the back of the class." You were shoving things back into your bag. "Fuck off, Reid." Your backpack smacked into him as you stormed out of the precinct, the door slammed loudly behind you.
Raging as your feet slammed along the pavement, hands balled into fists, held tightly at your sides. "Ivy, Ivy!" It takes a few seconds for the name to register before you turn around with a smile on your face. "Are you ok? Why were you at the station?" Marie asked, worry painted on her face.
"I just had to change my address to get my mail." Rolling your eyes, you lean all of your weight onto your back foot. "The college said they had handled it, what a way to spend your weekend huh?"
"Oh my God! You should come out with me, Chloe and Sarah!" She grabbed the tops of your arms, shaking you back and forth.
"Um." You pretend to pause in thought. "Not this weekend, we have that essay due in. But next weekend, count me in!"
Marie's face lit up with a large smile. "I'm so excited!" She linked arms with you, leading you away from the station. "There's this bar, they have themed cocktails every single week. They’re a tad expensive but soo strong so it's worth the money!"
She reminded you of Pen in a way, the happy go lucky attitude. The way she took you in like a stray, forcing you to go out for drinks. She brought a slither of normal in your facade, and well there was no stopping Reid from being, well Reid.
----
You had gotten the call that morning. They had found another body. It was a guy, Harry Jones. He sat in the middle of the class, he never spoke. He just sat with his friends and took notes whenever was necessary.
Penelope had managed to work out every victims average grades. They had all been in the top half of the class.
You were slumped in your chair, not listening to a thing Reid was saying. Your ears were tuned into the rows behind you, listening in for any mention of Harry's name. You could tell he was profiling too, eyes constantly scanning the rows, talking on autopilot.
No one was talking about anything of note. Marie, Chloe and Sarah were talking about what they were going to wear to the bar later. The people a few rows behind were talking about what grade they thought they were going to get. Not a mention of Harry. No one realised he was gone.
You could tell Reid was profiling too, eyes constantly scanning the rows, talking on autopilot. Professor Gardener was long gone, you were looking at Reid. But it seemed he was coming up empty too.
"Right." He clapped, casually strolling over to the desk. Resting his hand atop the essays he had collected at the start of class and patted them gently. "Have a good weekend, no homework this week. See you on Wednesday!"
Marie linked arms with you once again, asking you what you were going to wear that night.
"Ivy!" His voice called as you got to the door.
"Hmm? Yes, Professor Gardener." You responded, leaning on the doorway.
"Could you come by my office later? I scanned your essay and there’s a couple points I think we could discuss in depth." He held up the paper, and Marie excuses herself. Lingering right outside.
"Sure, I'll swing by later." You run your finger across the paper on the door. "7pm?"
He nodded. "Sounds good."
Marie pretty much dragged you from the lecture hall. "You should so wear that dress you sent me a picture of." She giggled.
"I cannot wear that to my meeting with Professor Gardener." You deadpanned, hitting her lightly on the arm.
"I meant the bar. Your mind went there." She smiled, "But you should do that too, ugh I want him to go in depth with me." Groaning, she leant her head on your shoulder.
"Marie!" You exclaimed, jaw hanging open in shock. "You need to get laid girl, you should totally look for someone tonight."
"I was already planning on it." She smirked. "You better wear that dress."
----
You did wear the dress. The sparkly red fabric glittering as you snapped a picture for Penelope. It stopped at the top of your thighs, constantly pulling it down as your heels clicked on the pavement. It was too short, and had too much cleavage in your opinion, but it wasn't your opinion. It was Ivy's.
The halls were desolate and slightly chilly as you made your way to Reid's office. Well, Professor Wright's office. The golden plaque shined in the dim lighting. Checking over your shoulder, before you knocked on the door. You could hear shuffling behind the door before it swung open.
"Come in." He said, head sticking out of the door and looking down the hall.
