#i just hope prof is ok

[phantonixx]

[todayisafridaynight]

seeing info only about the kiryu and majima statuettes but absolute radio silence on the ichi one is utterly sending me. Theyre hiding the fact theyre gonna make ichi pale as a cracker again

[swinging-stars-from-satellites]

Bury the Dead (with a Stitch Through the Stars)

@inklings-challenge

1.

though my soul may set in darkness, it will rise in perfect light

i have loved the stars too fondly to be fearful of the night

[The Old Astronomer To His Pupil, Sarah Williams]

Thirsty.

It’s the only thing she can think. It’s all dark and her eyes are sticky shut and she’s so thirsty. It isn’t supposed to make a sound.

Her eyes flicker open to the weak barking whine that come out of her without meaning to. “Thirsty,” she whines, though it’s not supposed to sound like that. When she blinks the stickiness from her eyes a person comes into view, blurry at first. It isn’t one she recognizes. She hopes this one won’t hurt her. She hopes this one will help her.

“Ah, there you are,” says the person in a soft rumbly voice. It’s a man with strangely colored eyes and a wiry beard speckled and striped with white around his mouth. He presses a hand to her back, making her shiver, and she sits up almost surprised to have been lying like that. 

“Alright, there you go,” says this careful man. He tips his head in a question she cannot answer, then quickly walks away. She wants to follow him, instinctively, but thinks she does not have the strength. So she just whimpers. There is no one else to hear her. But it’s as if that calls the man back, because he returns with a worried look and holding a small clear cup. She can nearly smell the liquid inside it, can taste it already, and finds her limbs flailing as she reaches for it. 

The strange man holds up a finger. She knows that that means wait. She forces herself to still and the man smiles behind his beard. That’s good, isn’t it? 

“Drink it slowly,” he says. “Don’t shock your system. You’ll feel very thirsty for a while, but you had an IV the entire time to keep you hydrated.”

She isn’t sure what most of that means, but she tries to drink the cool, sweet water slowly like he said. She wants this man to be happy with her. She dips her tongue into the cup first, as if to lap it up, and ends up spilling much of it when her hands fumble. 

“Careful, now,” chuckles the man. He has a familiar rolling accent, and she both knows and does not know the language he speaks in. “You were a part of the younger batch, but your charts didn’t show a name,” he says once she has sipped down all of the water. “You can call me Daniel,” he continues. “and you are?”

She tips her head sideways. There is only a piece of something she thinks may have been a name, once. “I don’t know,” she tries to say, her voice raspy from dis- and mis-use. 

The man, Daniel, nods. He turns and writes something down somewhere. She tenses at this. This is familiar. She doesn’t think this is good. “That’s perfectly alright,” Daniel reassures her, though. “Amnesia is a noted side effect of this type of cryogenic inducement, especially at these rates.”

She tries to clear her throat. It sounds like a growl. “Is it… forever?” She asks. It does not bother her. She would just like to know, since it seems that she can ask. 

Daniel hesitates, tipping first one shoulder up and then the other, one side and then the next, like swaying back and forth. “Most often, no. It can be permanent in some cases, but usually it’s a case of time and patience. You’ll be fine,” he says kindly. “Do you have a name you would like me to call you in the meantime?” 

She thinks of the last warm voice she remembers. It fades in and out of her memory, black and white. “I think…” she licks her lips. “Lai?” And watches for a reaction. 

Daniel nods. He writes another thing down, maybe her name? And smiles. “It’s good to meet you, Lai. I’ve already told you my name. I’m this vessel’s generational medic. If you have any health concerns, you may come to me anytime. And since you seem to be suffering from post-cryosleep memory loss, let me explain:

“We are aboard the mid-journey ship Aleya, en route to an experimental colony on the upper edges of the star Earendel’s solar range. As you likely learned in school before your boarding, if you remember that, humans can only stay in a cryogenized state for so long before bodily systems begin to break down, so this journey has been planned in stages. You and I will not see the light of Earendel in our lifetimes.” His voice quietens at this, a wry smile faintly visible in his eyes if not his mouth. “This generation will grow old and reproduce and raise each other so that when they are of a safe age, the next can go to sleep knowing they will wake in their new home.” 