"I wasn't followed." You rolled your eyes, your hand hitting his chest and kicking the door closed. Reaching behind you, clicking the lock shut you look around the office and step further in. "What do you want Reid?"
Standing across from him, hands resting on the back of the armchair opposite his desk. He looked up from the papers on his desk.
"What are you wearing?" It tumbled out of his mouth and his eyebrows scrunched together.
You matched his look of confusion. "A dress?" It wasn't like he hadn't seen you in a mini dress before. You always wore one when you went out with the team. Maybe not one this short or low cut, but a minidress nonetheless.
"Does Hotch know you're going out?" He asked, brows still furrowed.
"Yes, Professor Gardener." You snarked, rolling your eyes and crossing your arms across your chest.
He sucked in a breath, "I wanted to talk to you about your essay."
"Are you serious?" You scoffed, stalking around to the other side of the desk.
You leant across the desk, plucking out a red pen from the pot. Uncapping it and writing on your own paper. A. "There we go, now we don't have to talk about it."
"That's not-"
"Precise, correct, fair?" You laughed, straightening your back and you went to grab your handbag off of the table where you had dumped it.
But he snatched it out of your grasp, unzipping it and digging through it.
"What the fuck Reid?"
He held up the condoms that you had shoved into your bag. "Are you going to sleep with a college student?" His voice was coated with disdain.
"I don't think that's your business is it, Professor?" You lean forward, trying to snatch them out of his grip.
"As your Professor, no. But as your superior agent, it is." He moved backwards, stopping your waving grip. The smirk you had become acquainted with.
"I'm not going to fuck a college student. But I might just, if it pisses you off so much." You pouted in his face, heavy breaths making your chest rise and fall in his face. "I know you're a virgin Reid but Jesus."
That caught him off guard, giving you the opportunity to snatch them back and slide them back into your handbag. "Maybe we won't even use these."
"I'm not a virgin." He gritted through his teeth, glaring at your bare back.
You can't help but laugh out loud at that, "I'll believe it when I see it." Your hair shakes with your head, striding towards the door.
The smell of him hits you before you feel him. Your hand stilled as it reached for the doorknob, the same scent that hit you when he stopped you from falling down the stairs. His grip on your bicep was familiar, the tips of his fingers digging in as his other hand brushed your hair to one side.
"You are insufferable." He whispered, warm breath hitting the shell of your ear.
It was like you had forgotten how to breathe. He was inching closer to you, the warmth of his chest radiating against your back. "Reid." You sighed.
"Professor." He corrected, spinning you around and pushing you against the door roughly. "If anyone gets to cum inside of you tonight, It's going to be me."
Your head thumped backwards, eyebrows pulling together as his eyes met yours. It was like you had lost all sense, you hated Reid. But the mention of him cumming inside you had any rational abandoned.
"Does that sound good?" He hummed.
"Yes, Professor Reid." You sighed.
"Fuck." He growled before pressing his lips into yours. Your hands came forward to grip onto the lapels on his blazer, pulling him closer. His lips were softer than you expected, contrasted with his teeth coming out to yank on your bottom lip.
Your bag dropped to the floor with a thud. As his hands, the hands you had spent countless lectures staring at, started to wander. Long fingers travelled down your back, pulling up goosebumps in their wake. Then, his hands scooped you up, legs wrapping around his hips as he pressed you into the door.
His hardness pushed into you, making you gasp out and slide your hands into his hair and giving it a light tug. He takes the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth, walking you across the room and sliding the papers and pens off the desk. They hit the floor with a clatter as he lowered you down.
Both of you panted as he separated, a line of spit connecting you between your lips. Neither of you said anything for a beat, just staring at each other with blown pupils.
A second later, he cupped your jaw and pulled your back straight, kissing you again.
Now it was your turn for your hands to wander, slotting your hands under his blazer and pushing it off and it hit the floor gently. Then, your hands came to fiddle with the buckle on his belt. It clinked loudly as you whipped it out of the belt loops. The button popped open not long after.