Lai sits very still, watching Daniel intently. All of what he is saying sounds very big. Big words she does not know, big ideas she can’t understand, but what she does hear is that what they are doing is big, very big, bigger than anything she’s done before. “I’m… important?” She hears herself say, strange raspy high voice she isn’t used to. 

Daniel nods, smiles again. She likes that. The smile directed at her, mostly, but also the being important. She thinks she’s been told that before. She thinks it’s nice. She tips her head. “So what now?” She questions. There must be more beyond this space they’re in. How much is there she can’t see? From what Daniel said, everything seems very vast. She isn’t sure about that.

Daniel breathes out thoughtfully. “There are semi-private living quarters enough for everyone onboard this craft. You were the last of the batch to come out of cryo, so I will escort you to re-meet the rest of them, so you won’t run the risk of getting lost. Do you feel strong enough to walk a slight distance?” 

She hesitates, then nods. She believes she can manage, but Daniel still has to steady her for a moment when she slides from the cot she was on. Standing on two feet feels strange. She looks up at Daniel, nervously licking her lips. She sneezes.

“будь здоро́ва,” Daniel chuckles as Lai stares at him, wide-eyed. She feels her face form into a grin, teeth showing and all.

“мой родной язык,” She exclaims in kind. My mother tongue! 

Daniel nods thoughtfully. “I thought as much. It’s mine as well, ancestrally at least.” He says the last as an aside, half quietly and looking off as it at nothing before his gaze fixes back onto Lai. “Shall we go?” He holds out his hand in beckoning and from instinct, Lai reaches out and takes it. Daniel watches this, puzzled, but does not pull his hand away and she is grateful. 

He leads her into a long, high-roofed hallway, walking slowly as if he worries she cannot keep up. But she does. She follows him by the hand through the tall white halls, head turned wonderingly up to see the ceiling, tiled in reflective blue. “What is that?” She asks softly. 

Daniel follows her gaze up. “Ah. Stained glass,” he says. “This hall ends in the chapel, if you were to return the way we’ve just come,” he explains. “The stained glass lights the way. I like to think it offers some semblance of hope, as well. The rest of the Aleya is not so artful.” 

The blue-ceilinged hall opens into a wide, vast place that immediately dizzies her when she reaches it, and she grasps onto Daniel’s hand harder. There are platforms at all levels around the edges of the tall, too tall walls, some wrapping all the way as far as she can see and disappearing into halls that must be similar to the one they’ve just emerged from. She gasps softly taking it all in, layers upon layers of floors and platforms, small forms moving around atop them and at the bottom, maybe a real floor. There are dozens of enormous glass windows, filled with inky blackness broken up by specks and swirls of light. It’s familiar. It scares her. It’s all she can see. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Asks Daniel softly. She looks up at him again, eyes pleading, don’t leave me, keep me safe. “Are you okay?”

Lai shudders. “это огромно,” She whispers. It’s vast.

Daniel hums and nods. “действительно.” Indeed, he tells her. “It’s our whole world.” 

He leads her across the platforms in a complicated thread where her feet stutter and hesitate at times. She follows blindly, still staring around at this place, so big, so cold. She can hardly wrap her head around it. The sky outside is so dark, but is it still the sky with them in it? She doesn’t know. She isn’t sure she wants to know. The sky is their whole world, it seems.

They turn down another hall, plain ceiling tiles above them instead of stained glass. She follows them with her eyes, losing count every few, and follows Daniel by sound. His footsteps are steady, steady, then stop and Lai finds herself in a more shadowy room, where there’s a rustle of blended sounds and smaller doors that lead off into who knows where.

There are more people in there, in varying states of motion. A man with dark skin sits on a rounded, cushioned bench frowning and squinting at a flat, glowing object in his hand. Two children hover behind a different man who stands in a corner speaking to a woman with green eyes. In a chair near a doorway there is a girl with curly hair holding a book, turned sideways with her legs thrown over the arm of the chair. Scattered all about the room are little metal bottles that she is sure are full of water. 

“Last one?” Asks the dark skinned man, looking up. He sets down the glowing thing and stands. “Took a while, didn’t it?” 

“She did,” Daniel agrees, lightly squeezing Lai’s hand before letting go. She tries to not be upset at that. But then he puts his hand on her shoulder and it warms her. “This is Lai. She’s suffering from a touch of post-freeze memory loss, so if someone would like to help her settle in…” 

The girl with the book unfolds herself from the chair. “I’ve got her, doctor,” She says in a lilting accent. “There is a bed in our cabin anyway, with Marla and her sister as well.” She offers Lai a smile. “I’m Esperanza.” 