He made work of your dress, pulling it up and letting it pool around your hips. Not even taking your panties off, just sliding them to the side as the pads of his fingers come into contact with your clit.
"Jesus!" You gasped out, pulling him closer with your ankle. Painted nails sliding down the front of his brown corduroy slacks and cupping his dick.
His eyes rake down you, dress pulled up, panties to the side. Eyes hooded, chest heaving desperately as you throw your head back.
"You look, divine." He whispered into your ear, the intimacy of it took you by surprise. His finger still worked against your clit, leaving you writhing and gasping under his gaze.
You shoved his slacks down, his white boxer shorts followed not long after. His compliment sent a fire through your veins and a desperation to have him inside you take over.
His fingers pulled off of you, your whining halted. "Hurry up and fuck me!" You groaned, wrapping your legs around his hips. Your heel dug into his backside and it fell to the floor.
He took his dick in his hand, looking down at you. The tip hit against your clit and he slid it up and down through your wetness. "Ah, ah, ah." He teased, refusing to push in, just leaving you with the delicious pressure of almost. "Say please."
"Oh, fuck off." You sigh, trying anything to get closer. Just anything to get him inside you.
He pulled his dick away, and it was like your brain had melted any rationality away. "Please, Reid." You pleaded, knuckles turning white at how hard you were gripping the edge of his desk. "Professor, please." You looked up at him through your lashes.
Then, he finally gave you what you wanted. He pressed his forehead to yours just as he sank into you. He was bigger than you thought he'd be. Not that you'd thought about it. The head brushed past your g spot as he bottomed out.
You couldn't help the almost scream that came from you. "Spencer!"
You had never called him Spencer, most of the time you didn't even address him. But any worry left your mind after hearing his groan as he pulled most of the way out, before slamming into you again.
His lips attached to your neck and your toes curled inside your heels. "No marks." You panted out.
Nodding into the crook of your neck, he slid his hands under you. He lifted you slightly, the new angle letting him pound deeper inside you. This lead to a string of moans to explode from your chest and his hand clamped over your mouth to keep you quiet.
He wasn't doing a good job of keeping quiet himself. Panting and groaning into your neck, teeth scratching your earlobe. Your hands screwed into the front of his shirt, whining helplessly at the brutal pace he was fucking you with.
"S-spencer." You both fall backwards, your back flat on the cool wooden desk and him hunched over you never faltering.
"You're much more bearable like this." He smirked down at you, reviling in the state he had you in. A fucked out pink flush painted across your cheeks, tits bouncing with every thrust that coaxed a wet noise from your pussy every time he slapped against it.
You tried to form a rebuttal, but what came out was babbling that vaugly sounded like hsi name. Desperately, pulling him closer with your nails scratching down his back.
"Awh, poor baby." He teased, "Can't you speak?"
The mocking had your head reeling and your walls clenching around him. The teasing, his body pressing you into the desk, the unrelenting pace and the smell of him was all just too much. It had the coil inside you ready to snap.
Your eyes meet his again and you slam your mouth to his. Tongue peeking into your mouth as your thighs started to tremble. You had your toes curled so hard that your heels slid off your feet and falling to the floor. Spencer's hand snaked down and hit your clit again, moving the wetness around with his fingers.
It had lightening bolts shooting through your spine and the coil in your belly to snap. Nails digging into his shoulder blades and a too loud cry of his name. "Spencer!" It almost echoed around the room as he fucked you through your orgasm, leaving you tightening and fluttering around his cock.
Then, he was cumming himself, with a similar groan of your name and a few more deep thrusts that sent your eyes rolling. His release was warm inside of you, he paused for a second. Letting it pool inside of you and leaving you both breathing into each others mouth's. His dick slid out of you, pussy clenching around emptiness. Gently, he moved your underwear back with a tenderness you wouldn't have expected.
Suddenly, the feeling of his cum pooling in your panties, had you hurtling back to reality. It was like a cool bucket of water had been thrown over you.