“Hello,” Lai says. This girl is taller than her, moves strangely. Her hair is long and curly. Lai thinks she is interesting. 

“I will leave you to settle in,” says Daniel. Lai turns to watch him go and wishes he wouldn’t leave. “Желаю вам удачи,” He says in their shared first language. I wish you good luck. 

[kulliare]

trying to write a sincere thank you note is so hard when you're genuinely so grateful to this person that the only thought racing through your head is that i'm soooo grateful instead of anything concrete but i will do it

[bangcakes]

.

[opens-up-4-nobody]

...

[l-cereta]

Just took the most needed shower on earth…

[feua]

*taps mic* this thing on?

[my-thoughts-and-junk]

Anyway in my opinion professor villainous and lord boxman are dating since pv's first appearance and pv just doesn't like boxman as much as boxman likes him

[cannedcloud]

art will be slowing down arch school is dragging me back GRAH

[silverislander]

i swear to fucking GOD i'm gonna lose it i just realized i have a 12 page paper due in a week and i haven't even picked a fucking topic. i was doing so good this semester too

[chrisbangs]

..

[boycannibal]

did work for animation class today

[bensiskos]

Sorryyy I need somewhere to put my rage

[reidbae]

Elation

summary: You arrive late to your profiling class, and your entrance turn all eyes on you: Including a certain brunette professor's.

pairing: sub!prof!spencer reid x dom!fem!reader

warnings/mentions: teacher x student relationship, age gap (reader is 22+ and spencer is 32+), AFAB!reader, palming, choking, hair pulling, unprotected piv sex (do not do this pls), vaginal sex, degradation (m receiving), praise (m and f receiving), use of y/n before smut but ma'am and miss during, mild breeding kink, public sex technically, use of a gag, literally just filth tbh, reader is the dom but spencer's kinda bratty/semi-dominant and bites her back, idc if this is unrealistic BUT NO ONE SEES Y'ALL OK

a/n: HELLO i am very sorry for my disappearance and i am very glad to be back! also thank y’all for 200 followers wtf <3 i hope you like this! :) (also see if you can catch the 68 kill reference)

w/c: 4k

You walked as quickly as you could to your class, your heels making your presence loud and known as you held your bag over your shoulder, a late pass in your hand.

You had to finish a test for another class that morning, and, as a result, would be late to your first class of the day, your profiling class. You had warned your professor, Professor Reid, ahead of time that you would be late to his class today, but it wasn't going to make walking in any less embarrassing, especially if he was in the middle of a lecture.

You were wearing a short red dress, that clearly accentuated your figure, and it was a bit revealing around your chest. You were in black heels, too, and your hair and makeup made you look incredibly dolled up. Not that you had anything in particular going on today, but it wasn't a crime to look good, was it?

Besides, some attention from Professor Reid wouldn't hurt.

The man was undeniably attractive. Older, yes, but attractive. You weren't one of those girls who was only auditing his class to stare at him, but anyone in their right mind would take a liking to both him and his appearance.

Not that you were looking for the attention (Or were you?), but it would be nice.

You pushed open the door to the classroom, and you instantly muttered a number of expletives under your breath as the door creaked loudly. All eyes immediately landed on you, including Professor Reid's, but you maintained your composure.

Your presence cut Spencer off mid-sentence, and, as you suspected, he was in the middle of a lecture when you opened the classroom door. His eyes bored into yours, quickly scanning your figure, as you tried to close the door as quietly as possible.

You walked down to the front of the classroom to give Spencer your late pass, your heels clicking the wooden floor, that, in that moment, seemed to be creakier than the door. You felt like you were on a runway with the way everyone was staring at you, and your walk was earning several whistles and murmurs from your classmates.

It was only tolerable because you knew that the only reason everyone was staring was because you looked good.

"Sorry I'm late, sir," you said to Spencer as you handed him your late pass. His face was red, redder than you'd ever seen it, and—Was that sweat on his forehead? Once again, his eyes shamelessly roamed your body, and he had to clear his throat to get himself to talk.

"No worries. I hope your test went well," Spencer smiled at you. You muttered a brief, "Thank you," before taking a seat in the front row.

As you did, the whistles and chatter from your classmates continued, to which Spencer responded, "Okay, relax. I'm sure if Miss Y/L/N wanted those completely inappropriate whistles, she would ask for them." Your classmates chatter dissolved into laughter at the comment, and your face broke into a smile. "Now, shall we?"

For the entirety of the lecture, Spencer's eyes seemed to never leave yours, or your outfit. You knew that it wasn't technically abnormal for him to be looking at you, considering the fact that he was giving a lecture, and would naturally be looking at the class, but the attention his eyes were giving you was too hard to ignore.

After class, you were finishing up your notes as the rest of your class filed out of the room. Once you were done, you were the last one left in the classroom, and you were putting your notebook into your bag when another voice cut through the silence: Spencer's voice.

He cleared his throat, then said, "Do you have any last minute questions for me, Y/N?"

"Oh, no, that's okay, Professor," you returned. "Just needed to put some final touches on my notes, that's all," you smiled warmly.

"Alright, then. Do you have a class after this?" he asked you. You noticed that he was no longer where he stood for his lectures in the front of the class, but in front of your desk, and you weren't exactly sure when he'd got there.

"Yeah, but I've got time," you said. "Why, did you need something?"

Why did you even ask him that?

Spencer's face lit up in a blush at your words, and he shook his head. "Me? Oh, no. I just wanted to make sure you wouldn't be late. If you need a pass, or need me to call anyone, I can."

"Oh, thanks. I think I'll be okay, though," you told him. Spencer nodded, his eyes wavering over you once more, and this time, you returned his gaze, allowing your eyes to soar between his face, lips, suit, and—Belt.

After a moment of silence, you cleared your throat, and spoke up once more. "What about you? Any classes to teach after this?" you asked, resting your hand on your hip.

"I've got my, uhm, prep block until 12 P.M., so, technically not," Spencer explained to you. You noticed the way he paused, stammering in your presence, and the nervous look across his face. You cocked an eyebrow.

"I see. That's good," you said with a shrug. He responded with a quiet, "Yeah."

"Can I ask you something, Professor Reid?" you asked as you looked up at him with a quizzical expression.

He nodded. "Yes, Y/N, what is it?" Spencer returned.

"Do I make you uncomfortable?" you finally blurted as you allowed your curiosity to get the best of you. Spencer raised his eyebrows, and, if it was even possible, his face got redder than it already was.

"What? No, of course you don't make me uncomfortable. Why do you ask?"

"Well, you've got your hands in your pockets, and you've taught us that people hide their hands when they're nervous. You're also red, and it looks like you're sweating," you shrugged. "You just look uncomfortable, and I was wondering if I had something to do with that."

Spencer looked down and chuckled. He licked his lips before saying, "Sometimes, I forget that I teach you how to analyze people's behavior. But you don't make me uncomfortable, Y/N, I promise," he assured you. And yet, his hands remained hidden, his face remained pink, and the truth remained buried.

And, although you had a good idea of what it could be, you were determined to figure it out.

"Well, there must be something going on, Professor," you pushed as you walked around your desk. The two of you were even closer, face to face, at that, and Spencer swallowed.

"Y/N—" he breathed as you moved closer to him.

"I've seen the way you look at me. It's kind of obvious. You'd think a profiler would hide that better," you smirked up at him.

Spencer cleared his throat. "I'm not sure I know what you're talking about," he murmured as he looked down at the ground.

You bit your lip, incredibly aroused by how riled up he seemed to be by your voice alone, and put a hand on his chest. "I think you know exactly what I'm talking about, Professor."

"You're not that subtle, either," he said. His brown eyes looked down to meet yours, and as they did, you could now clearly see the sweat perspiring on his forehead.

"I'm not trying to be. You, on the other hand, attempt so desperately to bury your feelings, probably because you know how wrong this is. Honestly, it's cute," you said, your thumb tracing absentminded circles in the middle of his chest.

You used your other hand now, both hands now smoothing soft circles higher, just below his shoulders. Spencer's breath hitched in his throat as he watched you, but a small smirk mirroring yours played across his face now.

"This is wrong," he said softly to you. "I'm your professor."