It was Reid. You and Reid had sex. Not even sex, fucked. He was technically your professor. And you had his cum dripping out of you.
You yanked your dress down, refusing to look him in the eye.
"That can't happen again." He called over his shoulder as you grabbed your bag. Piling the lip gloss that had spilled all over the floor when it had fallen from your fingers.
"I know." You commented, clicking the lock open and the door.
"Be careful, and you can call me if you need me to come and get you." He gave you that tight lipped smile he did when he felt awkward.
"Will do." You mirrored his face, your hair falling in front of your face and closing the door with a soft click.
Your dress was missing sparkles from all over and you had six missed calls from Marie, and you took off into the city.
----
The bar was exactly as Marie had described. It was slightly tacky with bright coloured lights with ocean themed drinks. Everyone was walking around with blue drinks with fish shaped ice cubes, sharks sticking from the top.
"Ivy!" Marie called, waving you over from the booth they had grabbed in the corner.
"Hey." You smiled and sidled into the booth next to Sarah.
"What did Professor Gardener want?" Sarah asked, close to your ear, cutting through the thumping pop music.
"Apparently, I did really well on my essay. There was just a couple mistakes he wanted me to clear up for next time." You smiled, casting a look towards the bar. "I'm going to go and get a drink! I'll be back."
The drink was overly sweet, Penelope would have loved it. The grenadine turned the blue drink a light purple.
"So tell us what mark you got, you can't leave us hanging girl." Marie grasped onto your arm. "Also what happened with Professor Gardenerrr?" She teased lightly and Chloe smacked her on the arm.
"I got a 97." You feigned a blush, hiding you face behind your hair.
Marie and Chloe gasped, excitedly shaking you back and forth. Some of your drink sloshing over the rim and making the bar table more sticky than it already was.
"You're going to get the credits that you need toats, oh my god we need to throw you a graduation party." She praised, her face lit up in the same way you had seen it so many times.
Just as you went to agree, head already nodding.
"Ivy, that guy over there is so looking at you." Sarah cut across, pointing a finger across the bar.
Your eyes followed her finger to find a very smiley Derek Morgan. You smile back at him with a small wave.
"Well go talk to him! He's so hot!" Chloe exclaimed, "Plus you deserve it after such a good essay."
Your eyes darted between them and him, pretending to give a moment of deliberation. Before standing up and glancing over your shoulder. "If he's weird, I'm coming back."
Winding your way through the crowded bar, smoothly directing yourself between sweaty bodies until you got to the booth. You slid up next to Morgan, your side pressing up against his.
"This dress is a gift from Penelope I assume." He whispered into your ear and he wrapped his arm around your shoulders.
"How could you tell?" You said back, looking back to the table of girls looking towards you expectantly. Sticking your thumb up towards them, you turn towards Derek fully.
"Have you been dancing with someone else babybird?" He asked, still leaned in close.
"No, why?" You scrunched your eyebrows.
"You smell like another man."
It felt like your stomach dropped to your feet, and you hoped and prayed that he wouldn't recognise the scent. Suddenly, it was like you could feel the cum that was wetting your panties through. The shame burned bright on your cheeks.
"Yikes, I need to get rid of my perfume." Joking, you elbowed him, "Go for a smoke?" You pulled the packet out of your purse and waved it in his face.
As the two of you stepped out of the bar you sent Marie a message. 'Going home with hot stuff, see you wednesday. ;)'
The cool air hit and was very, very welcome. Bricks pressed into your back and you let out a long, deep sigh. Lighting up the cigarette and holding it towards Derek.
"I don't smoke." He smiled, watching you puff out smoke.
"One of the girls I was with, Sarah. Get Pen to look into her, she was acting weird about my meeting with Reid." You throw a look over your shoulder and see Marie and the girls looking at you expectantly. "I think we're being watched." You murmured, leaning close to Derek's ear.
His muscles flexed under your trailing grip. "Want to get out of here?"