"That doesn't stop you from wanting me so badly," you didn't hesitate to remind him. Your next words came out in a whisper as you leaned closer and said, "It's okay. I want you, too."

That was all it took for Spencer to finally lean in, crashing his lips onto yours, taking your face into his hands, and God, was it hot. You kissed him back with mirroring desperation, pulling his body impossibly closer to yours. That was when Spencer took you into his arms, lifting you with ease, and sitting on the chair of your desk, placing you on his lap so that you were straddling him.

"Someone's eager," you teased between kisses. All he could do was nod, too desperate for more, too desperate for you. He pulls you back in, tongue riding yours as his hands forcefully grip your hips.

You hold his face, pressing him as close to you as you possibly can, and eventually, without even thinking, you slowly grind your hips on his lap. He responds with a whorish moan, looking up at you with an expression that said nothing but lust.

"Oh, God, you're so hard. You like that, huh?" you asked in a teasing voice.

"Y- Yeah, fuck," Spencer responded, hands digging further into your hips.

"Save your voice," you rasped. "You'll need it for when I fuck you."

"Y- Y/N, your class," Spencer reminded you in a stutter as your hands played with his belt.

"Ten minutes is all I need with you, Professor," you smiled, catching your bottom lip between your teeth as Spencer's belt clattered to the ground. "Besides, you can write me a late pass, can't you?"

"Yes. Yes, I can," he moaned.

"Then, don't worry about the time. Worry, about this," you said. With that, you dipped your hand into his now unzipped pants, touching him gently through his boxers. Spencer's eyes immediately closed, and his head cocking backwards ever so slightly.

"Oh, fuck, Y/N, that's-" Spencer whined, cutting himself off with another moan.

"Hm, Professor?" you teased nonchalantly, as if you were merely discussing your latest assignment. "What is it?"

"Good," he finished. "So good."

You chuckled at the sloppy, desperate view in front of you, your hand just barely touching Spencer's hard, aching cock, and him falling apart for it, sweat sticking several hairs to his forehead.

"Anyone could walk in and see you so needy for me like this," you chuckled. He was about to respond, but you quickened your movements, pressing your hand harder and eliciting a whine from him.

"I don't care," he shook his head. "This feels too good."

"Tell me how much you want this, Professor," you cooed softly, your words leaving your lips as a husky whisper. Your hand pressed down on Spencer's hard dick, taking what you could hold into your hand through his boxers.

"I want this, Y/N," Spencer said quickly, hands roaming your hips and back as he spoke in a soft tone. That rosy blush had never left his face as you responded with, "How much?"

"So much," he said desperately. "God, please, Y/N," he begged, neither of you even entirely sure what he was begging you for.

"That's pretty vague," you chuckle. "Tell me, Professor. Please, what?" you snap.

"Shit, I want to feel you, Y/N," Spencer whined in the brattiest tone you'd heard from him, evidently impatient for your touch.

As soon as the words leave his lips, one of your hands yanks his hair and pulls him back, to which he immediately groans.

"First of all, Spencer, don't fucking sass me. Second of all, I don't want my name to fall from your lips until I've got you coming and moaning it. Nod if you understand me, Spencer," your voice rang out in a domineering tone.

Taken aback by your tone, and so not used to being spoken to like this in his own goddamn classroom, Spencer shyly nodded, his cheeks a vibrant pink.

"Listening for once, huh? About time. You can call me ma'am or miss until I've got you where I want you. Is that clear?" you asked him. All this time, your hands had never stopped touching Spencer, and he had had a hard time responding to you this entire time through small whimpers and groans.

Spencer only nodded, to which you shook your head.

"Say it."

"Yes, ma'am."

"That's a good boy," you praised him softly as you leaned in closer, an amused smile across your face. "I'm going to fuck you so good. Is that something you'd want, baby?"

"Y- Yes, ma'am, it is," Spencer's hoarse voice rasped out. "You're sure you want to do this here? I could easily take you to my office, miss."

You giggled at his cluelessness as the hand that was touching him came to run through his hair. Didn't he know how much hotter the risk made this? Your fingers played with his soft locks as you answered, "Oh, sweetheart, you and I both know that you can't wait that long. Besides, I don't care who walks in. They'll see how desperate you are for me, and it'll be you who has to explain," you teased.

Spencer's face reddened as he fumbled with his words. "I- Well- Okay," he decided, because of his physical incapability to say anything else.

"Anyways, if you keep it quiet, there'll be nothing to worry about. So, do me a favor," you teased as you pushed your thumb into his mouth. "And keep your mouth shut. You can do that, baby, can't you?" you whispered. Spencer nodded with urgency.

"That's good. That's so, so good, Professor," you teased him. Your free hand came down to hike up your dress, revealing to Spencer your lace panties, that weren't covering all that much. The view made Spencer whimper out with need, only encouraging you to remove them at a tantalizingly slow pace.

You held eye contact with Spencer as you removed them entirely, discarding them on the desk behind the two of you. Next, you removed Spencer's cock from his boxers, biting back a moan at the view you were met with.

You knew he'd pack a lot from the day he'd become your professor, but, God, to see it in person like this, long, hard, and aching for you was almost too much.

"Jesus Christ, Professor. I've got you so worked up over what should be considered nothing in comparison to what I'm about to do to you," you smirked. You took his cock into your hand, pumping him up and down a few times, which only increased his desperation as he moaned around your finger. "Ready?" you asked finally.

Spencer could only nod, his face a deep scarlet hue, hips bucking up into your exposed cunt. You smirked.

Finally, you lowered yourself onto his cock. You'd fantasized about this moment so many times, and no amount of hours of touching yourself to the notion could even amount to the real thing.

Your pace was slow as you rode him, both hands digging into Spencer's soft brown locks. He lets out a moan he isn't sure how long he's been holding as you release your thumb from his mouth, and his hands instantaneously grip your hips as you start to ride him.

"Oh, God, Spencer, you're big," you praise him as your eyes shut. Your mouth doesn't, though, as small whines and whimpers fall from it, your lips curling up into a smirk.

"Th- Thank you, miss," Spencer whines back, rubbing soft, slow circles into your hips. He moves your dress out of the way so he can see you completely, hiking it up to your torso, and basking in the view of you. "You're so beautiful, miss. So, so beautiful."

All you can do is giggle as heat rises to your face. Once again, you bite your lip as you say, "Fucking my professor in his own classroom. So unethical and yet so, so hot," you rasp as you open your eyes again, gazing into his.

"You look so good," he tells you again, his words coming out in a pant. "You feel so good."

You pulled him back by his hair, exposing his neck, that was now entirely at your disposal, and attacking it with your lips. You press your lips against him with hunger, kissing and sucking, leaving as many marks as you please. The world was going to know he was yours if you had anything to say about it.

"You like how dirty this is, don't you, Professor?" you muttered, as close to his ear as you could possibly be. "You like the fact that anyone could walk in and see you falling apart for me, huh?"

Spencer only whimpers in response, squeezing your hips harder and shifting a bit as you continue to ride him, your pace quickening. That wasn't the answer you were looking for, and once you were sure he wasn't going to verbally answer you, you say, in a teasing voice, "Oh, come on, sir, give me more than that."

The moment you say this, an expression flashes across his face, one that can only be described as pornographic. It's whorish and needy, and you're almost worried you've already made him come, until you realize exactly why he just looked at you like that.

You chuckle and shake your head, unaware that he could somehow become more desperate than he already was. "What was that look for, sir?" You enunciate the word once more, and Spencer turns his eyes away from yours.

You grab his face, turning him to look at you, and rasp, "You like it when I call you 'sir', don't you, Professor?"

"Yes, miss. Very much," he instantly confessed to you. You smirked.

"Good, because I'm going to keep calling you it," you smile, and he nods in approval. Your hips continue to snap against Spencer's cock as you use him to pleasure the two of you completely.

"Open your mouth for me, sweetheart," you coo. Spencer couldn't oblige any faster, and when he does, you insert your thumb back into it. "Suck."

Spencer sucks like a man dehydrated, wrapping his lips around your finger with a look of compliance, incredibly eager to be as obedient as you want him to be.

"Such a good boy. I like seeing you so slutty like this. Because that's what you are, isn’t it?" you tease, giggling. You ride his dick to the top, pause for only a second, and crash back down onto him. "My slut."

Spencer nodded in return, his puppy eyes boring into yours as he gags around your finger. You remove it from his mouth and say, "Say it."

"I'm your slut, miss. I'm all yours," he indulges you.