"Yeah." You nod, throwing a sheepish glance over your shoulder and a small wave to the girls who definitely weren't looking through the window.
Turning the corner there was a familiar squad car waiting for you.
----
Again, you spent your weekend hunched over a conference table. Files piled up around your head. The team had gone all in on Sarah, and the deeper you dug, the more she looked like your unsub.
"Her grades have been steadily dropping for the last few semesters." Emily commented, putting another file in the completed bin.
"Ah-Ha!" Penelope exclaimed, her face popping up on the monitor. "Recently, Sarah's adoptive Mom died. It didn't come up in the original searches because she wasn't offically adopted. The papers never went through."
"So we've got our stressor." Hotch nodded, his arms crossed tensely in the corner of the room. "Reid, have you noticed anything during class?"
As he started talking, you realised you hadn't looked over once. It was like he wasn't even there. "She seemed pretty normal until I read through the essay she handed in. Her critique of the ethics I set was neither for or against. But was more arguing that murder isn't entirely immoral." He explained, taking a sip from his coffee before continuing.
"Her argument was that neither lying or committing the murder is immoral. As both have their own moral explanations." He continued.
"Like lying to the murderer, or killing in self defence." You said without thought, his brown eyes meeting yours. Gaze dropped to your swirling cup of coffee, there was no escape from reminders of him.
"Wow babybird, they'll make a philosopher of you yet." Emily smiled, JJ giggled. "But what's the plan to get her to act again."
Rossi started to plan, "Release the grades publicly, put a select few people at the top of the list. We put an agent on everyone on the top of the list."
"She already thinks babybird has done well. So we stick her in a college dorm and wait. Also." He paused, looking between you and Reid. "If we were to drum up some rumours." He clicked his tongue, holding back a smirk.
Penelope squealed through the screen, "Are you telling me the garden is going to grow some ivy?" Her bottom lip pulled in between her teeth.
"What?" Reid asked, confused.
"Only if the two of you are comfortable." Hotch said at the same time and you sank deeper into the chair. Face burning as bright as a christmas light.
"Oh God." You groaned, head in your hands. Peeking through your fingers at Reid's face paling after JJ had kindly explained it into his ear. Finally, you made real eye contact for the first time all morning.
"We'll do it." He confirmed with a nod, and you a slightly less sure one.
"Oh my God!" Penelope cried, "It's like a cringe romcom. You should wear that mini skirt!"
"Garcia." Hotch warned, "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Yes."
Your eyes still locked together, you had to remind you it was for a case. All of it was for a case. No matter how fast your heart was beating. None of it was real.
----
The mini skirt was worn. Pleats brushing the tops of your thighs, falling right at the curve of your ass. The shirt you were wearing had one too many buttons undone.
Class hadn't started, it was just you and Reid in your meticulously planned play. Standing at his desk with your open, empty notebook. The bend of your back too salacious for just a teacher and student. His warmth radiated on your back as his arm reached around you, finger running down the blank page. You swore you could feel him starting to grow against your ass. Goosebumps pulled up on your skin, it wasn't real. It was a waiting game and you were begging for someone to catch you.
And someone did. Marie, Chloe and Sarah came bustling in. They paused in the doorway as the two of you jumped apart in fake shock.
"Um, thank you." You stuttered shyly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. Eyes planted firmly at your shoes, toes tapping on the floor and making your way to your front row seat.
Marie scrambled to your side, dragging you down into the seat as everyone else made their way in. "What the hell was that?"
"I don't know what you mean." Your voice ticked up, eyes raking him up and down.
"Mhm." She hummed, eyebrow raised.
You weren't listening to anything he was saying. Shamelessly, eye fucking him as he explained things to the class. Lip bitten in between your teeth and tongue wetting your lips. Out of the corner of your eye, the three of them couldn't help but glance over.