"That's what I like to hear," you smiled. "Fucking you in such a public place when anyone could walk in. Such a bad girl, aren't I, Professor?"

"Yeah, you are a bad girl," Spencer moans out. His hands move from your hips to your tits, taking one in each hand, and working quickly with them. You moan when he does.

He's not only desperate for you, but desperate to make you feel good, too.

"Oh, that's so fucking good, Professor," you whine. Your movements grow quicker, as you both grow desperate to feel Spencer as deep inside your cunt as you possibly can be, and you groan out.

"I'm so, so glad, miss," he says in, arguably, his most submissive tone yet, and you bite your lip as blood runs to your face, flushing it with a red hue that surely mirrors Spencer's.

"You're so good for me, Professor," you moan.

"Fuck, miss, please say my name," Spencer begs you. One of his hands squeezes your waist again, eliciting a lewd moan from you, and you can't help but oblige.

"Spencer," you whine.

"Again," Spencer moans back, fondling your tit harder with one hand, and squeezing down on your hip as forcefully as possible with the other.

"Spencer," you moaned again, maintaining eye contact with him as his name fell from your lips.

"Yeah, just like that, miss," said Spencer.

As if it's the most natural thing in the world, you dip your head back into the crook of his neck, and begin to kiss him there. You bite hard enough to leave marks, and suck with enough force to leave a trail of hickeys wherever your lips touch.

Spencer's a whimpering mess above you, and as much as you love how vocal he's being, you don't love the idea of someone hearing the two of you, as much as you'd said you did.

The idea was hot, but getting caught fucking your profiling professor by a classmate, or God forbid, another professor, was absolutely mortifying, and not on your to-do list today.

"Keep it down, Spencer. Don't make me shut you up," you warned him between kisses. You bring a hand up to squeeze his neck. Surely, a bit of choking would get to his head, wouldn’t it?

It doesn't, and he stutters out above you, his voice broken and whiny. "M- Miss, I-" but he doesn't even finish his sentence as he cuts himself off with his own moan.

You remember the lace panties you'd forgotten on the desk a while ago, and the hand that isn't choking Spencer naturally reaches back to grab them. Without thinking twice, you shove them into Spencer's mouth, and he groans around them.

"I told you to shut up. Don't think you can misbehave and I won't punish you for it," you spat, biting into his neck again as your hold around his throat tightens. Spencer whimpers and nods, and you were sure that if he could speak, he would mumble an assortment of apologies.

"Tap me when you're ready to finish, so I can hear my name on your lips when you do. Until then, I'm going to use you just as I have been," you smirked, continuing to ride Spencer.

Over the next few minutes, the air's filled with moans from the two of you, and, if it was even possible, you had pushed him further inside of you. Spencer's hands roam everywhere in replace of his inability to speak, and he's as eager to get you to your high as you are to get him to his.

Eventually, Spencer taps your arm with urgency, and you can tell from the look in his eyes that he's close. You look up at him with a mirroring expression, and ask, "Close, sweetheart?"

Spencer nodded with a desperation you'd never seen from him before, and, in that exact second, you pull your panties from his mouth, and discard them on the desk behind you again.

"God, I'm going to cum, Y/N," are his first words. Your name sounds like honey falling from his lips, and you nod just as fervently as he had.

"Let it out, then, baby," you moan. "Come inside of me," you then rasp.

Spencer yanks you in and kisses you passionately, his hands tangled in your hair, and your hands tangled in his. One of his hands moves down to help you along, rubbing hard, fast circles on your clit. It's almost too much, and you're almost too sensitive: Almost. Your tongues dance with each other as you ride out your high, and Spencer fills you to the brim with his cum. You finally come undone, riding him as fast as possible in order to pleasure the both of you, and God, does it work.

When you've completely finished, you pull back for air, practically gasping for it as loud pants fall from your lips. "Jesus, Spencer. You were so good. Did you get off well, baby?" you ask him.

"Yes, ma'am," Spencer smiled as he softly rubbed your back, the desperation that was present a few minutes ago being replaced with a notable softness. "And thank you."

"Mmhm," you mutter as you press your lips to his again. You rest your forehead against his and smile. "You know that, uh, late pass you were talking about?

Spencer chuckled. He already knew what you were about to say. "Yeah?"

"I think I’m going to need it."

—

both requests and reblogs are appreciated :)

—