He was just as intense back, every wave of his hands sending you back to having your brain fucked out on his desk. The lines were blurring between Ivy and Gardener and you and Reid. And you weren't sure if you minded.
Then, your pen rolled off the wooden desk, clattering to the ground and silencing his rambling. Halting teaching, striding towards your desk. When he crouched, your legs uncrossed. Revealing the damp spot that was ever present on your panties.
It sent him stuttering, "Y-your pen... Ivy."
"Thank you, Professor." The pen made home in between your lips, looking up at him through your lashes. Ivy had disappeared, it felt like it was just you and Reid in the room. Everyone else melted away.
He spent the rest of the lecture, glancing over to you every few seconds. Wiping sweaty palms down the front of his pants. "Alright!" He concluded, "I think that's enough for today. Oh! But before you go. Your essays, I'll hand them out."
He travelled back to front. Telling polite good jobs, or this needs improvements. Until, he got to the front row. Chloe and Marie got a good job, a kind nod, that left them smiling at their marks.
But then came Sarah, he slid the paper across the desk upside down with a tight smile on his face. And then you, a huge smile on his face, hand reaching out to your shoulder. It wasn't real.
"See me after class." His thumb brushed a strand of hair from your shoulder, before turning to the rest of the class. "Alright! See you next week!"
Hanging around, you waved goodbye to Marie and Chloe. Sarah had disappeared quickly, throwing a look you couldn't quite read over her shoulder before turning the corner.
The door slammed close, but the tight air didn't diffuse. You drifted to the other side, leaning on your desk. You could hear him breathing, hands gripping the desk, back hunched over. The lines had blurred, it wasn't Ivy's underwear that were soaked through. It was yours.
"Reid-" You started, his name coming out more like an awkward squeak.
"Spencer." He cut you off, voice gruff and he finally straightened up. His brown leather shoes, clicked on the tiled floor. A slow, echoing rhythm that made you look up from your swinging feet.
"Look, I'm sorry." You sighed, looking everywhere but his face. "I took it too far." Mouth claggy, hands sweaty.
"Hmm," He hummed, hand darting out and gripped your jaw, forcing you to look up at him. "Are you sorry? The state of your panties says otherwise."
His fingers lingered at the crook of your knee. Softly, dragging up your thigh but stopping right before they could hit exactly where you wanted.
You whined, a high pitched, pathetic noise. "Spencer."
The look in his eyes lit you on fire. Tilting your head up, short breaths puffing from your lips. "Please."
His lips pressed against yours, tilting your neck up to meet his mouth. You groaned into his mouth, the noise silenced by his tongue dipping into your mouth. One hand brushed over your underwear, pressing into your clit lightly, the other gripped into your waist. Bringing you to the edge of the desk, keeping you exactly where he wanted you. At his mercy.
It was torture, the feather light touches giving you only a second of relief. He was smirking, the slight stubble that had grown in scratching at your chin.
At your wits end, you bite into his bottom lip. Teeth sinking into the skin and pulling back lightly. The two of you breathing in the others mouth, minty remnants coat your tongue.
"I swear to God Reid." You panted, hips bucking upwards into his fingers, "You are driving me crazy."
"I'm driving you crazy?" He scoffed, "You came in, wearing that tiny skirt. Basically bent over in front of me, then flashed me your wet panties, all while I was teaching." His tongue darted out, licking a long stripe up the column of your throat.
"Hotch's orders." You gasp, hand digging into his ragged curls and tugged him backwards.
He laughed, a mocking ring. "Oh I'm sure, I bet he told you to spread your legs for me. I wonder what he would say if I reported back? Huh babybird?"
The nickname out of his mouth had your head reeling, a complete opposite to the usual softness that came from Derek or Emily.
"I wonder what he would say, if I told him one of his best agents crumbled at the sight of me in a mini dress?" You shot back, hand cupping his now fully hard dick.
Finally, he pulled your panties down your legs. And slid them into his back pocket, his fingers slipping inside of you.
"Fuck Spencer!" You cried out, now fumbling at his belt. Clammy hands struggling with the buckle, arms falling weak as Spencer's fingers started to thrust in and out of you. A punishing pace, eyes rolling into the back of your head.
Every press of his fingers had a loud squelch bouncing around the lecture hall. Twitching his fingers upwards, brushing your g spot and laughing at your body falling limp. You used him as a support beam, slumped over in pleasure. He pressed a soft kiss to the top of your hair.
"Feel good baby?" He asked, voice turning soft.
"Mhm." You hummed, his fingers turning your brain to mush. "Close." You sighed into his chest.
"Good girl." He smiled, soft kisses peppered along the crook of your neck and collarbone.
The kind praise coming from Spencer of all people, had you hurling over the edge. Toes curling and hands desperately digging into his shoulder blades. Your thighs shook, clamping around his wrist tightly.
"Fucking hell." You sighed, breath warm on his ear as you pulled him into a soft kiss. It left your heart racing, almost exploding out of your chest.
You were holding on to him like a lifeline, he was holding onto you in a similar vein. His belt buckle clinked, pants pooling at his knees, before sliding into your warmth.
Still sensitive from a moment ago, your lips dug into your lip as he began to gently thrust. It was tender, a gentle rocking in and out. Soft strokes pulling through your hair. Smooth hands trailing up your spine.
It was almost too much. Too different. He wasn't being condescending, there was no mocking. Just sweet cooing in your ear that made you clench around him. Incoherent babbling of his name fell from your lips.
Then, he whispered your name. A gentle, soft noise that had you cumming around him. Stars bloomed behind your eye as you came, a whimpering moan falling from your lips.
He followed not long after you, pressing his forehead to yours. Chanting your name over and over, he released inside of you. A curl fell, sticking to him. He looked charming, you thought. Leaning down, he kissed you again, slow and languid.
It all felt too real.
"Um." You started, looking up at him. Pink cheeks and a shy smile, "Thank you."
"And thank you." He said, as he moved a fallen strand of hair away from your eyes.
"Can I have my panties back?" You bit your lip.
For a second, you just stared at him. Playing with your fingers, you started to giggle, and so did he. The laughter was infectious, everything was light. It was foreign, you weren't going at each others throats. There was no snarky comments, no corrections.
"Sure." He was smiling, not the smile he did when he was being polite. But the one when Penelope let him ramble about doctor who, or when JJ surprised him with a chocolate covered sprinkled doughnut.
He handed them to you, cool to the touch where they were still damp. There was a pool where his cum had dripped out of you. The desk under you, covered in him.
Shimmying them up your legs, more of him dripped out of you. You grimaced and he smirked.
"Shut up." You grumped, pouting slightly.
Suddenly, there was a rush of people outside of the hall. Another class period had ended. Had you really been in there that long?
"Right."
"Right." He echoed.
"I better head off, time to lure a murderer to my fake apartment." You joked, he didn't laugh. "Kidding."
Turning, you packed your bag and jogged up the stairs, hoping that he couldn't see the huge wet spot on your underwear. You'd never hear the end of it.
"Be careful." He called when you reached the last step with his hands in his pockets rocking back on his heels.
"I will."
----
Sometimes, you wished unsubs were less predictable. You had spotted Sarah two blocks away, she lurked around corners, hid behind signs and she thought the hat she had on was hiding her face.
As soon as you'd seen her, you messaged Hotch. By the time you reached the apartment block you'd seen three squad cars. The front entrance was propped open so she could follow you right on in.
And she did. Apartment 6B was on the third floor. When you got to the second the front entrance slammed closed. She was not far behind you now.
Anyone with eyes could tell no one lived in apartment 6B, it was bland as anything. The walls were stark white, all the furniture was drab grey. There was nothing personal at all. No photos on the walls, no trinkets sprawled on every surface.
You had left the door unlocked behind you, and dumped your bag on the boring, rough couch. Walking to the kitchen, you slid open the door by the sink. Your gun sat inside, exactly where Derek had left it. Him and JJ were in your 'bedroom', waiting for the signal.
A few seconds later, there was a knock on the door.
"Coming!" You called, sliding your gun into the waistband of your skirt and made your way to the door. "Sarah!" You gasped, then tilted your head, taking a pause. "How... do you know where I live?" You asked, furrowing your brows.
"You bitch!" She growled, immediately jumping at you. A knife that she had hidden behind her back at the ready. Now, that was an escalation.
Your hand gripped her forearm, trying to wrangle the knife from her grasp. The two of you crashed into the wall, the tip of the knife scratched against your shoulder. Dark blood stained your shirt.
"Sarah put the knife down." You pleaded, the air puffing out of your lungs as you fell to the floor. The coffee table's legs crashing under your back.
"You're a no good slut." Sarah lifted the knife, ready to strike down upon you. Derek and JJ came running out of the bedroom, guns drawn and shouting.
"FBI! Put the knife down!" Derek barked, moving in on her.
The crazed look in her eyes told you she wasn't going to relent. Scrambling back, you swept her legs out from under her. Her ribs crashed into your legs and the knife fell from her grip. It sliced your calf, the blood running down and turning your white sock red.
They moved in, yanking her off of your legs and pulling her arms behind her. Cuffs clinked as he read her, her rights. JJ rushed to your side, kneeling beside you.
"Are you ok?" She flustered, hand grasping onto your uninjured shoulder.
"I'm fine." You nodded, smoothing down your skirt. You hissed when her finger prodded at your leg. "Ow!"
She laughed lightly, "Cmon, there's an ambulance outside." She helped you up, supporting you as you hobbled down the staircase and out onto the street.
You get forced into the back of an ambulance, Hotch stood guard at the door. The paramedics started to pepper you with questions.
"Did you hit your head?" She shined a torch in your eyes, checking for signs of a concussion.
"No," You shake your head. "Just the slashes." You confirmed and slid your shirt off of your shoulder.
"Alright, you'll need a couple stitches in each one. We can do it here." She explained, starting to stitch you up. "You'll need to take it easy for a couple of weeks." She said, with a pointed glance towards Hotch.
You sat in the back of the ambulance, legs swinging as they processed Sarah.
"Hey." Spencer said, sitting down next to you. "I heard you got quite roughed up."
"I'm ok." You smiled, head resting on the side of the ambulance.
"Uh, I got you something." He coughed, rummaging around in his pocket and pulled out a red lollipop. "The sugar will be good for keeping your energy up after losing blood. It tricks your brain into thinking you're fine. Endorphins and stuff."
"It tricks your brain into thinking you're fine. Endorphins and stuff." You said at the same time, holding back a laugh at his face. "You said the same to Em when she got grazed two months ago."
"Do you memorise everything I say?" He smirked.
"Well if I didn't how could I be precise? Professor Reid." You batted your eyelashes at him.
"Don't." He warned with a finger waved in your face, clambering up from the back of the ambulance when he saw Emily walking your way. He gave a wave before heading over to the rest of the team.
Unwrapping the treat with a loud crinkle, you called out. "Spencer!"
He turned and raised his brows.
"Thank you!" Popping it into your mouth, as Emily sat down next to you.
"Since when do you call him Spencer?" She asked, eyes darting between you.
"Recent development." You shrugged, trying not to stare.
"We told you, you just needed to fuck it out." She smiled, bumping your good shoulder with hers. "Was it the dress? Cuz I'd so do you in that."
"Shut up." You grumbled, cheeks heating up. Going even more red as you locked eyes with Spencer.
"Babybird and pretty boy sittin in a tree." She whispered in your ear, then doubled over laughing after you jabbed your elbow into her ribs.
----
a/n: this is so ass, there is genuinely no literayness to this. lowk was just horny and rabidly typed this out. whoops! ! join my taglist here!!!!
